The Love Story Part 12 - My Return to London

 

Anxiously, I wait precisely as instructed at the bottom of the escalator, across from the exit gates at Liverpool Street Station. 

Where is he? I followed his directions implicitly. He will definitely be in a panic somewhere by now. He is a fastidious planner and adheres to agendas with meticulous precision. If not to schedule, he becomes horribly distressed. He will also be uneasy about our meeting for the first time since he left me bereft at Sydney airport more than a year earlier.

It’s one thing to hide behind the safety of our distant locations. Phone messages and calls are impervious to the nuances in a person's expression. The furrow of the forehead, the squint of an eye, or a turned-up mouth edge all go undetected behind the protection of a WhatsApp call.

In the weeks leading up to our reunion, he connected constantly about plans for the theatre, dinner and grand walking tours. These calls and messages intensified as the day approached when I would jump onto a plane and we would finally see each other, face to face.

My Qantas flight touched down in Darwin to refuel, and as I walked through to the transit lounge, his message pinged through. I smiled to myself. Was he actually tracking my flight?

           “Hello Darwin!! 😊

           Just the long leg to go!

           Hope all is okay ✈️”

Within 10 minutes of my arrival in London, another message

           “All okay Nina? 😊🌧️

After his phone call and third message that day, my cousin and I looked at each other. “OK, this really is a bit much”. I smiled knowingly.

Liverpool station is abuzz with the usual throng of transiting Londoners so I decide that the top of the escalator will provide a better vantage point. I hop on the moving stairway and as I am conveyed to the mezzanine level, scan the crowded station for sight of him.

There he is.  

His head down, tension securely fastened across his face, frantically striding through the station. I about-turn and quickly hop onto the downward escalator calling out to him with a wave. He acknowledges me with immense relief as I hasten toward him with a wide smile and arms outstretched. Immediate relief comes over him. He grabs me and holds me tight as tears well in his eyes. He pushes me out at arm's length, his voice shaky he asks “Where were you?” I could tell he was anxious and excited about our meeting. “A misunderstanding I guess, there are two escalators.”

We walk and talk for hours.

Home of The Huguenots of Fournier Street

As we wander past London’s oldest shopfronts on Artillery Lane he relates stories about the Huguenots, their escape from France, their settlement in Fournier Street and subsequent lace and clock-making enterprises. I should be in awe of the significance of the history surrounding me but somehow, can’t quite take it all in. My head is swirling with the realisation that I am actually here.

As we wander, he speaks about his walking adventures.  He had mentioned to me during our long-distance chats that he had joined Meetup and a few walking groups to meet new people in his area. Instinctively, I know he has joined intending to meet a love interest but true to form, he won’t say so. 

“You know Meetup is a disguise for a dating app” 

Finished with our history lesson, we settle into the Prospect of Whitby for a well-deserved beverage with which, our discussion becomes more lively. By the time we order our next round of wine and beer at Ian McKellan’s pub, The Grapes, things become quite animated and we are almost back to the old days, almost. We talk about his kids, doing well. Mine, not so much. We reminisce about our travels. I remind him that he owes me $500 for a COVID-cancelled Uluru trip. He replies, “I always pay my debts.” Yet despite our friendly banter, I sense a minor rift. A fissure in the foundations of our friendship. I’m certain now that he is hiding something from me, hiding something from himself.

I wasn’t certain of what this was but I was soon to find out.

The story continues...here

Read from the beginning here..

 

THE AUTHOR

As it does, life took a devastating sideways turn for me. With fierce determination, I quit my teaching job, shut down my photography business, packed up my apartment, hired an agent and rented it out on Airbnb, bought a ticket to London and embarked on an adventure of discovery, both about the world and myself. I’ve learned a great deal about people, places and myself. I’m happy that you are here for the ride. Nina x

Where you can find my work...

I will be documenting my travels through photography on Facebook and Instagram. Prints will also be available on my website. If you are interested in following along, here are some of my sites.

Blog - MY CURIOUS CAMERA

An in-depth look at places I've visited with plenty of travel information from Ireland, France, UK, Iceland and who knows where next.  

Website - MY CURIOUS CAMERA

Where you can purchase signed, framed limited edition prints of my work.

Website - NINA BEILBY PHOTOGRAPHY

My professional work as a portrait photographer