Chapter 2
Within seconds of leaping out of the bus's newly opened doors, I sprinted like a junkie in need of a quick fix back to Leith Street and towards the bus stop where the blonde girl had disembarked. I found myself twisting and turning past pedestrians, street cones, lamp posts, and broken pieces of pavement at every step of the way, desperately trying to get to my goal.
In less than a minute, I finally reached my target bus stop while emphatically struggling for breath as well as for my long-since mugged composure. I glanced everywhere. Even spinning around twice in the process, just to make sure I hadn't missed anything.
The blonde beauty was nowhere to be seen.
My heart sank. I couldn't help but yell out in complete and utter frustration at my astronomical stupidity for letting her get away so easily and losing thirty bloody pounds in the process.
“Shite, shite, shite!”
I kicked and lashed out at the bus-stop bin without even thinking about it until a little hobbit-sized old lady, who I hadn't even noticed was inside the bus shelter, began whacking me like a professional race jockey with her walking stick.
“Bludy vandal scumbag ye. Geet the bludy hell oot of ma bus shelter before ah soond ma rape alarm and call the bludy police, ye brute vandal scumbag ye.”
“Shit. I'm so sorry, Mam. I'm really, really sorry. I wasn't even thinking. I'm really, really sorry.”
I took a step back, sucking in another deep breath. Once more did the old lady poke me in the ribs with her stick for good measure. She had a stern, steely, old look in her eye, saying that she wasn't to be messed with. Not even by a gang of Edinburgh Neds – Non Educated Delinquents – looking for trouble. She’s probably a mother of seven, fully-grown, Scottish, rugby-playing, rogue bastard boys and she knew how to handle every single one of them.
“Okay, okay! I'm going, I'm going.”
I backed away from the crazy pensioner and started walking back up the street, to the direction I’d just came from. A feeling of distraught, defeat, and considerable loss swept through me like a chilling Scottish winter wind
I pondered my next move. Head back up onto Princes Street and spend the next few hours scouting in and out of all the adjourning wee back streets, side streets, alley streets, and alley ways for any sign of this girl. Or should I head up into the St. James Shopping Centre first and begin my search there, before heading up and scouring all the touristy hot spots of the Old Town? Christ on a bike, I would stay out all night if need be just to find her.
I slapped my forehead over and over. Stupid, stupid. Sat next to her—stupid—on the bus. Stupid, stupid—should have said hello—stupid, stupid arsehole.
Then, as if by some magical spell, as if the angels up above were smiling down upon me at that very moment and had heard my snivelling begging pleas, the girl appeared before me out of the blue like she had walked out of heaven’s gates.
In fact, it was out of some small newsagents just a few yards along from the bus stop. She'd just bought a small bottle of water and was now standing outside the shop, lightly wetting her lips. I could have leapt for pure joy. My heart and soul were refuelled once more, causing a fire to kindle within. I watched with bated breath as she unfolded her map and faced the direction of Princes Street. I inhaled deeply. This was it. Now or never. This had to be it. Make your move, you fool! You'll never get a third chance.
I jogged after her. It felt like some alien force had taken control of my body, pulling me towards her like a tractor beam. I approached her from behind and gently touched her shoulder, trying my best not to alarm and stop her in her tracks. She seemed a little startled at first as she turned to face me. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. I felt more nervous than when we were on the bus together with all those other people around. Once again, I struggled to say something, anything. Finally, I blurted out a kind of half-arsed sentence, just to get it bloody well over and done with.
“Hey, excuse me!”
She seemed a little flustered, but replied “Hi!” friendly enough.
“You couldn't like tell me where... where the train station is?”
What the hell did I just say? I even feigned a little stick-my-hand-against-my-forehead, pretending to search around, looking totally lost. I mean, Jesus Christ, asking this girl for directions to the bloody train station, how dumb was that? Surely she'd recognise me from the bus and would now be thinking to herself how incredibly weird this all was, especially due to the fact that the last time she'd seen me I was still seated inside a moving vehicle on my way to the other side of the city and now, here I was, two minutes later, right in front of her and asking for bloody directions to a place I knew very well.
Ha, it was very absurd, but too late to change tactics now. The stupid words were out of my mouth and into the real world in the blink of an eye but at least, on the other end of the spectrum, I'd said something.
The girl looked rightfully baffled. She stared at me long and hard, looking me up and down like she couldn't quite figure out if she did or did not recognise me from the bus. Then she spoke in a clear and crisp, but slight, European accent which I couldn't quite place at first.
“Ummm…I'm not actually from around here, to tell you the truth, but I think it's up this way.”
She half turned and pointed up ahead, back towards Princes Street. I feared what words might barge their way out of my mouth next, as I seemed to have lost whatsoever control I had over them. At the very least I should ask her where her accent was from, but I didn't. Instead, I tried to be funny and made a joke.
“Hey, you wouldn't like be really evil and totally send me in the wrong direction, away from the train station, would you?”
The girl smiled. The teasing joke had worked.
“No!” she replied. “Well, at least not intentionally.”
“It's definitely up this way though, yeah?”
