Fairytale of New York (20 page)

It didn’t seem like much of a choice.

Way in the back of my mind, a light came on and a memory of Mr K’s voice began resonating. ‘I have learned, Rosie, there are certain times in life when you tread in the footsteps of destiny. These are moments to be treasured as they happen maybe two or three times. They are incredibly precious,
ukochana.
They are also painful. Very painful. But the pain is
necessary
for you to blossom like Papa intended. You will never plan them; you cannot guess when they may arrive. But one day you will find yourself walking in destiny—and what you choose to do will mean either life or death. When that time arrives, Rosie,
choose to live.
Choose to let Papa stretch you and make you into the work of art he planned.’

And so my choice was clear.

Mum cried when I told her I was emigrating. But she could see my mind was made up and she gave me her blessing.
David returned to Boston while I made arrangements to sell my flat and surplus belongings. A month later, I was all sold up, packed and ready to go. At Heathrow’s Terminal Four I said goodbye to Mum and James, and boarded the plane that was taking me to the rest of my life. I watched England slip slowly out of view as I headed towards my destiny.

Boston was a revelation. Everything about it was new and exciting. I revelled in the culture, the new accents all round me, and the lifestyle, which managed to be both fast-paced and laid-back at the same time. Boston also meant re-establishing my friendship with Ben, with whom I’d been at university. He was working at Harvard and loving every minute of it. I swear he had become more American than the Americans—adopting a pure Bostonian accent and becoming an avid devotee of the New England Patriots, along with baseball, basketball and just about any other sport he could watch or play. We spent most Sundays watching sport or shooting hoops in his back yard.

My new job presented a real challenge, but I was in my element. I helped to create a young team and watched with breathless pleasure as fifteen recent graduates began to bloom into some of the most innovative and brilliant designers I’d ever seen. I found myself experiencing true fulfilment in my job. It felt like I had finally found who I was meant to be.

And David? David was amazing. He was everything I wanted and a constant source of surprise. I loved being with him and being known as his wife-to-be made me so happy. I knew he loved me and I was aware he needed me too. Sometimes he would just hold me all night, as if he was scared I’d disappear if he let go. I would catch him watching me intently as we worked on the white clapboard-fronted house we’d chosen to live in—and even when he knew I’d noticed him, he never
looked away. Surrounded by the smell of fresh paint and coffee in the shell of my future home, I had gazed out across the large garden framed by maple trees and imagined our children playing there.

Our wedding was planned for June. Mum and James flew out to help me work through the last-minute details. The ceremony and reception were all to take place in David’s parents’ grand house on the outskirts of the city. Three hundred guests were invited—most of whom were friends and associates of David’s father.

Mum cried when she saw me in my dress at the final fitting. She had agreed to provide the bridal party’s flowers, including my bouquet, which featured white, cream, palest yellow and deep pink roses with dark green foliage in hand-tied posies. The night before the big day I sat up till the early hours with Mum, making buttonholes—just like we did all through my childhood—laughing and reminiscing together.

‘Well, Rosie, this is it. Tomorrow you will be Mrs Rosie Lithgow. That sounds incredibly distinguished for my little girl.’

‘Oh, Mum…’ I groaned. ‘It’s who I want to be.’

Mum’s smile was broad but wistful, and I wondered if she was thinking about her own wedding to Dad, so many years before. ‘Just as long as you’re
sure
it’s what you want.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Good. Now you better get to bed, young lady! You’ve got a life-changing day ahead of you tomorrow.’

And, as with so many other things, Mum was right.

The elevator came to an abrupt halt and the doors opened to reveal Celia’s office reception. She turned to me.

‘Ready?’

‘I’m not sure.’ It was the truth.

Celia smiled warmly and squeezed my hand. ‘Hey, now’s as good a time as any, baby.’

Slowly, I followed her into her office.

Nate stood by the window, hunched and agitated, staring out at Midtown Manhattan, the Empire State Building rising proudly to his right. When we entered the office he spun round and a look of utter relief washed over his face.

‘Oh, thank goodness. I got so worried, Rosie! Are you OK?’

‘I’m getting there…’ Celia urged me to continue. ‘Um…Nate, there’s something you should know about me. It’s something I’ve not talked about to many people because…well, just because.’ And it will sound strange, but somehow his intense stare seemed to be willing strength into my body. Surprising myself, I turned to Celia. ‘I think I need to talk to Nate on my own—if you don’t mind.’

Celia’s furrowed brow lifted a little. ‘Are you
sure
?’

