A Different Kind of Love

by Jean Saunders

  “Oh – yes – a small hotel, perhaps, until I get properly settled,” she said with a gulp, knowing she was truly burning her boats, and wondering frantically how long her small amount of money was going to last out in such surroundings.

  “I can do much better than that – and it’s not what you may be thinking, so get that anxious look off your face.”

  She stared into the phone, wondering how he knew.

  “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

  “Yes, you were, but I assure you everything will be above board, Kate. Just get here and leave the rest to me.”

  She was shaking as she clung to the telephone cord, because everyone knew that nice girls didn’t call men who were practically strangers and tell them they were coming to London on a whim. Nice girls had families who would see to it that everything was above board, and that proper arrangements for a visit were made well in advance. God, why hadn’t she stopped to think how it would look?

  “You don’t think I’m being forward, then?” she mumbled into the phone, aware that the Station Master was hovering on the other side of his office.

  “I can’t wait to see you. Does that answer your question? Now, find your platform and then go and sit in the Ladies’ Only waiting room until the train arrives. And don’t get cold feet and change your mind, you hear?”

  He had hung up before she could say another word, and she put the receiver down shakily as the Station Master came near.

  “Is everything all right, miss?” he asked suspiciously. “You look rather pale, if I might say so.”

  “I’m quite all right, thank you. I was just anxious to know that my – my cousin would be able to meet me in London,” she said, wondering how she could possibly look pale when she felt as if her cheeks were on fire with all the lies she was forced to keep inventing.

  But she did as Luke suggested and went to the Ladies’ Only room on her platform, glad to be away from any interested male eyes, and thankful for his sensible direction. The room was hot and stuffy, and she had an interminable wait until the train arrived. When it did, she found an empty compartment and placed her bag on the rack.

  Then she sank into her seat and closed her eyes. She kept them closed until she heard the guard’s whistle, and felt the lurch of the train beneath her as it started to move. And she kept a tight hold on the nerves that threatened to shake her insides out, knowing there could be no turning back now.

  Hours later, the train rattled and steamed and hissed into Paddington Station, and Kate gaped at the sheer size and magnificence of it, though she thought it didn’t quite outdo the Gothic façade of Brunei’s Temple Meads masterpiece.

  During the journey, people had come and gone from her compartment, until there was only herself and an elderly and uncommunicative couple. They were met by a young man and girl and escorted away quickly, while Kate alighted from the train, stiff and bewildered, feeling terribly alone.

  The entire railway station seemed to be one mass of rushing humanity, and she stood uncertainly, jostled on all sides by impatient folk who all seemed to know where they were going. She had never felt so isolated in her life, and she was more than ready to burst into tears. She longed for her mother’s calm, or even her father’s blustering arrogance, but right now, she seemed to have inherited none of it.

  “Kate. Kate!”

  She heard her name being called, and her heart leapt. At last she saw Luke’s tall figure weaving in and out of the other travellers. Then he was right beside her, and the tears wouldn’t stop, but thankfully, ever since the war years, nobody thought it in the least odd for a tearful girl to be clasped in a man’s arms at a railway station, and she leaned against the roughness of Luke Halliday’s tweed jacket and sobbed her heart out.

  The feeling only lasted a few minutes. Then she pulled away from him, mortified at her own feebleness, showing herself up like that. Very aware that her puritan-minded mother would have been shocked at this show of emotion in a public place.

  But Luke was smiling with obvious pleasure at the sight of her, and seemingly not in the least put out by her sudden and unexpected arrival. He wiped away the traces of tears from her cheek with one finger, and drew out a folded handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

  “Here. Use this. It’s perfectly clean,” he said practically.

  Kate dabbed her eyes, beginning to feel very foolish. “You must think me a real country bumpkin,” she muttered.

  “Of course I don’t. I think you’re perfectly delightful, and leaving home is a big step for anyone to cope with. But I suggest we get away from here as quickly as possible now and have something to eat. You must be starving.”

  The thought of food hadn’t entered Kate’s head. Now that it did, she realised how long it had been since she had eaten anything, and her stomach was gnawing. No wonder she was acting so limply, she thought, with a spurt of anger at her own stupidity. Why on earth hadn’t she put some sandwiches in her bag for the long journey, like any sensible person would?

  “Laying ghosts?” Luke said, tucking her hand in his arm as he led her out of the station to where the familiar dark green Bentley stood waiting for them.

  “Not really. Just feeling a little out of my depth,” she said honestly, “and very tired.”

  Lord, now he’d think she was making some kind of suggestive hint. If she had said such a thing to Walter, he would immediately have seen the double meaning in it, and made some sniggering remark about organising their sleeping arrangements as soon as she said the word … only they wouldn’t be doing much sleeping.

  “We’ll have a bite at a small café not far from here, and then I’ll take you straight to Mrs Wood’s,” Luke said, taking control. “There’ll be time enough for you to come and see the studio in the morning when you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  “Who is Mrs Wood?” Kate asked, to cover the sudden awkwardness she felt in the company of a man fitting so easily into his environment.

