Nine Lives A Journey through Life E-Book

Dan Fox

• Herausgeber: Dolman Scott Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 380

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

A deep and powerful love story, beautiful and emotional in the way it is written, Nine Lives is an exciting romantic adventure taking the reader across exotic locations, whilst also raising a variety of thoughtprovoking issues along the way; and as such, it is, truly, a journey through life.

The story follows Dan Roberts in this journey, following his experiences of first love; of grief; despair; facing his past; of faith – experiences from the wonderful journey of life. The title, Nine Lives, derives from Dan’s feeling, shared by many of us, a feeling of how our lives can sometimes appear almost as if they are made up of different chapters; as if some past events were lived in a different life.

This book takes the reader on an emotional journey containing many feelings and reflections on life to which all readers can relate from their own experiences, so purposely provoking discussion in the reader’s mind, a quiet contemplation; but without seeking to give a view indeed, it is as if the reader is joining the author on this journey of discovery as he finds these different thoughts arriving within him.

The author has a distinctive voice, a unique style of writing which flows and is somewhat poetic. With an incredibly honest approach and a certain rawness, this novel gives a deep and meaningful insight into love and life, which will appeal equally to male, female, young and old

Nine Lives is the first novel from the author, Dan Fox. Further information can be found at www.danfox,ch

Leseprobe

NINE LIVES

A JOURNEY THROUGH LIFE

by

A Dolman Scott Book

 Copyright Dan Fox/Ian Wilson 2010 ©

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner. Nor can it be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on a subsequent purchaser.

British Library Cataloguing Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-905553-70-9

Published by

Dolman Scott

www.dolmanscott.com

Cover design & eBook conversion by David Stockman

Preface

Have you ever looked back?

Looked back on life?

Does it ever feel like the past must not be your own?

Cannot be your own?

As if parts must have been lived by someone else?

Someone different?

Like changing scenes in the journey of your life;

Different chapters; different lives.

And, just when you feel your life is finally under control, does all change?

The sudden arrival of some ugly presence, perhaps, or merely life continuing, not standing still?

In your darker moments, do you feel as if someone is throwing this at you, testing you?

That your life must be just part of some greater design, predetermined, beyond your control?

How far are our lives governed by the demands of the fates, by our karma?

Or are we all simply subject to the vagaries of luck?

Maybe, you see your life as a network of choices, proffered before you;

A web of opportunities, some to be taken to see where they may lead, others to be ignored.

A life of relationships with those who come into your life, for however long, good or bad;

Family, friends, lovers, relationships to be held, cherished for so long as possible, others to be let go.

Maybe, you see a life to be enjoyed;

A life to be lived.

This is my story so far;

A love story.

A story of feelings and emotions;

ARRIVING

Lights, bright lights, burning everywhere. Reds, greens, yellows and intense white, the decorative amidst the commercial, pretty fairy lights adorning the buildings mixed with huge neon signs promoting famous brands emblazoned high in the sky.

First impressions, a barrage to my senses, as I was ferried from the airport in the back of the limousine, newly arrived to the Territory of Hong Kong, to a land of excitement.

The lights of the Hilton came into view as the black car swung around the corner and swept up the driveway. Chinese lanterns hung from the canopy of the building, aglow with the burning amber of a thousand fireflies trapped inside, lighting the impressive glass entrance.

It was 1988 and this was a time when the Hilton still stood for the highest in luxury and their Hong Kong hotel was one of the finest; very opulent, with a polished marble entrance and huge pane glass doors.

Inside I could see a large ball of pink marble revolving in a plinth of water, the centrepiece of the lobby, a vast staircase behind sweeping upstairs. The walls were clad in a deep red wood inlaid with beautiful decorative veneers and the receptionists looked serene, all immaculately dressed in the long black traditional cheongsam Chinese dress.

The doorman in his bright red uniform with gold braiding marched over to open the car door but I did not get out; I sat there for a minute longer, taking in the moment. This is what life is about; this is what I had been working for. It was my dream. I had made it; I had arrived!

The next morning I awoke early; I had slept fitfully, excited and nervous at the prospect of this new life I was about to start. Opening the door quietly, I slipped out into the empty corridor to descend to the hotel’s outdoor pool for a swim.

The air was already hot at six in the morning, like a cosy cloak, enveloping me in its warmth. I was completely oblivious of what was to come later when, by midday, the sun would be blazing and the air full with humidity.

