Lost in London (2 page)

“Nowhere, Miss Jordan? Well, you’ve chosen the best city in the world. I’ve lived here my entire life.” He smiled at me in the rearview mirror, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “We should be at the Littletons’ house in a few moments.”

The city became country. It looked like it’d recently rained. Sections of damp grass glistened in the sun. Liam pulled into a long driveway to a very large Tudor-style house. Ivy clung to its frame; moss padded the roof’s tiles. It was fairy-tale perfect, just like I’d hoped it would be.

I didn’t have much information about Caroline. My mom had never actually met her. Her Facebook page made her sound so . . . so . . . so worldly. She rode horses, and liked music, shopping, and going out in London with her friends. She was everything I wanted to be. I
knew already that we were going to be BFFs, just like our moms.

Liam stopped the car, and I opened the door and got out. The look on his face as he came around the trunk said I should’ve waited, but I didn’t get back in. I was going to walk up to the house, but decided to wait for him to get my bags—well, bag. I only had one suitcase. I flung my backpack over one shoulder and followed Liam to the front door. He opened it and ushered me inside.

I expected Caroline and her parents to be waiting excitedly for me, maybe with balloons, but the house was silent. And beautiful. The walls were trimmed with dark woodwork. Art and mirrors hung on the walls; every surface held a vase of fresh-cut flowers. The room smelled like springtime but a little damp, too, like some of last night’s rain had seeped in through the old cracks. This was the closest thing to a palace I’d ever been in. And hopefully in a few short hours I’d be hanging out in London, learning about kings and queens and basically becoming less boring every minute.

Liam led me to a kitchen and waved me to sit at the table. “Energizer?”

I was proud of myself because I knew he meant OJ. The stewardess on the plane had offered it to me. I’d felt dumb when I’d asked her what it was, but now I knew.

“Sure. Thanks. Um, where’s Caroline?”

He looked at the clock. “She should be down soon. Mister has already left for work, and Mrs. Littleton—” A Mini Cooper zipped into the driveway. “Oh, there she is.”

Through the window I saw a petite woman in yoga clothes run to the front door. “You’re here!” she said with the perkiness I’d hoped for. “Let me look atcha.” She had an accent like she was from Tennessee or Louisiana that didn’t fit with this house or London. “You look just like your mama. Lord, seeing you makes me miss her. How is she?”

“She’s fine.”

“Well, let’s get you some breakfast.” She asked Liam, “Where’s Caroline?”

“Still in bed, I suspect, madam.”

“That child. I told her to go with you to the airport.” She smiled at me. “I’m sorry she didn’t greet you. She just doesn’t understand how much fun y’all are gonna have. I’ve told her this will be a good experience for her, too, but she’s very focused on her friends. I’m sure you understand.”

I nodded like I did, but I wasn’t so sure. I thought she’d just told me that Caroline wasn’t excited that I was here.

“I always wished that I’d had more experiences with
different kinds of people when I was thirteen, and I just want that for her.”

Liam fixed me a small bowl of berries and added a dollop of white cream, which I assumed was yogurt, but it tasted more like sour cream, so I picked around it to get to the berries. As I started to eat, Liam quietly left the room.

A minute later a girl in pj’s with bed head, a sleep mask pushed up to her forehead, and eyes barely open came in and picked up the orange juice that Liam had just poured for me.

I hopped out of my chair, ready to grab her in a totally huge, psyched-to-be-here hug.

She sipped again before opening her eyes and finding me a few inches from her face. “Oh my,” she said. Her eyes opened wider. “You must be . . . Jordan?”

“Here I am!” I tossed my arms into the air.

“Yes, you are,” she said. And she looked at me from sneakers to ponytail. Her flat expression told me that she wasn’t seeing anything she liked, probably because everything was boring. I casually let the smile drain from my face. She sipped the orange juice again.