“I'm fairly certain, yes.”
“You're probably gonna get me mugged up here, aren't you? Sending me to some dodgy part of Edinburgh, to some suspicious estate, right out of Trainspotting, thinking you’re all funny and that?”
The girl chuckled, “I'm not going to get you mugged anywhere, no. Besides, you look like a fit, strong boy to me, who could handle himself perfectly. You actually sound like you might be from around these parts.”
My mind turned to knots and twists as I desperately searched it for something else to say. I enjoyed it very much when she laughed. Maybe I should try more of that. Dear God, she was so beautiful when she smiled and giggled.
Then, totally unexpected, she half turned away from me, as if getting ready to leave, but instead of walking away she pulled out her map of Edinburgh and turned back to face me.
A tidal wave of relief engulfed me.
“I actually have a map of the city right here. I'm sure we could find it on here together, somewhere.”
She opened up the map and began studying its pages hard. Her face was so full of concentration, just like it had been back on the bus when I'd watched her examine her map so intensely. It seemed she was very determined to find the train station or die trying. The way she unhurriedly moved her finger over the page and the developing look of confusion all over her face told me that we might be stuck here for a very long time. Shite! I had to tell her the truth, the reason why I'd really approached her, this instant. She looked so bloody cute though struggling away to find this train station which was only around the next corner. I had to come clean or it would just get more difficult to do so the more this charade went on.
“Actually, if I can just stop you there for one minute. I have a little, minor confession to make.”
Her finger stilled on the map and she glanced up curiously. I took a deep breath and smiled as innocently as I could.
“Oh you do, don’t you?”
With the map still firmly in hand, she folded her arms and suspiciously considered me up and down.
“Yeah, I do. Actually, I couldn't really give a shit where Waverly Station is. I'm sorry...”
The girl kept her arms folded as her curious grin turned into a frown. I had a little chuckle to myself at her new distrustful, yet very attractive expression.
“Is that so?” she replied.
“I have to admit that... I saw you on the bus earlier, just a few minutes ago, in fact, but I couldn't think of anything to say... I'm sorry.”
“Oh! You were on the bus earlier, weren’t you? I had no idea.”
Her reply sounded somewhat teasing. She even rolled her eyes for effect.
“Well I was, and I saw you. And now. Well, now, for that matter, I'm here making an absolute fool of myself to the rest of Edinburgh.”
“I'd say arse of yourself is a better phrase, something you guys use quite frequently over here, no?”
“Thank you; arse.”
We both smiled. The girl shook her head.
“The train station? Was that the best you could come up with?”
“I'm sorry. I know it's pitiful. It was like the first thing that came to my mind and I had to say something, or else I'd be kicking myself all day and, probably, for the rest of my life, if I didn't at least try, you know—even just a simple ‘Hi, my name's Ryan,’—and now I'm talking too much.”
The girl untucked her arms and chuckled.
“You are funny, Ryan. Jesus. Really, really amusing and have absolutely made my day.”
“Well, I'm glad to be here to serve and entertain you, missy.”
I began to relax. It looked like things were going okay. And to think I'd almost missed this opportunity by keeping my mouth firmly shut and staying on that bus. One thing still bugged me though. I could not place her accent for the life of me. It seemed a very prim and proper English, but with a touch of European. In fact, she sounded more like some fifties movie star such as Audrey Hepburn, or perhaps someone who'd had more than just a half-decent upbringing in a country like Germany, Switzerland, or Austria.
“So where is that dodgy accent of yours from?” I finally asked.
The girl stopped smiling and pretended to be offended.
“Excuse me? My dodgy accent?” she paused. “Czech Republic, actually.”
I unleashed a sly grin. “Really? I would never have guessed that in a million years. But then, I guess, nobody is perfect, right?”
She acted insulted again before jokingly slapping me on the shoulder. “You are mean. I thought Scottish people were renowned in the world over for their friendliness.”
“I'm not proper Scottish, so I guess I get to be mean sometimes. But I'd say, in all honesty, Scottish people are more renowned for their tightness.”
The girl curiously glanced all around her, at the several people now passing us by. She then leaned a little closer to me and whispered in my ear.
“You think so? I read that Scottish people were amongst some of the unhealthiest human beings on the planet, due to all the fried food they eat.”
I had to chuckle at that.
“I didn't mean they had tight, fit bodies. I meant tight...” I began patting at my trouser pockets and my wallet inside. The girl finally smiled, getting the joke.
“Oh, I see. Where I'm from we refer to the Slovakians as this.”
I desperately tried to remember some Czech words I'd learnt ages ago. Or was it Russian? I couldn't quite remember.
“Pre-VET, by the way! Kahk dyeh-LAH”
The girl laughed, much harder than before. She held her stomach and sides this time, just to restrain herself.
“What's so funny?”
“What the hell did you just say to me?”
I hesitated, but repeated one of the phrases. I was sure it was correct.
“Pre-vet.”
“Why are you speaking Russian?”
“Don't you guys from Eastern Europe speak some form of Russian?”
