The Woman My Grandmother Loved.

Chapter Three

"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."

F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Anita sat upon the freshly painted chair in the park. It had been painted only two days ago, the red of the chair matching wonderfully with the gold of the season. The lake that sat in the middle of the park had seen a rather alarming rate of accidents last winter when young skaters had fallen straight into the icy cold waters. This had led to an uproar in the Community-Of-Mothers, which in turn had led to the shutting of the park for a long time, even when it was Summer.

She had begun walking with crutches and she was glad that she didn't have to sit in a wheelchair all day long.

It had been over a month since she'd arrived in England and over two weeks since she had stumbled upon Becky. To her it almost seemed like a dream, a desperate invention of her brain to help her cope with the boredom. Anita, twenty-two and straight out of college was bored out of her mind. Her brother worked as an international correspondent for the Indian newspaper Veritas. Her father was the editor of the newspaper and soon, she would be working alongside him in Delhi like her other brother Roop. That was what the plan had initially been had it not been for the accident. But now, following the car accident, her mother had panicked and decided that she would be best off in Cornwall.

She had managed to convince her brother to let her please, conduct a single interview and get out in the world. Her brother wasn't very pleased by the idea of Anita hobnobbing across the street but he had relented. He had managed to scour up a little job for her; she was supposed to interview the headmistress of the all-girls boarding school where Becky worked as well. This job had pleased her greatly, for now, she had another reason to bump into Becky.

Dressed in her casual clothes-a pale blue peasant blouse and a ruffled brown midi skirt with little pink flowers that sat on her knees. Her jet-black hair sat carelessly, the wind blowing the tendrils here and there. Anita looked serious; big brown eyes that flitted so nervously and a delicate little mouth within which sat the fiercest of words. A little scar near her hairline from when she fell from the low-rise bungalow the previous summer after having had a drink too many.

The thin golden wristwatch twinkled as the sun's rays fell upon it and Anita tapped her fingers impatiently at the leather-bound journal that sat in her hands. She'd just bought it off the street and hoped to write in it the minutes of today's meeting. The interview had gone remarkably well with Mrs. White, the forty-three-year-old lady. The newspaper was doing a special feature on female teachers for Mothers Day, and the all-girls boarding school run mostly by women had been a perfect fit.

Anita had briefly met Becky just as she had hoped to when she had been conducting the interview. The young woman, wild red ringlets falling near her face had burst into the room; her clear green eyes sparkling as she almost yelled, "Mrs. White, you have to do something about these little devils! Maureen poured glue in Amanda's porridge and the poor girl looks green with nausea!"

Then she had noticed Anita, her face registering the surprise and then lighting up. Mrs. White oblivious to the fact that the girls had met before, introduced them and both of them had played along. Mrs. White had introduced Anita to her and the young woman had smiled, her emerald eyes shining mischievously. "Pleased to meet you", she had said, holding her hand a bit longer than necessary.

Becky had been waiting for her outside just as she had hoped and as Anita had walked outside, she was greeted by a delightful smile on Becky's face.

"That was a lovely surprise." Becky had said, as she helped Anita with the fat notebook and her handbag.

"I was hoping I would run into you." Anita had said, her face warming up as she did so, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I'm glad you did." Becky had smiled warmly.