An awkward silence blew through the kitchen, during which I sat back down and scooped another berry into my mouth. “I’m so excited to be here, like
Christmas-morning-excited. I mean, it’s London! A city of castles, real princesses, and knights jousting till death,” I said. Then I caught my own zealousness and calmly asked, “What do you want to do today?”

Mrs. Littleton fanned out a handful of brochures that she’d taken out of a drawer. “Here’s a load of information about all the places that your mama and I discussed. Y’all can look through to give you ideas of stuff to do. Liam can take you where you want to go, or you can take the train into the city.”

“You aren’t coming?” I asked. My mom had been pretty clear that Mrs. Littleton would accompany us.

“No,” Caroline said. “I explained to her that we can get along quite well on our own. I go all around the city on my own all the time.”

Mrs. Littleton said, “Now, not so fast. I want to know where y’all are at.” She addressed Caroline, “So call me and text me. It’s not like you’ll just be going anywhere you want without telling me.” Then she faced me again. “You okay with that?”

Caroline was behind her stepmother’s back, mocking her by making a mouth with her fingers and thumb. She opened and closed them in a comical way, and I had to chew on my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

I nodded that I was good with that, but I knew my
parents would NOT be . . . if they knew, which they wouldn’t, because I wasn’t going to tell them.

When Mrs. Littleton turned, Caroline snapped her hand down. “All right,” she said. “Then everything is bril.” I was pretty sure that was short for “brilliant.” I couldn’t wait to use that word. Maybe I could mention how bril the energizer was?

“Super,” Mrs. Littleton said. “I just know you two are gonna be—what do you kids say? BFFs! That’s it. I’m gonna shower. I’ll see y’all later. Have fun.”

Caroline fixed herself a bowl of berries and swiped the brochures right into the trash. “I’ll get dressed. I was thinking we’d go shopping, to Daphne’s, of course. I’ll be down in a wee bit.” She left the kitchen with her berries, but then poked her head back in. “By the way, knights don’t actually joust till death anymore, and castles are a bit old and damp.” She left.

I didn’t think I’d made a very good first impression. And I was really bummed that she wasn’t psyched that I was here. I mean, she’d been
asleep
! Maybe she’d get to know me better while we shopped and then she’d like me. I had to work on my coolness factor at the store or mall. And after shopping, we could start on the sights for my montage.

I reached into the trash can for the brochures. Then
Caroline stuck her head in for the second time. I pretended like I wasn’t picking in the garbage. “You might want to change and get freshened up before we go,” she said. “Liam can show you to your room and give you a call when we’re ready to go.”

She left me in the kitchen, alone.

I managed to find Liam, who showed me to an incredible guest room: all cream-colored with a four-poster bed with a frilly canopy. French doors opened out to a balcony overlooking a field fit for horses trotting in from a fox hunt.

The attached bathroom was marble and silver. I took a quick shower and changed into what I hoped was an appropriate shopping outfit: jeans and turtleneck with a fleece vest.

I looked in the mirror. Hmmmm. Not awful, but not really “London.”

Shopping could be exactly what I needed to help me move out of Dullsville, although money could be a problem. I’d budgeted one hundred dollars per day. When I’d transferred the currency, it had felt like I had a lot less money.
Can I afford to shop?

The way Caroline looked—the way this house looked—money was no object. It was totally crazy to think that I was going to spend a whole week in this mansion!

I looked through my bag and found a scarf that I’d brought in case it got cold. I added it and reassessed. Not much better. Glancing at my reflection in an antique mirror, I decided this was an emergency. A fashion emergency, that is. I twisted around in the mirror, pouting my lips at the girl staring back at me.

Jordan, you desperately need to go shopping.

I brushed my hair and tousled it with my fingers to make it bouncy and full, but it still looked blah. Not “bad” blah, like “ordinary” blah.

I studied my map of London while waiting to be
fetched
. People here totally said “fetched,” right? Eventually Liam came to the guest room door. “Miss Jordan? Ready to go shopping?”

