Christmas in London Page 5

Kate entered the living room of her suite and slipped off her pumps. She was grateful that Claridge’s upgraded her to a suite. The eggshell satin walls and white wool rugs and bouquets of roses were so soothing. Even looking at the art deco bar with its bottles of aged cognac and chocolate truffles made her feel better.

  She filled a brandy snifter and stood at the window. It was past eleven and silver Bentleys idled outside the entrance. Men and women wore elegant evening wear and there were flashes of diamond earrings and gold watches.

  She felt as rattled as when they filmed a show in Paris and her cameraman came down with the flu. She had to find a doctor who made house calls, and then run to a pharmacy in the pouring rain.

  But she didn’t mind; that was her job. This was so personal. Her heart hammered and she could barely breathe.

  The hotel phone rang and she started. She unclipped her earring and picked it up.

  “Kate,” a male voice said. “It’s Trevor.”

  “Trevor!” She flushed. “Why are you calling? We just said goodnight.”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tomorrow night,” he began. “We can go to Quaglino’s, it’s one of the most famous restaurants in London. Princess Diana used to sneak in through the kitchen and diners have been known to pocket ashtrays as souvenirs.”

  “I don’t have time for dinner,” she said quickly.

  “You have to eat, you taught me that,” he laughed. “You used to hide my textbooks until I went to the Student Union and ate a sausage roll. Then you’d make sure I didn’t throw half of it away so I could get back to solving algorithms.”

  “You were so thin, you couldn’t afford to miss meals,” she remembered.

  “We’re both alone in London the week before Christmas,” he urged. “It would be a shame if we spent every night sitting alone, pushing steak tartare around our plates.”

  “You must have other friends in London.” She fiddled with her glass.

  “Susannah and I had friends, but they’re all at Yardley Manor taking long walks and playing charades.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” she insisted. “And I really am busy, we have a tight schedule.”

  “We’ve always enjoyed each other’s company and I’ll tell you what to see in London.” He paused. “Let’s make a deal. We won’t talk about the past. We’ll eat chicken liver parfait and I’ll give you tidbits for your show—who serves the best Bloody Mary and where to spot young royals: Loulou’s and Bunga Bunga and The Brown Cow.”

  “We really won’t talk about the past?” she gasped.

  “It’s a promise.” His voice softened. “It’s only dinner, Kate.”

  “All right, dinner.” She nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Kate hung up the phone and replaced her earring. What had she done? She really didn’t have time and they had so much history. But Trevor was right: she was alone in London at Christmas. It might be nice to explore Oxford Street without a clipboard.

  She sipped her brandy and the past washed over her, like the sea at White Sands beach. God, they had fun! Walking down South Street and eating so much tangy cheese at the Old Cheese Shop she was sure she’d get a stomachache.

  She met Trevor during her third week at St Andrews. From the moment the taxi dropped her off at McIntosh Hall, the town enchanted her. Cobblestone streets were crammed with narrow houses with bright orange roofs. Wooden planters were filled with pansies and shop windows displayed Shetland sweaters.

  And the bicycles! Students left them propped against fire hydrants while they browsed inside Waterstones bookstore and ate eggs Benedict at Taste café. Kate bought a yellow bicycle and rode to Blackfriars Chapel and down to the sand dunes to watch the sunset.

  The sunsets took her breath away. She’d look back at the town with the ruins of St Andrews Cathedral rising in the distance and St Andrews golf course laid out like a magic carpet and think the whole world consisted of stone turrets and picturesque shops and fishing boats bobbing in cozy inlets.

  * * *

  Kate hopped on her bicycle and rode down North Street. It was one of three medieval streets at the center of town and it was so narrow, she was afraid of getting sideswiped by a taxi.

  Her college advisor had shown her the brochures for St Andrews. Her parents were hesitant: Kate was in the top ten of her class; she could have gone to UCLA or even Stanford. But when she read about the six-hundred-year-old university nestled in a fishing village on the North Sea, she didn’t want to go anywhere else.

