MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 9

Tuesday, 31st March 1964

Edward

It's the first day back at work after the four-day weekend. I should be feeling rested, but actually I'm feeling the total opposite because I've been awake half the night thinking about Bella. Consequently I'm practically sleep-walking to the station, dreading the impending commute and not looking forward to spending the day cooped up in my office. The only good reason I had to drag myself out of bed this morning was my burning desire to see Bella arriving for work, so when I finally woke up in the shower I was beginning to accept I was behaving like an addict desperately anticipating his next fix.

Despite having several whiskies before I went to bed last night, I couldn't switch off my overloaded brain as I was re-living the events of yesterday, scene by every effing scene. In part I was trying to get my head around why the Rocker brotherhood is turning increasingly violent, which is not my idea of fun at all. But the majority of my night time thoughts were centered on my chance meeting with Bella; specifically the way she looked at me when she burst through the pub doors. In that split second when our eyes locked, we connected; there's absolutely no doubt about that.

This ridiculous obsession I have with her is starting to adversely affect my life. I don't know anything about her. I've never even spoken properly to her. Yet her face is haunting me to the point where I actually think I'm going mad. I've had many short-term relationships in the past, but no girl has ever affected me the way this girl has and it's starting to bother me. My life-plan doesn't include falling for someone at this moment in time. To be frank, this wasn't supposed to happen until I was about thirty-five.

At least I know her name now. Referring to her as my 'brown haired girl' was frustrating. Now I know how to address her, my adolescent fantasies have taken on a different script as I can make up conversations with her in my dreams. I still haven't got over the shock of making eye-contact with her again, and wonder whether my defensive reaction to her moment of recognition was enough to convince her that the Rocker sneering at her wasn't the weird guy from Fleet Street who leers at her at every opportunity.

I've gone over and over in my mind why I reacted to her in that way and put it down to an automatic defensive mechanism I have which hides anything to do with the 'Edward Cullen' side of my life from my Rocker buddies. To them I'm just Eddie from West London; that's all they need to know. I'm not interested in their private lives and they never ask me about mine. But I'm definitely feeling guilty for causing the shocked look on her face when I fronted her up, and I cringe at the memory. I also feel bad that I frightened her when she was on the back of Jake the Jerk's scooter, even though I hope he's taken on board my threat to his life if he ever puts her in danger again.

After my contemplative walk to the station, I'm greeted by a ridiculously long queue to get on the platform, coupled with a mob of very angry commuters who are not appreciative of a stressful start to their working week. London Transport has put up a sign informing passengers that the Circle Line isn't running this morning, which means that everyone will be forced onto the District Line instead. The harassed staff are controlling access to the platforms for safety reasons and I know from experience that when I make it onto a train, the carriage will be rammed to the point of being dangerous. I curse London Transport to Hell, because it's now inevitable I won't be at my window when Bella arrives this morning and I've been counting the hours until I see her again.

As I wait in the chilly morning air outside the station, I'm getting more and more agitated at the thought of not seeing her for another few hours. As the frustration builds, added to the fact that the queue hasn't moved for at least five minutes, I make a snap decision. "Sod this, I'm getting a taxi," I say to myself, as my totally irrational and absurd desperation to be at my window when she gets off the bus means I have to be there no matter what the cost. I see a black cab in the distance with the hiring light on, so I leap into the road to hail it and thankfully the cabbie spots me jumping up and down like a lunatic.

Before I clamber in I shout out to the queue, "Any of you guys going to Blackfriars and want to share the cost of a cab with me?"

Three hands shoot up and two men who work in Farringdon and a woman who works in the Cathedral join me. We have a whip round for the fare then chat amongst ourselves about the dismal service provided by London Transport. Our knowledgeable cabbie jumps into the conversation at this point and informs us that engineers were working non-stop over Easter to upgrade defective track but were delayed because of finding an unexploded bomb near to where they were working. This is not an unusual occurrence in London as the City and the docks were one of the main targets for the Luftwaffe during the Blitz. So instead of cursing London Transport to Hell as before, my three travelling companions and I vent our wrath on the Nazis and the Luftwaffe for the inconvenience this has caused.

