Francis Kennington Park Road, London
FRANCIS
Kennington Park Road, London
By the time I finally reach home, after just a short walk, I feel that familiar, bittersweet mixture of pride and sharp disappointment that has become a constant in my life.
The beautiful three-storey Victorian townhouse, with its grey brick facade and elegantly painted white trim, was purchased two years ago, a decision that drained my savings and left me with a substantial twenty-year mortgage.
On the one hand, it’s a very real symbol of the professional success I managed to achieve relatively early in my career. On the other, it’s a constant reminder of the life I had dreamed of building with Anne and the children we were supposed to have, a life that never came to be.
This elegant property, set in a prestigious and peaceful residential area just a stone’s throw from both the city centre and the hospital where I work, was meant to be our family home, the perfect place to raise the children I believed Anne wanted to have with me.
A spacious open-plan kitchen and living area opening onto the rear garden through wide French doors, along with three bedrooms and three bathrooms, offer plenty of room for a family of four, perhaps even five.
Instead, for now, I remain its sole occupant and expect to stay that way for quite some time.
Anne and I had been together since our first year at university, and I’d always believed our relationship was solid. We supported each other, we had fun together, and the sex was still as incredible as it had been at the very beginning.
When I signed the purchase contract for the townhouse two years ago and asked Anne to marry me, the last thing I expected was for her to say no.
Looking back, I suppose the signs were there.
They always are. But at the time I was either too blind or simply too in love to see them… In fact, if I’m being completely honest, I think I still have feelings for her.
What I shared with Anne wasn’t the kind of relationship you can just wipe away, and over the past two years, I haven’t met anyone, man or woman, who’s managed to dim the memory of what we had.
When we got together, we were still just kids, both of us with very little experience.
I spent my teenage years mostly buried in books or occasionally hanging out with friends, determined to earn a scholarship that would get me into medical school.
When I finally made it to London and saw my biggest dream come true, I barely had time to look around before I met the incredible Miss Halliwell, and I fell for her, hard.
As long as Anne and I were together, she was all I could see, all I could think about. But when we broke up and I started dating again, I realised, really for the first time, that I was equally attracted to men and women.
I embraced that discovery quite naturally, dating whoever I felt drawn to, hoping that one day a spark would catch and I’d fall in love again.
Unfortunately, I haven’t been that lucky. Some of the people I dated turned out to be incompatible from the start. Others showed promise but, in the end, things just didn’t work out.
And despite the lingering hurt from what happened with Anne, what I want most is still to find someone I can build something lasting with.
But whether it’s a man or a woman, none of the people I’ve met since becoming single has ever managed to truly replace her in my heart.
I can’t even hope that distance might help fade my feelings, because my ex is still part of my closest circle of friends, and happens to be both business partner and agent to one of them.
Today, after the brutal night shift I’ve just survived at the hospital, I’m about to find myself in one of those situations where I’ll have to put on a brave face and spend what’s left of the day in the company of Anne and our closest friends.
The occasion is far too important, and there’s no way I’d ever risk spoiling it for two of the people I care about most in the world. So, I’ll plaster on my best smile and hope to come across as at least vaguely convincing.
After completing my daily workout, I treat myself to a long, hot shower.
Feeling a little more human, I head into the large walk-in wardrobe and select a pair of dark jeans, a crisp white cotton shirt, and a navy cashmere jumper, which I don’t put on but decide to bring along, just in case the air turns cooler later.
Before closing the door, I pick up the large, brightly coloured paper bag containing the gift I bought a few days ago, which I’d deliberately left in plain sight to avoid forgetting it.
It’s only early autumn, and the temperatures are still fairly mild, but with the famously unpredictable British weather, you never know, a sudden downpour can change everything in an instant.
The journey from Kennington Park Road to Maida Avenue, my destination, takes around half an hour, combining the tube and a few stretches on foot. Fortunately, I’m running slightly ahead of schedule, so I step out of the driveway and head off, determined to enjoy the walk.
I love wandering around London. Even after all these years of living here, the city has never lost its charm for me. Whenever I have the chance to take it in at a leisurely pace, it never fails to surprise me with something new.
Whether it’s a hidden little corner waiting to be discovered, an unexpected view, or an ethnic restaurant offering something tempting to try, I always find myself thinking how lucky I am to live in such a wonderful city.
As much as I’ll always carry my beloved Cornwall in my heart, I know I couldn’t live anywhere else now but London.
Let’s hope the magic works again today and that this walk lifts my mood a little. I could really do with a boost before the party.