‘Mr Gopnik. I love this job. I wouldn’t …’ I cast an anguished look at Agnes, but she was still staring down. One of her hands, I saw, was holding the other, her fingernail digging deep into the flesh of the ball of her thumb.
‘You really can’t explain what has happened to that money?’
‘I – I didn’t steal it.’
He looked at me intently for a long moment, as if waiting for something. When it didn’t come his expression hardened. ‘This is disappointing, Louisa. I know Agnes is very fond of you and feels you have been very helpful to her. But I cannot have someone in my household whom I do not trust.’
‘Leonard –’ Agnes began, but he held up a hand.
‘No, darling. I’ve been through this before. I’m sorry, Louisa, but your employment is terminated with immediate effect.’
‘Wh-what?’
‘You will be given an hour to clear your room. You will leave a forwarding address with Michael and he will be in touch regarding whatever is owed to you. I would take this opportunity to remind you of the non-disclosure element of your contract. The details of this conversation will go no further. I hope you can see that this is for your benefit as much as ours.’
The colour had drained from Agnes’s face. ‘No, Leonard. You can’t do this.’
‘I am not discussing this further. I have to go to work. Louisa, your hour starts now.’
He stood. He was waiting for me to leave the room.
I emerged from the study with my head spinning. Michael was waiting for me, and it took me a couple of seconds to grasp that he was not there to see if I was okay but to escort me to my room. That from now on I really was not trusted in this house.
I walked silently down the corridor, vaguely conscious of Ilaria’s stunned face at the kitchen door, the sound of impassioned conversation somewhere at the other end of the apartment. I couldn’t see Nathan anywhere. As Michael stood in the doorway I pulled my case from under my bed and began to pack, messily, chaotically, pulling out drawers, hauling things in as quickly as I could, conscious that I was working against some capricious clock. My brain hummed – shock and outrage tempered by the need not to forget anything: had I left laundry in the laundry room? Where were my trainers? And then, twenty minutes later, I was done. All my belongings were packed into a suitcase, a holdall and a large checked shopping bag.
‘Here, I’ll take that,’ said Michael, reaching for my wheelie case as he saw me struggling to get the three bags to the bedroom door. It took me a second to realize this was less an act of kindness than efficiency.
‘iPad?’ he said. ‘Work phone? Credit card.’ I handed them over, along with the door keys, and he put them into his pocket.
I walked along the hallway, still struggling to believe this was happening. Ilaria was standing in the kitchen doorway, her apron on, her plump hands pressed together. As I passed her, I glanced sideways, expecting her to curse me in Spanish, or to give me the kind of withering look that women of her age reserve for alleged thieves. But instead she stepped forward and silently touched my hand. Michael turned away, as if he hadn’t seen. And then we were at the front door.
He passed me the handle of my case.
‘Goodbye, Louisa,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘Good luck.’
I stepped out. And the huge mahogany door closed firmly behind me.
I sat in the diner for two hours. I was in shock. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t rage. I just felt paralysed. I thought at first that Agnes would sort this out. She would find a way to convey to her husband that he was wrong. We were friends, after all. So I sat and waited for Michael to appear, looking slightly awkward, ready to pull my cases back to the Lavery. I gazed at my mobile phone, waiting for a text message – Louisa, there has been terrible misunderstanding. But none came.
When I realized it probably wasn’t going to come, I thought about simply heading back to the UK, but to do so would wreak havoc on Treena’s life – the last thing she and Thom needed was me turfing them out of the flat. I couldn’t return to Mum and Dad’s – it wasn’t just the soul-destroying thought of moving back to Stortfold but I thought I might die if I had to go home as a failure twice, the first time broken after drunkenly falling from a building, the second fired from the job I had loved.
And, of course, I could no longer stay with Sam.
I cradled my coffee cup with fingers that still trembled and saw that I had effectively boxed myself out of my own life. I considered calling Josh, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate to ask him if I could move in, given I wasn’t sure we’d even had a first date.
And if I did find accommodation, what was I going to do? I had no job. I didn’t know if Mr Gopnik could revoke my work permit. Presumably that only existed as long as I worked for him.
Worst of all, I was haunted by the way he had looked at me, his expression of utter disappointment and faint contempt when I had failed to come up with a satisfactory answer. His quiet approval had been one of the many small satisfactions of my life there – that a man of such stature had thought I was doing a good job had boosted my confidence, had left me feeling capable, professional, in a way I hadn’t since looking after Will. I wanted so badly to explain myself to him, to regain his goodwill, but how could I? I saw Agnes’s face, eyes wide, pleading. She would call, wouldn’t she? Why hadn’t she called?
‘You want a refill, sweetheart?’ I looked up at the middle-aged waitress with tangerine-coloured hair holding the coffee jug. She eyed my belongings like she had seen this scenario a million times before. ‘Just got here?’
‘Not exactly.’ I tried to smile but it came out as a kind of grimace.
She poured the coffee, and stooped, lowering her voice. ‘My cousin runs a hostel in Bensonhurst if you’re stuck for somewhere to stay. There are cards over by the till. It ain’t pretty, but it’s cheap and it’s clean. Call sooner rather than later, you know what I’m saying? Places fill up.’ She put a hand briefly on my shoulder and walked on to the next customer.
That small act of kindness almost did for my composure. For the first time I felt overwhelmed, crushed by the knowledge that I was alone in a city that no longer welcomed me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now that my bridges were apparently pushing out thick black smoke on two continents. I tried to picture myself explaining to my parents what had happened, but found myself once again butting up against the vast wall of Agnes’s secret. Could you tell even one person without the truth slowly creeping out? My parents would be so outraged on my behalf that I couldn’t put it past Dad not to ring Mr Gopnik just to set him straight about his deceitful wife. And what if Agnes denied everything? I thought about Nathan’s words – ultimately we were staff, not friends. What if she lied and said I had stolen the money? Wouldn’t that make things worse?
For perhaps the first time since I had arrived in New York I wished I hadn’t come. I was still in last night’s clothes, stale and crumpled, which made me feel even worse. I sniffed quietly and wiped my nose with a paper napkin while staring at the mug in front of me. Outside, life in Manhattan continued, oblivious, fast-moving, ignoring the detritus that piled up in the gutter. What do I do now, Will? I thought, a huge lump rising in my throat.