The taxi drops us off at the junction of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill and I jog the final two hundred yards or so to my office. I glance at my watch as I'm running and see it's already five to nine. I'm almost certain I've missed her anyway but at least I won't be late for work. I'm annoyed and disappointed but have to resign myself to wait until lunchtime which is only three and a half hours away.

I reach my building and put my fingers on the door handle, but before entering I take a last look up and down the street then glance at the steps in front of the Express to double-check that she hasn't gone in yet. None of the usual crowd of girls are there, but inside the foyer, in the same position as before, is the shadow of a girl and I'm a hundred percent certain it's Bella as I recognise her coat. As soon as she sees me looking she turns and disappears out of sight.

I stand for a moment with my cold fingers clutching an even colder door handle and I'm unable to move from the spot. I need to digest the significance of the fact that she was waiting to see me and also her reaction when I looked for her, before I walk through the door and have to deal with Jane or Margaret and whatever else is waiting for me. I wonder what's going through her head right now and whether she's thinking the same about me. In other words is she hoping this cat and mouse game we're playing will come to anything, or doesn't she want this, and she just thinks I'm being weird? I know I'm going to have to speak to her soon, but how I'm going to orchestrate a meeting is beyond me.

I bring myself back to reality and step inside our warm reception area leaving those unanswered questions behind me. Jane has actually beaten me to work today so I'll have to suffer the indignity of her staring at my arse again, but at least I have my long coat on this morning. She greets me with a cheery smile and asks whether I've had a nice weekend.

"Great thanks, how about you?" I reply automatically, but actually I'm not really paying attention because I'm still thinking about Bella.

"Okay I suppose. Ate too many Easter Eggs as usual but who cares? Most fella's like to have something to grab hold of, don't they, Mr Cullen?"

"That's apparently so, Jane. Anyway, mustn't stand here chatting. I'm sure Mr Jenks has lots of work for me to do today."

I head for the stairs and walk up the first few steps knowing she's watching my every move. As soon as I'm out of sight I hear her audibly sigh, which is flattering I suppose, but also embarrassing to know a member of staff is fantasising about a certain part of my anatomy. I suppose it could be worse.

Mr Jenks calls to me as I'm creeping past his door, which unusually is ajar. I was hoping he wouldn't notice that I'm later than usual but no such luck.

"Edward, could you come in here please," he calls out, so I dump my coat and briefcase in my office and walk into his room wondering what he needs me for. I'm not nervous in his presence as I know he thinks the sun shines out of my backside, so I'm confident he hasn't called me in to have a go at me.

Jenks and my father were at Oxford together. They are similar ages and Jenks is aware of my privileged background, but as far as I know he has never discussed this with anyone else in the firm. I'm sure they've all put two and two together though as there aren't many Cullen's around, and in the legal world I'm sure we're the only ones. Having a famous father is both a blessing and a curse.

To say Jenks was shocked when I applied for the position here just over two years ago would be the understatement of the year. He actually tried to talk me out of the job, saying I would be ostracized by the legal hierarchy to which I was born into, but I assured him this was exactly why I was attracted to his firm. Nevertheless, he took me on and consequently got an ear-bashing from my father as a result, but he keeps assuring me he has never had any regrets about his decision.

He points to the seat opposite his desk so I sit down and wait to hear the reason why I've been summoned.

"Are you busy at the moment?" he asks.

"Apart from a mountain of paperwork and the usual interviews with clients already booked in, not really. I haven't got any court appearances for a while, so nothing I can't put off. Why?"

"I need to take some time off this week. I'd planned to be at the tribunal tomorrow for the dock workers' first hearing but I'm not going to be around. I want you to cover for me. I'm guessing the case will last two days at least, maybe three or four if their barrister is a twerp or the judge is being pedantic."

"Are you sure?" I ask and I know I sound surprised as I'm the most inexperienced lawyer in the firm. "What about John, or Simon. Wouldn't they be more appropriate? This case is the biggest one we've handled in a long time. It could lead to strikes in the future."

"Don't you think you're good enough yet, Edward?" Jenks raises his eyebrows as he questions me, but I spot a twinkle in his eye and I know this is a challenge.

"I'm good enough, Sir, but I'm surprised you're offering me this responsibility so soon."

"Do you want it?"