I smiled, ignoring the increase of my heart rate. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Then I’ll be right outside.’ Celia walked briskly out and quietly closed the door.

Now we were alone. Now was the time. Nate took a step towards me. ‘Hey, Rosie, remember The Rule for me and you: I talk and you listen. You don’t
have
to tell me anything.’

I smiled wearily. ‘No, I know. But I think I want to. Sit down, Nate. Please.’

My wedding day was beautiful. Sunshine like you wouldn’t believe flooded everything with gold, the early morning dew sparkling like a carpet of diamonds on the lawn in front of the grand old house. Before any of the family woke, I sneaked outside and walked barefoot in my towelling robe up the aisle, as the chair-hire guys applauded me. Part of me still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. I was loved by the most fantastic man in the world and now I was going to marry him. Here, twelve hours before, we had practised our vows together alone in the early evening sun, and David had held my hands so tightly. Something about his expression had seemed far away.

‘I love you with all my heart, Rosie. You know I’d never hurt you.’

‘I trust you, David. I know you love me.’

His eyes closed as his fingers stroked my hands slowly. Quietly he said, ‘If you love me, Rosie…’

‘Of course I love you.’

His eyes were dark in the fading light. ‘Then marry me tomorrow.’

I giggled. ‘That’s what I intend to do!’ Then, an idea struck me. ‘Turn around.’

Puzzled, he obliged. ‘What exactly am I doing this for?’

‘Shh,’ I said, grabbing my notebook and leaning against his strong back as I wrote.

‘You are a crazy woman,’ he laughed.

‘Mmm, but you’ve chosen to marry me tomorrow, so what does that make you?’ I replied, tearing off the page and turning him back to face me. ‘There,’ I smiled, handing him the sheet.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, a small shimmer of amusement playing across his face.

‘It’s your checklist,’ I grinned. ‘Written on this sheet of paper is everything you need to do.’

He read the note. ‘“One: Turn up. Two: Marry me. Three: Be happy the rest of your life.” That simple, huh?’

I looked deep into the slate-grey eyes I loved so much. ‘That simple.’

My husband-to-be had pulled me close and was silent. As I kissed him good night, I figured wedding jitters must be getting to him. ‘It will be great tomorrow, David.’

He remained, motionless in the dusky light, watching me. ‘I know.’

Standing barefoot in the dew-soaked grass, with the day I’d longed for finally here, all I could think about was being with him. Realising the time, I turned and sped back into the house. They were all waiting for me—David’s mother, Phoebe, my Mum, and Lori, David’s sister—already dressed and impatient to help. The room was filled with rose-scented laughter as my hair and make-up were completed, subduing to hushed awe once I was dressed. Butterflies were building in my stomach and already my face was aching from excessive smiling. Now the preparations were complete and it was
time.

‘We’ll go join the guests downstairs,’ said Phoebe, kissing my cheek and beaming proudly. ‘You look beautiful, Rosie.
Welcome to our family.’ And then I was alone. I took one last look at myself in the long mirror.
This is it, Rosie Duncan. Time to start the rest of your life. As Mrs Rosie Lithgow.

Carefully cradling my bouquet, I left the room.

‘You asked me how I know David,’ I began. Nate nodded. ‘He’s the reason I came to live in America.’

Nate frowned. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

I took a breath. ‘I fell in love with David in England when we worked together at the advertising agency. He asked me to marry him and move to Boston to work at his father’s design house. So I left everything and emigrated.’

Nate blew out a long whistle. ‘Whoa, Rosie, I—I had no idea…’ He shook his head and fell silent as he took it in. He didn’t look at me: I could see his broad hands moving as though physically turning the news over and over.

Fear began to gnaw at the edges of my courage. ‘How long have you known David?’

‘Pardon me?’ The question appeared to take him by surprise. For a moment he struggled to answer, his face crowded with thoughts. ‘I—uh—I knew David at Yale, then…I dunno, we lost touch and I met up with him…oh, maybe two years ago now…at a book launch for a friend who turned out to be a mutual acquaintance. But he never said anything about you. I would have remembered.’ He looked up. ‘What happened?’

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure I wanted to say it. I wasn’t certain he wanted to know. ‘Nate, you’re going to have to choose whether or not you want to believe me. If David is your friend then what I say may change your opinion of him—or
me
—for ever.’

