A Brave Start Page 8
His concerned look and warm smile were so genuine and sincere, it warmed Eleanor’s heart and made her feel a little less jittery. She shook her head quickly and protested, “Oh no! You’re not boring me, I promise. I’m sorry if I seem like I’m not paying attention. I am enjoying listening, it’s just, well, I’m a little tired today.”
“It’s true,” Jonathan said in her defense, “poor thing is knackered. She’s had a long day and I had to force her to come out tonight.”
“Jon said you were doing a course in creative writing, how’s that going?” Mark asked interestedly.
Eleanor tried to keep her face from clouding over, but felt tears beginning to prick her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to stop them before they started and forced a small smile. “It’s fine. Today was the first day, so it’s still too early to tell.”
“What school are you at?” Malcolm asked politely.
“It’s the Harrison Centre for Writing in the City,” Eleanor responded.
“Oh, that’s a good school,” Henry said, sounding impressed. “They don’t accept just anybody, I hear competition to get in is quite intense.”
Wryly Eleanor responded, “I don’t know about that, they let me in somehow.”
“Ellie, stop,” Jonathan said sharply. “Your writing is brilliant, at least the rare bits you’ve ever let me read. You’re a good writer, and you’ve earned your way into that program. They’re lucky to have you.”
“But you don’t completely believe that, do you?” Mark asked her kindly.
“I guess I do,” Eleanor replied. “It’s just hard. I’ve always loved to write, but studying it is different. And I’ve always done well in school but this is unlike any of the coursework I’ve done in the past. Today was just overwhelming.” She sighed, and suddenly felt even more exhausted than before. She knew it was only a little after 7 o’clock, and still too early for bed, but she just wanted to crawl away and hide somewhere.
The table was quiet for a few moments when suddenly, out of the silence, Malcolm, who had been the next quietest of the group besides Eleanor, said simply, “I nearly dropped out after my first day at LSE.”
“What?!” Jonathan asked, shocked by this revelation. “You’re the smartest of all of us! You always make it look so easy!”
“Aye, well, looks can be deceiving, can’t they?” Malcolm responded wryly. He looked across the table and into Eleanor's eyes, “First days are always terrifying. It’s new and unfamiliar, and everyone is trying to make themselves seem impressive to the others to prove that they belong there, when inside everyone feels like a fraud about to be found out. Your first couple weeks will feel scary and a wee bit shaky, but you’ll get the hang of it, I promise. If you got accepted to that program, your writing is good, they wouldn’t have let you in if it wasn’t. So trust in their decision, even if you don’t trust in your abilities.”
“Thanks,” Eleanor said softly. “I’ll try to remember that.”
Malcolm and Eleanor exchanged small smiles across the table.
“I need another drink,” Jonathan said, breaking the hush that had fallen over the table.
After hanging out in the pub for a little bit longer Eleanor and Jonathan headed back to the flat and Eleanor went straight to bed. She wanted to believe Jonathan and his friends, but she still couldn’t help feeling anxious about school the next day.
* * * * *
The next day dawned and found Eleanor awake after a somewhat fitful sleep. She was dreading school but forced herself to get up and get ready and head out to school. She stopped at a Caffè Nero on the way for a latte and a croissant and then headed the rest of the way to school. As she approached the building she was still feeling nervous but managed to keep herself from turning on her heels and running away. She hesitantly entered her first classroom, looking around for Jack.
“You came back,” said a voice behind her.
Eleanor jumped slightly and spun around. Suddenly feeling very relieved to see Jack standing behind her.
“Hello again,” he said grinning.
“Hi!” she responded, a little too eagerly, causing Jack to smile even more.
“I was worried about you yesterday, we got split up and I realized I didn’t get to say goodbye. How did the rest of your day go?”
As they moved to take their seats, “Well, it finished alright. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed...I still am.”
“But you’re here.”
