Chapter 1
London, August 2011
Stephanie Cooper hauled two large suitcases out of the black cab and deposited them on the footpath. The taxi driver remained seated behind the wheel, no offer of assistance forthcoming.
Well, there goes your tip, Stephanie thought, paying him the exact amount owing for the journey. The cab pulled away, the driver muttering something about bloody tourists.
Stephanie smiled to herself. That may have been true on her previous visits to London, but she was no longer just a tourist, now she was a bona fide resident, due to start studying for her degree at Oxford in October.
Turning, she gazed across at the National Gallery, which dominated one side of Trafalgar Square. With a smile she remembered attending an exhibition with her father a couple of years earlier. Her love of Impressionism had begun that day. I must make time to visit the Gallery again before uni starts, she thought.
Stephanie pulled the retractable handle out of each suitcase, and adjusting the strap of her bag across her body, started walking into Charing Cross Station, wheeling the heavy suitcases behind her. Her father had offered to drive her down to Carlswick at the weekend, but Stephanie was keen to get settled into her grandmother’s house, so she had decided to take the train. She might as well get used to being independent.
The light streamed onto the station concourse from the magnificent arched glass roof that joined the brick entrance of the underground to the platforms for the overland trains.
After purchasing her ticket at the electronic ticket booth, she stopped beneath the large overhead arrivals and departures board and located the platform that her train was to depart from and slowly made her way towards it. She paused briefly at a coffee stand, but just couldn’t work out how she could balance a coffee cup and manage her bags at the same time. Coffee was one of the things she really missed about home. Londoners, for all their cosmopolitan ways, still seemed to be focused on tea. God only knows what Carlswick will be like, she thought. I might have to start drinking the stuff.
The train was already at the platform, its doors open ready for passengers. Bypassing the first class carriages, she stopped at the next empty one. She glanced around to make sure that it was safe to leave one of her suitcases on the platform for a moment, while she lifted the other one onto the train. A guy around her age caught her attention as he sauntered down the platform towards her, guitar case slung over his shoulder. He looked vaguely familiar. He was very attractive – tall, with messy dark hair, tight black jeans and a Beatles t-shirt. She was puzzling over where she had seen him before, when he looked up and locked eyes with her.
Caught staring, she blushed and busied herself retracting the first suitcase’s handle and struggled onto the train.
“Here, can I help you?” a deep, slightly husky voice asked behind her.
When she looked around, the guy had stopped. She automatically started to say, no thank you. But looking back at her were gorgeous green eyes, framed by unfairly long black eyelashes, and the words died on her lips. Deciding it would be churlish to refuse his help, she instead replied, “Sure, why not. That would be great, eh.”
He easily lifted the second bag, and placed it beside her first one in the carriage. Together they pushed the two suitcases into the empty luggage rack.
“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as she took a seat in the row nearest the door.
“No problem,” he smiled back at her, holding her gaze. “Going on holiday?” he asked swinging his guitar off his shoulder and sitting down opposite her.
“No. Moving. Temporarily, at least,” she replied.
“Anywhere nice?” the cute guitar player asked.
“I’m going to stay with my grandmother for a couple of months before uni starts. She lives in a little village called Carlswick,” Stephanie replied, before remembering that this was London, and she shouldn’t be chatting to strangers as openly as this – even good looking, helpful ones. She silently admonished herself and looked down at her hands.
“I know Carlswick very well,” the guy replied.
“You do?” she asked, looking up.
“Yeah, I live there,” he said with a grin. “I’m James,” he added, introducing himself.
“Stephanie,” she replied. “You know, you look familiar. I haven’t been there in a while, but maybe I’ve seen you in the village.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’d remember meeting you, trust me,” James replied flirtatiously.
Stephanie inclined her head slightly and smiled shyly, acknowledging the compliment.
“And you are Australian, right?” James caught his bottom lip with his teeth and frowned slightly as he guessed.
Stephanie dragged her eyes away from his mouth and instead pulled a face at him.