Nate shook his head. ‘Not possible. In such a short time you’ve become one of my closest, dearest friends, Rosie. Sure,
I like David, but I
trust
you. And the way you reacted in my office wasn’t faked—it was the genuine article. Now, I’m not leaving until you tell me everything.’

I descended the impossibly grandiose Hollywood-style sweeping staircase, my beautiful raw silk gown rippling like white waves behind me. Phoebe’s housekeeping staff stood at the bottom and I was thrilled to hear their gasps of delight as I approached them. Smiling ecstatically, I turned and began to walk towards the rear of the house. There, in front of me, was the garden. Guests were chatting expectantly, bathed in rich gold sunlight; a string quartet played Bach; the minister stood under a romantic, rose-bedecked arch at the end of the aisle, checking his watch.

I took a step onto the lawn…then jumped as David’s father appeared in front of me, blocking my path.

‘George? What are you doing?’ I laughed.

His face was pale and stern. ‘Rosie…we need to talk.’

‘Can’t it wait?’ I’m kind of busy right now…’ My laughter was a little shaky as my nerves began to tip on edge.

‘No, my love. I’m afraid it can’t wait. Come with me.’

‘On my wedding day, just as I was about to walk down the aisle, I received a note—from David.’

Confusion drifted over Nate’s face. ‘A
note
?’ he repeated incredulously. I nodded. ‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’

Neither did I. Still, after six and a half years, the recollection of that moment caused a familiar lance of pain to spear my heart. I bit my lip.

Nate shook his head, open-mouthed. ‘Hell, Rosie…what did it say?’

George stepped to one side to reveal David’s best man, Asher, graven-faced and holding out a crumpled piece of paper.

‘What’s this?’ I asked carefully, panic beginning to rise within.

Asher gave me the note, pausing for a moment with his large, warm hands encompassing mine. ‘Baby, this is just…I can’t believe he’d ask me to do this.’ Shaking his head, he walked away.

I looked down at the note I held, my hands trembling as I read David’s familiar spidery handwriting.

Rosie,

As you will know by now, I’m not going to be there today. I’ve had to go away for a while—to sort my head out. I know you won’t understand but I also know that you love me and want the best for me. Well, the best thing for me is not to marry you today. Or ever. I think I still love you but I don’t know. Right now I need to think of me and you need to get on with your life. You’ll be happy again someday and then you’ll thank me for saving you from the biggest mistake you could ever make.

I know it’s a mess and for that I’m sorry. But I’ve done the right thing and I can’t apologise for it. Please explain to our guests—say I got called away, say I’m ill, say whatever.

Don’t try to find me—tell my parents I love them and I’m fine.

I can’t say anymore.

David

Slowly, I turned the paper over and saw, to my horror, my own writing on the other side:

1: T
URN UP.

2: M
ARRY ME.

3: B
E HAPPY THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

I sunk to the floor in a rustling silk pool as an icy numbness stole my legs from under me. Phoebe and Mum rushed to my aid but I pushed them away, my world drowning fast in a heady cocktail of shock, anger and panic. George quietly took the note from my hand, read it and slowly began to tear it into tiny pieces, letting handfuls fall to the ground like flurries of paper snow.

‘Damn him…
damn
our son,’ he growled. Phoebe let out a loud cry and rushed out of the room. George looked down at the fractured pieces of his never-to-be daughter-in-law. ‘Rosie, what the hell do I say here? What the hell do I say to our guests?’

Sheer rage began to fire strength into my limbs. I struggled to my feet. ‘Don’t worry, that’s not your problem.
I’ll
tell them.’

Mum made a brave attempt to stop me. ‘Rosie, you are in no fit state to say anything to anyone. We’ll send James out. Stay here, my darling.’

But I wouldn’t listen. Grabbing the crushed remains of my bouquet, I stormed out into the garden, with Mum and James hot on my heels. Seeing my sudden entrance the string quartet ended their piece and began to play the ‘Wedding March’. Guests turned, smiling, to greet me. The smiling faces quickly tightened, transforming into grimaces as realisation hit home that all was not well.

Struggling to breathe, tears staining my face, I spoke.

‘I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…’

Nate didn’t move. I sat facing him, unsure what to do next. Nothing happened. I looked away, breathing hard against the encroaching pain. Way down on the street below an angry horn blared out and someone shouted an obscenity in reply. In the cold, hard silence a large wooden clock on the office wall assumed centre stage. I was aware I’d never heard it tick before—Celia’s office wasn’t normally quiet enough. It remained the sole voice in the office until Nate breathed out a long, heavy sigh.

