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I can feel the man in the black suit closing in. If I were to scream, who would hear me above the hiss and snarl of the trains? Who might help me?
I spy a young man standing alone, waiting.
"There you are!" I say, striding quickly toward him. He looks about to see whom I'm addressing."You're late, you know."
"I'm . . . late? I'm terribly sorry, but have we . . ."
I lean in, whispering urgently. "Please help me. That man is following me."
He looks confused."What man?"
"That man." I look behind me, but he is gone. There is no one. "There was a man in a black suit. He had a hideous scar on his left cheek. He sat beside me on the bench, and then he followed me to the flower seller.'' I'm aware that I sound slightly mad.
"Perhaps he wanted a flower for his lapel," the young man says.
"But he followed me over here." "We are near the way out." He points to the doors that lead to the street.
"Oh. So we are," I say. I am such a fool. "I'm terribly sorry. I am jumping at shadows, it seems. My brother was to meet my train. He is late, I'm afraid."
"Then I shall stay and keep you company until he arrives."
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly . . ."
"You could be of help to me, actually," he says.
"What sort of help could I give?" I ask warily.
From his coat pocket, he pulls out a beautiful velvet box the size of a cracker tin. "I need a lady's opinion about a gift. Will you help me?"
"Of course,"I say, relieved.
He places the box on his open palm and lifts the top. There is nothing inside.
"But it is empty," I say.
"So it seems. Watch." He pulls at what appeared to be the floor of the box. It comes up to reveal a secret compartment, and inside this hidden space sits a beautiful cameo.
"It's lovely," I say."And the box is very clever."
"So you approve?"
"I'm sure she'll be pleased," I say. I blush instantly.
"It's for my mother," the young man explains. "I've come to meet her train."
"Oh," I say.
We stand uncertainly. I don't know what to say or do. Should I continue to stand here like an idiot or should I salvage what's left of my pride, bid him good day, and find a place where I can hide until my brother comes for me?
I open my mouth to say goodbye just as he extends a hand. "I am Simon Middleton. Oh, I'm terribly sorry. What were you about to say?"
"Oh, I, I was only . . . How do you do?"
We shake hands.
"Very well, thank you. How do you do, Miss . . . ?"
"Oh, dear. Yes, I am--"
