Amber Green Takes Manhattan. Rosie Nixon
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by the amount of luggage they had, it looked like Nora was moving in. There was a giant holdall, a duvet, plus another big bag apparently full of the toys, books and three night lights required to recreate Nora’s home environment for one night. As Rory dragged the endless bags up the communal stairs and into my flat, I placated Lucy with a glass of sauvignon blanc and then spun a yarn about how I planned to take Nora to the local fish and chip shop instead of cooking, as a special treat. Lucy’s face dropped, but thankfully, before she could veto dinner, the little girl’s eyes lit up and she grabbed my hand tightly.
‘Chips! Can we go now pleeeease?’ she squealed.
‘Oh, it’s only a one-off, Luce, it’s an auntie’s prerogative. Now, you two had better get off – go on, shoo,’ I commanded, ‘and don’t worry about coming back early in the morning. Nora and I are going to be just fine, aren’t we?’ I looked at Nora nervously.
‘Fine, Auntie Nana,’ she replied. The fact she had referred to me as ‘Nana’ from the age of one did nothing for my image as a fun young auntie. ‘Can we get the chips now?’
After two greasy dinners and a bag of pick-and-mix, we arrived home to find Rob had just turned up with Pinky. The little pig was excitedly scurrying around the living room, pausing now and again to hoover up stray crumbs from under the coffee table.
‘Hey, Nora! Look who I’ve brought to see you. Rob’s little piggy, Pinky. He wants to be your friend too. Would you like to come and play with him?’
Pinky’s wiry tail lifted when he caught sight of a new potential playmate.
‘Me no like Pinky!’ she uttered, as Pinky darted between my legs to reach her. She clung onto my trousers as though her life depended upon it.
‘So, this is going well,’ Rob muttered, after umpteen attempts to get Nora and Pinky to interact, always ending in Nora running off to hide, whilst shrieking, ‘I want to go home!’ at the top of her voice.
We then spent an hour constantly retrieving Pinky from behind the TV table, where he was particularly interested in gnawing through cables, before I decided it was time for bed. All four of us were becoming overtired and angsty.
‘Oh, by the way, nearly forgot to tell you,’ Rob said. ‘I spoke to Dan earlier, the wedding is on hold.’
‘Oh no,’ I said, sighing, ‘poor thing. Did he say what happened?’
‘Nope, he’s not good with opening up and doesn’t seem to want to say more – despite mum pestering him endlessly.’
The doorbell buzzed loudly just as we were coaxing Nora into her bedroom with a trail of popcorn. Pinky was darting around our feet, trying to scoff the popcorn before Nora and thinking it was all a huge game as she became increasingly wound up.
‘I want Mummy! Is Mummy at the door?’ Nora whined.
‘Ignore it, I can’t handle seeing anyone right now,’ I commanded Rob over the racket. ‘Mummy will be here to pick you up first thing tomorrow morning, I promise,’ I told Nora. ‘Now, let’s go find your toys and I’ll read your favourite story.’
The doorbell buzzed again just as I closed her door.
Thirty minutes later – four readings of The Gruffalo, one protracted pretend tea party, the full-length version of ‘Let It Go’, sung badly, and two failed attempts at putting to bed – and Nora was showing no signs of tiredness, so I decided to admit defeat and brought her back into the living room. As I crossed the hallway, at first I thought Rob was on the phone, but then I heard a familiar female American voice talking back to him. I peered through a gap in the door: Poppy Dunn. Looking very at home on my sofa – with Pinky curled up in her lap, like some bald, chubby kitten – while she chatted away to Rob like an old friend. Her discarded Chanel flats lay on the floor.
She leapt up when she saw me, causing Pinky to jump off the sofa.
‘Hey, Amber, babe, hope you don’t mind me popping over, but it was so great to reconnect with you today. I want to hear more about what you’re up to. Rob picked up your phone when I called. He says you guys are moving to Manhattan together. I’m so excited for you. New York is the coolest city. Probably my favourite in the world, after London, and Tokyo, oh, and probably Miami.’
‘Not at all.’ I grinned falsely, slowly turning my expression into a grimace as I slyly sideways-glanced at Rob wondering why he had given her my address.
Then she spotted Nora. ‘Hey, there, little princess, aren’t you the cutest? If I’m not mistaken, that is a Frozen nightie you’re wearing, isn’t it?’ Nora nodded, and came out from behind me to get a better look at the glamorous woman who looked as though she’d stepped out of a Disney film herself. With her poker-straight honey-blonde hair, pale blue skintight jeans and cream jumper, she would certainly have turned heads on her way to Kensal Rise. ‘Do you know that I’m friends with Elsa in real life?’ she continued, as Nora’s eyes widened. ‘I can tell you all about her, if you like, while you show me your dolls and we talk about Frozen.’
She gave me a wink and, miraculously, Nora was only too happy to take Poppy’s hand and be led straight back to her bedroom.
‘She’s got the magic touch,’ Rob commented, as the two quietly disappeared back across the landing, making me feel like a failure.
‘Good luck to her,’ I replied, which unfortunately came out sounding slightly sarcastic. ‘So I don’t think Nora’s going to be begging her parents to adopt Pinky any time soon,’ I added.
‘Agreed, I think we can safely say she hates micro-pigs.’ Rob laughed, pouring me a glass from the bottle of red he and Poppy had already drunk half of.
‘But, every cloud,’ he said, grinning, ‘because Poppy might just be our saviour. She’s taken a real shine to Pinky and the feeling seems to be mutual.’
Just then, Poppy bounded back into the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.
‘Sound asleep,’ she declared, proudly. ‘Still haven’t lost my nannying touch.’
‘You used to be a nanny?’ I asked.
‘Yes, for four years, while I was at drama school. I looked after two girls for a wealthy family in Chelsea. I know every bedtime trick there is.’
‘I wish I’d known that earlier,’ I said, smiling, warming to our unexpected guest now we had some peace. ‘I would have invited you for the whole evening.’
‘I guess you haven’t seen the Evening Standard yet today, then?’ She pulled a rolled-up copy of the newspaper out of the dreamy cream Chloé bag I’d clocked by the side of the sofa. ‘Tada!’ she thrust it into my hands. ‘We made the paper, girlfriend!’
I straightened out the newspaper and took in the full horror of a page-five-splash which featured a large photo of Amanda coming out of Selfridges and a smaller photo of Poppy and me sitting in the car – her looking gorgeous, smiling broadly, and my startled face, one leg in the car, getting in, in an ungainly fashion, unaware I was being photographed. Both Amanda and Poppy looked like models with their perfectly coiffed hair and made-up faces, whereas I looked like a flustered frump. The headline accompanying it read: AMANDA SYKES SHOPPING SPREE CAUSES CHAOS AT SELFRIDGES. I wondered what the big bosses would make of this; whether they would spot who the person was inelegantly getting into Amanda’s car. Perhaps my sabbatical will be recalled now. Perhaps they won’t want me back.
‘Rob came and leaned over my shoulder. ‘Classic! You didn’t tell me about this, Am. Look at your face! Come on, you’ve got to admit, it’s a little bit hilarious?’
‘I look like a homeless person.’ I sulked.
‘Anyway, Amanda is thrilled,’ Poppy revealed. ‘She only went to the store at the busiest time of day to try to score a photo in a paper. You can’t buy PR like this.’
‘Won’t