Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
SOFIA
Acute embarrassment consumed Sofia as she concluded her exit interview and was escorted from her work premises like a disgraced employee caught with her hand in the cash box.
After leaving so abruptly on Wednesday, she had hoped to say a proper goodbye to her colleagues and explain why she’d been dismissed.
But the security guard stood over her the whole time as she’d stuffed her measly belongings into a cardboard box, cutting short any chance of conversation.
Having stripped her of her laptop, entry card, and office keys, the security guard checked each item off a list, inspecting them for damage.
If his intention was to make her feel like a hardened criminal, then he’d succeeded.
Humiliation burned at her cheeks. Her only crime was being a carer.
It seemed unfair that she was treated in the same undignified manner as if she’d been fired for gross misconduct.
Feeling conspicuous, she stood on the busy London pavement trying to compose herself and ignore curious glances from passers-by who were no doubt wondering why she was crying.
She hadn’t loved her job, but she had enjoyed working with her colleagues, and she’d felt a sense of satisfaction in doing her role well.
Leaving under a cloud wasn’t good for her self-esteem, and it certainly didn’t bode well for her future prospects.
Would another employer be sympathetic to her situation, or would they see her as a liability too? She supposed she was about to find out.
Wiping her eyes, she picked up the cardboard box containing her personal items and headed for the train station.
In hindsight, she should have left behind the large spider plant, which was threatening to poke her eye out and spill soil over her beloved photo of her parents.
Why hadn’t she thought to wear flats? But she’d needed a barrier, and wearing her suit and heels helped to disguise her fragile state.
North Acton station was still busy, despite the rush hour being over.
She nearly dropped the box twice as she negotiated the steps and turnstiles leading to the platforms. The relief she felt when her train arrived a few minutes later almost reduced her to tears.
A feeling that was exacerbated when she spotted an empty seat by the window and was able to slink away from view and hide behind the box for the journey home.
No one liked an audience when they were upset, and she wanted nothing more than to get home, have a good cry, and console herself with hot chocolate and a heated blanket. She’d face reality tomorrow. Today, she wanted to feel sorry for herself.
The hardest part had been hiding her dismissal from Luisa.
She didn’t think it was fair to burden her sister when she was so poorly, so she’d pretended everything was okay when she’d visited the hospital over the last couple of days and kept quiet about having spent yesterday afternoon on the phone to an ACAS adviser in the hope of getting her dismissal overturned.
Luisa’s health had improved enough that her sister had been taken off that awful lung machine and she was slowly responding to intravenous antibiotics. It was early days, but Sofia was keeping everything crossed that her sister would be out of hospital soon.
When a loud clanking noise filled the carriage, Sofia was so lost in thought, it took a moment to register the painful screeching of brakes. The sudden change in momentum propelled her forwards and she dropped her box, sending it crashing to the floor as the train juddered to a halt.
A brief silence followed, quickly replaced by chaos as the other passengers began complaining and trying to find out why the train had stopped.
Sofia collected her things from the floor and returned them to the box, which was now dented. Adjusting her skirt, she dragged herself onto the seat and glanced out of the window. They appeared to be stranded between stations.
The other passengers in the carriage began to look around, as if noticing their fellow commuters for the first time. A collection of puzzled, confused, and frightened expressions gazed back at her.
And then she saw him, the man from her morning commute. He was standing in the aisle looking directly at her, a concerned look on his face. Her heart rate sped up, she gasped, and the air left her lungs in a whoosh.
And then he began walking towards her.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, crouching down to pick up the photo of her parents from the floor. She hadn’t even noticed it had fallen out. ‘I hope it’s not broken.’
As she reached to take the photo from him, their fingers brushed and she had an awful feeling her sudden intake of breath was loud enough for the whole carriage to hear.
Before she could chastise herself for behaving like a character from a regency novel, a guard appeared from the next carriage and strode down the aisle.
‘There’s a fire in the signal box at Notting Hill Gate. The train can’t move until it’s repaired.’
‘Do you know how long the repairs will take?’ a man further down the carriage asked.
‘No idea. They’re doing everything possible. I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.’ The guard raised his hands defensively and edged out of the compartment.
