Chapter 38

The woman was the mother of one of Sandy’s assailants, Antony Santuzzi and had not come to cause trouble or pain, but to let us know that she was sorry for what her son had done and that she hoped that he really did rot in jail for the rest of his life.

Maria sat down with her and explained that we didn’t blame her for what happened, but that there could never be a circumstance where we would forgive her son.

She seemed to accept that and left. Shortly after that we left and went back to Maria’s for coffee and cake.

Fortunately, Maria had Kostas with her for support, I would have felt bad about not staying there otherwise. I had my family and Mike. I wasn’t sure what support, if any, Cal could offer. I still wasn’t sure why she’d come at all.

I got my chance to have a try at finding out the following morning when Alison and I were the first ones downstairs. I invited her to walk down to the park by the river with me and we set off with my sister looking across the river to the towers of Manhattan.

“Hey,” she said, pointing to one tall building, “is that the Empire State Building?”

“Yes,” I replied, “you get a good view of the lower Manhattan skyline from across here. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can,” she replied, “let me guess, why is Cal here?”

“Yes,” I agreed, “why is she here?”

“For you,” she replied.

I stopped walking.

“She thinks that now that Sandy’s out of the way as it were, she has a chance of getting me back?” I spat, “that’s cold even for her.”

“No, not like that,” she said, “let me try and explain it.”

“You know she’s still in love with you, right?”

“No, Pip,” I said, “I don’t know that, in fact everything she does seems to point in the opposite direction.”

“All right, will you accept that she still thinks of herself as in love with you?”

“Go on then,” I said reluctantly.

“She knows that you’re deeply shocked and hurt over Sandy dying,” she said, “and she knows how good you are at hiding your true feelings when you are hurt. She wants to make sure that you’re all right, for herself as much as for you.”

“That sounds more like her,” I said, “everything has to be about her. You need to make her realise, that there is no chance, that’s absolutely zero chance of the two of us ever being together again, we can be friendly. We might even be friends again, but nothing more, ever.”

We stood at the river side, looking out across the Hudson to Manhattan Island.

“It’s a hell of a town,” I said.

“Yep,” she replied, “The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down.”

“The people ride in a hole in the ground,” I added.

“Dad’s favourite film,” she laughed.

“And here we are, in a park named after one of the stars,” I said, “come on, let’s get back and get some breakfast.”

When we got back, most of the rest of our party were in the restaurant eating. We gave our room numbers and took a seat each at the table. By the time I got to the table, the only seat left was between my brother and Cal, so I took that, sat and started eating.

“Are you all right?” Cal asked me, “it must have been really hard for you,”

“I’m surviving,” I said, “day to day. But yes, I’ve known happier times.”

“I was so sorry to hear the news,” she said, “Sandy was nice. I liked her and she was obviously really in love with you.”

“Thank you,” I said, “the feeling was, still is, mutual.”

“David,” she said, almost whispered, “when this, your TV show, is finished and you’re back home, can we talk? I know that now isn’t the time.”

“I’m not sure when would be, Cal,” I said, “but yes, we can talk, at home.”

“Thank you,” she said, “what will you do now?”

“Fly back to Vancouver tomorrow,” I said, “go back to work on Monday, finish what I came over here for and then come home.”

“Will you go back to school?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, “I’ll carry on as I have been here, then do A levels and University.”

“You’re still going to go?”

“Yes,” I said, “I still want the backstop.”

“But you’ll carry on working?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m already contracted for the second Star Academy this summer,” I said, “but thankfully, this one will be filmed in England, probably at Pinewood.”

“Better two hundred miles from home that six thousand,” she said.

“Well, at least I can get home for the weekends. And it’s only an eight-week shoot,” I said, “not six months away from home.”

“It’s really not as glamorous as people think is it?”

“Mainly it’s a mix of hard slog and boredom,” I replied.

“Just like rehearsing opera then,” she said.

“You’re performing?” I asked.

“You remember just before I had my breakdown, Opera North offered me the young shepherd in Tannhäuser?” she asked, “well, they’re doing it again this year and I’m in it.”

“Well done,” I said, “I suppose this means you’re a professional opera singer now?”

“I suppose I am,” she said, “I’ll be singing and getting paid for it.”

