Lost Without You

~16~

When I got out of the tube station in Pimlico it was after four o'clock, and slowly getting dark. The early, wintery twilight was settling over the city, filling the space between the tall, bright nineteenth century houses surrounding me on each side and the low, enormous mass of leaden, churning clouds promising more rain.

I took my phone out of my bag and checked the address again. According to a little map of Pimlico I had found, Bram Stoker's house was supposed to be quite close to the station.

I looked around, then started walking down an empty cobbled street, hopefully in the right direction.

Luckily I found the house I was looking for without trouble, there were not many people around who I could ask for help. Unlike Hammersmith, this part of London was peaceful and quiet, as if it had fallen asleep a couple of centuries ago and never really woken up again.

St. Georges square was a very long row of white terraced houses facing an equally long garden.

I walked through the garden and finding a bench facing number twenty-six, I sat down, listening to the strangely muffled sounds of London's late afternoon traffic, reaching me as if from a great distance. I decided to wait for a while before knocking the door; I didn't exactly know what to do. What if no one opened the door when I knocked? And what if someone did? What was I to ask?

Trying to summon my courage to walk over and knock while preparing a few intelligent questions, I observed the place as the darkness grew thicker around me. The tall house looked uninhabited. Not abandoned, for there were curtains on all the windows which I could see, but... empty. The glass panes looked dirty and the small patch of grass under the front windows was uncut. It looked as if whoever lived there was away, on a very long holiday.

As the time passed and I started to shiver from cold, I noticed that the two houses on each side of number twenty six had the same neglected look about them. Farther down the road, I saw a few people walking in and out of the houses, but there was no activity in any of the three I was looking at now.

Taking a deep breath I finally crossed the street separating the garden from the building. I entered the front yard through a low iron gate which stood open, walked along a narrow walkway and climbed the few steps leading to the door. Even though my hand was trembling with cold and hesitation I knocked, softly at first, still unsure of what I should say if the door opened. After a while I knocked again, more loudly this time. And again. But there was no answer and no bell which I could ring to make more noise.

I descended the stairs, then stepped on the uncut lawn and peeked through the window. Unfortunately it was already too dark to see anything inside.

Discouraged, I walked back to my bench and sat down again, scowling at the house in front of me. It was nearly six o'clock when I gave up for the day, dispirited and half-frozen, after having observed, with rising frustration, as the lights came on in all the neighbouring houses gradually, while mine and the two closest to it remained dark.

I got home feeling down and not in a mood to talk. Luckily, Mum was out with Julian as her note, left on the table next to a sandwich she had prepared for me, informed me.

Missing Cook's warm, filling meals, I sank my teeth in the soft, white bread. I miss her pies and stews. And Shadow, my friend Shadow, my subconscious reminded me cruelly when Lily jumped on the chair next to mine, begging for a slice of ham.

Tears threatening, I pushed the plate towards the small dog letting her choose whatever she wanted. I wasn't hungry anymore. I just wanted... to go home, to Vlad.

You mustn't think about any of it. I reminded myself as I dragged my feet up the stairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. It won't help you at all.