“God, I got that wrong, didn’t I?” James grimaced. “New Zealand?”
“Yeah, I’m a Kiwi,” Stephanie confirmed.
“Would I be digging myself an even deeper hole if I said Australians and New Zealanders are very similar?” James teased.
“Similar? New Zealand wasn’t settled by convicts, we have a superior rugby team, friendlier people, bigger mountains and better ice cream,” Stephanie said with mock seriousness.
“And more sheep than people, if I remember correctly,” James added.
Stephanie rolled her eyes and laughed. She glanced at his guitar. “You play?” she asked. God, shoot me now! Stupid question. Of course he plays, he wouldn’t be carrying it around if he didn’t, she thought, mentally kicking herself.
James gave a slight chuckle, “Yeah, you could say that. I’m in a band.”
“That’s cool. I might have to come and see you play,” she said. One thing Stephanie loved was live music and it didn’t matter how big or small the band, she could watch and listen for hours. And with eye candy like James playing, even better.
The train gave a jerk as the doors closed and it slowly pulled out of the station. Stephanie looked out of the window and watched the buildings start to rush by as the train gathered speed. She gave a sigh and settled back happily in her seat. Her adventure was beginning.
She studied James as he, too, looked out of the window. From the artfully messy hair, to the sexy grin and easy laugh, he was gorgeous. Stephanie suddenly wished she had worn something a little nicer than skinny jeans and a little tank top.
As though he sensed her scrutiny, he turned his head and locked eyes with her again. Her breath caught in her throat. Wow. Now say something witty and entertaining, she told herself.
“So what do you do other than play in a band?” she asked. Not witty or entertaining, but it would have to do.
James gazed at her for a moment, a slight frown on his face and then broke into a relaxed smile. “Nothing much. Gap year, I suppose you could call it. A long gap year,” he said.
The journey passed quickly as they relaxed and chatted, mainly about music – Stephanie explaining about the small New Zealand music scene and James discovering that her musical taste ranged from The Beatles to Snow Patrol and Muse.
“You must find London strange after growing up in New Zealand,” James commented.
“I’ve been to London a lot. My father lives there and I visit him a couple of times a year. But I seem to discover something new about it each time. It’s my favourite city in world,” she explained, as the driver came over the intercom announcing that Carlswick was the next station.
James nodded in agreement. “I love it too. I saw Key City play at the Roundhouse last night. It’s so great to have all that live music just on the doorstep,” he said.
He stood and slung his guitar back over his shoulder, and held out his hand to her.
“This is our stop,” he said. She took his hand and jumped up, their legs brushing in the enclosed space. They stood holding hands and gazing at one another for several long seconds. Stephanie knew that she should say something, but she didn’t want to break the moment.
“Would you like to catc
h up for a coffee sometime?” James asked finally, as the train eased into the station. She released her hand from his and reached into the luggage rack for her suitcases and wheeled them towards the doors. James followed her and took one.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” she smiled shyly at him and held onto a pole with her free hand to maintain her balance, as the train eased to a stop.
James pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and nudged her shoulder with his. “So, what’s your number, then?”
She gave it to him and he keyed it into his phone. The doors opened and they stepped off, pulling the suitcases down behind them onto the platform. James continued wheeling one as they walked through the station to the car park.
“I’d offer you a lift, except, I just don’t think all your bags would fit,” he grinned, waving his hand in the direction of a row of motorbikes and scooters.
“That’s okay. I’m getting a cab,” she said, smiling at the driver who jumped out and started loading her suitcases in the boot. She turned towards James. “It was nice to meet you,” she said quietly.
“Likewise, Stephanie,” James said, his eyes roaming her face. “See ya.” He turned and sauntered off towards the row of motorbikes. Stephanie gave her grandmother’s address to the driver and climbed into the backseat of the cab. She watched out of the window as James pulled away on a Vespa.
She smiled and crossed her fingers that he would call, soon.