Walking Back To Happiness City Romance

What is at the root of hot-shot lawyer Luna’s sudden reluctance to set foot outside her London office?

Love your dress,” Grace said as soon as Luna stepped into her office at Hamilton Jefferson and Co. She glanced down at her navy-blue zip up dress and wrinkled her nose.

“It’s an old favourite but I’m wearing it out of necessity not choice.” When Grace frowned, Luna added, “I can’t get into anything else.”

“I doubt that!” her assistant laughed. “You’re like a beanpole.”

“I wish! I’ll never go on an all-inclusive holiday again. All those cocktails and the melt-in-the-mouth pasta have added inches to my waist. I kept telling myself I shouldn’t eat for two…”

“What? You’re not…?”

Luna laughed. “Hardly. I meant Scott. We booked it at Christmas, before we split. He should’ve been in Sorrento with me.” “I’m sorry.” Grace patted her shoulder. “Don’t be. It’s sad but we weren’t right for each other.”

They’d been apart for four months now. Inevitably her career had driven them apart. He worked for a drugs charity and although he was passionate about it, he’d learned the knack of switching off – something she’d never mastered.

“I wish you’d leave the office occasionally,” he’d sigh.

“You used to admire my commitment,” she’d retorted.

“I did – before I realised work was all you were committed to.”

It was harsh, but Luna could see now there was some truth in his words.

Sitting down at her desk, she flicked through some papers.

“No, if I’m to wear my lovely summery dresses soon I must get fit… Anything pressing today?” Grace shook her head. “Only the Rashid case. Here’s the file… Look if you’re that worried, why not increase your exercise levels?” “Easier said than done in my job.” Her caseload was huge. As a clinical negligence lawyer there were always new clients to take on, cases demanding her attention as court dates neared or existing clients who needed her “touch” to move on their cases.

“Agreed. So start off with simple changes. Take the stairs, not the lift. And how do you get here?” “Train – you know that.” “No, I mean from the station.” Luna swallowed, avoiding Grace’s gaze. “Taxi,” she muttered. It was a stupid waste of money, and normally she’d walk, but…

“There you are then! Walk to and from the station. Get fit and save money, too.”

“Umm, good idea,” Luna said, thinking it was anything but, although she wouldn’t tell Grace that.

“Then there’s lunchtimes. You could power-walk to the deli,” Grace said, getting into her verbal stride.

Lunch hour! Luna sighed. When did she last take one, unless it was to discuss a case with a barrister at D’Angelo’s? “Now,” Grace said. “Coffee?” “Please – but strictly no sugar.”

Once alone, Luna groaned. Grace’s suggestions were perfectly reasonable but just the idea of walking through the city’s streets had sent a chill through her. She closed her eyes.

Instantly she was back in that newsagents by the station. She’d popped in for a magazine… She could still hear the screams, feel the panicking crowd rushing around her, her mind frozen…

They were lucky that day. A false alarm. But it had come hot on the heels of the incident on the bridge. Luna shook. In her mind’s eye she could still see the black car. Hear the engine’s roar. Feel the driver’s eyes when she turned towards the chaos… She shivered, her palms damp. Standing, she gazed out of her window. Her office looked over the Embankment. She never tired of the view but, lately, London scared her. There was such a high level of crime, and the terror attacks…

And now Grace was advocating she walk to and from work, and during lunchtimes. She shuddered. Although everyone knew she’d witnessed the recent attack, she’d never confessed how scared it had left her. How she avoided

The staff, her clients all thought she was so cool and competent

leaving the building when she’d a break. How taking a taxi was the only way she could arrive calmly at the office. No-one would imagine she was so anxious. The staff, her clients, they all thought she was so cool and competent…

“There – one black, sugarless, milk-less, almost calorie-less coffee.” Luna jumped. “Goodness – sorry. You OK?” Grace grinned at her boss. “Y–yes, fine,” she forced a smile. “I was miles away, thinking about Rashid.” “No wonder… poor man.” Luna picked up the file from her desk. She’d been working on his case for a while. Twenty-eight-year-old Rashid’s routine arm surgery had resulted in paralysis. His claim should be successful, but the hospital’s defence team had cited Rashid’s previous weightlifting hobby as a contributing factor.

She’d ordered further expert reports. They were missing something. She didn’t want to lose this case. He had a young family, and his injury meant he’d had to sell his window cleaning round.

Later, she left her desk to stand once more at the window. Joggers, cyclists and skateboarders were all enjoying the warm spring sunshine. If only…

Suddenly she decided if they had the courage to go about their daily business, then so did she. This lunchtime she’d go for a walk – no matter what.

But later, when she stepped outside, she felt a tingle of fear. She’d walk around the block. It wasn’t far, but she planned to go further every day, building her confidence.

For the first time in months she wished she could meet Scott for lunch. That he was with her. Maybe living alone was making her feel vulnerable…

Suddenly she bumped straight into a man in a grey suit. “I’m so sorry…” she gasped. At first, he looked annoyed but then slowly he smiled at her.

