Limits Page 23

Rachel Mulholland stepped out from behind the cubicle door as she heard the clicking of Valerie Morrison’s heels retreat over the marble and out of the large, ridiculously decadent bathroom. Gossip had always gravitated naturally Rachel’s way. It wasn’t just that she was an observant person, or that she was skilled in the art of active listening; it was almost as if she attracted the information: it was a gift. So her choice of career made sense. In truth journalism had seemed to choose her. But even by Rachel’s standards, the last fifteen minutes had been beyond lucky.

  She looked down at her phone and suppressed a small smile. The image of Valerie Morrison gripping her tearful daughter’s elbow, her face twisted in an ugly scowl, was journalism gold. Dirt on David Morrison was not easy to come by. A hard-working philanthropist with a perfect family – his character was very difficult to smear. Rachel herself had always thought there was something off about the guy: his eyes seemed … cold, and his policies as Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change were pretty despicable. He was about the only climate change sceptic out there and a real barrier to the cold fusion energy revolution. Yes, it was safe to say Rachel despised David Morrison. That was why this story could wait. She would wait and watch. When the time was right and with all the information, she would take that fascist bastard down, permanently.

  *****

  When Mille and Pav made it outside Michael was waiting for them. He didn’t seem to blink an eye that they were without her parents, and proceeded to usher them into the back seat.

  Once settled and on the road Millie looked across at Pav and her heart sank. His jaw was so tense that there was a muscle ticking in his cheek and he was taking sharp, angry breaths through his nose. The atmosphere in the car felt thick and Millie’s hand snuck up under her coat to her forearm as if acting of its own accord.

  ‘Um …’ she started; her voice came out as a croak so she cleared her throat. ‘I …’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about them, Millie?’ Pav asked in a tightly controlled voice. For once it was him not affording her the eye contact, and she felt the ball of worry in her stomach rise up to her throat.

  How could she explain to him, with his loving, warm, messy but beautiful family, how her parents treated her? In truth she was ashamed of the non-relationship she had with the two people who were supposed to love her more than anyone else in the world. Anwar told her it was their fault that they were unable to give her unconditional love; that it was their shortcoming. But still, after all this time and even knowing it wasn’t rational, Millie still had the underlying worry that she just wasn’t good enough. How could she explain to this man, brimming with self-confidence and self-belief, that she’d been scared of him knowing the truth about her parents, scared that he might start to wonder what he saw that was so special in her; that he would start to see what her parents saw… somebody hopelessly weak.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, looking away from his angry expression and out of the window instead.

  ‘Hey,’ his voice was softer now, ‘I know you’re stressed, but don’t do that, okay?’

  His body shifted closer to hers across the back seat and his warm hands settled on her cold ones, separating them, then pushing her sleeve up to see the red mark she had left. He brought her wrist up to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.

  ‘And don’t say sorry. You don’t have to apologise. I just … ’, he caught her chin and brought her face closer so that his eyes were burning down into hers, ‘I just want you to trust me. Can you give me that?’

  ‘I …’ Millie took a deep breath. If this thing with Pav was ever going to work she had to push past her limits, she had to let him in. ‘I was ashamed. They …’ She looked up at him, meeting his dark, concerned eyes still burning with anger, anger she knew he felt on her behalf, anger for her … because he cared about her, because she was worth caring about. She sucked in a steadying breath and let it out. ‘They hate me.’ She felt his hands tighten in hers and saw that muscle tick in his cheek. ‘Well, maybe hate’s too strong a word, too strong an emotion for what they feel for me. I think irritate is better. I irritate them. I was always a quiet child: shy, not interested or even able to impress their friends. They thought that with my intelligence I should be more … competent. But they were … disappointed.’

  ‘They made your childhood a misery.’ Pav stated the truth.

  ‘In some ways, yes. But … they didn’t abuse me. Not really. They never hurt me. Mother gripping my elbow is about as physical as they ever let it get with me. I –’

  ‘There are other ways to hurt a child.’ Michael’s angry voice cut Millie off and she turned surprised eyes to catch his in the rear-view mirror. ‘Ways that hurt more than a few bruises. The way they spoke to you, Miss Morrison, for years. It was … shameful. They’re not human.’

  ‘Please, Michael, please call me Millie,’ she told him – something she’d wanted to say for decades. She saw his eyes crinkle in a smile and he gave a short nod.

  ‘All right, Miss Millie.’ Millie didn’t bother to try to get him to drop the Miss, she would be fighting a losing battle. ‘All I’m saying is that nobody should have to take those sort of relentless ugly words. I wish …’ He blinked a couple of times and then cleared his throat. When he spoke again his voice was quieter and a little hoarse. ‘I wish I had been able to do more, Miss Millie. I should have said something or –’

  ‘You would have lost your job if you’d said anything to either of them. We both know that. And then I wouldn’t have had you at all.’ Michael’s encouraging smiles, his kind eyes in the rear-view mirror, the funny faces he pulled behind her parents’ back: over the years they had meant more to her than he probably realised.