‘How are you still
living
after that?’ His eyes, wide with indignation, rose from the floor to search my face. ‘How do you ever feel hope again?’

I shrugged against the pain, my voice coolly defiant. ‘It’s like I said: I’m happy to watch other people’s dreams come true. Just because my fairytale didn’t happen it doesn’t mean it doesn’t
ever
happen.’ My body ached. My heart was smashed. I felt drained by everything.

Rubbing my eyes, I stood up. ‘I’m so tired. I need to get back to the store. Ed will be wondering where I am.’

Nate jumped to his feet and grabbed my arm. ‘No, Rosie, you can’t—not yet. Sit down…please?’ Firmly he urged me back into the chair and kneeled by my side, stroking my hand with feather-soft fingers.

The office door opened and Celia appeared and screeched to a halt when she saw us. ‘Oh! Are—are we good here?’

Nate looked up and smiled briefly. ‘We’re good. Rosie’s told me everything—I think?’ His eyes followed the question back to me. I shook my head, unable to speak as the lump in my throat choked my voice. Celia hastened to my rescue. She spoke, her tone authoritative, undisputable and scarily like my mother’s.

‘I’ll tell you the rest, Nate. OK, Rosie, I’ve called Ed and told
him what’s happened. He’s coming to take you home when he’s closed up.’ My head shot upright but Celia fielded the protest with ease. ‘He insisted, Rosie. It’s fine. Till then I’ve arranged for you to rest in our boardroom. There’s a long couch in there so you can lie down. I’ll come get you when Ed arrives. No buts, honey, you need to rest now.’

Nate stood. ‘I’ll take you.’

With tenderness he escorted me like a wounded animal from Celia’s office to the boardroom on the other side of the building. Once inside he let my arm go and walked quickly to the windows, switching the blinds to block out the light. Exhausted, I lay down on the black leather couch and closed my throbbing eyes. Nate returned to my side, bending close till I could feel his breath near my face. Softly, he pushed some hair from my eyes and let his fingers rest momentarily on my cheekbone. Then, leaning closer, I felt his warm, velvet lips as they lightly brushed my brow. For a brief second I breathed in his closeness. Then, quickly, he left the room.

I’m not sure if I slept. It was impossible to distinguish dreams from the vivid freeze-frame scenes vying for supremacy in my mind. I had done so well, for so long, to ignore and contain the events of my wedding day and the following six months.
That
was the answer to Nate’s question: in order to go on I simply learned to ignore my heart. It wasn’t easy: for a long time it was the only thing I could think of. For the first few days afterwards, I stayed with Mum and James at their hotel, lost in a sorrow so deep that I couldn’t eat, sleep or speak. I was a complete wreck—emotionally, physically and mentally.

But if you think, like I did then, I’d been through the worst of my ordeal, you would be wrong. It was about to get worse. Much worse.

A week after the fiasco of my wedding day, George called me.

‘This—
situation
—with David has made your position with the company untenable. I’m sorry, Rosie. I’ve got to let you go.’

I was indignant. ‘You can’t sack me because your son jilted me. That’s completely illegal!’

I heard George emit a long, weary sigh. ‘Rosie, please don’t make this any more difficult for my family than it already is. I’m closing your project as of today. Your team have all been reassigned within the company. I’m willing to recompense you, above what your contract requires. I’ve arranged for one hundred thousand dollars to be paid into your account, effective immediately.’

I listened, aghast. ‘You’re paying me off?’

George’s tone was steady and devoid of emotion. ‘No, Rosie. I’m helping you move on.’

That day, I discovered Basic Fact Number 1 about the Lithgow family: they protect their own at all costs. The Lithgows closed rank and that was the last time I heard from them.

Homeless and now unemployed, I was rescued by Ben. He insisted I go back to his apartment. I agreed and ended up staying for six months as I tried to rebuild my life.

The friendship we’d had at university years before grew stronger than I could have imagined during the next six months. Ben was awesome. He carefully picked up the shattered remains of Rosie Duncan and painstakingly pieced them back together again. He found me a job private-tutoring design students from Harvard and spent hours counselling me as the hard reality of what David had done hit me full on. He never judged, never preached at me and, through all the tears, anger and searching, never,
ever
complained. He was the first constant
friend to grab a hold of my escaping life and tether it with true compassion. In Ben I found my stability, and as the hours, days and months passed I grew stronger. It was Ben who encouraged me to dream about the rest of my life, which had now returned, unexpectedly, to my own hands.