I turned to float on my back, drifting awhile, my arms out wide, all quiet with my head half-submerged, the waters’ calming touch at the sides of my face granting a welcome soft massage to my temples whilst muffling out any sounds of other life. Gazing upwards, the sky was a deep blue, framed on all sides by the shiny walls of glass of the neighbouring buildings reaching for the sky.

I floated some more, dreaming with eyes wide open, romantic notions of the traders and businessmen, the taipans, who had been here before me; the men who had built this place on a barren rock and created a world far from where they had come. A world I was about to join.

I knew I had not arrived here in quite the same way as they had done, fighting typhoons and pirates as they sailed across stormy seas in their old schooners, battling dysentery and scurvy as they raced to trade their goods to the new markets in the east, but this was still a long way from where I had started and to arrive here, I had also had my own struggles, my own battles to fight.

I showered quickly and put on my suit; a heavy British style which I would soon have to discard in the days to come as it became unbearable to wear in the heat, but when I first left England I had no money for such things as new lightweight suits and I was having to make do with what I had until the first pay cheque arrived.

I had been working in London these past couple of years for a relatively small multinational corporation and I had just taken a transfer to their Far East office. I had felt that I needed to make a change and hoped this move represented a chance for my work to become more exciting, more dynamic.

I was enthusiastic to get to work on this first day and to start my new life. I looked back to the rumpled sheets of the bed where I had just been. I could almost picture her; face down in the fluffy pillow, still sleeping, the curls of her long dark hair stretching over her neck to midway down her spine, the light sheets moving low to expose the small of her back.

She would have looked beautiful and it was the sharp sting of disappointment that she was not here with me that stopped me for a second, arresting my excitement for this new adventure.

In that moment, as I looked at the empty hotel bed, the memories of her flashed through my head, of how we had met, of how we had come to pass a wonderful summer together, but then, the memories were gone, just as she was also now gone from my life.

She, Louisa, was not here with me. No matter, I did not need her. I was about to start a new life of my own here and I turned to pull the door closed behind me.

LOUISA

He had first met her three years before back in London; he was not expecting it, he was not searching for it, he was completely unprepared.

It was in a bar, after work; he noticed her as soon as he walked in, sitting at the other end of their party’s long table; the first glimpse of her grabbed him with a startling ferocity, bringing his breathing to an abrupt halt.

He had arrived late to meet up with some colleagues from work. He did not normally mix much socially with them; they were for the most part from a different world, a world to which he could not relate; a world in which he did not belong. He thought of them as phonies, hypocrites, from privileged homes and expensive private schools, they were largely spoilt and totally unaware of the harsh realities of real life for most people living in Britain at that time, unaware of the difficulties of the less fortunate families trying to stretch the pennies just to pay the rent, families who could not afford new shoes. They were blissfully oblivious to the squalor that existed for some of their young contemporaries, those who did not have the advantages of growing up in warm homes of perfect families; and they were protected from the aggressive atmosphere inside the inner cities and the broken new towns that would fill the night-time streets with meanness and violence.

Did he have a chip on his shoulder? Maybe. But what if he did, he could not care. He had worked hard, fought his way up to get to where he was, to escape from where he had come. What did they know? What had they experienced? They were not better than him.

No, they were not really his type of people, but the fates had determined that, begrudgingly, tonight he would go there to celebrate his friend John’s birthday and so he had come for him.

Many of the people in their group he did not know; some he recognised vaguely from seeing them passing by in the office corridors, and many had brought friends that he surely had not met before. He was pleased to notice that this beautiful girl did not appear to be attached to any boy in particular.

Her legs were pushed up before her, feet resting next to her bottom on the front of the bench on which she sat so that her knees were just below her chin, cradled by her arms and brought to press against her chest. A gorgeous dark-haired girl, the fading light of summer’s evening shone through the windows, washing her with a golden glow, painting her legs with a glorious bronze sheen, her long slender legs. The light seemingly danced for her, highlighting the differing bright colours within her brunette hair, picking out hues of copper-beech and red-chestnut as her hair swayed from side to side and across her face, her beautiful face.

Cheeks, smooth as the finest china, lips the colour of a pale dusty pink rose, the vision enhanced by the vibrant energy and vitality of a brilliant smile, she was as Aphrodite.

Such beauty, demanding your attention, but what was this feeling that accompanied the sight, something new, never felt before, a feeling so physical that his breath surely stopped, a desire, a longing? No, it was a want, a need, so strong that it hurt.