"Absolutely, but I'll need to dump my work for today and go through all the paperwork. I know the bare bones of the case, but not enough to be able to confidently defend these men in front of a tribunal judge."

Jenks pushes three box-files towards me with a grin. "I'll tell Margaret to hold all your calls today and keep you supplied with tea and biscuits. I'll be leaving at four, so if you need to ask me anything just come in. I'll leave my door open."

I stand up feeling a bit wobbly and pick the files up.

"Thanks for the opportunity, Sir. Hopefully I won't let you or the firm down in court."

Jenks gives me a fatherly smile and waves me away. "I know you won't, Edward, and don't worry, I'm not expecting you to win this time. Just make their case fairly and succinctly. Everything we do from now on will be brought up again when the strikes start happening. These dock workers have got the full weight of the establishment against them, so just do your best and we'll discuss what happens when I get back next week."

"Can I ask why you need time off, Sir?"

"I'd rather not say anything at the moment, Edward. It's a personal matter and I'll fill you in when I can, but not yet. Okay?"

"Okay, Sir, and thanks again."

I carry the files to my office and can't help smiling when I see that already waiting for me on the desk is a giant mug of tea and two Blue Ribands, which are my absolute favourite biscuits. I guess Jenks had already alerted Margaret and asked her to keep me happy today. By that I'm presuming my boss wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

I clear my desk of all my other files and open the first box. As I pull out a thick sheaf of papers I sigh. This is such an important case which could have serious implications for manual workers and Trades Unions across the country. Dock workers from the Port of London have been threatened with the sack for refusing to accept new contracts which would seriously reduce their wages and affect their employment rights. Ten of the men have put themselves forward as test-cases, even though they can guarantee they'll be the first in line to be given either a replacement contract or no work if they lose this case.

In a nutshell, the dock's management board are seeking to employ their workers on a casual basis only in future, rather than paying them a guaranteed weekly salary as now. The managers assert they often have more labour than is needed when the docks are quiet, or if ships are delayed coming in to port, which adversely affects their profits. The dockers claim they will still have to be available for work, all day, every day, which prevents them from seeking additional employment when the docks are quiet. Most of them are husbands and fathers and therefore need a regular income to meet their commitments, but the managers are saying that's not their problem and have appointed high-flying barristers to present their case to the employment tribunal.

Mr Jenks and I know that if management win this case, this will open the floodgates for other companies to treat their employees in the same way. I can also guarantee the Trades Unions will not take this lying down as they have already threatened strike action if they lose. So a great deal hangs on whether the tribunal takes the management side, which is usually the case. I'll know how it's going to go as soon I see which judge is presiding, as some sections of the judiciary haven't moved on from Tolpuddle. "No pressure then," I say to myself as I bite a sizeable chunk out of my first Blue Riband.

When Margaret brings me my next mug of tea and some Penguins this time, she looks at me sympathetically as I must already look worn out. I wasn't in the best shape when I arrived at work this morning to start with because of my restless night thinking about my encounter with Bella and the fight in Clacton. If I'd known what Jenks was going to throw at me this morning, maybe I would have had a quieter weekend in preparation. What's done is done though, so I thank Margaret and ask her to keep the tea coming on a regular basis.

As the morning hours slip by, I admit I'm keeping my eye on the clock as the time ticks towards twelve-thirty, which is when I'm expecting Bella to appear on the steps. The last few minutes are torture but I'm rewarded when she emerges from the foyer with some of the other girls then wanders off on her own as usual. I'm willing her to look up at my window, but she keeps her head down and her eyes on the pavement, almost as though she's purposely trying to avoid seeing me, which is nuts, I know. I'm disappointed that I haven't seen her face again, but to be honest I don't need any distractions at the moment. I have to concentrate on the job in hand so I turn away from the window and carry on ploughing through the paperwork.

I miss Bella coming back from lunch as I have to go in with Jenks to talk to him about one aspect of the case I'm not clear about, but I'll make sure I'm at my desk when she leaves for home tonight. Maybe this will be my last opportunity to see her until the middle of next week and that thought depresses me. Margaret carries on plying me with tea and biscuits and I continue working diligently until I hear Jenks leaving at four. He puts his head around my door and wishes me good luck then disappears to sort out whatever is so urgent that he's unable to present the most important case to have come to our firm for possibly the last ten years.

