Turn The Paige✔

CHAPTER SIX

"Oh my goodness, is that a pimple?" Madeline exclaimed.

Paige froze, mouth wide open and with her blueberry muffin in mid-air. "You have got to be kidding me," she said slowly. "Where is it?" she asked, wiping her mouth with a serviette, and patting around her face.

"There," Madeline said, pointing at her friend's left cheek. "Don't worry, I'll touch it." She leaned forward and touched the edge of her lip. "Oh, sorry it was just a crumb."

Paige glared at her friend for raising a false alarm.

"You had to see your face, PG," Madeline cried, clutching her stomach.

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Mads."

They were sitting face to face at Kaye Café in St. Pancras International train station. It was situated in the heart of Central London, and the footsteps of the people bustling from one place to another thundered on the pavement. The faint sound of a guitarist playing his classical guitar on a bench outside could be heard from their table.

"Remind me why you are here, Mads," Paige huffed. She finished her muffin and sipped her coffee.

"To give your jittery behind moral support before you get swept off your feet by the dashing Mr Rochester?" Madeline responded, wagging her eyebrows and laughing. "Dover is so romantic," she added with an exaggerated swoon.

"I am not jittery," Paige retorted icily. "There is nothing romantic about uprooting plants and taking soil samples in a country town."

"How old is he, PG?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Gosh. That is so hot."

Paige pursed her lips and shook her head playfully.

Madeline bit her chocolate chip cookie with a sly grin on her face. "You know the ones who appear to be prim and proper are the baddest," she whispered. "If he takes you to the red—"

Paige sprung to her feet. "I am not going to be taken to the red room." She pulled on the handle of her small luggage box and it extended with a snap. "You look good by the way."

Madeline dusted her black, skirt suit as she stood up and checked her teeth in her portable mirror. "Thank you, dear. You're not so bad yourself."

Paige wrapped her ash colored, knee length coat firmer around her body. "I know I'm flawless," she said, smoothing her hands down her hips and fluffing her curls. "Have a nice day at work, Mads." They hugged and promised each other a message and a phone call every other hour.

Madeline gave Paige a pointed look and wagged her finger. "If you come back without souvenirs, I'll lock you out."

"I'll call the police if I can't get in," Paige retorted.

They hugged again as both of them had blurry vision and denied that they were about to cry. Their goodbyes were mumbled as they parted ways.

**

Paige sat on a bench at platform twelve. She read a magazine, crossed her legs and glanced at her wristwatch. Unconsciously, she looked left and right at random intervals. She wondered when Mr Rochester would show up. He said they should meet at ten, and it was already nine forty-five.

"Are you looking for me?" someone asked, as they leaned over the bench.

"What the f-, Mr Rochester you scared me," Paige whisper yelled. "Why did you sneak up on me like that?" she asked with her hand on her rapidly beating heart.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to, Paige."

"Yes, you did," she scoffed in disbelief. Her pulse raced as breathed in short puffs, but she was glad to see him.