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Oliver didn’t just understand the assignment. He understood Georgie.
Her heart thrummed happily. “You’re lovely. No one sees me like you do.” She met his eyes and grinned. “Okay, Ollipop. Pack your bags, London’s calling!”
THIRTY-FIVE
GEORGIE
A month later, Monday, March 15, 1993
Leafs record: 36 wins, 24 losses, 9 ties (in overtime)
Stefanie was right. London, with its captivating history and buzzy crowds, was practically made for Georgie, and the three rolls of film she’d snapped so far on her first full day told a giddy tale of red phone boxes and Big Ben. The British capital was revitalizing Georgie’s lost sparkle, but with only five days to explore, there was little time to dawdle.
“Here’s the money shot!” Cheeks aching from so much smiling, she took one final photo of Tower Bridge downriver, its bascules rising for a tall ship to pass through on the Thames. “Beautiful.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Georgie glanced over her shoulder and caught Oliver’s captivated gaze sweeping over her. Grabbing his hand, she gave him a lingering kiss then whispered, “Thank you for bringing me here” against his neck.
Oliver kissed her forehead and nose, and they continued north along London Bridge.
“Seeing London through your eyes has given me a new appreciation.” He offered Georgie his Dairy Milk chocolate bar. “So many things I’ve taken for granted.”
“I’m like that with Toronto.” She broke off a single square and popped it in her mouth, savouring the sweet chocolate melting on her tongue as a double decker bus trundled past. Oliver seemed thrilled to be back in his usual environment, and Georgie was taking full advantage of it, picking his brain for all the hidden gems to explore. “My European history students are in for a treat! I think I’ll make a slideshow set to music.”
“Hear that, school board?!” Oliver shouted into the air. “Give her the promotion NOW!”
“I’ll know soon enough, I suppose.”
They shared a pensive smile as Oliver crumpled the purple wrapper into a ball then stashed it in his coat pocket. He gestured ahead. “It’s up here on the right.”
Turning the corner, a fluted Doric column scraping the greyish sky commandeered Georgie’s attention. “WOW!” Her eyes travelled up the stone landmark to the gilded urn of flames crowning the top. Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the 202-foot Monument was unveiled in 1677 to commemorate London’s rebirth following the Great Fire of 1666, a four-day blaze that destroyed over eighty percent of the city and left 100,000 people homeless.
“I read that if you lay the Monument on its side pointing east, it would touch the exact spot where the fire began on Pudding Lane. Sir Christopher was a genius.” Georgie raised her camera for several photos then knelt down and took a few more from a lower, tilted angle, capturing the entire landmark in frame. “Ballsy decision, too, calling it THE Monument in a city rife with them.”
Oliver grinned as she rose to her feet. “I’ll show you the oldest one in London after this. Egypt gifted it to Britain in 1819. It’s called Cleopatra’s Needle and dates back to 1450 B.C.”
Yay, a museum. Adjusting the camera’s strap, Georgie suppressed her inner sarcasm and smiled for Oliver’s benefit. “In the British Museum?”
“No, it’s along the Thames on the Victoria Embankment.”
Georgie scoffed as they wandered farther into the Monument’s shadow. “Outside? But there’s pollution and bad weather?!”
Oliver’s lips flattened. “I know.”
Shaking her head, Georgie pored over the carved sculptures on The Monument’s base, which told the story of London’s fiery obliteration.
“The observation platform has great views if you don’t mind climbing a narrow spiral staircase,” said Oliver.
“Mind? That sounds cool!”
“It’s 311 steps…”
“Easy-peasy,” said Georgie, joining Oliver as he led the way to the entrance. “Last spring, I walked up 1,776 steps inside the CN Tower for a charity fundraiser.”
Well, someone spoke too soon. Breathless and slightly dizzy upon reaching the mesh-enclosed platform, Georgie ignored the burn in her thighs and the whoosh of wind whipping her hair and roamed the tight outdoor space, mesmerized by the 360-degree panorama. St. Paul’s Cathedral, Tower Bridge, the River Thames—she captured them all by carefully positioning her camera lens in the gaps of the wire cage. “The view’s stunning!”
“Best in London,” said Oliver. “Only Primrose Hill rivals it.”
