Cohen felt a flare of hope. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, a tremulous waver in his voice.
‘I mean that I’m willing to support your ...’ Rushi swallowed again, looking away from Cohen to the spires of St. Pauls. ‘I’m willing to let you form a relationship with my daughter. You make her happy. She seems to make you happy. And you’ve shown, on more than one occasion now, that you are willing to learn her language to be with her. And I admire that Ford, I really do. Because you know something?’ Rushi leaned closer now, prodding him with a sharp finger. ‘Because I did the same thing.’
Cohen couldn’t speak. He was lost to the excited bubbles in his stomach, the sudden knowledge that not only did Rushi know about him and River, but that she was willing to support their relationship also.
Rushi sat back, the lines of her face suddenly softening when she next spoke. ‘Everyone said the same thing about me and my Guido, you know. He was Italian, I was Chinese. Everyone told me to stay away from him, that he was trouble. And he was.’ Rushi smiled fondly. ‘He really was. I met him in my first year here in London. He hired me as an assistant in his café, taught me everything there was to know about gelato. Everyone said, oh, you can’t marry that boy, he’s so hopeless at Chinese, and his English is not much better. They were right too. Even after fifty years with me, he couldn’t speak a word. I had to learn Italian for him, did your mother ever tell you that?’ Rushi looked off into the distance, momentarily lost in a happy past. ‘A whole new language, just to be with the one I loved.’
‘You were happy,’ Cohen said, because in the damp, grey light of London, Rushi’s face looked almost girlish when she recalled the great love of her life.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘We were happy. We couldn’t have children, but we were happy. It was my idea to foster children when we were both too old and should’ve known better. We had three children with us before River. But River ... as soon as they brought that little girl to me, I knew I would never let her go. She’d been let down so badly by her parents. So, so badly. Life played a cruel trick on that girl, taking her hearing and her family all at once. But she was resilient, anyone could see that. Within a week of arriving she was clinging to my arms like a limpet, and within a year she was signing away. Guido, the old fool, couldn’t learn Chinese for me but learned BSL for her. She brought great hope and happiness to his final years, you know?’ Rushi sighed again, reaching for her coffee.
‘I’m going to make her happy, Rushi.’ Cohen’s voice was firm, weighed down by conviction.
‘You already have.’ Rushi shrugged. ‘I only ask that you keep making her happy, every day that you have together. Which I suppose brings me to my next point: what happens now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, what happens now? You live in New York, River lives here. And if you even suggest taking her away from me, moving her to America, so help me God, I will kill you and turn your body to gelato. You’re a big man, but I run an ice creamery and own a damn big freezer.’
Cohen nodded. ‘I wouldn’t take her away from you,’ he reassured her.
‘Good. Because few enough folk speak BSL here, so I imagine the rates in the US are much lower.’
‘I’ll stay in London,’ Cohen decided suddenly, understanding entirely the implication of those words. Because staying in London meant giving up New York. It meant giving up his apartment, his car and his friends. It would mean changing his whole lifestyle for a city he had always been half-hearted about.
But then he thought of River, of her hazel eyes and gingham skirts and soft hands and clinging body and he knew, he just knew, that he would never be happy anywhere else ever again unless she was by his side. He’d never be half-hearted about her.
Rushi nodded. ‘So, you stay in London, you learn BSL. How will you stay in London? You aren’t British. You aren’t European. You have no right to stay, unless your work will sponsor you ...’
‘Actually.’ Cohen pressed his lips together, the next words awkward to say. ‘Actually, I just quit my job.’
Rushi stared at him. ‘So, you’re unemployed then?’
He nodded.
‘Ah,’ she remarked drily. ‘The perfect son-in-law.’
Cohen flushed. ‘I have money,’ he said tightly. ‘And my own money too, not just the Sedler funds.’
‘Well, even with money, you still have a problem. Unless you suddenly start to crap visas, you have no right to stay in the UK.’
Cohen hadn’t thought of that. ‘I could always marry River—’ he began, but Rushi exhaled sharply, holding up her hand.
‘What? Just like that? You would marry a deaf girl, a girl you hardly know, just like that?’
‘No.’ Cohen shook his head, sitting taller. ‘I wouldn’t marry a deaf girl, or a girl I hardly know, just like that. But Rushi.’ He paused, his face serious. ‘I would marry River.’
Rushi inhaled now. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you Ford?’
‘Yes.’ And by God, Cohen had never been more serious about anything in his life. Abruptly he stood, brushing the crumbs from his lap. He extended a hand to Rushi. ‘Come on, let me get you home,’ he offered.
Rushi stood, a frown on her face. ‘I may be old, but I can get myself home safely, Ford.’
Cohen looked at her pointedly. ‘River is deaf, and you don’t seem to think she can.’
The look Rushi gave him was almost a glare but mostly begrudgingly impressed. ‘Alright Ford,’ she muttered. ‘Now you’re just showing off. Fine then, you may take me home.’
‘I’d like to see River anyway,’ Cohen told her. ‘One more time, before I fly to New York.’
‘New York?’ Rushi looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you weren’t going home?’
Cohen smiled at her. ‘I’m not going home. River is home. I’m going to New York, just for a while. I have some business to take care of, and also—’ he smiled again, thinking of Christine and his grandmother’s ring ‘—I also have something I need to collect.’
Rushi claimed tiredness on their return, disappearing to her bedroom soon after they arrived. River didn’t claim tiredness but pulled Cohen into her bedroom all the same. She’d dressed for work in a blue gingham apron, but it didn’t last long. Cohen peeled that from her body first before stripping the rest of her clothes, kissing every inch of flesh he could get his mouth on.
Later, while they were lying in a post-coital haze, River showing him signs for umbrella, snow and boots, he reached for her notepad and told her that he had to go to New York. Just for a while, he wrote, kissing her when she frowned at his words. Just for a while. I’m always going to come home to you. Now and forever.
Still, he clung to her when they parted. He walked her down to the ice creamery, kissing her fingers when she disappeared behind the counter. He swallowed hard at the tears that gathered in her eyes and felt his own eyes swell with emotion when she turned and put a pink paper cup into his hands.
Strawberry, she signed. And then she made another sign, which he knew meant Your favourite.