Sofia had been glad of the interruption, it had given her a moment to compose herself. The man she’d wanted so desperately to talk to for so long was finally sitting in front of her, asking her if she was okay, and giving her the prime opportunity to strike up a conversation.
She had to act quickly—if she remained gawping at him like a stunned goldfish he’d conclude she was a weirdo and leave, and then her chance would vanish. She was an adult, for goodness sake, and she needed to start behaving like one.
‘I’m Sofia,’ she said, holding out her hand as if he was a business colleague, before realising her mistake and withdrawing it. ‘Sorry. Bad morning, I’m a bit stressed.’
‘That’s okay, it’s not every day you get stranded on a train. I’m Connor,’ he said, mirroring her action and holding out his hand.
Grateful, she shook it. ‘I’m Sofia. I’ve already said that, haven’t I?
Sorry, I’m not usually so strange.’ Which might have reassured him if she hadn’t still been holding his hand, clinging on like he was a life raft and she was drowning.
But his hand was so warm and soft, and she didn’t want to let go.
‘I don’t think you’re strange at all,’ he said softly, seeming unfazed by her clutching hold of his hand. His brown eyes were even more mesmerising close up, and so shiny she could see her own gormless expression reflected back at her.
Thankfully, the guard re-entering the carriage broke the awkwardness, and allowed her the opportunity to remove her hand.
‘Sorry, folks, no chance of getting the signal box working. Got to get you off the train here, you’ll have to make your way to the station by foot.
It’s only about a hundred metres, it’s perfectly safe.
Staff will be there to assist you. If you could all get off the train as quickly as possible.
’ The guard jumped onto the tracks. He made it look so easy.
Connor offered Sofia his hand and nodded towards the doorway. ‘Shall we?’
She let him pull her to her feet. ‘I’m not wearing the right shoes for jumping out of a train,’ she said, grimacing down at her heels. ‘If only I’d known, I’d have worn trainers.’
He unhooked the rucksack from his shoulder.
‘I have some in my bag,’ he said, opening the flap.
‘They might be a bit big, but you’re welcome to wear them.
’ He handed her a pair of retro Nike basketball boots, white with a red trim.
‘My dad’s American,’ he said, offering her a shy shrug.
‘He likes to get me stuff to remind me of my roots.’
‘That’s nice of him,’ she said, admiring the boots, which were still huge compared to her tiny feet. ‘My father’s Colombian, he buys me pan-pipes and yellow knitwear and wonders why I don’t wear them outside the house.’
Connor laughed, and she thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. ‘He sounds like quite a character. Is that him in the photo?’
‘Yes, it was taken on holiday in Cartagena.’ Thoughts of Papi made her wistful, so she sat down and kicked off her heels. ‘My younger sister doesn’t always enjoy his flamboyance. She finds his habit of serenading strangers in restaurants and starting congas at parties embarrassing.’
‘And you don’t?’ He took her heels from her and placed them inside his rucksack.
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as embarrassed, but he makes me laugh too much to mind him making a spectacle of himself. It’s only when he starts matchmaking that I object.’ She slid her feet into the boots and tied the laces. ‘Then it gets really embarrassing.’
‘Who does he try and matchmake you with?’
‘Any eligible man he can find. Waiters, co-workers, random men in bars. His shame has no limits.’
Connor ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘I’m sure the men don’t mind. They probably can’t believe their luck.’ And then his cheeks flushed and he glanced away. ‘Is your mum from Colombia too?’
Stupidly flattered, she shook her head. ‘No, she’s English … or rather, she was. She died a few months ago.’
His face fell. ‘I’m sorry. You must miss her.’ The compassion in his eyes melted her a little.
‘I do.’ She stood up and inspected her bright white feet. ‘I look like Minnie Mouse.’
He laughed. ‘Better than jumping in heels.’ He slung his rucksack over his shoulder and picked up her cardboard box. ‘Ready?’
She followed him over to the exit, trying not to look down at the awaiting drop. She’d never realised how big the gap was before, trains were really high up.
Without any hesitation, he threw his rucksack onto the tracks, and having placed her cardboard box on the carriage floor, leaped from the train like one of those free-runners.