Margaret makes me a last cup of tea before she goes home so I stop for a break and turn my chair so I can watch Bella leaving for the day. The girls who work with her begin appearing one by one and go off in different directions, but there's no Bella. I've just given up hope of seeing her when she suddenly appears on the steps, but instead of walking away from the building like the others, she stands on the top step and stares directly at my window.

I'm in a quandary what to do. Do I stay in the shadows, crouched in my chair pretending I'm not here, or do I stand up and let her know I've seen her? Four seconds, eight seconds, ten seconds go by, then I take a deep breath for courage and stand … and slowly walk towards the window.

I see her shoulders jump so I know she's spotted me but she carries on staring without any change in her fixed expression for what seems like an eternity but is probably only about another ten seconds, then she looks down at the ground and shakes her head. She carries on walking down the steps and away from the building before breaking into a dainty run as she's seen her bus coming. I continue watching her as she crosses the road then she jumps on the bus that's waited for her.

I'm still standing at the window but now with my palms flat against the glass as the bus passes by. I stare at the lumbering red vehicle until it's out of sight then I turn away from the window and stagger towards my chair and collapse into it.

As I take in what's just happened, I come to the embarrassing conclusion that Bella, my slightly built, delicate, beautiful brown eyed girl, has balls, in that she fronted me out, like I did to her in the pub. She taunted me. She said to me as clearly as if she'd shouted out loud, "I'm here; what are you going to do about it?" And I did nothing.

I could've responded. I could've waved. I could've mouthed something at her, like "Hello", but I didn't, which is probably why she shook her head in despair.

"You fucking idiot," I say out loud and I'm angry with myself, but there's no convenient Easter Egg to smash to a pulp this time, just a pile of paperwork I wouldn't mind tossing across the room, but I don't. Instead I try and concentrate on going over the notes I've made and I make more notes on top of my original notes and then read and re-read the contents of the third box-file until I'm satisfied I've got my head around the case. "At least I've got my head around something," I muse as the rest of my world is in chaos.

I work until just before seven in the evening, and leave at the same time as our cleaner, Joy, who's kicking me out as she wants to lock up. I wish her goodnight and make my way slowly towards Blackfriars station, where thankfully the Circle Line has been declared bomb-free. I can now make my way home safely without any further dramas caused by London Transport or the Luftwaffe.

As I walk the half mile from High Street Ken to my home, it occurs to me that if Bella looks up at my window tomorrow, or at any time during the next few days, I won't be there. She'll probably presume I'm not playing this game anymore and I'm not interested in her, and I involuntarily shudder at the thought as I don't want her to have that impression, but I can't do anything about it now. I'll be in the office at eight tomorrow to pick up the files and will be in my seat at the tribunal at nine, and will probably not see the light of day until about six.

"Just my sodding luck," I say to myself as I open the door to my house and I mentally kick myself for not giving her some sort of acknowledgement when I was at the window.

"Next time, grow some balls, Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen, you spineless wanker," I say out loud as I throw my briefcase on the floor.

"Who's a spineless wanker?" a female voice asks from upstairs and I jump with shock, but I recognise whose voice it is straight away.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I say quite rudely as the culprit comes to the top of the stairs.

"That's a charming way to speak to your sister, Edward. Why bother giving me a key if you don't want me to come over and surprise you occasionally."

"Sorry," I reply feeling slightly guilty.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asks accusingly. "I thought you finished work earlier than this. Anyway, I've made you dinner; at least you could be grateful for that."

"I am grateful," I say as I pull my coat off and hang it on the hook by the door. "I had to work late as I'm presenting a case tomorrow so I'll have to leave here at seven in the morning. How long are you staying?"

"Two or three days, if that's alright? I'm trying to avoid going home."

I laugh as I know exactly how she feels but I still need the details.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why?"

"I didn't turn up for dinner on Easter Sunday and our dear mother is on the warpath. I genuinely didn't know you weren't going down either so she's seriously pissed with both of us. I'm staying clear until Friday at least. Are you going there straight from work?"

"I honestly don't know. This tribunal may run on to next week, so I might not get down there until Saturday morning. I'll have to come back straight after the party if that's the case, because I'll need to prepare for Monday. Anyway, where the hell were you over the Easter weekend?"

