Lost Love by John Russell (top 10 novels to read .TXT) 📕

To Trisha

My Beautiful Wife
And
Love of my Life

Love Always
John


I fell in love with her the first time that I ever saw her. She was my perfect vision of a woman. Every dream I had ever had was made real before my very eyes on that morning in July. I was standing on platform 2 waiting for the train into the city and there she was as if from nowhere.
The first thing that caught my eye about her was those legs striding out of the waiting room, as the train pulled up to the platform. I remember being stunned by her sheer presence as she broke out into the daylight on that summer morning. As my senses recovered and I glanced up to her face I beheld the face of an angel. Then for a second, and barely a second our eyes locked, and she smiled, before she swished passed and onto the train scooped along by the herd of rushing commuters that all but knocked me off my feet. This train was always busy but today it was extra full because the previous one had been cancelled due to a sick driver. I wanted to find her, to search the carriages and hunt her down but it was impossible to make any headway towards her through the sardine packed carriages.
There were four stops between here and the city so my plan was to stay by the door, peering through the window to see if she disembarked before our final stop. I pushed and squeezed myself into the exact position that it required. The journey took just over fifteen minutes and I scanned each passenger that jumped ship but she was nowhere to be seen. Good at least that meant she was still on the train, it also meant that she worked in the city somewhere, and probably made this trip daily. Or did she? Maybe she was going for an interview, maybe she usually went by car and today it was in the garage, so she had to take the train. Maybe she car shared with her husband or a boyfriend?
I had to take this opportunity to find out who, what and where about this fleeting vision of personal perfection. My next plan was to jump onto the platform as soon as the train pulled into the city terminus and race up to the gate where the ticket collectors stood. That was the bottle neck, that was where the flow would be stemmed to a manageable trickle. If I got through first I could wait on the other side of the barrier and see her come through. After that I would wing it, go with the flow so to speak.
I passed through the gate and tucked myself in to the left hand side as you look at the gate. The gate was just over knee high and I stood just slightly behind it ready to move out as she passed. My back was against the wall so nothing was getting past me on that side.
Another perfect plan ready to be sprung. Perfect that was except for two things. The first was that I was by Gate One and I could now see she was heading for Gate Three. The second was that the initial burst of eager commuters, from the overloaded train, burst through Gate One pinning me and the gate to the wall. Helpless I watched her pass through in the first wave chatting and smiling to some six foot odd handsome Lanky Git that I could have gladly choked. I pushed and pushed but the gate would not give an inch. I stood there for a further two or thee minutes after she had gone before I managed to push the gate open enough to escape.
I ran the two hundred or so yards to the main concourse and swivelled round looking for a clue. The Coffee shop! The Newsagents! The Florist Stand! The Tube which way, or maybe just out onto the street? Think! Think! Ok take the door onto the street, block her exit. If she took the tube then she’s gone, but if she’s anywhere in the station there is only one main exit. Ten doors out of it but all at the same point, that’s my best chance to see her again.
I stood there scanning the main doors for thirty minutes before I could admit to myself that she had gone. After another five I sloped off to the office and made my excuses for my tardy behaviour.
It was another week before I saw her again on the platform, heading into the city, but this time she was not getting away. I decided to walk straight up to her, say hello and ask her what her name was. I made my way through the people standing reading and chatting on the platform. As I was two feet away from her I practised in my head what to say. Then who sprang up, as if from the ground, but Lanky Git carrying two cups of coffee to go. I stood a few feet to her side and hoped for an opportunity but none came. We both boarded the same carriage, but while I was down by the door she was in the middle of the carriage with a throng of commuters between us. When we pulled into the station I was obsessed this time with the thought of not losing her again, following her until I found out at least where she worked.
I was first out of our carriage but held back slightly and let them pass. Thus I was able to follow them along the platform through the ticket gate and into the main concourse. I didn’t stop for my usual Latte and Cinnamon bagel from the ‘Perky Coffee’ shop, where my cousin Annabelle worked, but instead followed them through and across the main city station building. Yes, result they were heading to the stairs to the tube. Ok I just had to get in the same carriage again and follow her to work. Damn they have stopped, he’s checking his watch. By now I was right on top of them and had to pass them by, as I got to the top of the steps I glanced round to see they had started moving once again. Unfortunately for me they were moving in the opposite direction back to the main area of the building. I tried to stop at the top of the stairs, tried to turn, but the tide of office workers carried me down the first flight of stairs to the underpass. As quickly as I could, losing only seconds, I turned back and was bounding the, pedestrian clear, up side of the staircase. There they were by the main door heading out to the front of the building. Walk or Taxi? Why was he looking at his watch? Late, short of time, then taxi. If they’re early then a summer morning walk to the office. I glanced up at the building central clock as I rushed past twenty to nine. It didn’t really help. If it was five to nine then it was a good guess they were late. But there were many office blocks within a fifteen to twenty minute walk of the city station.
As I burst out into the daylight they were nowhere to be seen, but then I recognised that big ugly head in the back window of the taxi exiting the station frontage, Lanky Git. I committed the number 777888 Star taxis to memory, but I couldn’t see his car registration number.
As soon as I arrived at work I called the taxi company but got absolutely nowhere.
“Do you realize, Sir, how many cars we have at the station at any one time?“
“Do you realize how many pick ups and drop offs each car does at rush hour sir?”
“ We couldn’t possibly disclose passenger information sir?”

