A Brave Start Page 6

  She soon enough arrived at the British Museum and walked through the front gates. As the crowds of people entering and leaving swarmed around her she stared up at the front of the building with its elaborate facade and giant columns. Inside she was mesmerized by the enormous central room with its high glass ceiling and the stairs that wound upwards around a large cylindrical structure in the middle. She spotted an information desk and handed over a couple pounds for a map. Deciding to move away from the crowds, Eleanor headed up one of the large staircases and entered one of the upper floor galleries. The museum was divided up into dozens of smaller rooms, each one leading into the next. She found herself immediately transported back in time and got lost among all the ancient artifacts housed in the museum. The Egyptian sarcophagi and the mummies were amazing. Eventually she wound her way back downstairs and noticed a large crowd gathered around one particular artifact. Out of curiosity she joined the crowd and was soon standing in front of the Rosetta Stone. She could hardly believe it! She’d read about it in school but to be standing in front of it and seeing it with her own eyes was something entirely different.

  After grabbing a small bite to eat in the museum cafe, Eleanor headed back out of the museum. The sun was trying to come out and the temperature had risen slightly. Looking at the map from Jonathan, Eleanor decided to head to Covent Garden next. Jonathan had drawn a little shopping bag over it on the map and Eleanor thought it might be good to do a little bit of shopping to get some items that she’d intended to buy in London. She hadn’t bothered to bring anything that needed to be plugged in because she knew none of it would fit the outlets, so she needed to pick up a curling iron and blow dryer today, as well as a new charger for her MacBook Pro and a couple spare USB outlet plugs. She also didn’t waste space in her suitcase with anything that could be cheaply repurchased, so she had a long list of general clothing and household items that she wanted to buy in the next week or so.

  She walked for a bit, crossing several streets and making many left and right turns and soon noticed that she definitely appeared to be in a major shopping area. People passed by her carrying bags filled with their purchases and displays in windows offered an array of products. She let herself be pulled along by the crowd until she spotted a Boots. She knew from her British chick lit novels that this was similar to Walgreens or CVS back home so she ducked inside and began looking around. In the beauty section, she found a nice looking dryer and curling iron for a reasonable price. She also picked up some shampoo, conditioner, and a few other similar items. After checking out at the register, or till as Jonathan had taught her the night before at Waitrose, she walked out of Boots and continued in the direction she had originally been going, quickly arriving in the central piazza of Covent Garden. She stood off to the side to take it in. The crowds of tourists, the street performers, all the shops. Off in the far corner she noticed an entrance to the Royal Opera House.

  She continued walking, weaving her way through the shops in the piazza and stopping to watch a couple of the performers. She was drawn to the stalls set up in the Apple Market, which today advertised that it was the “Antiques & Collectibles” day. She wandered around but didn’t purchase anything. At the end of the market she found a vendor selling photographic prints and was drawn to one of Big Ben and another of St. Paul’s Cathedral. She purchased both, thinking they’d look nice in her room at the flat.

  After walking around the rest of the shops in the surrounding area, and staring at the gorgeous clothing in the windows of Hobbs, Whistles, Jigsaw, Zara, Ted Baker, and her other favorite British high street shops, she found herself wandering away from the main shopping area and into a quieter part of Covent Garden. She was trying to follow Jonathan’s map, and was walking towards Kingsway Road where he’d marked a couple coffee shops and directions back to the flat. She’d just glanced down at the map in her hand again to double check that she was going the right way when she suddenly collided with something very tall and very heavy.

  She felt herself starting to fall backwards and flailed her arms in a vain attempt to correct her balance. Just as she thought she had lost her balance completely and was bracing herself for a hard landing she felt two strong arms reach around and catch her. With her head still spinning she tried to focus her eyes on the face that was looking down at her. At first, she thought she must be hallucinating. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she tried to clear her mind and focus, but the more she did the more she began to believe that the concerned eyes staring into hers were indeed the eyes of Patrick Reynolds...the Patrick Reynolds. Was staring at her. Was holding her, tightly, in his strong arms...very strong arms she thought.

  “Are you alright miss? I’m so terribly sorry, I was walking far too quickly and not paying the slightest attention to where I was going,” he said in his famously deep, rich voice and classic English accent. The same voice that Eleanor and her friends sighed over and longed for every time they watched one of his movies. A voice that would melt even the hardest of hearts.

  She closed her eyes, thinking for sure this had to be a dream, but when she opened them again he was still there, and looking more concerned than before.

  Get a grip, she thought. He’s going to think you’re a crazy person.

  Scrambling to get her legs back underneath her, she felt him lift her back up into a standing position. Brushing herself off a bit, and straightening her hair, tucking one strand behind her ear self-consciously, she looked up to meet his eyes.

  He’s taller in person, she thought immediately, much taller, and bit her tongue before she could say that out loud. But he really was taller than she’d expected, she had known he was tall, but standing so close to him, he towered over her. His hair wasn’t long, but was long enough to tell it was naturally curly. He was wearing jeans with a loose fitting, vintage style t-shirt in a faded blue that matched his eyes. He had a distressed brown leather satchel slung across his body, with a small reusable coffee cup clipped to the side. Finally, she was able to respond.

