work, won’t you, honey?’ We’d reached the lobby and she turned to kiss me on both cheeks.
‘I’ll try,’ I said, and added a grudging, ‘thanks,’ remembering just in time that I was the ‘new me’. We stepped out of the apartment building and the driver opened the door to the limo that was waiting outside. I hopped in the back.
‘And maybe you’ll tell me who this Miles is next time I see you. Bye now,’ Stella said, then grinned at me rather wickedly.
‘Hi! How was your journey?’ I asked, leaning out of the window as Miles and Vanessa appeared from JFK arrivals and walked towards the limo. (I’d booked it especially for Vanessa because I’d hoped she would think it was cool.)
‘All went smoothly,’ Miles called to me as he helped the driver load their luggage into the trunk.
‘Hey, Vanessa, you get in next to me, and Miles, you can sit up front, okay?’ I said.
Vanessa did so and as the driver closed the door behind her, I looked at her pinched features and thought that she seemed to have lost even more weight since I’d last seen her.
‘How are you?’ I asked as she traced the leather seat with her long skinny fingers.
‘This ride is so cool, ’Lectra,’ she said, ignoring my question. ‘I had a joe pick me up in one once. He drove me uptown and screwed me in the parking lot under his apartment building. His wife arrived and he had ta hide me in the trunk. It was three hours before he came back. Thought I was gonna suffocate in there.’
‘That must have been scary,’ I said with feeling. ‘I got locked in a cupboard by some mean girls at school and I still can’t deal with small spaces.’
‘Yeah, right? It was bad, real bad, man,’ Vanessa nodded.
I did my best to try and think of something positive to say, but failed miserably and the two of us lapsed into silence.
‘Hey, is that a mini bar there?’ Vanessa pointed to the box that sat between the two front seats.
‘It is, yeah. Want some soda?’
Vanessa gave me one of those looks as if to say, ‘We both know what I really want.’
‘I’ll have a Coke.’
I opened the little fridge and pulled out the can before I could glance at the miniatures lined up in a neat rack tucked inside the door and handed it to her.
‘Miles has told me that the place you’re going to is great,’ I ventured.
Vanessa stared out of the window, and I didn’t blame her. To her it must feel as if she was just going to a different kind of prison, but at least she seemed calmer and a little more responsive than she had at the hospital.
‘How far is it, Miles?’ I asked.
‘About another half an hour; it’s near a place called Dix Hills.’
‘I told Miles the address suited me just fine,’ Vanessa sniggered.
Thirty minutes later, having driven through what looked like a pleasant residential suburb, we arrived at a gated entrance. As Miles spoke to the guard on duty, I noticed that although from the outside all one could see were tall hedges along the perimeter, behind them lay a high fence topped with barbed wire and bright security lights shining into the distance. Even Miles would struggle to reach the top of it with his outstretched hands.
We drove through the well-kept gardens and eventually I saw a large and very grand white house.
‘Jeez,’ said Vanessa, staring out of the window, ‘looks like the President could live here.’
‘Actually, Landsdowne House and the grounds were bequeathed to the charity that runs the rehab centre by the woman who used to live here,’ said Miles. ‘She’d lost her only son to his addiction and lived like a recluse until she died ten years ago. It sure is beautiful,’ he commented, looking at the Doric columns on either side of the steps leading up to the imposing front door.
‘I woulda worn my evening gown if I’d known,’ Vanessa sneered, as I saw a woman step out of a car and walk towards us.
‘Shit! It’s Ida!’ said Vanessa, almost cowering in the seat beside me as the woman tapped on the back window. She was around the same skin colour as me and dressed in a fabulous bright purple tie-dye kaftan that I wanted to own immediately.
‘Vanessa’s social worker,’ explained Miles as he got out of the limo to greet her. He’d already warned me that I should stay out of sight once