Amber Green Takes Manhattan. Rosie Nixon

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СКАЧАТЬ looked upwards to the grey plastic ceiling and the space from where the oxygen masks that you pray you’ll never have to see would pop down in an emergency. I closed my eyes and said a little silent prayer. After all, I was probably physically closer to God than I’d ever be in this life; it was worth a punt. Please let this trip work out, please, dear God. Please make it amazing and life affirming and everything I want it to be. Please.

      The thought of it not working out and me having to come home alone was too awful to contemplate.

      An air hostess came by, handing out water, breaking me away from my morbid thoughts. I resisted the temptation to ask her for a double vodka. In need of clearing my head and warming up a bit, I decided to go for a little wander down the plane. I bumped into Amy in a queue by the loo. Unlike me, she had changed into her flight clothes, and was now a vision in dove grey, with soft leggings, a matching sweatshirt and cosy cable-knit socks. One day I’ll be as organised as that.

      ‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

      ‘Good flight so far,’ I replied, ‘though I’m crap at sleeping on planes. Rob dropped off straight away, but I can never do that. Can you?’

      ‘I normally take a pill,’ she responded. ‘But with a daytime flight it’s hardly worth it. I’d rather get a good night the other end.’

      ‘Have you got your accommodation sorted?’ I asked.

      ‘Yeah, I’m staying with my friend Kate for the first couple of weeks and then we’re moving into a place together – she’s got some leads. I’m hoping that this job will lead to something full-time out there and then I want to apply for a Green Card.’

      ‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.’

      ‘It’s always been my dream to live in New York, let alone be an AP for a cool TV show out there. I’m so excited it’s finally happening. What about you?’

      ‘Yes, similar,’ I said, trying to sound as though I wasn’t plagued with anxiety. ‘So will you be busy as Rob’s PA?’ I asked. ‘I mean, I know it’s a crazy hectic job…’

      She chuckled. ‘I’m not his PA, Amber, I’m his Assistant Producer. Yeah, it’s going to be manic, but we’ll basically be inseparable – we’ll get through it.’ She smiled, showing perfectly straight, white teeth. Her presence made even the toilet area of a Boeing 747 look attractive.

      ‘Right.’ I said, my body turning rigid as I processed what this pretty girl might be doing with my boyfriend five days a week for the next three months.

      ‘Anyway, catch you on the other side.’ She pushed open the toilet door.

      Rather than let insecurities take over, I decided to take a leaf out of Amy’s book and change my mental attitude before it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m moving to New York. With my hot boyfriend. It’s a dream come true and it will be brilliant, in every way. It has to be.

      Rob stirred as I returned to my seat, not very deftly stepping over his legs.

      ‘Okay?’ he muttered sleepily.

      ‘All fine,’ I replied, before settling back down and letting my head flop onto his shoulder. His familiar scent consumed me for a moment.

      We’ll be fine. I love you so much.

      Within two minutes of exiting Arrivals, I had my first reality check: the weather in New York does not do what the forecast says. BBC Weather said it was unseasonably warm and sunny when I was packing and now it was cold and raining; in fact, sleet was falling in diagonal sheets from the sky. The cute blue jersey dress worn with bare legs and sandals I had spent weeks planning for this very moment were wildly inappropriate. I wished I’d shoved a pair of leggings in my bag. Fat lot of use my new Pradas were, too – there was no sign of sunshine. Rob pulled a sweater out of his rucksack and was putting it on over his white T-shirt. Amy looked cosy in her skinny white jeans and grey cashmere jumper as she was met by her friend. I noticed Rob watch her disappear and scowled at him for not passing on the weather memo to me. Why didn’t he tell me he was packing a sweater? Isn’t that what couples are supposed to do?

      He must have read my mind, or the scowl was very obvious, because he began reversing out of his sweater and offered it to me. I wasn’t too proud to accept.

      The fact that my legs were turning blue was soon forgotten when I finally took note of our surroundings outside the terminal – a glorious line of iconic New York taxis stood in view. My shiny, yellow-brick road to a new beginning. We gave our driver the hotel address and were soon speeding up the freeway towards Manhattan. Real-life New Yorkers were at the wheels of their cars all around us, probably swearing and cursing the traffic like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver, salt-beef bagels, half eaten on their laps. I was buzzing, and so was Rob. I kept straining to see through the big plastic divider between the driver and us for my first glimpse of the famous New York skyline.

      Finally, as we tipped over a hill, there it was: the shape of Manhattan, a vista so familiar yet thrillingly new to me. Giant grey buildings reached into the sky – tall, proud, imposing – it was a film set come to life.

      ‘There’s the Empire State,’ Rob pointed out as the skyscrapers drew closer. And then we were among them, a jungle of brownstone, red-stone, bricks and concrete. Signs to Downtown, Crosstown, Uptown hung across the road.

      ‘Which town are we, then?’ I nudged Rob, who was equally engrossed in the passing scenery.

      ‘I guess Downtown to start with,’ he responded, not taking his eyes off the streets whizzing past, ‘but, after that, who knows? We’ll have to see where we fancy.’

      We passed corner taverns, diners, indoor markets; we sped across wide main roads and down little cross streets. We saw the fronts of brownstone houses with black metal railings and steps leading up to the porches; it was all so intoxicating. I wondered if any of these places flashing past the taxi window would soon become our regular haunts. If one of these neighbourhoods would be our ’hood.

      The rain had stopped now and the sun was coming through. I fumbled around in my bag for my new shades and put them on, feeling like a movie star. I love this city already.

      The taxi continued past Park Avenue, Madison Avenue, Madison Square Garden – I recognise the names! Crowded pavements in every direction packed with people in trainers, high heels, sandals, walking with purpose. I spied a giant Coach store and made a mental note to remember its exact location, then an even bigger Urban Outfitters, Victoria’s Secret, Sephora – and there was Bloomingdales! So many cool shops I couldn’t wait to discover for myself. I’m really going to need to find a job fast if I’m going to survive the shopping potential in this city.

      Finally, we pulled up outside the Best Western, our home for the next five nights at least. It wasn’t exactly the flashy W Hotel, where I’d spent so much time kitting out celebrities with Mona in LA, but it was the most the production budget could stretch to, until we found a more affordable apartment. But the location was perfect, in the Bowery, a stone’s throw from Downtown’s most fashionable neighbourhoods.

      Within twenty-four hours of landing and three appointments with real-estate agents, it became blindingly obvious that Rob and I would not find our dream apartment in this salubrious part of Manhattan, where it cost approximately ten times our monthly budget for a space more suitable to house Pinky. Instead, we were packed off with some numbers СКАЧАТЬ