It was time to get out of the train herself, to actually set foot on the ground in London. While she was still in the train, she was separate from it, a visitor who was not really here. The train still had the air of West Coombe inside it. As soon as she was off the train, she was on her own in London. But that was why she was here, after all.
Grasping the handle of her small suitcase firmly, Evelyn exited the compartment, walked awkwardly along the narrow corridor, and climbed cautiously down the steps onto the platform. She took a few steps away from the train and then stopped in awe. Above her curved the huge glass roof of the station. Evelyn had never seen such a large building, such a high roof. That such effort had been made to create a spectacular station made her wonder what else London held in store. The great sweep of glass and iron was at once sublime and oppressive, replacing the sky with a man-made triumph. Evelyn lowered her gaze and looked across the station, where more trains steamed gently, more crowds of people crossed her field of vision. She had expected London to be busy, on a different scale to anything she’d know, and yet even the station took her breath away. What would she find once she stepped into the city itself?
Only thinking of Edward kept her from bolting back to the train, returning home, laughing off her adventure. She was here because Edward had asked her to be; she was here with an important duty. Even if she only stayed for a day or so, she still had a task to complete. The damage was already done at home, so she might as well keep going now.
Coming back to full awareness, Evelyn spotted a sign which directed her to the station exit and followed the line of passengers heading in that direction. She tried to walk with confidence she did not feel, not wanting to seem an outsider.
When she reached the exit, Evelyn passed from the inside of the station into the street. A world that was at least vaguely familiar vanished and suddenly she felt overwhelmed and very small. The street was broad and busy. A motor car drove past, followed immediately by another, and a red omnibus. A man in a flat cap guided a horse-drawn dray along the road but looked oddly out of place. People filtered from the station exit behind her, walking quickly to the left and right. Evelyn wondered where they were going, if they all had homes and friends here. Was anyone as alone as she was? Was anyone else as astonished at the grandeur of the buildings, the bustle of the streets?
She took a deep breath. One of the ways she had occupied herself on the final part of the journey was by committing Lilian Grainger’s address to memory. 15a, Hays Mews. Mayfair. She did not know London, but she knew Mayfair by reputation. Lilian and her family were clearly well off. Evelyn hoped she would not be looked down upon. She knew Paddington was not all that far from Mayfair, except in London she had no familiar landmarks by which to judge distance. But this was only a town, after all, albeit a large one. How far away could anything be? Surely she’d be able to walk, given the right directions?
Summoning her confidence, Evelyn looked around. Leaning against the wall, close to the station entrance, was a man who appeared to be about her age. He wore a brown flat cap and was in his shirtsleeves, despite the cold. He was cupping his hands to protect the cigarette he was trying to light from the wind but did not seem to be so busy that Evelyn worried about interrupting him. She made for where he leaned, smiling and trying not to appear nervous.
“Excuse me?”
The man looked up. His expression registered surprise at being spoken to, but no hostility. “Can I help you, miss?” His voice sounded very different to the voices Evelyn was used to. Of course, she knew of the Cockney accent, but she had never heard it spoken.
“Er, maybe. I hope so. I’m visiting a…friend. I think she lives near here, but I’m not sure how to get there. I wonder if you could give me directions, please.”
The man was looking at her in an inquisitive fashion. “Not from around here, then?”
“No, that’s why I’m asking for directions.” Evelyn hoped she did not sound impatient but was rather taken aback to be questioned.
“I meant your accent. I reckon you’re from the West Country. Let me guess…Somerset?”
“No, Devon. A town called West Coombe.” Which suddenly seemed so very far away, like a place in a dream.
“Ah, well, I wasn’t that far off. I like to guess at accents. So, where does this friend of yours live?”
Relieved that he was going to help after all, Evelyn smiled tentatively and told him the address.
“Ah, Mayfair is it?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes sneaking a fast glance over her appearance. “Quite a fancy place that, from what I know of it.”
Evelyn was a little dismayed, as though the man was judging her. “I don’t know, myself. Like you said, I’m not from here. I’ve never visited before. Is it easy to get to?”
“Yes, miss, don’t worry, it is near here. Mind you, it’d take half an hour, maybe more, to walk.” Evelyn tried not to look surprised. You could walk from one end of West Coombe to the other