This emotion, thrust upon him, what was it? Love? Lust? This attraction, this desire, all at once both nature’s gift and nature’s burden and the uncertainty, arriving so suddenly, the incapacity any longer to determine perception from reality. Had she looked at him as he came in? Had she really smiled at him? Or was it just his imagination? Probably.

On this  warm evening, she was wearing short denim shorts and a white vest, her eyes, deep pools of dark coffee-chocolate brown, , framed by that long hair.

With her smile and laughter as she chatted with her friends, she gave out an immediate impression of freedom but much like a wild horse, with that freedom there also seemed to be a signal of caution, an invisible warning sign to beware, not to come any closer. There was a barrier, something unapproachable about her, a wall, an aloofness to leave her well alone, the precaution of a young woman becoming used now to receiving the attentions of men, attentions unsolicited, attracted without conscious effort, often unwanted but sometimes enjoyed.  She was still quite aware of this effect that her looks may cause, and it was this awareness that in turn could make her seem so dauntingly remote.

Innocent though she was of any action on her part to try and seek the attention of the men around her, aside from being born with the good fortune of a pretty face, when she did not observe a reaction she had come to realise it could occasionally cause her surprise and even perhaps a mild offence.

She looked up at him, briefly; she saw his gaze and, before returning to her conversation, gave him half a smile, surely real this time, not imagined. The effect was magical and he was surely bewitched.

It is strange how we make decisions, instant decisions that can shape the rest of our lives, all maybe based on nothing more than an instinct, a feeling, an impression, an attraction.

 His initial reaction was to start to make the excuses that you do when you look for a way out of something. She probably would not be interested. She probably had a boyfriend. The excuses to help you to take the easy way out, Not to try, not to fail. But he simply had to meet her; he had to talk to her. But how?

He was standing at the bar with his friend, John, talking about something that may have happened at work that day; he had long since lost track of the conversation, distracted as he had now become. How was he to meet her? How was he to talk to her?

He sidled sideways, manoeuvring himself closer, slowly edging around in a circle, trying not to be too obvious as he wanted to give himself a better view. Was she staring at him; was she letting him know she liked him? Or was that just the power of an overzealous imagination running away, misinterpreting signals that did not really exist? She pulled all her hair over to the right side of her face, turning her head up more to her left letting the long dark strands of hair fall down, seemingly smiling at him again; was it really true, was this really happening?

Flirtatious, the effect was devastating, leaving him, at once defenceless and, simultaneously, like a drug, craving for more. But unlike any drug, this was pure. He could feel his heart rate increasing.

So what did he do? He did as any boy, of course, he pretended to ignore her. And he found himself pulling up from where he was leaning on the bar, stretching himself to his full height, and starting to play-act. He started to talk louder to his friend, to show off, all performed unconsciously, part of his animal display programmed by nature.

She arose from her perch, coated in the golden light of the sun’s brush, a masterpiece. She was coming towards him. His heart raced anew; he could feel the sweat starting on his forehead. Did she want to speak to him? What was he to do?

But no, she passed him by, going to the bar to order some drinks, holding onto the brass rail fixed to the edge of the cherry-wood bar as she asked for a refill to her spritzer. Of course she had not come over just to talk to him.

Think of something to say, quickly. Here’s your chance; do not muck it up. Panic. His mind raced; offer to buy her a drink, tell her you like her hair, her shoes, anything. Speak!

But he froze. He remained silent and took another sip of his beer, somehow hoping, against all logic, that this simple action would be enough for her to swoon and fall madly in love with him.

All these thoughts were rushing through him, through his brain, his entire body, colliding, conflicting, these thoughts, all consuming, held him intransient for what seemed like an eternity as he struggled to do something. In reality it was only seconds, a small moment in all time in which to make a decision, a choice, to last a lifetime.

Beauty, it is such a distraction – and, for the holder, such a powerful weapon, a woman’s power over men, rendering them defenceless, fools in the proximity of a face so exquisite, and so it was for Dan, left lost of all capacity for rational thought, unable to hear or to function normally, it was as if he was suspended under water, all sound suddenly deafened, watching the scene above detached from his own body, unable to help.

His mind came back to the present as she leaned back, still holding onto the rail, turning her head to the left, towards him, allowing her hair to fall down behind.  She gave him a bright beautiful smile.

It was an inviting smile; she was making it easy for him. Still young in this world, she had quickly found the inherent natural feminine guile that existed within her armoury, and she knew that boys needed to be led as a horse to water, to drink from love’s fountain.

Surely, now, he could say something.

‘Hi, can I buy you that drink?’