I snapped up. “Yup!” I took a second to re-fluff my hair and straighten my fleece vest.

Liam led me to the front door, his shiny shoes tapping on the gleaming hardwood floors. I let out a yawn and tried to shake the fuzz out of my head. I could easily sleep until dinner . . . maybe until dinner tomorrow. And I was hungry, like double-burger-fries-and-a-shake hungry.

Caroline stood by the car talking on her cell phone. She was way more dressed up than me: boots like I’d seen only in a magazine—they went up to her knees—and a skirt that defined the word “mini.” I practically drooled over her chunky bracelets. I couldn’t see her eyes under bejeweled sunglasses—odd, since it had turned cloudy—but I suspected she wore makeup to match her red lipstick. She looked like she could be fifteen easily. Suddenly even my cute scarf felt worse than drab.

It looked like Caroline would know exactly what I needed to transform. I wondered if I could get that look, if she could teach me to be glamorous.

Caroline clapped her phone shut. “Liam!” she called, and turned to see us. “Oh, there you are.” She gave me an extra look over the top of her glasses but didn’t comment. “Sam, Gordo, and Ellie are meeting us at Daphne’s.”

Liam held the car door open, and I got into the back like I’d had a driver all my life. Caroline propped the
sunglasses on her head. I was right—eye makeup. “Is Daphne one of your friends?”

“Are you serious? Daphne isn’t a
who
. It’s a
what
. And it’s the most crackin’
what
to shop at in all of London. You wanted to see the sights.” She checked her lipstick in a compact mirror. “And, trust me, Daphne’s is quite a sight. People from all over Europe, Asia, the Middle East, and even from the other side of the pond come to London to shop at Daphne’s. You’re going to love it. First stop, lattes.
Oui?
”

“Oui,”
I said, like I had lattes and drizzled French words like “
oui
” into my conversations all the time.

Looking out of the window, feeling a little self-conscious in my basic Old Navy clothes, I felt my mood improve as we drove over the London Bridge . . . THE actual London Bridge. The one the song is about. Then we passed the Marble Arch, and Madame Tussauds—all places I was dying to see. I couldn’t wait to visit them all. I snapped picture after picture. It started raining heavily, like nor’easter-heavy raining. I doubted that they called them nor’easters here.

“It’s supposed to storm quite hard today,” Liam said. “That’s why they call it Rainy London.”

He pulled over. I looked for a store. “Where is it?” I asked.

Caroline said, “You’re next to it.”

I squinted. “All I see is this big hotel.”

“That’s not a hotel. That’s eighteen floors of blooming shopping perfection.”

“Eighteen? That’s a lot of floors,” I said, craning my neck to see to the top.

“Yes. And in order to get through all of them, we’re going to need some energy in the form of caffeine. So, let the lattes begin!”

“Oui,”
I experimented. I didn’t get a funny look from Caroline, so I think I used it right.
Yay, me!

I thanked Liam and followed Caroline, like a puppy, through the downpour into the store. I noticed I wasn’t the only puppy, but the others were riding into Daphne’s inside designer handbags. People toted their pooches along with them. If I were taking notes, I would’ve definitely written that down.

I hiked my backpack onto my shoulder. I felt a little guilty to be at a big Macy’s instead of exploring the sights of London, but there would be plenty of time for that after I shopped. And, really, this little shopping trip was vitally important to the new me.

I glanced at the store directory—a holographic map projected onto a humungous wall. It showed everything that could be found on the eighteen floors, from sun hats
to snowshoes, and everything imaginable in between. Every brand I had ever heard of and hundreds—no, thousands—that I hadn’t, crowded the directory. The map was in English, French, Spanish, and symbols that I thought might be Arabic. It looked like everything ever made in the world was in this store.

This could be more than a little shopping trip; this might be a complete fashion transformation, even if that meant a summer of shoveling poop.