  Everything about St Andrews was new and exciting: the Botanic Gardens with its lush ferns and university museum filled with fifteenth-century artifacts. She spent whole afternoons admiring pottery in quaint galleries and exploring fishing villages on the Fife Coastal Path.

  She waited at the stop sign and realized she forgot her math homework. She was in enough trouble with math; she couldn’t afford another bad grade. She turned back and parked her bicycle in front of Mitchells Deli.

  A young man sat at the wooden table. His sandy hair fell over his forehead and he tapped on a calculator.

  “Excuse me.” She approached him. “I left my binder here, did you see it?”

  “It’s right here.” He took it out of his backpack.

  “You took my homework?” Kate was startled.

  “I was going to return it, your name is on the back.” He handed it to her. “I corrected it for you. You got most of the answers wrong.”

  “Did I?” she said and sighed. “No one told me applied mathematics is completely different from what we learned in America. No matter how much I study, I can’t get it right.”

  “Would you like help?” he asked.

  “I can’t afford a tutor.” She shook her head. “I’ve used up my allowance.”

  “I won’t charge you,” he answered, erasing a number on his paper.

  Kate often had men offer to carry her bags at the airport, or allow her to cut in line at the supermarket when she was in a hurry and only had one item. But the offers usually came with a request for her phone number and phone calls asking her to dinner.

  But he couldn’t be interested in her. He barely looked up, and she was wearing jeans and no makeup.

  “You have your own homework,” she said. “Why would you want to help me for free?”

  “It’s math,” he said simply. “I enjoy it.”

  “All right, I’m Kate.” She smiled, relief flooding through her. She noticed his angular cheekbones and thin wrists beneath his shirt cuffs. “But let me buy you a plate of chips and Parmesan. It’s the best thing I’ve eaten since I arrived in Scotland.”

  “Trevor.” He held out his hand. “And a plate of chips and Parmesan sounds great.”

  * * *

  Kate glanced at her watch and gasped. She had been listening to Trevor so closely, she hadn’t kept track of time.

  “This has been wonderful, but I have to go.” She gathered her books. “I’m late for the Gilbert and Sullivan Society and then I have a meeting of the Music Is Love committee and tonight I’m assisting at the student film festival.”

  “You have three events in one afternoon?” he asked. “Doesn’t that make your day a little crowded?”

  “The societies are the best thing about St Andrews,” she countered. “You meet students from all over the world and become interested in subjects you never imagined. I also joined the Sherlock Society and Children’s Teddy Bear Society. We deliver teddy bears to local hospitals.”

  “Charity work is worthwhile but most of it seems like a waste of time.” He shrugged. “If I want to study Sherlock Holmes, all I need is a book.”

  “You must belong to some societies,” she urged. “How do you make friends?”

  “I tried the Mathematics Society, but the members were more interested in drinking Hendrick’s gin at Sandy’s Bar,” he replied. “Most societies have members who spend Christmas holidays at a Scottish castle and summer vacations on large yachts. They have jobs waiting for the
m in family banks or trust funds large enough so they never work at all. Attending St Andrews is just moving the party from London and Surrey to their own private club on the North Sea.”

  “I’ve never been to a castle and didn’t know a single person when I arrived,” Kate argued. “Everyone is friendly and I’m having so much fun.”

  “You’re a pretty American; it’s different,” he said. “My father teaches science at a grammar school in York and my mother is a nurse. That hardly qualifies me to rub shoulders with guys who grew up on polo ponies and girls whose diamond earrings cost more than my parents’ house.”

  “Why did you come to St Andrews if you don’t like anything about it?” She was suddenly angry.

  “A few reasons,” he said thoughtfully. “The math program is internationally regarded, but it’s more than that. When I stand on the Old Course and gaze at the grass tinged with purple and yellow and the sun reflecting on the Castle Course Clubhouse, it’s the most beautiful place in the world.”

