By Richard Mather
Carlotta was riding on a Manchester-bound train, with a copy of Eliot’s Four Quartets in her left hand. She was gazing out the window, carelessly perceiving the flying scenery of fields and farms. On the unoccupied adjacent seat was a purse and an unidentifiable newspaper.
Her long hair was fiery red. She wore black jeans, a black top and black boots. Her unbuttoned coat was also black. Her skin was pale, her eyes green. He watched her closely. She didn’t notice that he was making a sketch of her in a small notebook.
He was drinking heavily in those days, mainly beer and whisky, but on the day he saw her, he hadn’t had a drink for hours. He was, however, aching for a cigarette.
To say he instantly fell in love with her would be an overstatement. He was intrigued, though. She was beautiful – that couldn’t be denied by anyone. But it was the way she stared out the grimy window that really caught his attention. He knew he didn’t have the courage to talk to her. He had no excuse to talk to her and besides he didn’t want to break the spell.
They both alighted at Piccadilly station. She exited the train first, unaware that he was right behind her, absorbing every little move she made. The first thing she did when she got off the train was to adorn herself with a black scarf and gloves. He cursed himself for not bringing similar attire, but the sight of her somehow kept him warm.
She walked out of the station, headed towards Market Street, which was a monster of energy. The weather was dire. Near freezing, with the icy rain and wind smacking his face. He followed her, several paces behind. Naturally, he didn’t want to arouse suspicion. Minutes later she made a sharp turn to the left, and made towards Quay Street. Then she entered a grand Georgian building.
He hurried over to the door. There were several gold-plated plaques, with different names and professions written on each one. He had no idea who she intended to see or which part of the building she was in. So he waited outside.
He waited in the cold for over an hour, rubbing his hands together and smoking one cigarette after another. Then she came out, lit her own cigarette and turned towards him.
“I knew you’d wait for me,” she said through a smile as bright as any sun. “I knew it from the moment I first lay eyes on you.”
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