‘Why?’ she frowned. ‘Do I look like I can’t afford it?’

‘No, no,’ he stammered, thrown by the confrontational response.         ‘Look, I was just trying to be polite.’

‘What you really meant was you wanted to buy me a drink so that you could talk to me.’

‘Yes, OK,’ he laughed nervously but he was encouraged, she was giving him a second bite, helping him to try again.

‘Do I look like I can be bought!’ the abrupt response, it was not a question. Oh dear God he wished he had not tried, his body must have been trying to tie down his tongue for good reason, a defensive mechanism to try to protect him from this very thing and all he now wanted to do was to crawl into the nearest hole and hide for evermore.

‘I’m sorry,’ he stuttered over the words, whispering, contrite, ‘I didn’t mean to offend.’

She laughed, her eyes bright, full of mischief. ‘Don’t worry; I’m only teasing with you. Actually, I would have to reproach you if you did not care to speak to me – then, I would be quite offended.’

He smiled sheepishly, relief flooding through him. ‘Can I start over? Hi, I’m Dan, what’s your name?’

‘Louisa,’ she smiled; a big beautiful smile.

‘Louisa, that’s a pretty name.’

‘Are you trying to insult me again?’ She shot back abruptly.

‘What? What did I say now?’ He protested.

‘Louisa, a pretty name,’ she scolded sharply, ‘I’m not stupid, I bet you would have said that whatever my name would have been.’

‘Well,’ he stammered again, ‘at least I wasn’t rude this time.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she laughed, enjoying his obvious discomfort, ‘I was only teasing you again.’ She looked at him through those eyes, deep dark wells, full of mischief. He could see she was going to be a challenge this one.

‘OK, OK, I get it,’ he said, ‘I’ll try harder to keep up. So, who are you here with?’

‘Anna,’ she replied, ‘She’s....’

‘Oh, that’s a nice name,’ he cut in, laughing, pleased with his quick retort, ‘I think I prefer it.’

She gave him a playful smack on his arm, ‘Don’t be so mean,’ she chided, smiling; ‘I’m not sure I want you playing my game.’

‘Sorry,’ he laughed, ‘so how do you two know each other?’

‘We share a flat and we were also at the same school together.’

‘So, I bet she will have a few stories to tell about you.’

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Louisa smiled softly, lowering her head whilst simultaneously raising her eyes to look up at him in that sweet innocent way that only girls can do, gently twirling her hair around her finger.

‘So what do you do?’ Dan asked.

‘I own an advertising company,’ she replied.

‘Really, I’m a professional dancer,’ he laughed. He was not going to fall for that one.

‘Well, I already know you work with that lot,’ she laughed as she gestured a wave of her hand over towards the others sitting down at the long table.

What a lovely sparkle she had in her eyes. He was enjoying this and she seemed to be also.

‘So?’ he asked.

‘OK, OK,’ she replied, ‘I work in an advertising agency.’

‘And?’ Dan pressed.

‘I’m a PA there, for the chief exec.’

‘Good place to work?’

‘Yes, I guess so,’ she hesitated; suddenly some vulnerability appeared, she obviously did not enjoy the job she was doing. ‘It’s a fun place,’ she finished, without much conviction.

‘Don’t worry,’ it was Dan’s turn to reassure her, ‘our place isn’t that much fun to work at either.’

She smiled as if to say, ‘Thank you.’ And then, ‘So what are you still doing there?’ the vulnerability gone, the challenger was back.

‘I don’t really know,’ he whispered softly, it was his turn now to sound unsure, and he smiled, ‘Waiting for you, perhaps?’ Half a statement but also half a question, it lacked confidence and was a poor recovery.

‘Oh, that was pathetic,’ she burst out laughing.

‘Really?’ He smiled, ‘I thought it was quite good.’

She said nothing but looked up at him, a quizzical look on her face, as if to say, ‘Are you sure?’

‘Alright,’ Dan grinned, ‘you’re right. It was pretty dreadful.’ And they both laughed.

The others were by now sitting down in anticipation of the meal and Dan suddenly realised he and Louisa were all alone at the bar. He noticed her friend, Anna, giggling and whispering in a conspiratorial manner to her friend opposite, probably about Louisa and him. Somehow that felt good, almost reassuring that her old friend would be talking about them, saying something like, ‘Look at Louisa, look who she’ s talking to, who she’s interested in.’

