David Adkins [Adkins - The Girl Who Walked Away

THE GIRL WHO WALKED AWAY

David Adkins

David Adkins 2018

David Adkins has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

First published in 2018 by Endeavour Media Ltd.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Tuesday 6 th and Wednesday 7 th February

The alarm went off and I woke up, stretched, and reluctantly climbed out of my warm bed. It was yet another very cold day and the bed had been so inviting. I fought the urge to once again hide under the covers; being late for work was not my cup of tea, and I had a reputation to uphold. Peering out of the window at the frost-covered road and at the icicles hanging from my gutter, I shuddered before moving quickly through my apartment to have a quick wash and breakfast. Pulling on my jacket, I set off on the journey to work. It was a typical cold, unappealing winters day in February and everything seemed so ordinary. My breath was visible in the cold morning air, the birds were singing and the sun shone weakly down out of a clear blue sky. I arrived at the office at twenty minutes past eight, made myself a cup of tea and started work, settling into yet another day of routine.

I left the office at my usual time of 1.00 pm and headed down the Strand towards Charing Cross Station and towards my usual lunchtime destination, the Lyons Tea House on the corner of the Strand and Charing Cross Road. I clutched my Times under my arm and I would finish reading it as usual while eating my lunch. The train journey from Lewisham was never long enough to fully peruse the lengthy and unwieldy newspaper. I knew that since the war years I had become a creature of tedious habit, but for me it was a comfortable existence. As the cold winter air that blew like a draught from the Arctic, I shivered and hastened my stride looking forward to the warmth of the Tea House and a hot cup of tea to warm me up.

It was busier than usual and I supposed it was due to so many people wishing to get out of the near zero temperatures. I did not have time to take advantage of the waitress service and so I queued up at the counter clutching a tray and stood behind a pretty young woman who was buying a cream bun and a coffee. I ordered my teacake and pot of tea and then looked around to see if there was an empty table. Spotting one in the corner, I headed for it at a quick pace, hoping my movements wouldnt alert anyone to my target. Just as I got there I found that I was beaten to it by the girl with the cream bun.

She sat down quickly and looked up at me with a smile on her face. Im sorry. It seems I just got here before you, but you are welcome to join me if you wish.

Are you sure you dont mind? I responded.

No, I dont mind at all. She sipped her coffee.

I poured out a cup of tea from my white teapot and took a sip of my drink.

Her eyebrows popped up as she watched me drink. Dont you take sugar?

No, I dont like it sweet, I replied, trying to arrange my newspaper so that it wouldnt knock about our food.

I like lots of sugar. If you sit opposite me then there will be room on the table to open your newspaper, she suggested.

I shuffled across on the cushioned bench until I was sitting opposite her. She really was a pretty girl. She had long, blond hair and deep blue eyes that you could lose yourself in. Thank you, I said, putting my paper on the table and wrapping my hands around the warm cup.

I had a boyfriend who insisted on reading a newspaper at the table so I understand.

Did he stay your boyfriend for long? I inquired, smiling.

I only tolerated him for a few months.

Was that because of the newspaper?

She laughed. Yes, because it does kill the art of conversation. She played with her spoon before adding, plus he had some other bad habits as well.

I grimaced, feeling rebuked. Im sorry. I started to shuffle the paper back into its usual order.

She laughed again, placing her hand on my arm. I did not mean that you should not read it, but if we are to talk should we not introduce ourselves?

I was surprised by how forward this young lady was. My name is Steve.

Im Cassie.

Her quick grin was blinding in its easiness, and I could not believe that I had started up a conversation with a beautiful, young woman who was probably more than ten years my junior. That is an unusual name, I offered.

Its not so unusual. Its short for Cassandra.

Ah. Can you see into the future? I asked.

That is a strange question, she replied, but didnt seem overly off-put by it, raising an eyebrow for an explanation.

Cassandra was a Trojan princess who could see into the future, I explained.

From the Iliad? she asked.

I think so. That was the reference, but I did not want to appear to be a know-all.

Do you work around here, Steve?

I work for a law firm at the other end of the Strand.

Is it interesting work?

I thought about the question. It is mostly boring with much paperwork but it has its moments.

She nodded and stirred her coffee. I expect most jobs are like that.

What about you? What do you do? I asked.

I am a chorus girl at the Gaiety, she smiled.

I was surprised and probably did not hide it well. You are a dancer?

Well, hardly, for it is more a question of having long legs and being able to kick them high, but I have a dream that one day I will be a famous dancer.

I think you are being modest, I offered.

She smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment, then sipped her coffee before asking, Do you ever go to the Gaiety?

I have been to the theatre but not the Gaiety Theatre. It is surprising really, for it is almost opposite my office.

You must go. She took a bite from her cream bun as I watched her dubiously. I never put on weight no matter how much I eat.

I had completely forgotten about my teacake, so I followed suit and took a bite. Are you on stage most nights?

I have Wednesdays and Sundays off, but the other days I rehearse in the afternoons and perform in the evenings.

It sounds like hard work, I said.

It is, but I live nearby and I have a lie-in most mornings. I am actually due at rehearsal shortly, she said, finishing her cream bun. Are you interested in history and legend and that sort of stuff? she added, changing the subject.

I suppose I am. I answered, wondering where the conversation was going.

So you read a lot then.

I do and now I sound very boring. I shook my head.

It is not boring. I read the Iliad a few years ago and the Odyssey too and they were interesting. Chorus girls do have brains.

I never thought for one minute they didnt, I smiled.

She started to gather her things. I have to go now for I have to get to that rehearsal. Will you be here at the same time tomorrow, Steve?

I will be if you are. I could not believe what I had just said.

She laughed. I will be here for I would like to continue our chat. You can then tell me more about your work. She stood up. Au revoir, Steve, she said.

Au revoir, Cassie, I replied and watched her walk out of the tea house. She did have long legs and she had made quite an impact on me. I should have asked to walk back to the Gaiety with her. I cursed myself for being slow.

Are you finished, sir? My introspection was broken by the waitress.

Yes, thank you.

The waitress removed our cups and plates. I remained at the table for several minutes before I left. I could not believe my good fortune that a beautiful young chorus-line woman from the Gaiety Theatre had chosen to speak with me and that she wanted to do so again tomorrow. At the age of thirty-six I had lost the habit of talking to women outside of work. After the war, I never returned to the dating scene, and I had become aware, of late, that the world was passing me by. Did this young woman offer me the chance to throw off the cobwebs and get a life again outside the confines of my busy office? These were my thoughts as I walked back to the law firm of Butler and Robinson for another hectic afternoon.