  “No, um, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m, um, I’m sure that was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going, I, uh, was checking my map—” she broke off realizing she was no longer holding Jonathan’s map, she began to look around, a bit frantically, as she realized she didn’t know if she’d be able to find her way back to the flat without it.

  Patrick followed her gaze and began looking around as well.

  Bending down and reaching behind Eleanor, he stood back up and held the map out to her, “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Taking the map gratefully, “Yes! Thank you. I’d be lost without that. I only just arrived yesterday, and my cousin left me directions for getting around, I was so busy looking at this I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, so I’m sure I was the one at fault, I’m so sorry…” she trailed off weakly, realizing she’d been rambling, and sure that she was coming across as an absolute fool.

  Smiling the smile that caused Eleanor and her friends to go weak in the knees Patrick replied, placing his hand across his chest, “No, I’m sure it was my fault. Serves me right for rushing everywhere. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.”

  Seeing that smile, and feeling the full force of it in person, Eleanor nearly lost her balance again. Seriously, get yourself together! she thought ferociously. Steadying herself she looked up at him and said, with a calmness that betrayed the jumbled mix she was feeling inside, “Apology accepted, though not necessary.”

  She didn’t think it was possible but he began to smile even more brightly. Glancing down to check she still had all her bags and clutching her map, she looked back up and said quickly, “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for, um, catching me. Have a, um, good day.” And before she could make a bigger fool of herself she ducked around him and rushed down the road, not even sure if she was going in the right direction. She thought she heard him say something but she just put her head down and hurried ahead. She got to the end of the road she was on and looked u
p at the sign on the corner of the building and realized she was at Kingsway. She didn’t feel like stopping for coffee anymore, so with a quick check of the map, she hurriedly walked back home. She didn’t slow her pace or stop until she reached the flat. As soon as she let herself in she closed the door and pressed her back against it.

  She closed her eyes tightly, and let out a long, slow breath. Then she smiled. When she opened her eyes, she saw her reflection in the mirror at the end of the hall. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks were flushed. Her hair was in a bit of disarray but actually looked decent and prettily windswept. She replayed the events that had just occurred back in her mind, and could feel Patrick’s arms wrapped tightly around her again. He hadn’t just caught her, he’d held her.

  Giggling, Eleanor pushed herself away from the door and down the hall to her room. Feeling kind of dazed and a bit silly, she dropped backwards on her bed and just stared up at the ceiling, replaying that moment over and over again in her head.

  Sometime later she woke up, surprised that she had fallen asleep. She heard Jonathan coming in the front door and walked out to meet him.

  Seeing Eleanor, Jonathan asked with a smile, “Did you have a fun day?”

  Grinning, “It was pretty fantastic. You’ll never guess who I bumped into. Like, literally bumped into!”

  “Who?”

  “Patrick Reynolds. Can you believe it?!”

  “Who?” Jonathan replied confoundedly.

  “Patrick Reynolds? The actor? British heartthrob, loved and adored by women on both sides of the Atlantic?”

  Jonathan looked at her blankly.

  Eleanor’s face dropped, “You seriously don’t know who Patrick Reynolds is? He’s more famous here than he is in the States! I mean, he’s not George Clooney or Brad Pitt famous, he’s still getting started, but he’s done a lot of work over here. Don’t you watch any TV or go to the movies?”

  “I rarely have time to go to the cinema. And if I watch the telly it’s usually football. Sorry cousin,” he said with an apologetic smile as he walked into the living room and set his bag down on the dining table. “Unless he’s a footballer I probably wouldn’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “Ooh, he played a soccer player in a movie once, I think it was a few years ago. I watched it on YouTube.”

  Looking at her quizzically, “You watched it on YouTube?”

  “I don’t think it got a U.S. release. And it’s only available on Region 2 DVD, so YouTube is the only way I could watch it,” Eleanor replied, shrugging her shoulders.

  Noticing the crazy look Jonathan was giving her, Eleanor sighed, “What?! He’s a good actor. I wanted to see more of his work.”

  “Riiiight,” Jonathan replied suggestively.

  Eleanor snatched up a throw pillow from the sofa and threw it at him, which he caught neatly. “He’s a good actor,” she repeated defensively.

  “Ok, ok. Actually, I think I remember him, and that movie. He was pretty good. Sorry cousin. I’m rubbish with actors, just not my thing. But still. You’re obviously a fan and I can appreciate how cool that must have been to run into him.”

  Somewhat placated, “It was, but mostly it was a shock and also a bit embarrassing.”

  Walking to the kitchen Jonathan asked over his shoulder, “Why embarrassing?”

  “Because I was completely blocking the sidewalk! He was a total gentleman, tried to take the blame and was so apologetic. He said he had been walking too fast and not paying attention to where he was walking. But I was the one standing in the middle of the sidewalk, fixated on that map you drew me–which was fantastic by the way, thanks—“

  “—You’re very welcome.

  “—so there I was just standing there when he knocked into me.”

  “Sounds like you were both at fault to me,” Jonathan said with a laugh.

