by Cherry Kay
“Yes, I'm sorry, I can't get out of that, but I can get away the next day and the next and I promise I'll make it up to you. I swear.”
She turned to face him.
“I really want to believe you.”
“You can trust me, Marsha. You'll see.”
He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and left her hotel room.
As the door closed she slapped both her hands to her face. The room still spun and she turned to see the unraveled bed where she almost made love to Jonathan.
She could easily have carried it through. She desired his body and there was enough alcohol in her's to make her inclined to sleep with him. But something was holding her back.
She thought long and hard about Jonathan as she stepped into the shower, hoping the water would take away the turmoil in her head.
Still confused after the shower, she called Jodie.
“Was it Finn? Is he still there? What was he like?” Jodie squealed.
“It was Jonathan at the door.”
“What? No! You didn't did you?”
“It came very close. I sent him packing, though.”
“Good for you, girlfriend.”
“But I'm still so confused about everything. Wanting to sleep with Jonathan makes me feel unfaithful to Finn. But I hardly know Finn and I won't be seeing him after I get back home. Oh, Jodie, I don’t know what I'm doing.”
“Marsha, if you want my advice, I'd say stay away from Jonathan and Finn. Just get your ticket sorted out and come home. What you need is distance and you can't have that if you're there. Come home, Marsha.”
As Marsha fell asleep that night she did so with those words going around and around in her head. Come home, Marsha.
She’d already told Finn that she had trust issues and that was still the case. The problem was, she couldn't really trust either of them, and any decision she made had to be when her head was clear. Maybe Jodie had it right. The answer could not be found in the arms of either of those men. She resolved to go home the next day.
She needed distance and she needed to find a way to keep both men from confusing her any further.
7
It was Christmas Eve. Marsha was feeling groggy when she woke up. She'd had a lot to drink the night before and, although she was exhausted when she went to bed, she still spent many hours tossing and turning, drifting in and out of sleep, confused and torn between the words of two men. The covers of her bed were strewn everywhere and she had an unbearable headache. She made black coffee and called for room service but when the waiter brought up breakfast, she could barely eat a thing. She called down to the front desk to ask if they would find a number for her, she needed to book a flight back to New York and it had to be that day.
In just an hour, Marsha was able to secure a seat on a plane and needed to check in at Heathrow Airport at seven that evening. That gave her plenty of time to do some Christmas shopping. She would treat herself and buy a present for Jodie. At least it would take her mind off Jonathan and Finn.
If everything had worked out the way she'd initially thought it could between her and Jonathan, this was the day she had planned to go out and buy his Christmas present. But that was out of the question. It had also crossed her mind that she should buy a present for Finn, for all his hospitality and kindness. Had she not been going back home that night. then she most definitely would have bought him something to show her appreciation. But her mind was made up.. She would call Finn from New York and thank him for the wonderful time she spent with him and pray that he would understand why she had to go.
As for Jonathan, she was still not sure she could believe a single word that came from his mouth and distancing herself from him would be a good thing. He had already sent her a text saying, 'Don't forget to tell me what time we can meet up.'
She left her hotel in the late morning and figured she could spend the next few hours mooching around the shops and then come back for her suitcase. The hotel was able to store it for her now that she had officially checked out. There was one last thing she had to do and that was to let Jodie in on her plans.
“Hey, Jodie, it's me.”
“Where are you?”
“Still in London, but I took your advice, I'm coming home tonight.”
“Good for you, Marsha. Can't wait to see you. I think you're doing the right thing.”
“Yeah, I think I am too. Well, anyway, I'm on my way to Oxford Street. I thought I'd visit a few department stores and just treat myself. And maybe, just maybe, I'll buy my best girl a little present or two.”
“I can't complain about that. You want me to come get you from the airport when you arrive?”
“No, I'll get in early Christmas morning so I'll just make my own way. Well, Jodie, have a Merry Christmas and I'll see you all soon.”
Right after hanging up with Jodie and before she could switch off her cell phone, Jonathan rang.
“What time am I going to see you later?” he asked.
“You're not. Well, not this side of Christmas anyway. I'm going home tonight.”
“What? I thought we had an understanding, Marsha.”
“Jonathan, I need time to take everything in. Listen, it'll be like I never arrived. You go on ahead and enjoy your family Christmas and I'll have time to think about whether we continue this relationship when you come back in February.”
“We will, Marsha. We must. What we have is too good to throw away. I'm even considering making New York my permanent home. I've thought about it a lot lately.”
“Seriously?”
“Of course, Marsha. And it's only because of you.”