“But I’m here,” she agreed with a small smile. “My cousin took me out to meet his friends at the pub, they’re all LSE grad students and they managed to give me a bit of a pep talk. I’m not entirely sure I understand why I came back today, part of me really didn’t want to.”
“But the other part?” Jack questioned gently.
“I don’t know. I guess the other part knows that a lot of people went to a lot of trouble to help me get here. I’m scared to try to actually do this but I think I’m just a little more scared to have to explain to people why I quit. So, here I am,” Eleanor explained, suddenly feeling even more anxious, her heart starting to race again.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re back. And I think you’re going to be brilliant here. The first day is always designed to scare off the weak ones. Look around, there’s at least a few lads and lasses missing, they’re either not coming at all or they’re stuck on the front steps hyperventilating. So, good on you for coming all the way inside,” Jack said with a smile.
“Aren’t you nervous?” Eleanor asked curiously.
“Sure, but I’m here. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“They find out I’m a total fraud and can’t write at all and I’m sent home in disgrace?”
Jack’s eyes grew wide, “Flippin’ eck,” he exclaimed. “You don’t over think things at all, do you?” He said, his face not quite hiding the urge to laugh.
“I’ve been a grad student, and raised by two academics. I was trained to over think things. It’s what academics do. You should meet my parents, especially my dad.”
“What does your dad do?”
“He’s a professor at Columbia, he teaches English Literature. 19th century British Lit. All my life he taught me to question everything, to always search for the deeper meaning in things, to find the subtext.”
“Wow, um, that’s a bit intense don’t you think? Can’t you just take things at face value or enjoy something as it happens?”
Frowning slightly as she thought about it, Eleanor finally replied, “Rarely, and not without great effort.” Offering Jack a wry smile, “It’s a problem.”
Jack laughed, “We’ll have to work on that. And for the record, from what I know about this program they rarely kick anyone out, people usually just drop out on their own. As long as you show up and do the work you’ll get through it. And so what if they don’t like what you write? That’s not the point. You’ll still have a lot to gain from understanding how the business side of this works. You’ll also pick up better editing skills. Trust me, you want to stick this out, even if they hate everything you write, which they won’t. If they hated your writing you wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s what my cousin’s friends said,” Eleanor responded.
“Listen to them. And stick with me. Together we’ll get us through this,” Jack encouraged with a smile. And for the first time since leaving yesterday in despair, Eleanor actually started to have hope.
The morning class started and went well, Eleanor still felt a bit shaky but she stuck with Jack for most of the day and she started to feel a little better. They had lunch together, chatting about the morning’s lessons, and made a plan to meet up outside the school after their separate afternoon classes. They had a cup of coffee at a Pret a Manger across the street from the school and compared notes on the day.
* * * * *
Over the next several weeks Eleanor quickly fell into a routine. School during the week, with two hour writing sessions with Jack right after, in the Starbucks
in Paternoster Square, where she could hear the bells of St. Paul’s Cathedral. If the sun was out they’d sit outside, enjoying the last bit of summer weather that was trying to hold on. Then home to have dinner with Jonathan, sometimes staying home, sometimes going out with his friends. Friday’s were spent writing in the morning on her own, either at her desk in her room or sitting in one of the chairs in the bay window, and then meeting up with Jack in the afternoons to workshop their writing and review each other’s work. In between all that she fit in her part time job in the writing center at the Harrison as a writing tutor in a program they ran for local secondary students preparing for GCSEs. It didn’t pay much but it kept her fed and clothed.
On the weekends Eleanor would do more writing and homework. The rest of the weekend Eleanor would spend window shopping, going to museums, or simply sitting in coffee shops watching London go by outside. Jack teased her about her coffee shop addiction, joking that instead of going on a pub crawl she went on coffee shop crawls. Eleanor laughed when she agreed he was right. She particularly liked the Caffè Nero on Kingsway where she would sit in one of the large chairs by the front window and watch people walking by outside, around her she’d watch locals come in for a lunch or coffee break and tourists come in for a rest between seeing all the sights. Sometimes she wrote, sometimes she just observed her surroundings.
