Forget to Remember

you’ve done for me. Without you and your parents, I don’t know where I’d be—probably on Fifth Street in downtown L.A., trading cigarettes for food.” She had almost said “trading sex for food,” but that came too close to the truth.
    “You have your own life to live. Helping your parents could be the start of a career in computers for you. You can’t go chasing all over the world with me. It’s noble of you to volunteer, but there’s really nothing in it for you. I have to keep trying to find out who I am, but I also have to face the fact that it may never happen.”
    Rigo was silent. Had she hurt him? She had implied they didn’t have a future together. It was certain they didn’t as long as she was a nobody, because nobodies couldn’t get married. Once she had an identity, she’d see the world in a completely different light. Who knew what would happen between them then?

    CHAPTER 24
    Carol knew she was in England when a breathtaking view of Windsor Castle suddenly materialized outside her window as the plane descended into Heathrow Airport. She had a feeling of excitement, like a child who’s seeing new and interesting things. Except she was sure she’d seen these things before, such as the clusters of row houses separated by expanses of green, built on a slightly smaller scale than they would be in the U.S.
    She had spent the past few days making airline reservations and learning all she could about London with the help of a Frommer’s travel guide, maps, and the Internet. Or relearning, because that’s what it felt like. Still, as the plane touched down, she had a moment of panic, wondering why she was doing it. She pushed it aside and concentrated on entering the country without incident.
    She didn’t begrudge the extra time it took her to get through customs, because she didn’t have a European Union passport. She was just glad the clerk didn’t question the one she had. She hadn’t checked anything—all of her belongings fit into a suitcase she carried on the plane plus a small backpack. She didn’t have anything to declare, so she soon found herself in the bustling airport greeting area.
    Expectant Brits lined the exit from customs, waiting for relatives and friends to be disgorged from the system. Nobody was waiting for her, but again she didn’t mind. She found a cash machine and was gratified when crisp British pounds came out of the slot in answer to her withdrawal request.
    She followed signs to the Heathrow Express. She knew from her research the train would take her to Paddington Station in fifteen minutes. Sure it cost more than the tube or the airport bus, but it was a heck of a lot faster. Since she was tired and jet-lagged, she felt she could afford this one luxury.
    Paddington Station was a huge place with hordes of people moving determinedly in all directions. As she picked her way among them, the thought occurred to Carol that people walked faster here than in the U.S. And longer distances. London was her kind of city.
    She exited the station into the noisy traffic with double-decker buses and the ubiquitous London taxis competing for road space with ordinary cars. With the exception of the huge buses, she again had the feeling everything was smaller here—maybe three-quarter size. That included the cars, the streets, and the family-owned hotels occupying Victorian town houses on Sussex Gardens where she walked from the station, being careful to observe the painted warning on the busy street she crossed imploring her to “look right.”
    A cool drizzle made her glad she had the North Face raincoat Tina and Ernie gave her as a going-away present. For the hundredth time, she mentally thanked the Ramirez family for their assistance and wondered where she’d be without them. She’d find a way to pay them back.
    She found the Balmoral House Hotel, and a small woman with a non-English accent came to the locked door in answer to her ring. Carol told her she’d seen the hotel on the Internet. When the owner—she owned the hotel with her husband—eyed her lack of luggage, Carol paid cash for two nights and received a discount. She did a quick conversion in her head; she was paying something over a hundred dollars a night. She wondered what the big hotels charged. At least this price included a good English breakfast.
    Her small room was clean, and it contained an equally small television set that could play the BBC station and had a few other channels. She flopped