  “She’s your landlady, and she’s a large, respectable woman with a lodging house of selected guests, so there’s no need for you to be alarmed. You’ll find a gas ring in your room so you can cook whatever meals you wish, but Mrs Wood happily provides evening meals for those who like real home cooking – and I recommend it.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it,” Kate said as she slid into the car beside him, feeling a fraction more reassured by the homely sound of the woman.

  “I should do. Mrs Wood was an old friend of my great-aunt’s, and she always took a motherly interest in me when I first came to London. She’ll take good care of you, Kate.”

  And how about you? Will you take good care of me too? She wished she dared ask. Here in his city surroundings, Luke seemed even more dashing than he had in Bournemouth, or perhaps that was merely because he was the one familiar person she knew in a place full of strangers.

  What exactly was she doing here? she wondered anew, just as she had done at Bournemouth. There were moments when she didn’t seem to belong anywhere any more, as if she was somehow suspended in time until fate decided what to do with her, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.

  Luke stopped the car outside a café advertising freshly-cooked meals and sandwiches. When they entered, the succulent smells wafting through from the kitchens at the rear made Kate’s mouth water. A neatly-dressed waitress with a white cap perched jauntily at the front of her head showed them to a table, and Kate didn’t miss the way the girl smiled into Luke’s eyes, obviously approving of this real hunk of a gent.

  “We’ll have scrambled eggs and bacon with fried potatoes, and a pot of tea, please, and make it as quick as you can.”

  “That sounds more like breakfast. Do they cook breakfasts in the early evening in London?” Kate said, her mouth watering at the thought. It sounded exactly like the breakfasts at the Charlton Hotel and she wondered if Luke had ordered it deliberately.

  “They cook anything you ask for at any time in this sort of place,” he said. “But I’ll
take you to a really swish restaurant one night, where you can have steak and mushrooms, and as many strawberries as you can eat.”

  Kate was just as happy here, though after the way she’d carried off her acting performance at the Charlton, she could probably manage a meal in a swish London restaurant, she thought with bravado. She’d have to, now that she was here. Once she found work and settled into her lodgings, she’d probably turn into a real city girl … and, without any warning, the thought filled her with a sudden vibrant excitement.

  “Thank God,” Luke said.

  She stared at him across the red-checked tablecloth as the waitress brought their pot of tea and the obligatory bottle of tomato sauce for their meal.

  “For what?” Kate asked.

  “For the fact that you’ve decided to relax. You really are the most stunning girl, Kate, but all your anxieties show in your face. Do you know that?”

  “I think someone may have mentioned it before,” she murmured, not sure that she liked to be analysed so shrewdly.

  He put his hand over hers as it rested on the table, and his touch was warm and comforting.

  “You also show your pleasure and your excitement without any inhibitions, and that’s very refreshing to me. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to coax a reaction from some of the people who come to be photographed. With you, I sense that it will be spontaneous.”

  “So all this approval is on account of how I’ll respond to your photographer’s instructions, is it?”

  She smiled at him, half-amused at the sudden enthusiasm that made him almost boyish, and half-disappointed that he wasn’t seeing her for herself alone.

  She reminded herself that he was a businessman, no matter how bohemian and glamorous his business sounded to a country girl, and he would be looking for the most commercial face for his promotional purposes. She would be a fool to start fantasising that inborn kindness and a few compliments meant anything else.

  “And now you’ve gone cold on me again,” he said shrewdly. “Don’t let whatever hurt you in the past embitter you and destroy that natural innocence in you, Kate.”

  She froze at once, knowing he saw far too much. Perhaps it was part of his trade to analyse folks’ expressions to get the best out of them, but it made her very uncomfortable. Thankfully the arrival of their meal prevented the necessity of an answer.

  He already knew she had expected to be married before she went to Bournemouth, but he didn’t know the reasons why she wasn’t. He didn’t know she had been jilted on her wedding morning. Nor about the baby that had never been, or her deception of Walter because of it. They were shameful secrets which she wasn’t prepared to divulge to anyone. Not even someone who may or may not come to mean something special in her life.

  Kate concentrated on the meal in front of her, before she was consumed with more guilt at how she was deceiving this generous man. He thought her so sweet and innocent, and she was anything but that. By the time they reached the tall lodging house in south London she had at last begun to relax a little.

  She noted its iron railings surrounding the miniscule front yard and the steps leading to a front door with its black paint flaking off, much like every other house in the endless street. Far from disappointing her, she was mightily relieved to see that it wasn’t a posh place. That suited her fine, because she wasn’t posh, either.

  Mrs Wood greeted her warmly, inviting her into a living room that was bright and homely. Pictures of the seaside took away some of the impact of the garish, rose-patterned wallpaper, and a bobble-fringed chenille cloth covered the large dining table in the centre. Seeing the familiar trappings, so like those at home, Kate’s initial awkwardness disappeared, and she felt instantly at ease with the buxom landlady.

  “Now then, my duck, I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea – and I’ll bet you’ll be wanting something to eat after your long journey,” she said at once.

  “Oh, no food, thank you,” Kate said, recognising the motherly need to provide food. “I was so hungry that Luke took me straight to a café, but I’d really love a cup of tea.”