“No – I’m sorry. You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, a melting Irish lilt coating his words.

She smiled back. He had the most delicious blue eyes.

“No, I’m fine. Sorry, I should have looked where I was going.”

“No problem.” He walked away.

Luna watched after him. He was nice, she thought, realising it was the first time she’d found another man attractive since splitting from Scott. That was a good sign, surely?

For a moment the man had made her forget her nervousness but as she crossed the street, dodging men with laptop cases and women carrying designer shopping bags, the horror returned. She fought it every step but as she rushed past familiar offices and shops, she trembled. Only once she was back at Hamilton Jefferson and Co did she feel safe.

“You OK?” It was Grace. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “In fact, I’ve just bumped into the most gorgeous man who’s very much alive.”

She told Grace all about him as her colleague handed her a list of clients to

call that afternoon. Top of the list were the lawyers acting for the hospital she was fighting for Rashid. Would it be positive news?

Working, her anxiety lifted. But later, watching the river traffic on the Thames, she wondered, would she ever feel safe in London again? Maybe she should ask for a transfer to one of the regional offices.

No – she used to love working in London. She’d fight this ridiculous fear. Hopefully the more she walked, the more comfortable she’d become.

It was late when Luna left the office. Should she hail a cab? No, she must make the effort to walk. Although the streets were busy, her anxiety returned.

Reaching the corner, she heard a voice that was already familiar.

“Not throwing yourself in front of people this evening?”

Luna laughed. “No, I’ve given up rugby tackling.”

“Shame,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “I’m Patrick McGrath.” “Luna Pattison.” She held out a hand. “What a great name!” he said, walking with her down the street.

“My father loves astronomy. I should probably be glad he didn’t name me Jupiter or Apollo 13.”

Patrick laughed heartily, telling her that he worked in insurance.

“Well, I go this way,” she told him at the junction.

“I hope to bump into you again, Luna Pattison,” he said.

Metoo, she thought, waving goodbye.

After that Luna often saw Patrick and they fell into a habit of walking together at lunchtime. If it was raining and she had time, they’d share a sandwich in the local coffee shop. “So, you dating this guy?” Grace asked. “No, we’re just walking companions.” Grace raised an eyebrow. “He sounds a real hunk and he must like you.”

“Men and women can be just friends… Where’s Rashid’s file, please?”

The case was going well. The hospital had improved their offer and Luna was ready to recommend a settlement.

Luna hadn’t been completely honest with Grace. She really liked Patrick. Once or twice it sounded as if he was going to ask her out, but she’d hurriedly changed the subject. Her commitment to her career was as strong as ever. Surely it would be a problem in a relationship with Patrick as it had with Scott?

Walking with Patrick not only helped Luna lose weight, her confidence began to return. Most evenings he accompanied her to the station. But one evening, she left later than usual, and Patrick was nowhere in sight.

Alone, her fears multiplied. Everyone she passed looked threatening. She started shaking, her heart booming. There’d been another incident at the weekend and although she tried to reason that most of London was safe, the news had affected her.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and she screamed, cowering.

“Luna! You OK?” It was Patrick. He put his hands on her shoulders and she burst into tears. “It’s just a car backfiring. Come on, let’s get a drink.” In the wine bar, she blew her nose. “I’m sorry.” “No worries. But what’s upset you?” Slowly, she told Patrick everything. How the attacks frightened her, making her scared to travel into London each day.

“But my career’s so important to me, I must fight these feelings.”

He held her hand as she admitted she’d even considered moving to a rural office. “I expect you think I’m mad…” “No,” he said, seriously. “Wasn’t I a boy during the Troubles? I understand what it’s like to fear walking the streets. Even to go to the shops for a pint of milk. Ordinary, everyday things that should hold no worry for anyone.”

Of course – Patrick was Irish. He’d lived through similar times. “How did you cope?” “I didn’t – for a while. I’d use any excuse to stay home. But then I realised if I didn’t go out, they’d have won.”

It was an old argument but somehow hearing it from Patrick – someone who’d lived through the thick of it – added credence to his words.

“You do an important job, Luna. You help people rebuild their lives after tragedy. Yes, you can do that in Bristol, Oxford or Plymouth but if you leave London, I’d have to follow. Have you noticed how often I’ve tried asking you out? You always change the subject…”

“I’d love to date you, but I’m very committed to my career. It puts men off.”

“Luna, I love your commitment! I think it’s amazing how hard you work to get the best settlements for your clients. I understand. I’m mad about my job, too.”

She smiled. “So, you wouldn’t mind dating a frightened workaholic like me?” “Mind? I’d love it.” “Know what we should do?” He shook his head. “Go for dinner and take in a show or a film. There are places in this super city I’d love to show you.” “Shall I call a taxi?” “No, let’s walk.” Somehow, today, she’d walked right back into a world of happiness.

She hadn't been completely honest. she realy liked Patrick