January 12th, 1990

January 12th, 1990

At home

Woke up early with an abundance of mixed emotions.

Jack met me on the platform at Euston last night and being so tall, he was easy to spot. It didn’t escape my attention the amount of heads he turned while he made his way towards me. He was all smiles and after a quick peck on the cheek, we fell into an easy chat about nothing in particular and made our way to the tube.

I love the buzz of London; the bewildered looking tourists with their maps and rucksacks and the savvy locals who somehow manage to navigate their way through the crowds with ease. I love the buildings, the lines of double decker buses and hearing all the different languages.

After dinner in Covent Garden we strolled, with no particular destination in mind. Jack took my hand and said he could never imagine living anywhere but the city.

In Trafalgar Square, Jack asked if I wanted to sit and take in the sights. I agreed to, but the minute we sat on the bench, I started thinking about David and how much I enjoyed our time together in London last summer. The more I tried not to think about David (it didn’t exactly seem appropriate) the more I did. I tried my best not to appear distracted but when I glanced at the lion sculpture, I remembered what it felt like kissing David in that very spot.

Jack followed my gaze and grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I doubt it, I thought.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, with my best fake smile.

He moved his face closer to mine. “That we should climb up there and get a better view.”

“A better view?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “That’s code.”

“For what?”


I realized in that moment I had no desire to kiss Jack. None whatsoever. In that moment, all I wanted was to turn back the clock and be there with David again, sitting perched on the lion sculpture in the middle of Trafalgar Square, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

Jack looked at me with a curious expression. “I know what you do for a living, so you can’t be afraid of heights.”

“Actually, I am.”

“Are you being serious?”


He sat back and stared at me. “Are you feeling alright?”


“You look a bit peaky all of a sudden. Do you feel ok?”

“Not really,” I lied.

“The food, maybe?”

“Actually,” I blurted, “I think I should go home.”


I nodded my head. “I think so.”

“You think it was the food?”

“Yeah, maybe. I should really get going.”

“Don’t you want to just sit here and see how you feel?”

“No, it’s probably best if I keep moving,” I said, getting up.

“Ok, no worries,” he said, following my movement. “Eh, we can get a taxi to the train station.”

“Actually, I’ll be fine on the tube.”

“Nah, don’t be silly, the tube’s the worst place to be if you don’t feel well.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no problem to…”

“Jack,” I said, facing him. “I’m sorry. I just want to go home. Alone.”


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