They went to take their seats for the meal and he could see that John had made it easy for him, taking places at the end of the table for himself and Dan, opposite Anna and the seat to where Louisa was now returning. She was gorgeous and he was captivated as they chatted throughout the rest of the evening. It was wonderful but while he tried so hard to outwardly appear cool, inside he was nervous still, frightened almost, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like he was on a wild uncontrolled ride. Dan could not believe how he felt; it had never been like this before.

He was probably trying too hard and, like an excitable puppy, his heart lifted every time she rewarded him with a flash of her smile. The evening ended all too soon and as they left the bar to the street outside, she asked, ‘Where are you from?’

‘You’ll have to find out,’ Dan really wanted to see her again. ‘I’ll give you a chance. I’d still like to buy you that drink,’ he reminded her.

‘OK, tomorrow night,’ she said as she gave him her number and then, just like that, they both turned and parted on their separate ways; she left with her friend, Anna. Dan forced himself to act nonchalant and not hang around, but he could not stop himself sneaking a small look; he was pleased to see that she too was doing likewise, also looking back over her shoulder, watching him go.

‘You seemed to be spending a lot of time talking to Dan,’ teased Anna.

‘Hmm, look at him walk,’ sighed Louisa. ‘He looks like he’s prowling, like a big cat, a panther. It’s sexy.’ She giggled at how silly she knew she must sound.

‘Looks like he’s limping if you ask me,’ Anna teased further.

‘Oh, you’re just jealous,’ laughed Louisa, punching her friend playfully on the arm, then as she linked her arm and strode to the bus to take them back to their house she went on, ‘So what do you know about him, what’s he like? You have to tell me everything.’

‘Actually, I don’t know much about him at all,’ replied Anna, ‘aside from that many of the girls at work like him, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Louisa tried not rise to her friend’s persistent teasing.

‘He doesn’t usually mix with us much. I was surprised to see him tonight. He’s a bit of a mystery really.’

‘A mystery man,’ smiled Louisa, ‘I’m beginning to like him more already.’

He woke early the next day, having not slept well, too excited, a mind full with thoughts of the night before.

He would not call her just yet; to call in the morning would be too early.

But soon the afternoon arrived, and now he really should call. First, a coffee and then he would call in half an hour. An hour passed; why was he so worried? The palms of his hands were clammy; Dan could  not believe how nervous he had become. It was only a phone call.

   He needed the guy he shared an office with to go out; he needed total silence. But his colleague was busy and it seemed he would never go. Eventually, he has to go to talk to their boss, Richard Knox, the head of their company, Knox International. This was his chance and he could not put it off any longer.

His pulse racing, his breathing quickened, fingers shaking involuntarily, he dialled the number. What had she done to him? What spell had she cast?

Louisa and Dan agreed to meet in a favourite bar of hers, close to where she lived. When he arrived, she was already there, along with Anna and some other of their friends, who he presumed had been invited to offer her some moral support, that and to size-up and pass judgement on him, her new interest. Dan saw her as soon as he walked in; she was sitting on the other side of the bar, wearing a loose, lacy white top and faded blue jeans, she was very cool, casual and relaxed. Although he hoped she had agonised for ages over what to wear and how she should look for him, Dan was also pleased that she was not someone who got too dressed up or put on too much make-up; hers was a natural beauty. Her hair this time was drawn back in the longest ponytail that reached far down her back, the dark colour contrasting against the white of her blouse, the hairstyle only serving to accentuate the features of her face. She looked up and flashed that glorious smile and his heart melted as she cast her spell anew.

Once again, they chatted excitedly and, once more, she was looking right at him, intently, deep into his eyes.

Later that night, as they left the bar, she let Dan walk her home.

They walked up the road together; separated by only a small distance, close enough to touch but neither of them so doing, a strange uneasy space standing between them, full of nervousness and the longer they walked, the more difficult it seemed to become to bridge the small space ever-growing now to become a canyon as the nervousness threatened to engulf them. Dan realised he must fight it, forcing himself to move closer to her.

Stretching his hand down to find hers, their fingers entwined for the first time. A new magic was ignited by their touch, coursing through their bodies, feeding on their happiness, overpowering anything that threatened to prevent its bloom.

She looked up at him and they both smiled, continuing their walk, still in silence but the silence now was loud with happiness as they both continued smiling to themselves until eventually they reached Louisa’s house.

Here, outside her door, they shared a kiss for the first time.

