#povt

Claire Flanagan meets Tom Hiddleston during an impromptu trip to London. He will change Claire’s life over and over again. Sometimes it’s for better, sometimes for worse, but always for good.

One • Two • Three • Four • Five Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen • Fourteen • Fifteen Sixteen • Seventeen • Eighteen • Nineteen • Twenty Twenty-one • Twenty-two • Twenty-three

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I was such. A fucking. Idiot. Who did I even think I was, coming here? Doing what I had done, someone special? Someone with privilege, with talent? I should be taken into a home. But no one would catch me now.

I sat in a park…or, well, I had no idea where I was. I was in the cold, my butt freezing, sitting on a bench, outside, because I had on a sweatshirt, a tank-top, yoga crops and sneakers. Besides the obvious underwear, that was it. And it was September, which wasn’t so frigid where I’m from. I’m from the United States, Massachusetts, in fact. And New England has it’s cold weather, be sure of that, but where I am right now, the weather proved to be much more…brisk. Yes, that was a kind word for it, brisk. But honestly, my bottom was growing numb on the park bench, but I wouldn’t move. I felt embarrassed of my own actions, as if anyone in the part of the world knew me, what I had just done.

This morning, hours and hours ago, I caught the train to the Boston Commons, which was, in my opinion, the most beautiful place in the world in the fall. From there I did something I hadn’t done for, God, it had been years. I auditioned for a play, and not just any place. The play, the Scottish Play, to be more specific. I had no idea why I did it, well, I do know. Acting is my life, I can’t explain the feeling I get when I’m on stage, when I hear a gasp, a shout, a laugh from the audience. Oh the final bow, the make-up, the, well drama of drama. I’ve been in a rut for so long, and I saw an open audition. I had a recent headshot, I printed out a resume and showed up for the audition. I had that terrifyingly evil soliloquy of Lady Macbeth’s memorized, it had always been my favorite, I recited and was told I would get a call. 

I don’t remember auditioning, or what the casting directors looked like, or their reaction, or me getting back on the subway, on a bus to Logan airport. I didn’t remember throwing away a bottle of hand lotion to I could get on a plane to Heathrow Airport in London, England. I don’t remember it, it was all adrenaline. Id’ never auditioned for professional theatre, and today I did it. Well, I’ve never been overseas, and today, well I did that too. I regretted it, big time. I would have a lot of explaining to do to people over in America, I would have no money for probably the rest of the month, and I was freezing. 

Maggie Fox and Tom Hiddleston have been friends since birth. Tom has always felt romantically for her, but with a troubled past and a less than perfect present, Maggie is terrified to move forward.

One •  Two • Three •  Four •  Five Six • Seven •  Eight •  Nine •  Ten Eleven • Twelve •  Thirteen •  Fourteen • Fifteen Sixteen •  Seventeen •  Eighteen •  Nineteen •  Twenty Twenty-one •  Twenty-two •  Twenty-three

“Shit, I’m going to be so late,” I muttered to myself as I rushed to get ready for a long day filming on set, already twenty minutes behind and starting to spiral into a worse mood by the second. I had my iPhone balanced between my ear and shoulder, trying to prevent it from slipping off and smacking against the marble tiles of the hotel bathroom as I hobbled on one leg clumsily. A voice eventually cut into the dial tone as I dragged on my jeans. 

“London General Hospital,” A nasal woman answered with a sharp edge to her voice so I quickly tried to collect my words, “Can I help you?”

“Hello, this is Maggie Fox,” I paused as I thought I heard her mutter vague words in recognition of who I was, “Can I speak to Sister Dita please?”

“One moment, hold please,” The woman almost snapped, setting the phone down so it buzzed from the other end and I was left for a few minutes to wait again. After getting over the initial shock of her rudeness, I resorted to wiping the excess lip balm from around my mouth, pressing both lips together while trying to fix my disobedient, jet black hair that I’d left in it’s natural state so it hung down either side of my face and settled just below my shoulders in slight waves.

“Hello?” A surge of relief washed over me as I heard the familiar, gentle voice of the nurse that I needed to speak to so urgently, “This is Sister Dita.”

“Hi Sister, it’s Maggie Fox here,” I murmured, adjusting the hem of my sheer t-shirt as I grabbed my purse, “Thanks for taking my call so early.” 

“Hello Miss. Fox,” She chimed, cheerful all of a sudden, “It’s not a problem, I was on my weekly night shift anyway,” My heart constricted with sympathy for her and the great work that she did, “So, what was it that you wanted to speak about Miss. Fox?” I gulped at the thought of it and sighed.

“I just wanted to let you know that unfortunately I don’t think I can make it to see Pippa today,” I could feel the tears pricking my sockets painfully at having to speak my sister’s name, “I’ve got a full day on set filming today and then another work engagement much later on, so I think I’m a bit stuck.”