The emotional centrifuge of the past month had drained Sabrina more than she'd expected. Her last three weeks in Paris were unbearably bittersweet. Then she'd had a rollercoaster of a week in America, with no respite in between. She realized as she stepped dizzily off the plane at Heathrow that she had no desire to "do" London. She just wanted to get somewhere that looked like a home as quickly as possible.
Porters and cab drivers were in a tremendous hurry. While Long Island was just settling into fall, London seemed to have skipped straight to winter.
She learned that none of the lines from the airport went to Derby. At a different station, it came out that she hadn't made enough change, leading to a traffic jam at her queue while the annoyed clerk had to find a manager to break Sabrina's larger bill. She barely made it onto the platform with all her things before the train doors creaked open. It took two trips to bring all of her bags on board. No one offered to help.
Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
No one, that is, until a gentleman in a trenchcoat and homburg stopped to pick up her last bag and settle it atop her others in the luggage rack. Sabrina looked at his shoulders and his bearing, and she gasped.
He turned around. It wasn't Linus.
She made her apologies and sank into a seat. The conductor passed by. Sabrina meant to ask him to wake her if she fell asleep before they reached Derby, but she suddenly felt bashful.
It was just the same when you were trying to adjust to France, she reminded herself. Take your time.
She leaned back against the headrest as silent tears began to fall.
Aunt Margaret was a ticket clerk at the main Derby station. The upside of this was that she was already there to meet Sabrina. The downside was that she couldn't take her home until her shift ended.
"I'm afraid I'm here till midnight, love. Not the warmest welcome, is it?"
"Oh no, please, I put you on such short notice."
"Well, we'll see you right anyway. Here's the house key. Your fare's already paid with Harold. He knows the address, it's number 12. Just put the kettle on and make yourself comfortable, and don't worry about sitting up for me. You look like you could use a lie in."
Sabrina was taken in hand by the indicated cabbie, Harold, who tipped his hat to her and dealt with all her bags as she collapsed into the car. She barely remembered him leading her up the walk and offering to bring everything inside. As soon as he was gone, she tried the few narrow doors in the hall until she found the spare room and tumbled face first into the coverlet.
The next day brought not only Aunt Margaret, but her three little grandchildren. They were wildly curious about their new American cousin, and seemed disappointed that her accent was no different from their own; but the two youngest loved to snuggle, so Sabrina soon found herself on the couch with one tucked comfortably under each arm. They chattered away about their friends and their nursery school while the eldest ran around taking pictures of Gran's house with Sabrina's camera. Aunt Margaret brought them tea, juice, and miniature scones. Sabrina couldn't remember spending a happier afternoon.
Soon, however, there were no more children to hide behind, and she had to tell her aunt the whole story of how she'd come to be stumbling into Derby Midland with less than a day's warning. Margaret shook her head at the right moments and patted Sabrina's hand sympathetically, but couldn't discuss the situation for long because she was due for another graveyard shift at the station. Sabrina once again slept like a baby, with only a small cry beforehand.
By the third day, she decided she'd better start making herself useful. She learned what groceries her aunt liked to keep stocked, which recipes Margaret would cook more often if she had time, when she wanted each chore done, and how to choose which tea to make based on the time of day Margaret got home from work.
Her second aunt, a realtor named June, also came around to offer a belated welcome. June and her husband Richard had two teenagers who were initially unimpressed with Sabrina. Their daughter Nicola perked up when she learned that Sabrina had worked for Vogue.
When June saw some of Sabrina's photography, she promptly recruited her as an assistant. This gave them plenty of long drives together through the most gorgeous countryside. As often as the weather was fair, Sabrina would lower the window and let the wind wreak havoc with her curls.
"You look like my dog," June teased her.
Their first attempt to stage and shoot a house reduced Sabrina to tears. This meant that as soon as they'd decamped to a pub, June had to hear the story too. She had many more uncomplimentary things to say about David and Linus than Margaret did.
"I haven't forgiven Linus yet either, Aunt June, but I do wish you'd stop calling him a wanker," Sabrina finally said one day. June harrumphed and switched to "tosser" instead.
The man at the camera shop where Sabrina got her film developed tried to set her up with his son. She laughed and thanked him, explaining that she wasn't over someone, and it wouldn't be fair to his son.
"He could help you get over him," the man persisted.
Sabrina bit her lip and shook her head. She already knew that didn't work.
She narrowed down her favorite pub and her favorite brew after much trial and error. She chased around Margaret's grandkids and held them close when the loneliness got too deep. She took trains to Liverpool and York and Aberdeen, photographing street festivals for fun. She tried inquiring about a flat once, but Margaret wouldn't hear of it. She stood there uncomfortably while her aunts gushed about her to their friends, called her father every other Wednesday, and slowly felt enough at home to start casting about for a more permanent job.