He held both her hands out wide to her sides.  Slightly nervous again, he looked into her eyes; she was staring at him, intensely, looking deep into his eyes, drawing him in, pleading with him, willing him to move closer. If ever there was an alluring gaze; an animal attraction, it pulled him in to that kiss. It was brief, and it was tender, but it was, oh, so magical; their first kiss;  a kiss ever-lasting.

As he left her house, walking back down the road, Dan did not notice the pitch black darkness of the night; he did not worry that it was late and that he had over an hour to walk back to his home, and he did not notice the light drizzle of the rain starting now to fall upon him.

Dan was smiling, laughing and chuckling to himself like an imbecile, uncontrollably changing from a walk one moment to an excited run and jump the next, swimming through waves of peaks of ecstasy and troughs of despair. He felt like he was in heaven.

Louisa and Dan came to pass a wonderful first summer together, spending virtually all their spare time with each other. Life was varied and life was full; both just starting out on their lives, they did not have much money for extravagances, like expensive clothes or visiting nightclubs. Occasionally, they would party until late in their favourite bars of the West End, but more often, they would prefer the less fashionable and more down to earth atmosphere of a local pub, meeting in the evenings after work, and at weekends they would sometimes take a trip out of the City to the countryside where they would walk for hours, lost in their own company.

Dan enjoyed living in London; he loved the architecture, the feeling of history around every corner.

From the Palace of Westminster, where the Kings and Queens used to reign before being evicted by the birth of British democracy, the country’s government taking residence in their place and remaining there still, to the monarch’s modern day residence in such close proximity just a short stroll away down Birdcage Walk. A similar walk to the one that King Charles I took from St James’ in January 1649 to be beheaded.  It being a cold winter’s day, the King had famously asked for an extra layer of clothing so he did not shiver from cold which could be mistaken for fear.

His execution took place on a scaffold outside the old banqueting hall in Whitehall, almost opposite what is now Downing Street where the Prime Minister, the British elected leader, now lives. That was the ultimate end of the governance of the nation by a King or Queen and instead the country was governed by an elected parliament. That these places are linked so closely in both their proximity and their history is a lovely irony in this large diverse metropolis.

From here it is but a brief journey down the beautiful tree lined Mall to Trafalgar Square where Nelson, the conqueror of the French and Spanish navies in 1805 at the battle from which the square takes its name, sits atop his tall column. And then, with the River Thames to the south and the famous West End theatre-land just to the north, this line of London’s history continues onwards via the Strand to the ancient Law Courts of Justice and onto Fleet Street where the newspaper industry had lived until it moved in the 1980s to the old docklands in the East of London where the shipping traffic and sea trade on which this city had originally been built had become obsolete.

From this street, it is but a short walk up Ludgate Hill to the famous St Paul’s Cathedral designed in 1673 by the architect, Sir Christopher Wren, and then just a few steps further to the financial centre, the Bank of England and the City Of London.

Black taxi cabs mingle with big red buses and the occasional posh Bentley of the businessman on his way to the next meeting, while courier cyclists nip in and out between all the traffic, their bags of letters and documents slung across their shoulders, caps pulled well down on their foreheads.

But what Dan loved most about London was its energy, that here was a place where things were happening. This city was vibrant, it was cosmopolitan, a patchwork of different cultures, different generations, different faiths, different beliefs. London was exciting; this was the place to be. This was where he finally felt he belonged.

Set amidst this busy metropolis, London was also home to the magnificent Great Parks, where he and Louisa could walk some more, feed the ducks and perhaps take a boat on the serpentine lake, so called because it snakes its way through Hyde Park into Kensington Gardens. They would drift along not needing to say very much to each other, just happy together.

In Green Park there were no flowers, just trees, hence its name and if the sun was shining, they would sit on the grass drinking coca-cola, staring up at the sky imagining shapes in the clouds; a white Arabian charger galloping along, followed by a dragon floating by as it morphed into a fluffy white poodle.

Or they would sit observing, people-watching, speculating on the lives of the people passing as the pigeons pecked at scraps on the grass.

There was the man in a suit sitting on a bench with his tie half undone, probably a business man who had just bet and lost on a new venture, now alternately sitting up and rocking forwards to put his head in his hands as he agonised how to tell his wife.

The prim lady rushed past, a schoolteacher perhaps, just returning from meeting her mystery lover in some tempestuous affair.

Across the park, the family with their two young children trudged on their way home, the youngest dawdling at the back, dragging a stick, not looking so happy as his father shouted to hurry him along, to catch the others up.

What was life like for all these people they observed, was it happy or maybe painful? You never really know what goes on behind closed doors, of any household, rich or poor. Who knows what pressures or demons exist in any relationships.

