sometimes she felt that she lived her life through the movies. Now she was actually here and it felt just like being in a film, not just being an observer.
What surprised her most was that the streets were wide, and although the buildings were immensely tall, they didn’t loom over narrow streets in the way they seemed to do in films. ‘Too much Superman ,’ Sophie muttered to herself, excitement replacing jet lag and anxiety about having no job.
Even the buildings that weren’t skyscrapers seemed much taller than similar buildings would have been in London.
How wonderful it would be to live here, she thought, or be like Milly and work here.
Milly’s so jammy to have such an interesting job so young, she decided. She’s only a couple of years older than me but she’s got all that responsibility, working in a brilliant place at a job she loves, and look at me. Can’t even get a job as a nanny!
Then she reflected that she’d been a very successful nanny and her lack of a job now was nothing to do with her shortcomings. And while it was a complete pain that her employers had pulled out like that, they were going to pay her air fare, and even if they didn’t – especially if they didn’t, in a way – she couldn’t waste it. She had to make the most of every minute, follow her quest, track down her ancient relation and go home victorious. And even if it didn’t make anyone a millionaire it would be something to have found out more about it. Uncle Eric would be impressed, anyway.
The taxi drew up outside Milly’s building. They were in what Milly described as the Upper West Side, near Central Park, in a quieter street, and the building was ‘a brownstone’ (just like Carrie’s in Sex and the City , Milly had told Sophie and Amanda when she first got her apartment). There was a long flight of steps up to the door and Sophie could see fire escapes marching diagonally down nearby properties; even at night, the place felt full of promise.
Sophie handed over some of her precious dollars, dragged her rucksack up the steps behind her and pressed the bell next to Milly’s name. While she waited she looked up at the layers of red bricks divided by lines of white. The whole building seemed like the background for a film or television drama. Milly had told her that people quite often lived over their offices so residential and commercial properties were more mixed up than they were in most towns in England.
A few moments after she’d pressed the bell they were sharing an ecstatic hug, jumping up and down and screaming with excitement. ‘Welcome to New York!’ said Milly, and Sophie felt they were the most exciting words she’d ever heard.
Milly insisted on carrying Sophie’s bag up the several flights of stairs to her apartment. ‘I do warn you, it’s tiny, but you can have it to yourself for a bit. I’m afraid I do have to go back to work. There’s still loads to do before the show tomorrow. Here we are!’
She flung open the door on to what amounted to a bedsit with a small kitchen area up one end. There was a sofabed, a little table with two chairs and a row of bright raffia baskets full of clothes. ‘It is a bit small,’ said Milly, seeing it through Sophie’s eyes.
‘It’s sweet,’ said Sophie automatically, thinking that while it was tiny, far smaller than any of those in the television programmes, it would be so much fun to be with Milly. ‘Size doesn’t matter,’ she said, and meant it. ‘But it’s so late! Do you really have to go back to work?’ Sophie’s spirits, made volatile by long-distance travel, took a dive. Suddenly she felt desperately tired – it was about five o’clock in the morning for her and the prospect of being abandoned so soon after her arrival was a bit depressing.
‘I know, but it’s the opening tomorrow,’ Milly repeated before carrying on with the guided tour. ‘This is where it all happens: eating, sleeping, watching TV,’ she said, ‘and here’s
What surprised her most was that the streets were wide, and although the buildings were immensely tall, they didn’t loom over narrow streets in the way they seemed to do in films. ‘Too much Superman ,’ Sophie muttered to herself, excitement replacing jet lag and anxiety about having no job.
Even the buildings that weren’t skyscrapers seemed much taller than similar buildings would have been in London.
How wonderful it would be to live here, she thought, or be like Milly and work here.
Milly’s so jammy to have such an interesting job so young, she decided. She’s only a couple of years older than me but she’s got all that responsibility, working in a brilliant place at a job she loves, and look at me. Can’t even get a job as a nanny!
Then she reflected that she’d been a very successful nanny and her lack of a job now was nothing to do with her shortcomings. And while it was a complete pain that her employers had pulled out like that, they were going to pay her air fare, and even if they didn’t – especially if they didn’t, in a way – she couldn’t waste it. She had to make the most of every minute, follow her quest, track down her ancient relation and go home victorious. And even if it didn’t make anyone a millionaire it would be something to have found out more about it. Uncle Eric would be impressed, anyway.
The taxi drew up outside Milly’s building. They were in what Milly described as the Upper West Side, near Central Park, in a quieter street, and the building was ‘a brownstone’ (just like Carrie’s in Sex and the City , Milly had told Sophie and Amanda when she first got her apartment). There was a long flight of steps up to the door and Sophie could see fire escapes marching diagonally down nearby properties; even at night, the place felt full of promise.
Sophie handed over some of her precious dollars, dragged her rucksack up the steps behind her and pressed the bell next to Milly’s name. While she waited she looked up at the layers of red bricks divided by lines of white. The whole building seemed like the background for a film or television drama. Milly had told her that people quite often lived over their offices so residential and commercial properties were more mixed up than they were in most towns in England.
A few moments after she’d pressed the bell they were sharing an ecstatic hug, jumping up and down and screaming with excitement. ‘Welcome to New York!’ said Milly, and Sophie felt they were the most exciting words she’d ever heard.
Milly insisted on carrying Sophie’s bag up the several flights of stairs to her apartment. ‘I do warn you, it’s tiny, but you can have it to yourself for a bit. I’m afraid I do have to go back to work. There’s still loads to do before the show tomorrow. Here we are!’
She flung open the door on to what amounted to a bedsit with a small kitchen area up one end. There was a sofabed, a little table with two chairs and a row of bright raffia baskets full of clothes. ‘It is a bit small,’ said Milly, seeing it through Sophie’s eyes.
‘It’s sweet,’ said Sophie automatically, thinking that while it was tiny, far smaller than any of those in the television programmes, it would be so much fun to be with Milly. ‘Size doesn’t matter,’ she said, and meant it. ‘But it’s so late! Do you really have to go back to work?’ Sophie’s spirits, made volatile by long-distance travel, took a dive. Suddenly she felt desperately tired – it was about five o’clock in the morning for her and the prospect of being abandoned so soon after her arrival was a bit depressing.
‘I know, but it’s the opening tomorrow,’ Milly repeated before carrying on with the guided tour. ‘This is where it all happens: eating, sleeping, watching TV,’ she said, ‘and here’s
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