Read Online B00C4I7LJE EBOK by Robin Skone-Palmer - Free Book Online Page A

social life had worked out pretty well, too, I reflected as I walked through Hyde Park. I’d started dating one of the Marine Guards soon after I arrived in London. After he returned to the States, I’d gone out with a variety of nice Englishmen—oh, yes, I’d had a blast in London.
    As I walked through Hyde Park, I remembered one particularly lovely summer afternoon when I’d been so enthralled with the joy of being in this storied place that I’d taken off my shoes and walked barefoot through the soft, green grass. As I reveled in the sheer beauty of it all, a man called out to me: “Hey, lady, that grass is full of dog shit.” Oh, thank you so much . Remembering that incident, I laughed out loud.
    On the other side of Hyde Park, I caught the Number 12 bus on Knightsbridge and rode it to Cromwell Road, past Harrods, which I planned to visit later. It was only two blocks to Ashburn Gardens, and there it was—my old home. Five Ashburn Gardens was a lovely four-story building with a black door and white pillars, just like all the other buildings that surrounded the little garden. The caretaker, Mrs. Harris, lived in the basement flat; I had lived on the first floor, which in the U.S. would be the second floor because what we called the first floor, they called the ground floor. It had taken me a while to get used to that. My window boxes sat empty and seeing them left me sad. Perhaps the people living there just couldn’t afford to buy plants. Or maybe they were waiting for spring. Yeah, I’ll bet that’s it .
    I took a walk around the gardens until I started to get chilly. Time to get inside! I flagged a taxi to take me back to the hotel. By the time Richard picked me up for dinner, I’d luxuriated in a hot bubble bath and got my second wind. Even so, I told him I wanted to make it an early evening.
    I had met Richard shortly before my tour at the Embassy concluded. He was one of several Englishmen I’d dated. I had no serious attachment with any of them, and in a couple of cases, I wondered if they saw me as something of a novelty: a cute American girl from the U.S. Embassy. Richard and I corresponded after I left, and he was one of the few people who knew that I might be visiting. Over dinner I told him about my new life in show business and he laughed at some of the tales.
    “Why so many suitcases, especially an office bag and a kitchen bag?”
    “Phyllis is very particular about everything, especially her costumes and props, and, believe it or not, she likes to cook for us occasionally.”
    As our delightful and delicious evening drew to a close, Richard walked me back to the hotel, where he left me in the lobby with a hug. I felt happy to have spent a lovely time with him and, with a full tummy, I took the elevator to my room. I barely managed to put on my nightgown before I fell asleep.
    Surprisingly, I did not sleep late the next day. When I opened my eyes, my travel alarm said 9:30 A.M. London time, and I had to stop myself from figuring the time difference to California. It was a silly thing to do and made no difference whatsoever. It being Sunday morning, I thought about attending the morning church service at the Guards Chapel. I’d loved going there while I was with the Embassy. Regimental flags hung from the ceiling and the service was traditional, the liturgy soothingly repetitive, and it always ended with God Save the Queen and the Navy hymn, Eternal Father, Strong to Save . I don’t think I learned much about God or the Bible, but it was so incredibly English and conventional that no matter how hectic the week had been, I left comforted with the knowledge that in spite of famine, wars, and plagues, the world had gone on for centuries and would likely continue for many more. It put my little problems in perspective.
    But my friend Kay, whom I’d called after checking in, had left a message at the front desk while I was out with Richard: “Brunch tomorrow. My place. Noon.”
    It was too early