Louisa and Dan enjoyed each other’s company, often walking for miles and miles, through woods, across fields and over streams.

He bought an old car just so they could escape from London some weekends, driving down late on a Friday night after work into the beautiful countryside where they would walk some more. As anyone who knows them will tell you, the South Downs of the Sussex coast are an area of incredible natural beauty; waves of green grass and white chalk roll along by the sea, the hills rise up and down, their peaks and troughs seeming to mimic the blue waves of the sea that they overlook.

They would pass hours walking up there, hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm, it was as if neither of them ever wanted to let go of the other.

Sometimes they would walk along the promenade of the seafront, occasionally with an ice cream, which Dan once pushed into Louisa’s face in a way you can only do when you first meet someone, and her laughing in a way girls only do when they are just falling in love.

It was not just her looks that attracted him so, her sparkling eyes, her long legs and dark hair, it was also her company, her personality; he enjoyed spending time with her, she had a wonderful cutting sense of humour and she could be very wicked as he had experienced that first night they met in the bar with her mischievous nature but equally now, he had found she had a great vulnerability; behind that hard unapproachable façade was a shy girl, a little girl lacking in self-confidence, wanting to be loved and now, as she relaxed and trusted in him, he found a warmth beneath.

Sometimes their walks would last well into the evening, but the evenings of a warm English summer would last long before they became too dark to enjoy. They would sit high up on the hills looking out to sea as the sun dipped below the horizon and they would share their secrets, their feelings, their ambitions.

Dan would tell Louisa stories where the beautiful shy princess would eventually prevail over her wicked sisters, or where the poor pretty girl would meet her prince and they would travel the world together.

He would tell her how intelligent she really was, not to listen to those that put her down, and he would encourage her to be more confident, urge her to do what she truly wanted to do, and she would then throw these same sentiments back at him, challenging Dan to do what he really wanted to be doing.

Louisa had also felt the need to get away from her home town as early as she could and had also been drawn to the larger life of the City. He could understand this; he understood the need to leave only too well.

Dan would talk about his plans, his ambitions, of living and working in London. It was strange how he was drawn to it, but somehow he had always known that he would go there, that he would get away; away to the City, to the bright lights, to where the excitement was. He just did not really know why.

It was peculiar how they seemed to have such an affinity with each other, Dan and Louisa, an instant understanding; both of them wanting, and taking, their independence getting away from their family homes as soon as they could.

And now they had each other and that seemed like all they needed. They were blissfully happy, oblivious to others, consumed by their own world; a world together. It seemed like this was it; he was as happy as he could be.

Well, almost. For while his romance and happiness with Louisa was flourishing and all consuming, he was finding his work increasingly frustrating and unfulfilling.

Dan had been lucky enough to have been accepted on a select trainee programme by Knox International, a multinational corporation, relatively small by the standards of others with diverse interests in property, shipping and the media, and with offices across the globe, Knox was young and modern in its outlook. The places on their training programme were very sought after, with only a very few available, and so competition was very high and the acceptance process was rigid and tough, being conducted for a large part by the founder himself, Richard Knox, who at fifty-five years old was still a dynamic force, enjoying a hands-on approach.

These firms did not usually take people like him, people from where he came and so he was actually quite surprised when the offer arrived from Knox to join them. Maybe it was because he had been so brutally honest about his background during the selection process or maybe they saw something in him that he did not himself even know existed.

Dan had always been drawn to business, to be involved in exciting deals and this seemed like one way into that world, a world that was really so foreign and so far removed from his own, but still attracted him like a moth to a flame.

This job seemed to exist in a world well beyond the one that Dan lived within, so it was a strange choice to make for someone like himself, but once that choice had been made, he had to aim for the top, to try to be the best that he could be. As long as you always try your best and not sell yourself short, that is all you could ask of yourself, he would think; do not let the fear of failure stop you from trying, always give it your best shot, don’t live your life in regret wondering what might have been.

As he grew older he sometimes wondered where his life may have gone if he had taken a different path, if he had not taken the chance of applying to this job which seemed to exist in a world well beyond the one that he lived within. What different opportunities would have been available; who knows where they would have led him.

But if he had not followed the path that he had, would he have ever met Louisa? Would Dan have missed that chance or would fate have reconvened and contrived to make another opportunity for their stars to cross?

Sometimes it could be an exciting and fast-moving world; they negotiated mergers, they dealt with multi-million pound banking finance and of course, they worked on large property deals, vast commercial developments, leases of shopping centres, and huge office blocks from New York to Paris.

