Sunday 12 September 2010

Chapter 6 - In the news

Well, she knew his name now, that was for sure. She smiled quietly to herself as she closed the newspaper and put it down next to her now cold cup of coffee. Just as well I never tried saying hello, she thought. That would have been really embarrassing. He'd probably never even noticed her all those mornings. People like him didn't need to remember the insignificant people like her around them. They had probably been nothing more than polite reflexes, those fleeting smiles she'd thought had been for her alone. Facial twitches spent as lightly and meaning as little to him as the loose change in his pocket. She felt a pang of mortification as she thought how she'd even allowed herself to wonder if he'd miss her that morning when their paths didn't cross at their usual place. How silly she'd been giving in her to her romantic fantasies. And she blushed at the thought of it even though no-one else knew but her.

She'd picked the newspaper up on her way out of the station when she'd arrived this morning. She'd pushed it quickly into her shoulder bag without looking beyond the headline, while she decided where best to wait out the human tide that is London during rush hour. The grey suited, grey faced flood of commuters intent on reaching their destinations in the alloted time would not thank her for attempting to join them, tangling her holdall in amongst their purposeful strides. And since she had time to kill before starting the next stage of her journey, she decided that discretion being the better part of whatever, she should opt for the closest acceptable coffee shop until the tide ebbed.

As luck would have it she spied one almost straight away, more or less directly opposite the station exit. A quick scan was all she needed to confirm that it would suit very nicely. Over the past few months she'd become quite expert at picking a good coffee haunt. Whilst the quality of the coffee itself was, of course, important, equally so was the quality of the environment. And specifically, were there comfortable seats in which to drop and enjoy, not just drink, her coffee? In the right environment, she could easily pass a pleasant couple of hours without any trouble whatsoever.

In her experience, coffee was best accompanied by a combination of good music, interesting reading material and entertaining fellow customers to watch or, even better, eavesdrop on. The coffee shop promised all three and she and her luggage soon found themselves ensconced in a leather sofa at a table in the window from where, once she'd finished the morning's news and was onto her second coffee, she could enjoy the simple pleasure of people watching both inside the shop and out on the street. Perfect!

Perfection, however, didn't last long. As soon as she retrieved the newspaper from her bag and unfolded it, she saw the story. She recognised his face instantly as it stared out at her from one of the three photographs nestling under the banner headline. The headline that proclaimed the death of business tycoon and society darling, Olivia Martinez. Of whom, it transpired, he was the eldest of two sons. Reading quickly on, she discovered that Olivia Martinez had died the previous day, after heading up the family business her husband had made so successful until his untimely and tragic death 10 years earlier. She'd come from a family of minor aristocracy, of which Europe seems to have a particular abundance. Her husband's business acumen and her family connections had combined, it appeared, to ensure great success and equally great wealth for the family. Wealth which would now pass to the family's eldest son, her mystery stranger, along with control of the family firm.

Olivia was pictured in the largest of the three photographs, standing alongside her husband at some society event and exuding a cold elegance and general indifference to the people around including, she thought, her husband. The other photographs were of the two sons, the younger looking serious behind an impressive desk at company headquarters, while the elder was pictured on a beach with his arm wrapped tightly round a raven haired, lithe limbed, sun kissed beauty. And, she realised with a stab, smiling the smile of the deeply in love.

So she had folded up the newspaper and put it to one side without finishing the rest of the article. She'd learned what she needed to, no point in torturing herself further. Closing the door on what had been really was for the best. What she needed to do now, she told herself, was look ahead to her new future and her new start with its completely blank unwritten page.

For a moment her nerves got the better of her. Was she really doing the right thing? Was this how to start again? Heading off on her own to a completely new place, a new country even, was quite a gamble. She'd never even visited Spain before. How would she cope? What on earth had possessed her to choose it as her destination? At the time it had just somehow seemed right, the place she needed to be and where she could begin again. What better than to begin again in an entirely new place, with no memories or references to what had been, no baggage and no expectations - she of it or it of her? But as it got closer, she was less sure. Maybe I should just head back home, she thought.

Back home to what, though? Gathering up her bags, she headed out of the coffee shop leaving the newspaper folded on the table behind her. Time to start again, no time for looking back. I've got a journey to finish.

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