She had picked up a few more pieces for her “London” wardrobe, and Jack loved to joke with her that she was looking more and more like a London girl. She was constantly making notes of how the women around her dressed. As the weather had shifted, cute sundresses with sandals or airy silk blouses with slim pencil skits, had been replaced with sweater dresses or wool trousers that swished around the legs with gorgeous knitwear tops. And my goodness, thought Eleanor, but London women love their boots! Tall boots, short boots, ankle boots, boots out of every fabric and color, though black was definitely the strong preference. When the temperatures started to drop, Eleanor caved and purchased a pair of boots she’d been lusting after in Office, they came up to her knees and had a slight heel, enough to give her a bit of a lift and shift her posture but low enough that she could still dash around the streets of London. She wore those boots nearly every day, with either a dress and tights or with jeans or black skinny trousers tucked in. With her hair loosely pulled up into a top knot and her trench coat she was indeed looking more and more like a Londoner, though she still felt like plain old Eleanor from Arizona.
She didn’t notice but others were looking at her quite differently, Jack and Jonathan both noticed how much more confident and comfortable she seemed with both school and London. And after dinner with Jonathan and his friends at the pub one night, Eleanor was more than surprised when Jonathan told her that Mark was becoming very interested in her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, brow furrowed, after Jonathan dropped that bomb while she was washing dishes one night.
“He likes you,” Jonathan replied simply, walking out of the kitchen and over to the sofa.
“But what do you mean he ‘likes’ me? What does that mean Jonathan?” she demanded, following him, hurriedly drying her hands on a dish towel.
Jonathan looked at Eleanor curiously, “I mean that Mark said he likes you. He’s attracted to you and thinks you’re very interesting. I told him I didn’t know how you were feeling and that you’ve just gotten out of a bad relationship and that his best bet was to take things slowly and not spook you. Why? Was that the wrong thing to say? You should get back out there eventually, but I certainly don’t want you to rush it. I care about you both so I wouldn’t want either of you to rush into something. But I did want to give you a head’s up so you didn’t get surprised. I don’t think you realize how different you are now.”
Brow furrowing even more, “What do you mean, different?” Eleanor demanded again, voice rising a bit.
Jonathan sighed. “Eleanor, when you first arrived you were excited, giddy even. You were a tourist more than anything else before school started. Then school started and you were scared and timid but over the last several weeks you’ve become so much more confident. You disappear for hours on end on the weekends, goodness knows where you go or what you do, but you come home and you’re so happy! You’ve bought new clothes, you wear your hair a little different, you’ve got color in your cheeks, and I may be your cousin but I’m not blind. I can see what Mark sees. You were beautiful when you got here but with the confidence you’ve gained since school started and you’ve settled in to London more you’re absolutely gorgeous!” Noticing Eleanor blush Jonathan hurriedly added, “And I’m not just saying that. You may not notice it but everyone else has.”
Looking down and playing with the towel in her hands Eleanor said quietly, “Thanks. It’s nice to hear that.” Smiling slightly, “I’m not sure I completely believe it, but it’s nice to hear.”
Walking over to give her a big hug, Jonathan said, “Well, I’m just going to have to keep telling you until you do believe it. Because Mark’s interest aside, you are gorgeous and even more, you’re very special. And you deserve a guy who can see that in you.”
Eleanor suddenly felt a rush of emotions and confusion, thinking about Mark and Michael and everything that had been going on over the last several weeks. She knew London could potentially change her life, but she still felt unprepared for what might lie ahead.
Chapter 6
October arrived and the first term of the program ended on the 7th. When classes got out Eleanor went to the usual spot to meet Jack. When he walked up he smiled widely and announced, “Change of plans!”
“What?” Eleanor responded in confusion.
