by J. J. Kapka
“Uuugghhhhh,” she groaned, as the full import of her situation dawned on her. She pulled the covers back up over her head again and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to will herself back to the blissful ignorance of sleep.
Yet her heart had already started to beat wildly, and her body seemed to keep in step as she tossed and turned from one side to the other, as if trying to shake off the pursuit of her awareness. Finally, she gave up and simply sat upright and allowed all the emotions to flood back in. She knew it was time to take stock of her situation.
But first…first, she had to do something. Yes, action was indeed required, in the form of breakfast. With her having barely tasted the bangers and mash the previous night before all hell broke loose, her stomach had gone beyond hunger. In fact, it wasn’t even grumbling anymore. Probably, it was ignoring her at this point. But some primordial instinct had now taken control and was telling her that she couldn’t possibly think a coherent thought until she’d stoked her energy, and more important, provided herself with a proper jolt of caffeine to jump-start her thought processes.
Stretching, she rolled out of bed and headed over to the darkened window. Reaching out, she jogged up the shade. Light poured in, blinding her. Like someone suffering a walloping hangover, she staggered back with her hands covering her eyes.
“Whoa, that sun is so strong. What time is it?” She bent over the desk, fumbling for her wristwatch, her eyes still aching from the arduous task of adjusting to the sudden flood of light. When she saw that the watch was accusing her of having slept till 11:30, her first reaction was one of panic at having missed breakfast. Surely, the punctual English had long since rolled up their toast and jam and baked tomatoes. Yes, lunch was in the offing, but somehow breakfast had a nice, solid ring to it: a fresh start to a new day—heck, to a whole new life. Lingering over a cup of coffee was more attuned to her present situation than sorting through a lunch menu somewhere outside of this comfortable oasis.
“Damn,” Maddie muttered, as she shuffled dispiritedly over to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and make other general preparations to face the day, or rather the half-day. Just as she was turning into the bathroom, a glimpse of yellow on the floor by the hallway door caught her eye. She bent down and picked up what looked like a note. Unfolding it, she read it out loud.
No doubt, you will be sleeping in today. I hope you don’t mind my presumption, but I have taken the liberty of having a table in the courtyard set for you, should you be inclined to have a late breakfast. Please just let the front desk clerk know when you are ready, and he’ll see that you are taken care of.
Regards,
Violetta Simonds
“Oh, how sweet of her,” Maddie exclaimed.
Turning with a sudden spring to her step, Maddie rushed into the bathroom and hastily performed her morning ablutions. She rifled through her backpack and found a nice fresh top and shorts. She lightly stepped into her sandals and headed out the door.
With great anticipation and much gratitude, she bounded out of the room and down the stairs. As she reached the last few steps, she saw the clerk behind the desk.
With his back turned, he picked something up from the small credenza against the wall. Before she even had a chance to say anything, he turned around with a smile and said, “Ah, you must be the lady who arrived last evening. Please, make yourself comfortable out in the courtyard.” He gestured through another doorway leading to a small library.
On the other side of the library, she made out a pair of French doors through which copious amounts of sunshine flowed in.
“I’ll have the maid bring you your breakfast shortly,” the man continued.
Maddie was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness she’d encountered at this little hotel, the name of which, she realized now, she didn’t even know. Before she ventured out into the courtyard, she had to find out when the lady from last night was coming back on duty so she could thank her.
“Excuse me, when will Mrs. Simonds be back on duty?”
The clerk barely hid a quick smile before answering, “She’s here most of the time, madam. She’s the owner of the Simonds Hotel.”
Maddie blushed, knowing that the clerk must have thought she was completely dense not to have put two and two together, which she might have done if only she hadn’t been in such a fog last night that she didn’t even notice the name of the hotel when she was deposited on its doorstep.
“Thank you,” Maddie whispered. She turned and headed through the little library to get to the French doors and the courtyard beyond. Looking through the sparkling panes of the doors, her heart skipped a beat at the picture-perfect beauty of the courtyard.
As she stepped through the door, she paused to take it all in. Before her lay an oasis of tranquility: a typical English cottage garden transported to the heart of the city. Well-tended plants bloomed exuberantly in every conceivable and available location, from the ground to planters, to hanging pots, to the variegated ivy climbing the hotel’s walls. Nestled amid all the greenery sat a handful of white wrought-iron tables and chairs, each with a small, vibrantly floral umbrella to match the ambiance of the garden. Her eyes immediately fastened on a table draped in a rosy-pink cloth and set with beautiful china and silverware. A small nosegay of home-picked flowers, tied with a purple satin ribbon, lay atop the napkin resting on the plate. This table must have been meant for her.
As Maddie started to pull out her chair, a woman bustled out of a small Dutch door, leading to what appeared to be the kitchen. The woman bore a silver tray with jars of marmalade, a small bowl of pats of butter, and a curious device that perched golden toast upright.
“Good morning, madam, or actually, I should say, good afternoon.” The young woman deposited the contents of her tray onto the table. “I thought perhaps you might like to start on this while I get the rest of your meal together. Do you take coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please,” Maddie said gratefully.
