Fifteen Minutes in London - A Turning Point In History

A Turning Point In History

September the first, King's Cross station, London. A sixteen-year-old girl deposited a heavy trunk in one of the lockers of the cloakroom and closed its door. At least she tried to do so. Closing the door of a locker that is more than full, is not always easy. She sighed, brushed a strand of her fiery-red hair out of her face and continued wrestling with the locker. After a minute or two she finally managed to shut that damn door and locked it.

Looking around she decided on a coffee and entered a small coffee shop. It was busy inside and for a moment she considered looking for another one, but then she spotted an empty seat in the back. A middle-aged woman occupied the other seat at the small table.

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

"No, it isn't, dear. Do sit down."

After ordering a coffee with lots of milk and a piece of apple tart, the young girl took time to study the woman. She was looking strange, being draped in a gauzy spangled shawl and wearing all those chains, beads, bangles and rings. And those glasses! Heavens! This woman definitely needed some fashion advice. And well, her hair might welcome a brush. Just like someone else's hair... Her thoughts turned back to the person that had been sending her letters all summer.

Suddenly the woman spoke: "Well my dear, what are you doing in London all alone?"

"Oh, I'm waiting for the train that takes me to school. My parents couldn't take me this year, because my grandmother's not well."

" I know that, but that isn't what you were thinking about."

The girl blushed to the roots of her flaming hair. "No, I was thinking about that one boy, who keeps asking me out."

"Ah yes, young and in love!"

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Right, you keep telling yourself that, dear. The way you blush tells another story though."

"I'm not in love with him! He's a git. He always struts around, bragging and pranking and stuff."

"Because he wants you to notice him, dear."

"But I already noticed him. After all, you can't ignore a guy that has asked you out about three hundred times in three years, even though you've rejected him every single time, and who keeps writing you letters all summer."

"Did you answer those letters?"

If possible, the girl blushed an even deeper shade of red. "Well yes, I did. Those letters were quite nice actually... Perhaps he's growing up a little."

"They all grow up at some point in time. Tell me about him."

Later the girl would not be able to say why she continued talking to that strange woman at all, but she told her about how he had started asking her out, how he always ruffled his hair...

And she told her about the letter she gotten late yesterday evening. The one in which he asked her out again. She didn't really know how to react to that one. All his letters had been so nice. But wouldn't he behave like a git again? Once they were back at school? And weren't they too different to ever get along?

"You know, my dear," the woman told her," you're worrying way too much about all this. Just give him a chance. In the end, it might not turn out, because he continues to be a git or because you two are so different. But I have listened to you talking about him for only five or ten minutes and I can already tell that you are in love with him. If you continue to reject him, you might avoid getting hurt, but you will ask yourself for the rest of your life whether he might have been Mr. Right and you'll secretly always regret the decision.

I won't tell you things will be perfect, for I can see dark clouds hanging over your future. Dark, difficult times might be ahead, but I cannot tell you whether they will only come, if you decide to date him or if you decide to not date him or whether they will come regardless of what decision you make. The clouds are still some time away, try to be happy while they aren't here yet. Darkness shall come down on you soon enough."

The strange woman suddenly stood up and went to the counter to pay for her tea without a word of goodbye. A couple of minutes later, the girl, still deep in thought, did the same.

"Perhaps," young Lily Evans thought, as she left the coffee shop, "I will say 'yes' this time."

Sometimes, fifteen minutes in London can change everything.