“Look, I really need to hang up now, Jonathan. I don't need you messing with my emotions like this, okay? Merry Christmas, I have to go.”
“Well,” he persisted. “I guess I might as well travel up to my parents' tonight after work. If I'm not seeing you there's no point in being in London. is there?”
“Well that's for you to decide.”
“Call me when you land or I'll call you Christmas Day from my parents' place.”
“Bye, Jonathan.”
It was icy cold in London. There was a biting breeze blowing up Oxford Street but it hadn't put off any of the large number of shoppers that were there. Busy was not the word. Wrapped in thick scarves and hats, chunky boots and fluffy gloves, the people bumped and barged past Marsha in their excitement to finish their last minute shopping.
Marsha stopped at Selfridges and found herself in the perfume department. She decided straight away that some fine fragrance was a must for Jodie and she couldn't resist buying an extra bottle of her own.
Walking aimlessly around the department store, she came across the jewelry stands and spotted some exceptionally stylish men's wrist watches. Her first thought was of Finn. She remembered the time he had given up for her the day before and thought a watch might be the perfect way to thank him. She could take it with her and post it back or maybe have it sent to the pub so he would be able to open it on Christmas Day.
“Excuse me,” she said to the shop assistant. “Do you happen to do engraving?”
“Yes we do, but there is a wait, I'm afraid. It's Christmas. About forty minutes to an hour.”
Marsha bought the watch and told the assistant what words she wanted engraved on the back. All the time her heart beat like she was about to go on a first date with someone. Up until then, she had always felt at ease with Finn but just picturing his face when he opened the present made her anxious and giddy at the same time. Was it too much? What would he think? But the burning questions she asked herself were, would Finn miss me and would he be angry with me for just cutting out like this?
She walked for ages up and down Oxford Street and made a stop in Bond Street, looking at designer boutiques. She just about resisted the temptation to buy an evening gown, knowing full well that she wouldn't be going to a party or event big enough to wear it.
During the time she spent shopping, Marsha thought of Finn consta
ntly and the guilt of leaving him without saying goodbye was killing her. She resolved to stay strong, stick with the plan and mail the watch back to Finn with a letter of apology.
Back at the hotel, Marsha asked the receptionist to call her a taxi for the airport. It was dark when she left the Lanchester Hotel, and the taxi driver got out and helped her with her case. Marsha eased herself into the back seat and let out a sigh. In many respects she was trying to stop herself crying. She was leaving London with too many regrets.
The taxi had only gone a little way when she noticed how beautiful the night time scene was outside her window. Several buildings were illuminated with Christmas lights and apartment building windows were brightly lit with decorations and Christmas trees with fairy lights flashing. But the streets seemed to be deserted and quiet. Few cars were on the roads.
“Where you off to then, love?” The driver looked into his rear view mirror at Marsha.
“I'm going home.” Her chest lifted and fell as another sigh left her lips.
“On Christmas Eve. Cutting it a bit fine ain't ya? Think you'll be back in time to sit round the table with the family?”
“Well, it's just me on my own, but that's all right. It's better than being here.”
“Don't you like London, then?”
“Actually, I love London...”
“But no one here you love, eh?” He winked into his mirror.
She didn't answer but thought about the question. Who did she love?
The taxi driver halted his car suddenly.
“What's all this?” the cab driver said in loud voice. “Looks like there's a bit of a hold up, love.”
“Will that make us late?” Marsha craned her neck to see what was causing the liner of brake lights to glow red along the road.
“I hope not, love. I'll do my best to get you there on time.” He removed his flat cap briefly and scratched his head.
Marsha sat patiently in the back but after a while she glanced at her watch and realized the taxi had not moved in twenty minutes from that spot. Up ahead Marsha could see the flashing lights of police cars and ambulances, their sirens blaring. She was daunted by the number of emergency service vehicles that arrived on the scene. Whatever had taken place ahead, was definitely going to make her late for her flight.
“Please,” she said. “You'll have to find another way, I can't be late. I don't have a hotel booked or anywhere to go if I miss this flight. Can't you turn around?”
“I can't love, have you seen the amount of cars queuing up behind me? There’s not much I can do. Sorry, love.”
“Is there a tube station close by? It's not far to Heathrow from here. Maybe I could make it by tube, right?”
“I suppose so. Worth a try,” the taxi driver said.
“I have to go. Tell me what I owe you and could you direct me to the tube station?” She was feeling more desperate by the second.
“Right love, that's six pounds on the clock.”
She gave him a ten pound note and he got out to retrieve her case.