There were meetings with investment banks, meetings with clients, negotiations with lawyers, often angry and heated. At times it was dramatic and varied, exciting as you met new people and creative as you helped to develop different ideas and new projects.

But, for some reason, Dan was no longer enjoying it; he was beginning to question whether this was what he wanted to be doing, whether he really did belong here, whether there should be more.

And so came one evening, it was early September, and they were sitting on the grass of the Downs, on top of the hills, high above the water. They were now missing the summer sun’s warmth and, inwardly, they both knew an end was now coming upon them, the inevitable, unavoidable end to that first perfect summer, their summer.

Looking out to sea the sun was shining a golden band, a broad avenue coming across the sea towards them, silhouetting a small yacht becalmed in its path. This was perfect; Dan was so happy, and he wondered, was this how it should be? Why worry about working his way up in the corporate world. It would not matter what he did, as long as he was with her, would it?

The seagulls were floating high above him, effortlessly bobbing up and down as they rode the thermals rising from the cliff edge. Dan smiled inside as distant memories stirred, the gulls’ rise and fall was somewhat rhythmical and he always found it reassuring; the future seemed so uncertain but sitting here now, he suddenly felt that all was going to turn out alright.

Louisa was dozing next to him, snuggled in close, nuzzling her head on his chest, resting peacefully. Dan stroked her beautiful long hair as he would come to love doing so many times over the following years, wishing this moment would never end, but knowing that it would, that it must.

‘No, it wouldn’t matter what I did, as long as I was with her,’ he breathed, almost aloud.

But some emotion seized him, a foreboding; he knew a change was coming. The summer was at an end and he felt a shiver go through him; the chill touch of autumn, perhaps or maybe, the thought that as surely as summer turns to autumn and some leaves survive while others turn burnt orange or red before they die, so too did their romance have to find a way to evolve from their first summer or, if not, also wither and die. Could it survive and be evergreen?

Louisa felt it too, and on the drive home that evening, they sat there, together in body but strangely apart. A lonely space sat between them, a loneliness of words unspoken, truths they knew but neither dare speak of, two islands separated by a sea of reality.

A definite wind of change had entered their relationship; was it a natural transition of the seasons to autumn, or the harsh cold blast of winter?

When Dan left Louisa at her house later that night and went on his way, back home, all suddenly went quiet. Self-doubt sneaked its way into his mind; was their romance only a summer fling for her?

 What had started a few weeks before as a chance meeting had grown into something far more, at least for him. But was it the same for Louisa? He had never felt like this before, so out of control. So in love? Was that what this was? If it was, then at times love can be exhilarating, empowering, freeing, granting you the feeling that you can do anything, that you can fly, just as when he had walked down Louisa’s road after their first kiss. But now, this was debilitating, soul destroying, gut-wrenching, hurtful. Why was he so confused? What was this feeling? So much pleasure, so much pain, he had never felt like this before.

Soon it would be Christmas, their first Christmas together. For a present, Dan gave Louisa tickets to leave the next day for Paris. He did not have much money so they went by train and stayed in a small old hotel in the student area of St Germain. It was a cold Parisian winter, very cold. The wind blew and the wind chill was even colder, minus fifteen degrees. It was magical!

They walked on the Rive Gauche, the left bank of the river Seine. They walked through the corridors of the Louvre, past the Mona Lisa and the works of so many of the great masters.

From there they crossed the wooden bridge of the Pont des Arts to visit the Cathedral of Notre Dame where they climbed up to the bell tower to look for the hunchback and his Esmeralda.

They took coffee in Montmartre, in view of the gleaming white dome of the Sacre Coeur, and walked along the Rue Saint-Honore where, with little money, they window shopped, their warm breath in the cold air momentarily misting up the glass fronts of the chic boutiques in which many famous designers had started their haute-couture careers in the rooms above.

They climbed the stairs of the Eiffel tower where Dan’s bravery on the way up soon gave way to vertigo on the way down as the stone pavement far below came into view through the holes in the old iron steps.

They discovered a restaurant, Le Petit St Benoit, which has remained a favourite ever since.  Rustic and lively, with good wholesome country fare that you would imagine to be served in the kitchens of many a farm throughout the French countryside, the wine arrives in carafes and the red and white squares of the gingham tablecloths are covered in white sheets of paper where, at the end of your meal, the chef calculates your surprisingly low bill freehand in pencil before you.