“I said, change of plans. A little bird, possibly named Jonathan, told me that today is your birthday. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything, naughty girl,” he finished with an accusing tone.
“I didn’t want anyone to make a big deal! I’m just 28, it’s hardly a milestone birthday.” she replied defensively.
“Well too bad luv, because I am so making a big deal! Today is your birthday and we’re going to celebrate. Come along,” he ordered, linking his arm through hers and dragging her towards the Tube.
“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep up with Jack’s excited pace.
“You’ll see,” was all he would say.
They rode the Tube for a bit, changing at Tottenham Court Road for the Northern Line and then got off at Charing Cross. Soon Eleanor found herself in Trafalgar Square with Jack directing them straight for the National Portrait Gallery. “I know how much you like it here, I do too. It’s fun to make up stories about the people in all the portraits,” Jack said with a grin.
Eleanor smiled crookedly, “So I’m not the only one who does that huh?”
“Not by a long shot luv,” Jack answered with amusement, linking his arm through hers.
They spent the next couple of hours wandering the gallery and sharing the stories they made up about the people in the portraits they viewed. Then at 3 o’clock Jack surprised Eleanor with afternoon tea on the top floor at the Portrait Restaurant. They sat at their table by the window, one of the best tables in the place, with views across Trafalgar Square and straight down Whitehall with Big Ben and Parliament in the distance. Eleanor had a fantastic time, they ordered champagne with the tea, and the three-tiered tray the server brought out was full of the most delicious sandwiches, sweet treats, and amazing scones with cream and jam. Eleanor was in heaven. It all felt so quintessentially British, between the tea and the food and the epic view from their table. The days were starting to get slightly shorter, so throughout their tea the sun was getting a bit lower in the sky, casting incredible light and shadow through the clouds over the streets of London below them.
After tea Jack announced, “Nah then, Phase One of Birthday Fun Times is over. Time for Phase Two.”
“Phase Two?” Eleanor said with confusion written all over her face.
Taking a small envelope out of his messenger bag, Jack
held it in front of Eleanor, “Phase Two: your mission, should you choose to accept it, it to take the contents in this envelop and follow the directions to the letter.”
Eleanor looked more confused than ever and Jack handed it over with a grin. When Eleanor opened it she found a card inside with a Visa Gift card included. She gasped when she saw the amount, £400 pounds, signed from both her Aunt Victoria, her friends Carly and Grace, and her mother. She started to cry at the sight of it but soon started laughing when she read the instructions from her aunt who had written that Jack’s part of this mission was to take Eleanor to Covent Garden and help her spend the money on a birthday outfit for that evening. But when she started thinking about all the planning that had clearly gone into all of these surprises today she started to cry again, putting her hands up to cover her face.
“What’s the matter?!” Jack questioned anxiously.
“Nothing,” she said, wiping her eyes dry. “It’s just that this has all been so thoughtful of all of you. How did you get this?”
“Jonathan gave it to me. We’ve been planning this for a while,” he said with a proud grin. “Now come on, are you ready to spend that? We have about three hours before Phase Three starts.”
“Dare I ask what Phase Three is?”
“Party time! And that’s all I’m going to say about that. Now come on!”
They paid the bill and then hurried out of the museum and headed in the direction of Covent Garden. Eleanor felt like the whole experience was a blur as Jack dragged her in and out of a number of shops but eventually they had found a dress at Oasis and some jewelry at Zara, shoes at Kurt Geiger, and a cute sparkly clutch at Accessorize, and miraculously had some of the gift card left over for Eleanor to spend on more clothes later. Together they dashed back to the flat and got ready for their night out. When Jack had picked up the instructions and card from Jon he’d dropped off a bag with a suit and dress shoes to change into, they’d clearly gone through a lot of trouble to set up the surprise. Eleanor fixed her hair and reapplied her makeup. She then slipped into some sheer tights and her new outfit and switched some items from her handbag to her new clutch.