on my own.’
‘Of course you made a list!’ Amy clamped her arm through mine. ‘Just when I thought you’d really changed.’
‘Shut up,’ I told her sweetly. ‘I was researching courses and exhibitions and stuff, to see if there was anything I could do while I was here, and there’s a thing I want to enter. It’s a photography exhibition in a Manhattan gallery but they have a new-photographer type thing that’s open to anyone and the winner gets an apprenticeship with a working photographer. I’m going to enter.’
‘And win,’ Amy replied. ‘Are you going to enter a photo of me?’
I looked at her, smiling sweetly up at me, framed by red velvet, blue fur and a shimmering background of sequins.
‘We’ll see,’ I said, glancing over at Kekipi and his impeccably groomed and impressively raised eyebrow.
The double doors of the airport slid open and a blast of cold air slammed into me, turning every inch of exposed skin to fire and then to ice. My fingertips burned as I tried to hide my hands inside the sleeves of my jumper and my eyes began to water immediately.
‘Oh my God,’ I gasped, the wind catching in my throat. ‘Oh my God, it’s cold.’
‘Winter is coming,’ Amy said in an ominous voice. ‘Sorry, I should have told you to bring a proper coat.’
‘You should have told me not to come,’ I corrected her through chattering teeth. ‘It’s freezing! Amy, it’s so cold.’
‘Tess hates the cold,’ she told Kekipi as she breezed along towards a line of yellow taxis as though it was the middle of a sunny Tuesday in June. ‘She’s such a baby about it.’
‘I’m not being a baby!’ I protested, excited about the taxis but still wondering whether or not my nose had fallen off. ‘It’s about a million degrees below freezing!’
‘Not yet,’ Kekipi said, hustling me across the road. ‘But it will be tomorrow.’
I paused and looked up at a plane screeching above us.
‘Is it too late to go back?’ I asked.
‘Get in the taxi, you twatknacker,’ Amy instructed. ‘We’ll get you a proper coat tomorrow.’
‘A coat, a cocktail and a big handsome man to keep you warm at night,’ Kekipi added. ‘Something in a blond, maybe? With a beard for added warmth?’
‘Don’t get her excited,’ Amy told him as a taxi driver hopped out of his cab and popped the boot for my suitcase. ‘We’ve got to share a bed.’
‘I’m very glad you’re here,’ Kekipi said, wrapping me in a bear hug while the taxi driver screamed at Amy as she tried to force the remaining balloons into the back of the taxi. ‘We’ve missed your civilizing influence.’
‘And the scary part is,’ I said, watching as the driver began popping the balloons with a lit cigarette faster than Amy could get them in the car, ‘I’ve really missed her.’
For the third time in three days, I woke up without a clue as to where I was. Rubbing my eyes, I looked around the room. It wasn’t Charlie’s living room and it definitely wasn’t the departures lounge in Amsterdam. Thick cream carpets and heavy matching drapes made it look like the inside of a very swanky igloo, although it was considerably warmer than that, thank God. Turning over on my white pillow, underneath the white duvet, I saw Amy, flat on her back and snoring with her mouth wide open.
‘Amy,’ I whispered. ‘Are you awake?’
‘No,’ she replied, snorting twice and then rolling across the bed. ‘Go back to sleep.’
‘I can’t,’ I said. A quick glance at the clock showed it was 6 a.m. I’d only been in bed for five hours and I was wide awake. The wonders of jetlag. ‘Wake up!’
‘I am awake,’ she said, pulling the thick, fluffy duvet over her head. ‘I might not reply but I’m definitely awake and I’m definitely listening.’
I shuffled upright for a better look at the bedroom. I’d always imagined homes in New York to be either poky little shoe boxes or huge industrial loft spaces but I really should have known better than to expect any of that from one of Al’s homes. Amy’s room was huge, the bed taking up more space than her entire bedroom in London. The furniture was simple, with clean modern lines that made it look as though it had been brought in from the set of some sixties TV show, and huge, long swathes of heavy fabric hung all the way from the ceiling down to the carpets. Pin-thin lines of a brightening dawn ran all the way around them, promising a world outside these four walls.
‘Amy?’
My best friend snored in response.
Wired and tired and generally suffering from my impromptu long distance flight, I rolled out of bed and headed for what I assumed was the bathroom. The mattress didn’t even dip and Amy’s delicate snorts kept on coming.
‘Definitely awake, my arse,’ I mumbled, tiptoeing into the bathroom and shutting the door as quietly as I could.
The sun had only just begun to rise when I stumbled out onto Fifth Avenue, big sunglasses and an even bigger smile on my face. Bumbling towards a zebra crossing in the dawn light, snow seeping in through my Converse, my knees bound together by a floor-length sleeping bag of a coat I had borrowed from a wardrobe by the front door, I was cold, uncomfortable and ridiculously happy.
‘I’m in New York,’ I whispered to myself, not caring whether or not anyone could hear me. It felt so improbable. I was finally here, walking around a city I had dreamed of visiting for so long, just as though it was a perfectly normal thing to do. It was all I could do not to grab hold of passers-by, just to explain to them how excited I was.
Even though it was still early, not even seven, there were already so many people on the street. I sensed a certain solidarity in our matching coats and gave a small, smug nod to everyone I passed, feeling like such an insider. No touristy, inappropriate-but-visually-appealing jacket for me. Less than twelve hours in and I was practically a born-again New Yorker as I stopped at the edge of the pavement, waiting for the little white man to tell me it was safe to walk.
‘Hey! Watch it, lady!’
A tall man in a black version of my blue coat bashed into me, phone in one hand, coffee in the other, a frustrated look on his face.
‘Sorry,’ I spluttered, starting left then right as he tried to get around me. ‘I was waiting for the light to change.’
‘There’s no cars,’ he replied, waving his phone hand down the street before he stepped right into the street. ‘You need me to hold your hand? Watch where you’re walking.’
‘I’m walking here,’ I whispered, delighted as he walked off, giving me a surly look as he went. ‘Fugeddaboutit.’
I couldn’t think of another time when I’d felt this excited just to be in a place. Hawaii was paradise, Milan was beautiful but New York was electric. The green street signs, the slightly off spellings, the threat of parking tickets and towing fines in dollar signs all made my heart beat slightly faster. I held my camera in my freezing cold fingers