As quickly as she’d appeared, the woman turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Maddie first busied herself with studying what seemed like a standing filing system for the four pieces of toast, a kind of metal doodad that had a slot for each piece of toast so that they could stand upright. As she grabbed her first slice, Maddie was amazed that it still actually felt warm, at least warm enough to melt the butter. Biting into her first mouthful of food in many hours, she again spotted the young woman bustling back into the courtyard carrying a coffee service.
The woman swiftly deposited the tray on Maddie’s table and began pouring for her, adding the cream and sugar in response to queries she made, before again disappearing to whip up heaven knows what in the way of breakfast.
Maddie’s hands encircled the cup and brought it as rapidly as possible to her waiting taste buds. She closed her eyes in satisfaction as the first smooth mouthful coursed its way to her stomach. “Ahh,” she murmured to herself, enjoying the chance to spend a few minutes appreciating the blissful solitude of the garden and the simple pleasures of coffee and toast. Three days ago, she knew, she would have wolfed both items down without a second’s thought as to just how good they could taste in the right situation.
Hearing a rustle of preparatory noise, her eyes turned expectantly toward the door. Sure enough, the woman soon reappeared at Maddie’s table bearing several items on a larger tray. She proceeded to exchange Maddie’s plate, except for a few toast crumbs, for one brimming with scrambled eggs, bacon that looked decidedly different from the crisp-cooked strips Maddie was accustomed to at home, a large grilled tomato half, and a small bowl of baked beans.
Beans? Maddie thought with amusement.
The efficient young lady deposited another dish nearby and momentarily lifted its silver cover to reveal additional portions of everything, ready for the taking without the embarrassment of asking for seconds. Finally, she unfurled the day’s London Times on the table and bustled away again, barely leaving Maddie enough time to sa
y thank you.
Either the setting was so pleasant, or her hunger so fierce, or the food so excellent—she didn’t know which—but the seemingly odd combination of ingredients tasted better than any meal Maddie had eaten in recent memory. From time to time, she actually found herself sighing with contentment as she concentrated solely on relishing the food and reading the news.
By the time the various plates, all empty, had been removed, and the pot of coffee had been replaced with another, Maddie knew she must face the music and figure out what she was going to do. She certainly had appreciated the distraction provided by this wondrous little hotel. She was quite confidant that whatever she decided, she was certainly going to act more rationally than when she’d first stormed out of the pub last night, tired, hungry, and emotionally rent.
She pushed back her chair beyond the shadow of the umbrella and slouched down enough to allow her head to rest on the padded back, giving her face the full benefit of the overhead sun. She clasped her hands in her lap, closed her eyes to block out all distractions, and lent her full concentration to the weighty matters at hand.
~~~
June 24—Midafternoon
Dimly, her subconscious registered a slight rustling, followed by a distinctly polite clearing of the throat. Like a student caught dozing in class, Madison quickly opened her eyes and sat upright. As she gazed around, the courtyard appeared much dimmer than when she’d first shut her eyes. She glanced upward to see if a storm was rolling in, only to see clear skies. To her dismay, however, those clear skies were more characteristic of late afternoon than midday, and she realized she must have fallen asleep in the midst of all her heavy thinking about her predicament.
Once again, someone cleared her throat.
Maddie turned around to see Mrs. Simonds standing by the French doors. Maddie rushed to explain. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. How awful…”
Mrs. Simonds broke in. “Not to worry, my dear,” she said lightly. “I’m so pleased you felt comfortable enough in our little garden that you could catch up on your rest. In fact, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but as it’s starting to get a bit colder, I thought you might catch a chill if you stayed out here much longer without a sweater.”
“Oh, thank you,” Maddie faltered. She rose and started walking toward the doors. And then she remembered that this woman who had been so kind to her didn’t even know who she was, or if she had a nickel—make that a shilling, she silently corrected herself—to her name.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Maddie said warmly. “I really want to thank you for being so kind and thoughtful. You were amazing to even let me in last night…and to trust me. I, well, thank you very much.”
Mrs. Simonds reached out and patted her arm kindly. “Not to worry, my dear. There are times when we all need the benefit of the doubt, I dare say.”
Maddie nodded her head in mute agreement, lest she lose her composure by saying anything more. “I know I’m way overdue, but can I register now?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Simonds said with a nod. She gestured for Maddie to follow her to the front desk, where she proceeded to fill out her form and provide an imprint of her credit card.
“Also,” Maddie added when the paperwork was completed and she was ready to return to her room, “breakfast was just wonderful. That was so thoughtful of you to remember me and to go to so much trouble.”
“Not a bit,” Mrs. Simonds said with a shake of her head. “What decent host wouldn’t?” Maddie only had to think of her experiences with the hotel on her first night in London to come up with an example of bad hospitality, but she simply thanked the kind woman again and headed up to her room.
After closing the door, Maddie plopped down on the bed and tried to think. Had she come up with anything resembling a plan before she’d nodded off in the courtyard? In fact, she realized, she indeed had spent a good deal of time in thought before she’d succumbed to her jet lag.