“So where am I, exactly?” she asked him, looking around the dark and congested street. People were tooting their car horns but it was impossible to move. Until the police had cleared the area there was no escape.
“Right,” said the driver. “You want to head straight, until you come to a main set of traffic lights. Do a right turn there and you'll come to South Kensington Tube Station. You want to get on the Piccadilly Line going Westbound for Heathrow. The terminal number will be on the front of the train. It's easy really. It's just a bit of a walk but you're young and fit. Good luck love and Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you,” Marsha's smile was strained. “Happy holidays!”
She carried on walking straight as he’d said, muttering the directions over and over in her head. She looked at her watch again. It was forty minutes to check in, but, stupidly, she didn't ask the taxi driver how long it would take her to get to the airport by train.
There was no choice for Marsha but to keep going. Her case was getting heavier and finally Marsha came to a set of traffic lights. She hoped they were the ones the cab driver called the 'main set of traffic lights' because she didn't know what he actually meant by that. It felt right to her so she turned the corner.
After about ten minutes of walking and with her case seeming to become three times heavier than when she started, Marsha couldn't see the tube station anywhere ahead. She stopped and looked around. The street was small and very dark. One car went by, but there was no one on the road should could ask for directions.
Damn it! She thought to herself. Did he say turn left or right and what had I done? Did I turn left or right?
She thought about going back to the traffic lights and thinking about the instructions again. At least back at that set of traffic lights she had noticed a few more passersby. Maybe one of those could help her. Before making it back to her landmark, and she hoped it was the correct landmark, she came across a young couple.
“Excuse me,” she said stopping and letting her case drop to the ground beside her.
The young couple looked down at her case and then up at Marsha.
“You lost?” the boy said.
“I think I might be. I'm trying to find South Street Station,” Marsha said.
“South Street Station?” they said in unison and looked at Marsha, strangely. “There's no such station.”
“There must be. The taxi driver said I could get to Heathrow on the Piccadilly Line from there.” She was cold and very agitated now.
“I think you mean South Kensington Station,” the girl said.
“That's right,” Marsha exclaimed. “Am I close by?”
“Well, not really. You're walking towards the Embankment.”
“You mean the river?” Marsha picked up her case. “So could you tell me where I can catch a tube train to Heathrow?”
“Well, let's have a think,” the boy said. He shifted his weight and rubbed his chin. The girl looked up at the sky, thinking.
Marsha looked at her watch.
“I think there might be a minicab place at the top of that road” the boy finally said. “Maybe they can drive you there quicker. I think the nearest tube might be Gloucester Road.”
“No,” said the girl, “It's West Brampton...isn't it?”
“So,” said Marsha, “you can't really help me, can you?” Her eyes were glassy now and she had visions of spending the night at the airport, waiting for a morning flight because, at this rate, she was never going to get to Heathrow.
“Where is it you want to go again?” The boy asked.
“Home,” said Marsha, “but never mind, I'll try retracing my steps.”
“All right,” the couple said and walked away hugging each other, leaving Marsha to her own devices.
For the next ten minutes she seemed to be walking around in circles. She figured if she could get to a main road, she could either ask someone else or spot a taxi. Maybe she might just make her flight after all.
Finally Marsha came to a main road. She checked her watch, it was seven fifteen. She would be late for checkout but the plane would not be taking off for another hour. Possibly, by some miracle, she could get to the airport and be allowed to board the plane late. It happened all the time.
Looking up and down the street to see if she could see a black cab, she was, sadly, disappointed but she did see a group of people walking towards her from the opposite end of the street.
She hurried towards them and, as she did, she thought there was something familiar about this street. Just then a bus passed her, she recognized the number. She had been on that bus with Finn. Still hurrying to ask for directions she happened to look across the road. There, standing on a corner with its bottle green background and gold writing was The Grange Public House. She was across the road from Finn's pub.
“I don't believe this.”
She let her case fall beside her again. Her arms were in agony from carrying it and having to sw
itch arms every few minutes.
The Grange was full of people. She could see that through the wide windows. The lights were dimmer on one side of the pub, the side with the big fireplace and, from that side there were stage lights flashing. She looked at her watch, she had arrive five minutes before Lorraine's band was due to start performing.
One of the doors opened.
“You made it, then.”
There stood Finn, his arms outstretched, and with the widest smile she'd ever seen. He jogged across the road to her and picked up her case.
“Oh good, you're planning to stay,” he said when he saw the case. “That's amazing, Marsha. You don't know how happy that makes me. Come on.”
She was speechless, cold, out of breath and certainly in no mood to argue. She followed him across the road to the waiting arms of the Grange pub.