  She wondered if this refusal of food was going to offend Mrs Wood, but apparently not. Without warning, she suddenly felt desperately tired, and she stifled a yawn with difficulty. Mrs Wood tutted sympathetically.

  “Then I’ll put the kettle on and show you your room, and I suggest that you get an early night, and this young man can call on us again in the morning,” she said, taking charge.

  Luke laughed. “You see how she bosses me about, Kate? But she’s right, and you must be exhausted, so you catch up on your beauty sleep, and I’ll be back at around eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “She don’t need no beauty sleep,” Mrs Wood said, openly admiring Kate’s looks. “And I can see now just how you’ve been smitten, Lukey.”

  Kate hid a smile. Lukey! She couldn’t imagine anyone calling this elegant man Lukey, except someone who had known him since childhood, as this woman evidently had. It would be interesting to ask her something about those days sometime – if she ever had the nerve.

  “Goodnight then, Kate,” Luke said with a smile. “I won’t stop for any tea, and I think I’ll get out of here before my old darling says something else to ruin your image of me.”

  He hugged Mrs Wood and planted a brief kiss on her cheek. There was obviously a genuine affection between them. He didn’t attempt to kiss Kate; nor should he, she thought since their acquaintance was so short.

  She had read somewhere that it took no time at all to fall in love. No time at all for a special someone to be constantly edging into another person’s thoughts and for love to grow, even when you didn’t want it to and certainly hadn’t bargained for it. The thought alarmed her, and she dismissed it quickly from her mind.

  Once Luke had gone, she accepted the cup of tea and biscuits the landlady brought in on a little tin tray which had the patriotic likenesses of the king and queen on either side of the Union Jack on its scratched surface.

  Kate thought she had better make some sensible conversation if she was not to be thought a complete dummy. London folk all spoke with a fast, confident air, and she was very aware of her slower voice with the comfortably rounded vowel sounds. But that was her. It was part of who she was, and she wasn’t going to plum up her accent for anybody, not even toffs. Hardly knowing why she was on the defensive, she lifted her chin as she spoke to the landlady.

  “Do you have many lodgers, Mrs Wood? I’ve never been away from home before, so I don’t know what to expect.”

  “There’s only three besides yourself, duck, two girls and an elderly gent who keeps himself to himself. You’ll meet them all soon enough, though you must have a lie-in after all your travelling. I’ll make your breakfast tomorrow, and you can come down and have it whenever you feel like it.”

  “Oh, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble, Mrs Wood, and of course, I’ll pay for any extras.”

  “It’s all taken care of, my duck. Lukey paid me a month in advance for your room and board, so until you get yourself settled, you needn’t worry about a thing. Now then, when you’ve finished your tea, I’ll show you your room.”

  Kate swallowed the strong brew quickly, then followed her up the steep, winding staircase until they reached the third floor. It was a narrow-fronted building, and the rooms were long and narrow too, but of a reasonable size.

  She had been shocked at Mrs Wood’s words, and her calm acceptance of the situation. The thought of what her father would say if he knew she was in lodgings paid for by a man, and a virtual stranger at that, didn’t bear thinking about. But she was too exhausted from travelling to worry about it tonight. The bed was the most inviting thing in the room, and after a cursory unpacking, hanging her things in the old-fashioned wardrobe and giving her face and hands a token wash in the washstand bowl, Kate slid her old nightgown over her head and fell into bed.

  But despite her tiredness, the night sounds were so different in the city that she won
dered if she would ever get to sleep at all. The bed felt strange, and the traffic noises which constantly filtered into the room were fifty times louder than the country noises at home. There were no bird songs, and no plaintive creaks from the timbers of the old cottage, nor the drunken lurchings of the village men going home from the pub.

  But as the thought entered her head, she drifted into sleep.

  Brilliant daylight was filling the room when she opened her eyes again. She had slept the clock round, and no one had woken her. And to her horror, she saw that it was already well after ten o’clock, and Luke was coming for her at eleven…

  She leapt up and threw back the thin curtains, looking down on a street scene that was entirely unfamiliar. A surge of optimism filled her veins at the thought that this was home now. She had burned her boats in coming to London. This was her new life. And if the dingy streets weren’t exactly paved with gold, she told herself, they were now her streets.

  She washed and dressed quickly and hurried downstairs, following the scent of cooking, to the large kitchen where two girls a bit older than herself were laughing over a newspaper account. They looked infinitely more sophisticated than Kate, with their chic, boyishly bobbed haircuts, and they looked at her curiously as she nervously entered the room.

  “Now then, you two,” Kate heard Mrs Wood say, appearing red-faced from the blackened stove in the corner of the kitchen-cum-dining-room. “This here’s Kate Radcliffe, and she might look younger than yourselves, but she’s already a married lady, and why she’s here is no business of yours or mine, so you just mind and behave yourselves.”

  The colour flooded Kate’s face, and the words made her feel as old as Methuselah. Luke had obviously told Mrs Wood exactly the tale she had told him. But the girls were smiling at her in friendly fashion, holding out slim hands tipped with red-varnished fingernails in greeting. Kate shook each one briefly, very much aware of her own fingers pricked from her sewing.