  Trevor pushed his hair off his forehead and Kate noticed his eyes were brown and flecked with gold. Her voice softened and she smiled.

  “The golf course is my favorite spot. Sometimes the light is perfect.” She stood up. “Thank you for your help. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

  “Kate,” Trevor called.

  She turned around and he waved a paper in the air.

  “You forgot your math.” He grinned. “It would be a shame not to turn it in. You got all the answers right.”

  * * *

  Kate sat at the desk in her dorm room and thumbed through a copy of Beowulf. It was past midnight and the moon glimmered on the playing fields. Footsteps clattered across the cobblestones and there was the sound of laughter.

  She never needed much sleep; it was one of the reasons she excelled in high school. It wasn’t unusual for her to study for a chemistry exam until 2:00 a.m. or stay up all night reading F. Scott Fitzgerald.

  There were so many things she loved to do at St Andrews that it was impossible to fit it all in. Just this evening, she welcomed a well-known Swedish film director and watched a performance of The Mikado.

  She sipped a cup of lavender tea and heard a knock on her door. She pulled a fisherman’s sweater over her T-shirt and opened it.

  “Trevor!” she exclaimed. “How did you get up here? The residence hall is locked after 10:00 p.m.”

  “What a strange coincidence, I live down the hall.” He waved at a door. “You have a telephone call on the house phone.”

  “A phone call?”

  Her friends would call her cell phone and she’d already talked to her parents this evening.

  “His name is Byron.” He handed her a notepad. “He said it was urgent.”

  “His name isn’t actually Byron, it’s George.” She glanced at the note. “My bicycle got a flat tire and he pumped it up. He told me his whole life story: his father expects him to take over the family stock brokerage but he wants to be a poet,” she explained. “He asked where I lived, but I didn’t think he would call.”

  “Would you like me to give him a message?” Trevor asked.

  “Do you mind?” she wondered.

  Kate sat cross-legged on the bed and waited for Trevor to return.

  “It’s all fixed.” He entered her room. “He wrote a sonnet and wanted to deliver it to you in person. I told him you fell into a bush and got poison ivy.” He chuckled. “It is particularly bad and very contagious. If he wants to see for himself, he can come tomorrow. From the speed he hung up, I doubt you’ll be hearing from him again.”

  “First you save my math homework and now you chase away would-be poets,” she laughed. “How can I thank you?”

  Trevor rubbed his forehead and a smile crossed his face. “Follow me, I want to show you something.”

  “I’m not dressed and it’s past midnight.” She pointed to her sweatpants and bare feet.

  “No one will see us.” He opened the door. “Trust me, it will be worth it.”

  * * *

  They strode across the quad and climbed the steps of a stone building with a domed roof. Trevor pushed open double doors and she followed him inside.

  The foyer had a tile floor and rounded plaster walls. Trevor started up a spiral staircase and Kate suddenly panicked. What was she doing alone with a stranger in the middle of the night?

  “Don’t look so alarmed.” He waved his flashlight. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  Kate wanted to say she wasn’t worried about falling and breaking her neck, she was afraid he was going to kiss her. But he had behaved like a gentleman. And if she were wrong, they’d both be embarrassed.

  They reached a landing with floor-to-ceiling windows and a domed ceiling. Trevor pointed and she gasped. The space was taken up by the biggest telescope she had ever seen.

  “You asked me why I came to St Andrews and this is one of the reasons.” His eyes sparkled. “The James Gregory Telescope is the largest telescope in the United Kingdom and is being used to study extrasolar planets.”

  “It’s amazing!” She admired its gleaming surfaces. “I’ve always wanted a telescope. In Santa Barbara, my favorite thing to do is lie on the beach and look up at the stars.”

  “Somehow, I knew you’d appreciate it.” His smile was as wide as a boy’s. “Look through the camera.”

  Kate squinted into the lens and the stars were so close, it was like looking through the wrong end of a kaleidoscope. The sky was milky velvet and the moon was a golden ball.