What she’d realized she had to do was to not let this “thing” defeat her. Initially, her thoughts revolved around going home and the simple logistics involved in getting back to New York and going back to her old life, but in “single” status. The more she played out that thread, however, the more she realized that if she were to put her tail between her legs and scurry back to New York, she’d regret it forever. It would mean allowing Becker to have the last word in determining the outcome of the trip. The more she thought of it that way, the more she realized she had to take back control of her life, and her future. Nevertheless, the prospect of soldiering on alone wasn’t nearly as appealing as a joint adventure had been. Half—no, more than half—of the fun of their previous stateside travels had been the joy of their shared experiences.
Correct that thought, she admonished herself. She was apparently the only one getting any joy out of their time together. She felt foolish for not having forced Becker’s feelings out of him before they left, when her instincts had correctly told her that something wasn’t right. Of course, never in a million years could she have guessed that the something not right was going to be this big.
The thought of seeking Becker out and trying to change his mind had only briefly flitted through her brain before she tossed it away. If he didn’t, or couldn’t, love her of his own accord, she knew she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Love didn’t work like that. If his heart wasn’t in it, then what good were logical arguments to the brain?
Then again, if it was a separation or a divorce he wanted, he’d damn well have to wait till she got back. In fact, she was glad she’d left him that way last night, without a chance to discuss in his so-calm, so-cool manner how to go about dissolving their relationship. If there was anything she could take away from that whole encounter, it was the surprised look on his face when she’d dumped the food on him and bolted. Maybe it hadn’t been the mature thing to do, but somehow, it made her feel like he hadn’t succeeded in completely crushing her. Even now, the memory of his food-bedecked head made her grin and doubled her resolve to carry on and have a good time in spite of her messy start.
~~~
June 24—Evening
Determined to shrug off the confines of too much self-reflection, Maddie realized with a start that she’d never gotten out to buy a new set of clothes and toilet articles. She grabbed her purse and jacket and dashed downstairs to inquire at the desk where she might be able to go shopping. A few minutes of conversation with the man at the desk revealed that not all stores stayed open every evening and that the various shopping districts took turns in staying open for “late nights.” She learned that tonight, her pounds could be spent in the Oxford Street vicinity. After a quick lesson in the neighborhood’s geography, and pointers on how to use the Underground, she set off for the nearby station, only three blocks away.
Having been counseled by the desk clerk that her best bet for Underground use was to get a multi-day pass for the central zone, she made the easy purchase at one of the ticket windows and proceeded down to the trains—way, way down. After an elevator ride that seemed to take her into the very bowels of the earth, she emerged onto the pathway to the platforms and spent a minute or two determining which side she needed to be on. She examined the map on the wall to double-check where she needed to transfer, and less than fifteen minutes and one transfer later, she emerged from the Underground station onto Oxford Street. It was pulsing with energy as the evening shoppers hurried from store to store, their arms full of colorful bags.
Orienting herself on her map, Maddie decided to explore by going up one side of the street and down the other. Loving the sometimes old-fashioned feel of the buildings and shop fronts, she set to her task of replenishing her travel wardrobe with vigor. Some two hours later, with four different shopping bags dangling from her arms, her feet were killing her. A glance at her watch told her it was only another thirty minutes before the stores closed. Remembering the enticing food halls she’d seen in Selfridges, she decided to head back the
re to see if she could put together a meal of sorts and rest her weary feet.
Arriving back at the magnificently provisioned counters, Maddie eagerly explored the many offerings on display, everything from vintage English cheeses, to glisteningly fresh seafood, to exquisite pastries and fruits. She decided to mix and match, with no guiding rhyme or reason other than to take what looked most tempting to her. She purchased a rich chunk of a deep orange-hued Leicester cheese, a plate of just-opened oysters with a simple wedge of lemon, and a crisp wholemeal roll.
She found a narrow countertop on which to deposit her food and slid gratefully onto the stool. Dropping her bags to the floor, Maddie allowed her shoes to slip off her aching feet just enough to ease the pressure. Spearing the first plump, fresh oyster with her fork after having given it a healthy spray of lemon juice, she let it glide into her mouth. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she savored the tang of the lemon that melded with the softer inner meat, backed by a tinge of sea-saltiness.
“Mmmm,” she sighed, while breaking off a hunk of her roll and a smaller hunk of cheese, making them into an impromptu open-face sandwich. Biting off a nice chunk, she immediately picked up on the assertive flavor of the cheese as she let it linger on the various touchstones of her taste buds. She nodded to herself. This is just what I needed.
While she slowly and appreciatively savored her patchwork meal, she gazed out the window at the Londoners passing by, for the first time really taking in the atmosphere of the great town. She resolved to get a much better look the next day, now that she had all her gear in order and could finally, albeit belatedly, set about on her own little “grand tour.”
~~~
June 25—Evening
The day had gone by in a breathless whirl. Sticking to her resolve to get up early and make the most of her time, Maddie had her breakfast in the morning with all of the other hotel guests. Despite not having the courtyard and the service to herself, it was still quite enjoyable, as she was able to strike up a few conversations with her fellow travelers.