Back to square one I continued my shameful stalking of the train station day after day, but to no avail. I tried going earlier and I tried going later but found not hide nor hair of her.
Two weeks later I arrived at my station the usual time. On my way into the station I went to the cash point and lifted twenty quid. It was my mums birthday so I was going to see her at lunch time. She had a small flat in the city and she was making some lunch for us. The platform was more rammed than usual, no doubt a cancelled train earlier probably due to another sick driver, or leaves stuck on the line. I boarded the train when it arrived and stood by the door staring into space. Once the train had pulled into the city station I disembarked and made my way up to the florist stand. There I bought a bunch of red roses, my mothers favourite flower, gave him my twenty and duly got my fiver change. I then went to the ‘Perky Coffee’ shop. As I went in I glanced up and noticed that Annabelle wasn’t serving today. Instead some Grumpy looking guy was there dishing out the daily shots of caffeine. I looked around the half full café and across to see the queue at the counter, only three people. What! Who was number three, on her own, only my mystery woman!
As I shot across to the counter my head seemed to swivel three hundred and sixty degrees as I scanned the room for Lanky Git. He was nowhere to be seen, result! As I slid into place behind her I half dropped my case down on the floor knowing the loud thud would cause heads to turn. Sure enough her head glanced round. She glanced down at the case then raised her beautiful eyes and looked at me. For a second or two we looked at each other and then she smiled. My god she was gorgeous.
“Hi” I said trying to stay calm.
“Hello” she said then turned away as the queue moved up a place.
This was it, do or die. My time had come and I was jumping in feet first.
“I think we get the same train in the mornings” I said.
“Yes, sometimes” she replied “I saw you this morning daydreaming by the door”
My mind raced What! How? Well at least she noticed me.
“I didn’t see you on the platform” I managed to somehow reply
“No I got on a station early today I had stayed in a different hotel”
“So you don’t live…”
“Next! yes love” Grumpy Git behind the counter broke in “what can I get you?”
“A Latte to go and a Cinnamon and raisin bagel please”
I couldn’t believe it we had the exact same order.
I was on the verge of saying make that two, and making the grand gesture of saying I’ll get these, when I remembered I only had my fiver. The shop didn’t take cards either. If Annabelle had been here it would have been ok to pay tomorrow, but not with Grumpy Git. So I waited till he went to sort her order and picked up the conversation where he had so rudely interrupted us.
“So did you say your not from round here.”
“Yes, I live in the midlands. But I’m originally from Cumbria, you know the Lake District. Nice Roses they‘re my favourite”
“My Mums too, its her birthday today. So what brings you down here” I asked as I stared into her beautiful blue eyes.
As