"Promise you won't say."

"Yeah, yeah, promise."

"Aldermaston."

"What! You marched from Aldermaston to London? When did you suddenly get interested in CND and Banning the Bomb?"

"Well, we camped out at Aldermaston on Good Friday but we couldn't march this year. The police stopped us and the organisers advised us not to try in the end. We all made our way to London separately and met up in Trafalgar Square on Monday for the rally."

"How did you get there, Sis? You haven't got a car."

"We hitch-hiked."

"Jesus, that's dangerous. Who were you with?"

"Just some girls I know from Uni. We thought it'd be a laugh and it was. I totally agree with CND though."

"You need to meet my mate, Emmett. He's in to all that shit."

"Is he the American one?"

"Yes, but don't mention him to anyone as he's not supposed to be in the country. He'll go to prison for being a draft-dodger if he gets sent back to America now."

"Okay, my lips are sealed. Anyway, who were you calling a wanker when you came in?"

"It's a long story, Rosie. Maybe I'll tell you one day."

"Alright Edward, keep it to yourself. Now go and get that boring suit off and I'll sort dinner out."

As we pass on the stairs, I give Rosalie a hug and a kiss. Despite wanting to kill each other for most of our teenage years, she was fast becoming my best non-biking friend, and I contemplated whether I should ask her advice about Bella but decide against it. I need to sort this out by myself.

I quickly get changed and go down to the kitchen where Rosie is dishing up chicken and baked potatoes which is just what I need. As we sit at my tiny breakfast bar to eat, she says,

"Tell me more about your friend, Emmett. I wouldn't mind meeting him."

I seriously consider it for a second, but as I put a piece of chicken in my mouth, I choke when I consider the implications of them meeting.

First of all, Rosie is blonde (his preferred hair colour), highly intelligent and a CND supporter.

Emmett is handsome (apparently), intelligent (very), American (unusually) and a pacifist.

So, if they ever meet, they're going to be like magnets.

However …

There's no way Emmett McCarty is going anywhere near my sister with a dick that size!

Bella

The Tuesday morning commute is a nightmare because my bus has to be re-routed because of an unexploded bomb somewhere in the City. The army has been forced to close off several roads near to the Express building so I end up walking the last quarter-mile to Fleet Street otherwise I would never have got to work on time. Our money gets docked if you're late whether it's your fault or not, which is a bit of a cheek really but that's the way it is.

It's obvious some of the girls haven't been able to get here yet as only Sue and two other girls are outside on the pavement when I arrive. I can't help it, but my eyes are immediately drawn to his window as soon as I get there but there's no light on in his office. I presume he's been caught up in the mayhem as well, so I turn away and listen to the girls' chit-chat about the weekend while trying to avoid their cigarette smoke.

I follow them into the foyer but decide to wait until the absolute last minute before going to the cloakroom to hang my coat up. I make an excuse to Sue and tell the others to go on ahead while I keep watch on his building. I've been standing by the doors for less than a minute when I see him jogging along the road looking at his watch. I quickly walk backwards a couple of steps ensuring I'm away from the glass as I don't want him to see me. As he puts his hand on the door handle he turns around and looks up and down the road and then his eyes fix on my building and he's staring directly at the spot where I'm standing. I know he's searching for me, but I'm confident he won't be able to make out that the person in the foyer is the girl he's looking for. My curiosity is satisfied so I turn away and walk quickly to the cloakroom and then to my desk.

"What was all that about," Sue hisses at me.

"I'll tell you later," I whisper as I plug in the Dictaphone, and for the next three and a half hours I concentrate on my job.

Lunchtime comes and I go out for my usual walk. The weather is cool and breezy but the fresh air rejuvenates me, even though the traffic fumes means the air is not that 'fresh' at all. Whatever, it's better than sitting indoors all day. I love the City of London, with its grand, solid buildings and beautiful churches and synagogues that have been there for centuries. There's also a hidden London that exists behind the imposing facades which I find fascinating, and occasionally I discover a new alleyway that leads to a secret courtyard that's been trapped in an Edwardian or Victorian time warp. When this happens, I write what I've found in my notebook, but it's not just the location of my discovery I record. It's the sounds I hear echoing around the enclosed spaces, and the unexpected scents and smells of London, like baking bread or stale alcohol, or the feral cats that dive for cover when I enter their quiet haven. These are magical places which the ordinary folk of London rarely see and for me it's like walking back in time and I love it. I like to imagine that one day I'll write a book about this secret side of London, but I guess this will never happen.