“Actually, not as often as you'd think. We have our own language in Czech.”
“Really.”
“Yes, it's called Czech.”
We both smiled.
“And Slovak too, least I forget. So that’s two languages.”
“Okay, I'm sorry. Forgive my rudeness, your highness.”
“And English makes the third one.”
She even counted them on her fingers just to emphasize her point, which I thought was really sweet.
“Okay, okay. I said I was sorry, Jesus. But you do sound very English, well, like unusual, quirky English from another distant time zone, but English all the same.”
“That's quite all right and thank you very much for the compliment. My parents sent me to a very good language school when I was just a girl.”
“And I suppose they made you sit around and watch old movies from the forties and fifties all day at this school.”
“You could say that,” she said with a sly grin. “So where is your own dodgy accent from, mister bus boy?”
I couldn't help but chuckle another time. God, not only was this girl beautiful, she was funny, smart, and feisty as well.
“Well, that is quite a story and a half.”
“Are you English?”
“Not a bad guess, missy, but do try again.”
“Welsh?”
“No.”
“American?”
“Nope.”
“My God. This could be a very long guess-where-you-are-from game, no?”
“I told you it's a whole, long, confusing, and awkward little story all in itself.”
“Oh, Mr. Mysterious all of a sudden. Well, let me see. Maybe you're truly on the run from your country of origin or, possibly, you're a thuggish bank robber or a turncoat spy.”
“I like the spy thing. And we are in the city of the best James Bond ever, Miss Money-penny.”
“Your secret is out then, Ryan.”
She gave me a sly wink. Wow. I was really having fun with this conversation. All my previous feelings of anxiety and hesitations had seemingly evaporated from my body as I went along for the ride. I felt that I'd finally revealed my true, hidden self out from the bottom of my recent pit of self-consciousness.
“Well, I guess the short version is that I’m actually half-Irish, half-Scottish, and was born in Germany.”
“Wow. Quite an impressive little mix of races you have going on there. I wish my genetic makeup was half as exciting as yours. But sadly, I am one hundred percent Czech.”
I smiled.
“Pure cheeky Czech, huh.”
The girl chuckled.
“I like that—Cheeky Czech. Can I steal it from you?”
“Sure, go ahead. It's just what I'm gonna call you from now on anyhow. So, fifty pounds and it's yours.”
She mocked surprise.
“Fifty pounds for two little words?”
She pouted and I shook my head, grinning teasingly.
“So, what's your name?”
“Cheeky Czech, remember?”
“Come on. Seriously. Tell me your name.”
“Okay, seriously. You want to spoil all the fun and mystery,” she frowned like a scolded kid and it melted my heart. I couldn't help thinking that she'd perhaps make a really good theatre actress or classical film star if she ever wanted to. She had the dramatic facial features, and I do believe she wasn't even aware of it.
“Okay, my name is Alexandra.”
“Alexandra. That's nice. Like Alexandra the Great?”
“No. I believe he was a man. So he would have been named Alexander.”
“Ahh. I see.”
“But just call me Alex. I'm finding that British people are very lazy with their English here, and better at keeping things short and sweet—just like me—so as to not vex themselves.”
“Vex themselves?” I smiled and chuckled again. Now there's a word I hadn't heard since my English and Drama teacher, Mrs. Waterman, read out a Shakespeare play to my class back in high school.
“Yes, vex? Is it the right word?”
“I guess it kind of is, yeah, well, if we were still living in the seventeenth century. Which is when I do believe that word was last used in a real-life conversation. Who taught you English, anyway, at this language school? The duke and duchess of Canterbury?”
“No, just a regular old teacher and of course watching lots of old English and American movies and reading classical English books.”
“And let me guess: your favourite English author is Jane Austen and your favourite English movie is Pride and Prejudice, or anything starring Audrey Hepburn, Keira Knightly, or Emma Thompson in a corset.”
She smiled sarcastically. “How on Earth did you ever guess all that?”
We both laughed and smiled and shared another lingering gaze.
“Well, it is nice to meet you, Cheeky Czech Girl Alexandra the Great or just plain old Alex.”
“And nice to meet you too, Ryan.”
Alex opened her map of Edinburgh again.
“Well, Ryan, since we have now discovered that you are actually from this wonderful city, then perhaps you might be able to assist me instead.”
“Well, I'll certainly give it my best shot.”
I positioned myself by Alex's side to get a better view of her map. I was close to her now. Her blonde hair, rested centimetres from my face, was occasionally waving close to my lips in the slight breeze. She smelled terrific. I wanted to twirl the stray strands of her hair around my finger tips and lift them up to my face, taking in their delightful array of scents. But I refrained. I figured it might not go down too well with her if I did such a thing out here in the middle of a busy public street and after only having known her for ten minutes.
“Ryan, I'm trying to find this famous place: The Greyfriars Bobby.”
She pointed to a tiny image, on the map, of a statue of a little Scottish terrier dog.
“Yeah, I know this place. It's kind of in the direction I was heading to. Well, before I jumped off the bus.”
“So you can show me where it is?”
“Sure, I can do that.”