Bag a Brit
‘Risk new friendships’ was number seven on Maureen’s list. But she still hadn’t mastered number one- Bag a Brit! Maureen had been in London over a week without any luck at all of meeting that one Prince Harry. How she adored him, searched for him during her Tower of London tour, scanned the patrons of the Tate Gallery, scouring faces (and other body parts) for just the right fellow.
After high tea at her hotel, Cadigan Gardens, she called her best friend, Tallie, in New York. “It’s my last night here, and all I’ve had is tea and crumpets with some nervous fellow named Shlomo.”
“Maureen, you have to go to one of the infamous London pubs.”
“But which one? How would I know?” She pinned her long blonde hair atop her head.
“Hang on,” Tallie said.
Maureen paced, glancing into her gilded hotel mirror. She noticed circles under her eyes, the grey showing at her roots. Her recent divorce had taken its toll.
“Are you there?” Tallie asked.
“Got a pen?”
“Hang on.” Maureen walked to the hotel desk, opened a drawer to find appliqued stationery with a logo and a pen with same. She sat down at the desk. “Okay, ready.”
“Try Charrington’s or The King’s Arm, or The Globe. Ask your concierge at the Gardens for the addresses, but supply the pub names with plenty of time before you leave the hotel.”
Maureen scribbled the names. “Thanks, Tal, but how did you ever find the names?”
“I dug out my postcard from Roger’s last visit. I have them all in the same box in my closet.”
Maureen gasped. “Roger? As in, Roger Bennington?” Tallie hadn’t mentioned his name since Tallie had broken up with him.
“The only Roger I know.”
Maureen twirled a lock of hair that had fallen to her shoulder. “Is he in London now?”
“I believe he is, would you like his London number?”
Would I? Maureen looked her her list again. Bag a Brit was number one. Would tonight wipe that from her list for good? “Sure.”