I eat my sandwich sitting in the peaceful grounds of an old church, and for a moment I feel cut off from the world. I know I'm lucky living and working in the City, but I'm just an insignificant part of this monolith which allegedly controls a huge part of the post-war free world. I'm only a few steps away from some of the highest people in the land, such as bankers, lawyers, captains of industry, politicians and the aristocracy. The only time I ever see them though is when an expensive looking car draws up in front of a building, then a chauffeur gets out and opens the rear door and a totally unrecognisable man or occasionally a woman appears and is ushered into a building. I realise then I've been in the presence of someone important, but I've no idea who it is. My dad probably would as he's into politics and all that, but at the moment I'm not really interested.

I wander back to the office and I'm thinking about my Monday Man and the Rocker again. I admit I'm subconsciously looking around all the time just in case he's out on the street as well, but if I saw him I'd probably run and hide, even though I'm desperate to talk to him. I decide to tempt fate and walk past the door of his building to see if there's a name plaque outside, which might give me an indication of what he does for a living. I know I'm being nosey, but what the hell. I've nothing to lose unless he catches me, in which case I'd be mortified.

I turn the corner into Fleet Street and walk as close as possible to the buildings, which will keep me out of sight if he's looking out the window. I sidle up to his door and see the words J JENKS and some legal jargon written in gold letters on the glass, which means he's either a lawyer or some sort of administrator. My curiosity satisfied, I wait for a gap in the traffic then dash across the road and into my building, but I still stop once I'm inside and look back at his window, but he's not there.

When I stroll into the typing pool, Mrs Black (I've stopped calling her Eva Braun), signals me to come over to her desk. I presume she has more tapes for me but I'm wrong.

"Bella, can you stay behind for a few minutes after work tonight?" she asks. "Don't panic, you haven't done anything wrong dear," she adds, so I nod my head and say okay.

Sue's eyebrows are raised when I sit down. "What's that all about?" she asks.

"I don't know," I reply, even though I suspect it's about Jake. "She wants to talk to me after work. I'll tell you why tomorrow."

I work diligently until it's time to go then wait for the others to leave before speaking to Mrs. Black. She smiles at me kindly as I approach and tells me to sit down for a moment.

"Bella, I know you're seeing Jacob at the moment and I just wanted you to know that I'm okay with this. If or when you two break up one day, because teenage romances usually end that way, I'm not going to hold it against you."

"Oh! Right," I say and I know I'm blushing. "Thanks," I add and stand up ready to leave.

"That's not all," she says and then hands me a large, plain envelope. "In here is an application form for the vacant secretary position. I made a recommendation to management that you deserved a promotion long before you started seeing Jacob, so please be assured you're being invited to apply on your own merit. You're an excellent typist and a smart girl. You shouldn't be wasting your life in a typing pool."

"Thank you Mrs Black," I blurt out as I'm truly stunned. "I'm very grateful you've given me this opportunity. I'll fill this in tonight."

"You're welcome, Bella. By the way, have you told any of the other girls that you're seeing my son?"

"No, I haven't. I thought I'd better keep it under my hat for the moment."

"Good girl; let's keep it that way. Now off you go and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks Mrs Black. Goodnight."

I stumble out the door because my knees are shaking because of what has just happened. I stare at the envelope as I still can't believe it then collect my coat from the cloakroom. As I carefully fold the precious envelope into my bag, I want to scream I'm so happy. This is my first step towards a proper job. A chance to use my brain instead of just my eyes, ears and fingers. An opportunity to progress with my life at last. I wonder what Sue and the others will say about this as I'm one of the youngest in the typing pool, but frankly I don't care. This is the first rung on the ladder and I'm going to jump on it with both feet.