“When is it on?” I asked.

“June and July,” she said, “three performances in Leeds, two in Manchester and one each in Newcastle, Hull and Nottingham.”

“Well, congratulations,” I said, “and well done.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Even if your career never goes anywhere,” I said, “which I’m sure won’t be the case, you’ll always have the memory that you made it once.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s one dream realised,” she said, sadly.

“Lots of people never even get that far,” I said.

She sighed, “No, I suppose that’s true.”

She stopped and looked at me.

“I still have the other one,” she added softly.

“I don’t think today is the right time for that,” I said.

“No,” she agreed, “but I wanted you to know.”

“I think I already did, Cal,” I said, “but there’s a lot of barriers.”

She didn’t answer, merely sighed and, I thought, there was a hint of moisture in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” I whispered, “but right now there is no way I could ever offer you anything more than friends.”

She was silent again, just nodding her head in acknowledgement.

I’d finished eating by then, so I excused myself and went back up to my room.

I sat there for twenty minutes or so, turning over in my mind the past few months with Sandy. The way we’d gelled so easily, she had made me happy in almost everything she did. Yes, we’d had bad times, when she was attacked, the slow recovery, which I supposed was now a non-recovery, she never would be whole again, but she’d remained positive and upbeat virtually all the way through. And she’d remain in my heart forever. Contrasting that with Cal’s self-centred attention seeking and lack of any thought for others made me realise that I was much better off without her. Not that I’d be looking for a girlfriend for some time.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. When I looked through the little spyhole, my sister was standing there. I let her in, and she walked straight across the room and sat on the edge of one of the beds.

“I don’t know what you said to her at breakfast,” she said, “but I think Cal has finally got the message.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well,” she began, “your ex-girlfriend is currently sat on the edge of her bed in our room, rocking herself backwards and forwards moaning about how she could have been so stupid as to throw away the best boyfriend any girl ever had.”

“And did you enlighten her?”

“No,” she said, “fuck her. Let her work it out for herself, that way she may not do it to the next poor sod.”

“Do you think she will?” I asked.

“Probably, until she gets another attack of ‘me, me, me.’,” she said, “and anyway, she’s wrong. Geoff is the best boyfriend any girl ever had.”

“Well, never having had a boyfriend, I don’t know the criteria,” I told her.

“I’m sorry, but that information is on a need to know basis,” she retorted, “and since you’re a boy, you don’t need to know.”

“But if we don’t know, how can we be sure we meet the criteria?”

“That’s the point,” she said, “if you knew what the criteria were, you’d be able to make sure you met them. Then you would just be pretending to be a good boyfriend. Don’t worry about it, we girls will always let you know when you don’t measure up.”

“Ah, I see,” I said, the idea now having become as clear as mud.

“You know, ultimately,” she said, “the girl might just be recoverable.”

“She probably will,” I said, “the question is whether I have the patience, or the desire to recover her.”

“Well, you’re the only one that can make that decision,” she said, “but whatever you do, you know I’m on your side.”

“Thanks, Pip,” I said, “but for now, I just want to try and get through today.”

“You’re bearing up really well,” she said, “I’m proud of you bro.”

“Thanks, though I wish I felt as calm as I’m acting.”

“David,” she said, “if you’re acting, you’re definitely getting an Emmy for this show you’re in.”

“Thanks, Pip,” I replied, “it’s nice to be appreciated, even if it is only by my own family.”

“I think it’s more than just the family, David,” she said, “I think everybody I’ve ever met has had nothing but good things to say about you, except maybe one.”

“John Sollberger?” I suggested.

“That one,” she agreed, “Anyway, I’ll leave you to get ready.”

I got a quick shower and dressed myself in my funeral clothes and then rang Mum and Dad’s room to let them know I was heading round to Maria’s, almost next door to the hotel. I almost slipped and said Sandy’s, which brought a sharp twinge to my heart, but I held it back.

Maria’s father let me in and welcomed me with a hug. I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember his name and I apologised.

“Why not Pappous,” he suggested.

“I’m sorry I don’t speak any Greek,” I said.

“It’s what Sandy called me; it means Granddad.”

“What about your wife?” I asked.

“Try, Yaya,” he suggested.

“Grandma?” I asked.