  “You should join the Astronomy Society.” Kate turned to Trevor. “They meet at the observatory every Wednesday. Once a month they have a pudding and hot chocolate social.”

  “I’d much rather use the telescope when no one is here.” He shrugged. “Astronomy is like math, it’s best appreciated alone.”

  “You brought me here,” she reminded him.

  “Friends are important,” he said slowly. “But it has to be someone you have a connection with, not because your names are on the same lists. You’re different.”

  “Different?” she wondered.

  “You care about your grades. Your light is on in the middle of the night because you’re studying, not because you’re passed out and forgot to turn it off.” He paused. “You love the sunsets on the Old Course and you’re not afraid to leave your dorm at midnight and try something new.”

  “Those are the qualifications for a friend?” she laughed.

  “They are for me,” he said seriously.

  Kate gazed out the window at stars that looked like a diamond necklace and thought St Andrews was even better than she imagined. She turned back to Trevor and felt light and happy.

  “They are for me too.”

  * * *

  Kate sipped her brandy and gazed out the window of her suite at Claridge’s. Hyde Park was lit with twinkling lights and she could see Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.

  What had it been like to be eighteen and not have made any mistakes? She shouldn’t have accepted Trevor’s invitation. But he agreed not to talk about the past and it would be nice to sit in an elegant restaurant and talk about London and New York.

  She entered the bedroom and slipped on a robe. The four-poster bed had monogrammed sheets and royal-blue pillowcases. A beveled mirror rested against the wall and Tiffany lamps stood on walnut bedside tables.

  Now wasn’t the time to think about Trevor; she had to concentrate on Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s. She climbed into bed and flicked on her laptop. It would be impossible to sleep. At least she could catch up on her work.

  Chapter Five

  LOUISA SAT AT A TABLE in the Foyer Restaurant at Claridge’s and consulted the breakfast menu. There was so much to choose from: smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, omelets with haddock and Mornay sauce, French toast with berries and clotted cream. The waiter named so many tea flavors it made her head spin, and the scones and pain au raisin sounded delicious.

  She put down the menu and smiled. Two days ago
she had been wearing wet moccasins and drinking cold coffee at a bakery on the Lower East Side. Now she was dressed in cashmere and sitting in one of the most elegant restaurants in London.

  The Foyer was like an illustration in an Eloise book: elegant arches and marble columns and art deco lights illuminating starched white tablecloths. A Christmas tree stood in the corner and silver bows adorned the stone fireplace.

  Louisa was tempted to flee back to her suite and have a cup of instant coffee and an apple from the minibar. She was so nervous. What if she dropped her fork on the parquet floor by accident?

  But she had the morning appearance on BBC One and then her makeup and hair appointments. In the afternoon she was going to visit the Christmas markets in Hyde Park and the Tate. Noah would be furious if she didn’t stick to the schedule and she couldn’t disappoint him again.

  The cocktail reception at the Fumoir had been fabulous. The other chefs were welcoming and she learned so much. Pierre Gagnaire had earned three Michelin stars and owned restaurants in Paris and Tokyo and Dubai. Andreas Caminada was the top chef in Switzerland and his restaurant in an eighteenth-century castle in the Swiss Alps sounded like something out of a storybook.

  And Digby Bunting! He was so knowledgeable about British desserts; she could listen to him for hours. He told her how to make the perfect pastry for a trifle tart and that an Eton mess might have a strange name but it was the best thing she’d ever taste: strawberries and meringue with fresh cream.

  A young woman wearing a red wool dress appeared at the doorway and Louisa recognized Kate’s blond hair. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Kate looked like she was dressed for a fashion show.

  “There you are.” Kate approached the table. “I was hoping we could chat before your interview.”

  “Please join me,” Louisa offered. “All the other tables are set with feasts that look like they’re prepared for Henry VIII. I usually manage half a cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast,” she said sighing. “If I just order a side of stewed fruit, they’ll ask me to leave.”

  “I’m not a breakfast eater but we can cobble something together.” Kate sat across from her.