  Giggling a little, “Yeah, I guess we were. But he wouldn’t let me apologize.”

  “So then what happened,” Jonathan inquired, raising an eyebrow.

  Looking confused for a moment, before realizing she was being teased again, Eleanor replied indignantly, “Nothing! I said I was sorry one more time and ran off before I could act like a bigger idiot than I already felt like I was being.”

  “You should have chatted him up!” Jonathan declared.

  “You’re crazy. That’s the last thing I should have done.”

  “You’re the one who’s crazy. If he’s as popular as you say he is, wouldn’t most women give their right arm for a shot with him? He was standing right in front of you!”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The last thing I need right now is a relationship, particularly with some actor I don’t even know, who was just being polite, and who would normally never give me a second glance.”

  Joining her on the sofa, Jonathan said, “But I thought you loved the guy?”

  Eleanor turned to look at Jonathan just in time to catch him fluttering his eyelashes and simpering like a silly school girl.

  Throwing a second pillow from the sofa at his face, “You really are an idiot, you know that? I love his work, I know nothing about the guy in real life, other than a few random bits from his IMDb profile.”

  “What, like he likes long walks on the beach and named his childhood dog Biscuit?”

  Eleanor was so stunned by this ridiculous answer she couldn’t say anything for a moment. Shaking her head, “Um, no. I was thinking more along the lines that he’s from Oxford, did a degree in English Literature there before getting into the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts.”

  “Ooh, he went to RADA,” Jonathan said in an exaggerated accent.

  “Oh, just stop it. I bumped into the guy, I thought it was cool. End of story.”

  “Ok, seriously then. That’s cool, and I’m glad you got to meet him.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanor said as she headed towards her room. But before she could close the door Jonathan called from the lounge.

  “I still think you should have chatted him up. A little flirting never killed anyone and you need to move on from your loser ex.”

  Eleanor had no comeback to that, so she just shut her door. Glancing at the time and doing some quick math she knew that it was late morning back in Phoenix. Fortunately, Grace was a grad student with a flexible schedule and Carly worked for a PR firm with her own office and free rein over her time. So Eleanor quickly logged on to her computer and opened up her Skype app. Grace and Carly were both logged in to Skype as well and in short order Eleanor had both of them connected to the call.

  “You will never guess who I ran into today…” Eleanor began dramatically.

  Chapter 5

  Still riding high on the excitement of being in London, and bumping into her favorite celebrity, Eleanor spent the next few days preparing for school to start the following week. She did some more shopping and managed to find a gorgeous knee length, belted wool coat. It cost her more than a few pounds at Marks & Spencer, and she didn’t dare convert it into US dollars, but knowing that she would wear it so often here made it seem worth the price and her mom and given her a generous “gift” of $500 to buy herself some winter clothing, a gift that was matched by her Aunt Vickie. So with $1000, or roughly £600 in her account, to be spent solely on clothing, Eleanor knew she’d have fun doing a bit of “retail therapy” over the next few months and was determined not to spend it all at once.

  On another trip to Covent Garden she also stopped in at Paperchase, and stocked up on some whimsical pens, notebooks, and folders, feeling much like a student again and getting excited for the first day of classes. She knew it would be different. This wasn’t a university program and she was beginning to feel a little nervous about just how “intense” this intensive writing program would be. Pushing the nerves away for the millionth time, she put another set of folders into her basket and walked up to the till.

  On Monday, she headed out from Red Lion Square apprehensively. The school was in the City of London, so it wasn’t
a long walk. Jonathan had told her it would probably take her about thirty minutes, depending on how fast she went. She’d thought about taking the Tube but Jonathan told her that it was only a few stops away and the walk would be easier. Jonathan had given her detailed instructions on how to find the school, and Eleanor had reviewed them several times.

  She turned on her music and listened to it as she walked towards the City. Jonathan had explained that within Greater London there was the City of London, also known as the Old Square Mile and was the part of London that had been around since the Roman times and that had been burned to the ground in the Great Fire of 1666. There had also been more damage done by the Blitz in this part of London and further East. She marveled to herself about what an incredible history London had as she came up to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Eleanor was instantly captivated by the Cathedral and wished she had more time to linger, but she didn’t want to be late.

  Making a mental note to come back later and explore, she turned and started walking towards the river, she could see the Millennium Bridge stretching out before her in the distance. She turned again and headed down a road parallel to the river before coming up to a nondescript building among all the other office buildings in the area. Around here was a swarm of City workers in suits rushing into the neighboring buildings. It seemed a strange place to put a school but Jonathan had told her that the City was home to a number of more creative and artistic places, including the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, and the London College of Fashion wasn’t far either, so it wasn’t all banks and financial businesses.

  She entered the building and went up to the third floor. By the look of the directory the Harrison Centre for Writing took up the top two floors of the building. She followed the signs for new students and collected her student ID card and other materials with information for the incoming group. Looking beyond the registration table she could see a large common area with a back wall consisting of large windows that looked out on the river. She couldn’t wait to explore the school more. She was given her schedule and headed up to the top floor, using an interior staircase.