G. D. Falksen - The Secret Life of Kitty Granger

I t was midmorning, and Kitty Granger sat huddled in her seat on the crowded London bus, sandwiched between a very stylish Indian lady and a big pasty-skinned man who smelled of tobacco. She eyed the man beside her and shuddered. His tie was decorated with little horseshoes, and it looked ghastly. Also, it was lime green, but the horseshoes were the worst part.

It had rained earlier, and the smell of damp fabric mingled in the air with the unpleasant odors of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. Half the time Kitty felt like she was choking. The other half, she was too overcome by the crowd to notice anything else. The people all blurred together until they were just a jumble of motion and noise that seemed poised to crash down upon her like a giant wave. But despite all else, the damned lime green tie with its little horseshoes kept staring at her out of the corner of her eye.

Taking the bus might have been a mistake, but it was the easiest way to get downtown. This was her first day off work in two weeks, and she was determined to visit the British Museumand have a good time doing it! Kitty clenched her jaw and gave a firm little nod to remind herself of that. It probably appeared odd, but no one was looking at her. She was just an ordinary teenage girl on an ordinary London bus. No one knew that she really just wanted to scream and hide, to huddle in a safe dark corner away from all these people.

Kitty rubbed her fingertips against the rough wool of her skirt. To any observer, it would just look like she was brushing away wrinkles, but in fact she found the texture of the fabric very calming, and the repetitive motion soothed her nerves.

She should have bought a newspaper before leaving. There was a book in her handbaga delightfully lurid detective novelbut shed never be able to concentrate on reading. Kitty needed a puzzle to distract her from the loudness of the world.

She glanced awkwardly at the woman seated next to her, who had gotten on ten minutes ago and spent the entire journey reading a copy of The Times . Well, no, the woman wasnt actually doing much reading. Kitty had noticed that. She was watching a man in a Mackintosh raincoat a few seats in front of them, rather like how Kitty kept watching the hideous green tie. No one else noticed, but Kitty did. It often felt like she noticed everything all at once, and it was exhausting. Maybe the lady next to her was the same way.

No, Kitty took another look and knew that couldnt be the case. Her accidental traveling companion was far too glamorous to be peculiar. The lady looked very chic and modern, with a short bob haircut tucked under a newsboy cap, blue flared trousers, and a matching jacket worn over a white sweater. All that stylishness made Kitty feel hideously plain by comparison. But somehow the lady didnt look out of place, even here in the East End. She was just a person who belonged wherever she decided to be. Kitty imagined the lady could wear a fur coat in the middle of the Sahara and still look natural.

Then Kitty realized that she was staring, a moment after the lady did. The lady slowly turned her head toward Kitty and arched an eyebrow. Kitty shrank back, afraid that she had done something wrong. She was never sure how long was too long to look at another person. All those social cues everyone else seemed to know instinctively, Kitty could never quite get right. She had to pretend to understand the game without actually knowing the rules.

May I help you? the lady asked in a very crisp Mayfair accent. She spoke softly and kept the newspaper up, still hiding from the man a few seats ahead.

Kitty quickly looked down at her hands, and folded them to keep from fidgeting. The lady had a very direct stare and it made Kitty uncomfortable.

Pardon, miss, Kitty stammered. But, um, could I trouble you for... ?

Yes?

Could I trouble you for the Times crossword? Kitty asked, internally wincing with each word. God, it sounded so stupid when she said it. Imagine her, mousy little Kitty Granger from East London, asking this very refined woman for a crossword puzzle! The lady was probably a model or an heiress or something. She had better things to do than talk to a peculiar girl who couldnt even make eye contact when having a conversation!

The ladys eyebrow arched a little more. Then she shrugged and smiled, like she was amused.

Certainly, she said to Kitty, shuffling through the pages of her newspaper.

When the bus came to a halt at the next stop, the ladys eyes darted toward the man in the raincoat, and Kitty looked too, sizing him up at a glance. The man was on his feet, heading for the front door in haste. He was carrying a leather briefcase, and his hand gripped the handle as if for life itself. That was odd. Kitty sometimes did that when she was nervous, but she had learned a long time ago that most people didnt unless they were outright terrified.