"Get the hell away from me! I can't stand you anymore!" Eloise shouted, her head pounding. She ran out of her parents' room, annoyed for the last time; into her own room she barrelled, opened her closet door, and tugged the suitcase at the top down to her. Quickly she flung open her dresser's drawers, pulling out clothes at random and stuffing them into her bag. Next she threw in makeup, toilettries, and grabbed her purse from its place on her bedpost. If she was going to do anything with her life, she would have to get out of this filthy city; that was certain. Eloise slammed shut her suitcase, slung her purse over her shoulder, and went to the hall closet to get her hat and coat.
    Her mother stopped her as she was on her way out the door. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?"
    "I'm going to London, Mum. You can't stop me--I'm seventeen, I've been in charge of my destiny for a year, I've finished school--I just can't stand listening to Dad anymore. I'll find a place to live, don't worry. I'll call you too... I will be fine: that I promise you," she finished, a slightly defiant tone overriding the content of the words she spoke.
    The mother sighed. Better to let her go peacefully and know where she is rather than angrily and lose her forever. "Go on, then," she relented. "Just keep in touch!"
    Eloise nodded and hugged her mother. "I will, Mum." She put on her coat and hat, and then was on her way to the bus stop.

    The bus slowly came to a stop, and Eloise got on and paid her fare. It would be about three and half hours before she was in London... she checked her watch, which read '9.06.' Yes, by lunch time she would be in her favourite city, trying to find a flat to live in, a job so she could pay rent, and a place where she could eat lunch. She bit her lip--was she really ready to do this, to be out on her own? I haven't really thought this through, she thought, but I can't go back and tell my parents they're right! She nodded to herself. Of course she could do this: she was Eloise Linda Owen, after all. She knew she could pull through anything which she brought upon herself. Problems granted to her by other people, though--well, she could learn to get better at those...
    About two hours later, she had to switch buses. On this bus, a few people got on, including a handsome young man who sat down next to her in the back. His hair was a little funny and went in all directions, but it was very windy out; his crystal-blue eyes set off the blackness of his hair rather nicely. "Hi, I'm John," he said with a shy smile. He proffered his hand for a handshake.
    She shook his hand and replied, "Nice to meet you, John. I'm Eloise."
    John smiled. "That's a pretty name. Where are you headed to?"
    "London," she answered simply.
   An even bigger grin formed on John's face as he said, "Hey, that's where I'm going, too! But, um, you don't sound very Cockney, y'know?"
    Eloise looked down at her feet. Quietly, she spoke, "Well, I'm Northern... Scouse. I've... been trying to hide my accent just a little bit."
    A smile cracked John's features once again. "I knew it wasn't quite London-ish enough," said he with a wink.
    She returned the smile, and replied: "Ah, no use in trying to hide it, I suppose. Erm... know any good places for working in London or thereabouts? I'm moving there today, and I've got to find a job and somewhere to live." Eloise cleared her throat as she noticed John's eyes widen slightly--yet, he controlled his surprise.
    "What are you good at, or fond of?" he prompted.
    "I'm good at maths; I'm not very fond of them, but at least I'd know what I was doing. I can type, too."
    John raised his eyebrows. "Maths, eh?" he queried. "Maths, maths, maths..." he repeated to himself, clearly thinking over something in his mind. "I know!" he suddenly burst out.
    "What?" Eloise eagerly asked.
    "I've got a job with Inland Revenue," John explained, "and I work at a tax office in Acton, a suburb of the great old London-town. Maybe I could get you a job...?"
    Eloise blushed. "That's awfully nice, especially for a bloke I've just met. A steady job like that'd be fantastic," she gushed.
    "Oh, yeah. One of the secretaries in the office--a real nice old lady--just retired and they're looking for someone to fill her place. You'd be perfect," he finished, lightly whispering the last sentence.
    She hadn't heard his last three words, for she was too excited by the job proposition. "Gosh, that's wonderful!" she sighed, but furrowed her brow.
    "What's wrong?" John asked.
    Eloise cast her eyes to the floor as she answered, "I don't have a place to live. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, I'm only seventeen, for Christ's sake! I don't even know where my next meal is coming from..." She knew she sounded desperate, and she certainly felt so, but the touch of John's hand on her shoulder felt reassuring.
    "That's one question I can definitely answer: the bus is about to stop; you can come and have lunch with me."