CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I had the following two days off, which made my decision to go to the station and try to catch up with Dan an easy one.
I’d been so enraptured by Charlotte’s diary, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and was desperate to read more of it.
But now Dan had apparently made an exciting discovery for himself – that Chawton, in Hampshire, where Jane Austen lived and wrote for the last eight years of her life, was actually mentioned in Charlotte’s diary.
I’d asked Leonard but he couldn’t recall anything else that Dan had told him, and I was impatient to find out more for myself.
Why had I calmly handed the box over to Dan, just because it had been found in his family’s attic? I was wishing now that I’d stuck to my guns and held onto it.
Getting behind the wheel, I set off for the station.
I was assuming Dan would be taking the train into Guildford and then catching a connecting train to Alton, which was just a few miles from Chawton.
Well, whether he liked it or not, he would have my company on the journey!
If I made it to the station on time . . .
But the traffic on the high street was bumper to bumper because of the snow.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I waited for the lights to change. And then to my despair, there was yet another set further on, apparently because of roadworks. (There wasn’t even any evidence of roadworks – just a single stupid bollard the cars were having to drive around!)
I gave a growl of frustration.
I’d never done anything like this in my life before. I’d never been the sort of person who thrived on being spontaneous – and yet here I was, chasing a near stranger on a whim because of a note in a diary.
Having thrown caution to the wind for once, it would be really annoying if I missed this train . . .
The lights changed to green. I could still make it in time! The car in front seemed to take forever to get moving, but at last I was motoring into the station car park.
Grabbing my handbag from the passenger seat, I dived out of the car, locked it and scurried through the snow to the ticket office. It was closed so I hurried over to the ticket machine, but my fingers were trembling and I had to look hard to find Guildford on the list of destinations.
And then I heard it.
The rattle of the train coming into the station. On the opposite platform.
Abandoning the machine, I legged it over to the bridge. But it was icy underfoot and I had to slow down, otherwise I knew I’d go down like a ninepin at a bowling alley.
The guard was blowing his whistle as I clung onto the rail and made it down the steps to the platform.
But now the doors were closing and the train was moving away.
Dismayed and out of breath, all I could do was sink down onto an icy-cold seat and watch the windows of the train as it swept out of the station, imagining Dan sitting in a warm carriage on his way to Guildford.
Bugger!
Thanks to the Arctic weather, I’d missed the 12.15 by only a few seconds . . .
*****
I sat there for a moment, trying to calm my breathing and berating myself for behaving so recklessly.
It was completely unlike me to do something like this.
What on earth had got into me?
Some kind of madness, I supposed, brought on by a tantalising box and its fascinating glimpse into the times Jane Austen had lived in – plus an overwhelming annoyance at the man who’d snatched all that history from my grasp!
Feeling dispirited and oddly emotional, I trudged back over the bridge, heading for my car. The station café was open, lights glowing inside, and I was almost tempted to go in and treat myself to a cappuccino . . . warm up a little before going home.
Actually, it was probably more a reluctance to get back . . . to a house where the residents, who were meant to actually like each other because they were family, always seemed to be arguing (Mum and Blaize) or shutting themselves in their room and barely coming out for some reason (Kitty).
I kept worrying about those vodka bottles in the bin.
Was that why Kitty was keeping to her room? Did she have an alcohol problem? I didn’t feel I could just walk in and challenge her because they might not even be hers. It was a delicate issue which called for a little tact . . .
I was so deep in thought, I slipped as I was coming down the steps on the other side of the bridge. If I hadn’t grabbed the side rail, I’d have landed on my bum. And then walking gingerly on – having remembered it was perilously icy – I almost bumped into someone coming out of the café.
I stopped in surprise.
It was Dan himself. And he looked just as taken aback to see me.
‘You missed the train as well?’ I asked him, noticing he was carrying an overnight bag.
He frowned. ‘I did, as a matter of fact. But what are you doing here? Apart from nearly breaking a few bones up there.’ He frowned at my shoes. ‘Not exactly fit for snow, are they?’
I sighed and shook my head.
I really couldn’t be bothered to explain that I’d left work in such a hurry, I hadn’t had time to change from my posh loafers into my winter boots, so I just let him think I was useless. (I got the feeling he already thought I was beyond help!)
‘So where are you going?’ he asked.
‘Somewhere very important.’ I eyed him, challenging him to ask where.
‘Oh?’
I shrugged. ‘Leonard told me you’d found something interesting in Charlotte’s diary. A mention of Chawton?’
‘Er . . . yes. Yes, Chawton is mentioned.’ He sounded rather cagey, I thought, probably wanting to keep the information to himself. Or maybe he didn’t even get the connection . . . how important it was.
‘Chawton is where Jane Austen lived for the last eight years of her life,’ I explained.
‘Yes, I know that.’
‘Oh. So you’re an Austen fan, then?’
‘I wouldn’t say I was a fan.’
‘So how did you know where she lived?’
‘My sister told me.’
‘Right. So she’s had a look at the diary as well?’
‘She has.’ He frowned. ‘Any objections?’
‘Er, no. Not at all. So your sister obviously knows a bit about Jane Austen, then?’
His mouth twitched up at one corner. ‘She watched the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice recently. The one with Colin Firth looking like a drowned rat. And after that, she was obsessed.’
I chuckled. ‘I don’t blame her. It was really quite hot that scene where he dived into the lake and emerged with his shirt plastered to his chest.’
‘You also found it . . . hot?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose I did.’ I chuckled. ‘Along with a large portion of the female population, I’d imagine.’
He nodded slowly, although he still hadn’t cracked a full-on smile.
Did he have a sense of humour at all? I was beginning to wonder.
He was always so bloody serious, handing out his lectures on the horrors of lukewarm coffee, idiots who rode horses without wearing riding hats, and numpties who were foolish enough to come out in the snow without appropriate footwear.
He must be great fun at parties.
I squirmed under his solemn gaze, feeling those dark eyes of his scrutinising me intently.
‘It was definitely hot, that lake scene. Phew! I need a cool-down just thinking about it!’ I fanned my face with my hand, glad of an excuse for the rush of warmth to my cheeks.
This was ridiculous. I didn’t even like the man. So why did I feel so self-conscious and exposed whenever he was around?
‘I was just checking the time of the next train,’ he said. ‘There’s one in half an hour.’
‘Right.’
‘I was thinking I might grab a coffee in there.’ He nodded back at the café. ‘There’s plenty of seats.’
‘Okay.’
‘Would you like to . . ?’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘Fancy a coffee yourself? Or are you heading home?’
‘Erm . . . yes and no.’
‘Yes to a coffee?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘So are you still thinking of going to Chawton?’
‘Yes. I’m still thinking about it.’
‘Let’s go, then.’ With one broad shoulder, he indicated the café, and his face broke into a smile.
‘Okay.’ Mesmerised by the twinkle in his melted-chocolate eyes, I swallowed hard.
Why was he smiling at me? That was a red flag if ever there was one!
But I was definitely going to Chawton. If there were secrets to be discovered, I fully intended to be there for them.
If we were going to be travelling together for the next few hours, I should probably – for now, at least – try to pretend that Dan wasn’t the most puzzling man I’d met in a very long time.