Armed with a new sense of purpose I stride through the exit doors and stop on the top step and instantly the world looks totally different than it did this morning. As I breathe in the sweet smell of success, (even though I haven't got the job yet), I feel confident and brave; in fact brave enough to look directly at that darned building across the street. My eyes snap up to the window but it's blank, but the light is on which means he's in there. I wait for eight, nine, ten seconds, but nothing happens. I'm just about to give up, when I see movement and I can't help jumping in surprise.

I hold my breath when I see him approaching the window but he stares straight at me, his face totally expressionless. He's got no jacket on this time, just a plain white shirt with a blue striped tie that's loose at the collar. Even from across the street I can feel the intensity of his eyes burning into me as though he's searching my mind. I'm willing him to wave, or mouth a 'hello', or just smile, or do anything to acknowledge my presence, but there's no attempt at communication at all and I'm disappointed. I wait for another ten seconds or so then give up on him and skip down the steps because I can see my bus coming. I dash across the road as soon as I'm able and jog to the stop where the kindly bus conductor has held off ringing the bell so I can get on.

The bus moves away and I can still see him standing at the window watching me and I wonder what's going through his mind. As I settle into my seat, I smile to myself because my Monday Man actually got out of his chair and came to the window so I could see him. Even though he didn't physically acknowledge me, we definitely connected when we locked eyes and I'm glad I had the nerve to invite him to make contact. He's intrigued, I know it, so what happens next? I've hit the ball into his court so maybe he'll hit it back to me tomorrow.

As the bus turns the corner and his building disappears from view, the famous line that Scarlett O'Hara uttered at the end of Gone with the Wind comes into my mind.

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

And I just can't wait.

Edward needs to grow some, but remember all this is new to him. He's never had to work at a relationship or even try getting a girl before, but don't worry, he'll have another opportunity soon.

Life is improving for Bella on the career front; she just needs to sort her love-life out now. Why the hell is she still with Jake if Mr Sex-on-Legs is occupying her thoughts?

FYI

While I was writing this, on March 2nd 2017, an unexploded WWII bomb was discovered in Brondesbury Park in North West London (I had already written this chapter by the way). It's unusual to find them now, but back then it was a regular occurrence, not just in London but also in most of the major cities in the country, and of course all over Europe. The authorities reckon that the Thames is littered with UEB's, but there's no point seeking them out as the chances of any of them exploding is negligible. The Blitz (from the German word Blitzkreig meaning 'lightning war') is the name used for the intense saturation bombing of London during the war, specifically between 1940 and 1941.

Industrial action in the Docks was brewing in the early 1960's but came to a head in the late 60's. The management could foresee containerisation happening in the not too distant future and wanted to prepare for a radical change in how the docks were run. More importantly, the industrial barons wanted to put the Unions and the Labour Party in a bad light prior to the Election and they could do this by stirring up trouble. The case I've mentioned is not a real one, but an example of what was going on at the time. With an impending Election in the autumn, any industrial action would be helpful to the Tories, so unrest was being cultivated not just in the docks but in other parts of industry as well. A dock strike would be disastrous for the country's economy, so winning this case was very important.

Tolpuddle is effectively the birthplace of the Trades Union movement in the UK. In 1834, six farm workers from Tolpuddle in Dorset, formed a secret Union because their pay was being cut every year. They were arrested and shipped out to Australia for seven years hard labour and were not expected to survive the sentence. After they were sent away, the working classes rose up in protest and formed Unions all over the country. In the end, the government of the day capitulated and brought the men home after three years. These six men were hailed as heroes and from then on were referred to as the Tolpuddle Martys.

The village of Aldermaston was/is still the home of the UK's Atomic Weapons Establishment, so was the obvious focus of the Anti-Nuclear demonstrations started in the 1950's by one woman, Mary Harrison, who walked the route from there to London in protest. The CND march from Aldermaston to Trafalgar Square was a regular occurrence over the Easter Weekend from then on. The Easter march in 1964 was cancelled for various reasons, but mainly because there had been a lot of trouble on the march in 1963 because of the Cuban missile crisis, so the organisers just held the rally in Trafalgar Square as usual.

I hope you're all enjoying the little snippets of British history. Thanks for the feedback from those who are - I'm really enjoying hearing yours (or your parents') memories of this time.

In the next chapter, they finally meet and talk at last! (hooray).

Joan xx