  ‘Yes, well,’ Michael said, his voice gruff with emotion as he pulled up in front of Millie’s house to park, ‘it’s not right is all I’m saying. You’ll not convince me otherwise.’

  He exited the car before Millie could answer and came around to her side to open her door. As she came out she was surprised to be swept up in a brief but fierce hug. After a moment her arms came up to squeeze him back. When he finally let her go, he held her away from him with his hands on her shoulders and searched her face. Pav had left the car via the other passenger door and came to stand beside them. Michael was staring at her and his eyes looked suspiciously wet.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she whispered, and managed a small smile. ‘Well, at least, I’m going to be okay. I think.’

  Michael’s eyes flicked over to Pav who was hovering in wait to claim Millie. When he looked back at her, his eyes crinkled in another smile. ‘I know you will,’ he said, before giving her brief kiss on her cheek and stepping back. He gave Pav a subtle chin-lift, which Pav returned, and something passed between the two men that Millie didn’t quite understand; then he shook Pav’s hand and turned back to the car.

  Chapter 29

  Endorphins

  Pav gave Millie’s hand a squeeze as they stepped into the marquee. As he was brother of the bride he’d been one of the ushers in the church, and been too busy to make sure Millie wasn’t freaking out. He’d only had time to briefly introduce her to Costas, his future brother-in-law, before she took her seat.

  Outwardly she seemed to be coping well. In fact outwardly Millie was nothing short of absolutely stunning. El had excelled herself. Millie’s dress was cream flowers on a white background, with a wide bright blue belt and matching shoes with impossibly high thin heels. She had some sort of small hat balanced on the side of her head as if by magic, and her mass of golden brown hair secured in an elaborate arrangement on the other side. If you didn’t know her you would assume she was a beautiful, confident woman. It was only Pav who could see the tension around her mouth and the pallor beneath her make-up.

  Luckily Jamie, Libby and Rosie had been invited to the wedding as well. This was partly because Jamie was Pav’s best friend and partly because Greek weddings tended to be huge. So Millie had been able to sit next to Libby, with Rosie promptly cl
imbing onto her lap, which took up much of her attention as the crowds filtered into the large space.

  ‘Jesus Christ, you’ve done all right for yourself, mate,’ Costas muttered to Pav after he’d met Millie, only to flinch as he was smacked around the head by his mother, who was lurking behind him.

  ‘You’re standing on consecrated ground, Costas,’ she hissed. ‘You cannot take the Lord’s name in vain in his house.’

  Pav stepped back to allow Costas’s mama better access to abuse her son, and caught Millie staring at the interaction, her head tilted to the side as she studied them. Costas fended off his mother, then pulled her in to kiss her cheek and give her a bear hug, diffusing her anger successfully although not before he got another swipe around the head for ‘squashing her hair’ (in Pav’s opinion Mrs Anastas’s hair could have done with a little squashing; just like his own mother, it was hair sprayed out to maximum proportions).

  He watched as Millie looked down at her hands, which were gripping her blue clutch bag as if her life depended on it. It made sense to him now: her confusion and anxiety around his loud, casually affectionate family and friends. After meeting her parents he knew that all this was totally removed from any type of family dynamic she had been exposed to before. It had been two weeks since that night and he still had to repress a shudder when he thought of how inhuman her parents had been. For a naturally shy, sensitive girl like Millie, her childhood must have been unbearable.

  For the rest of the service Pav had been at the front of the church, only able to claim Millie again after the endless family photos outside. He’d tried to talk to Mama before today and make her see that Millie wasn’t the cold, stuck-up woman she came across as. But his mama was stubborn and Pav hadn’t felt he could break Millie’s confidence about her family, which he knew for some reason was a great source of shame for her. Talia Martakis’s stubbornness, combined with Millie’s natural reserve, had meant another uncomfortable, standoffish meeting before they left for the reception, and Pav was beginning to think it might have been a mistake to bring Millie at all.

  *****

  ‘Millie!’ An over-excited cloud of white came flying towards them and, to Millie’s obvious shock, swept her up in a hug, swinging her from side to side. ‘You came.’

  Pav wasn’t sure what had happened with Millie and his sister at the engagement party but Allegra had been Millie’s biggest advocate within the family since – not that it had seemed to make much difference to his mama.

  ‘Er …’ Millie’s arms fluttered up to return the hug in a rather more hesitant fashion. When Allegra released her and drew back enough to look at Millie’s startled face, keeping her hands on her shoulders, Millie managed a weak smile.

  ‘You look fucking fantastic,’ Allegra cried, giving her a little shake.

  ‘Er …’

  ‘Allegroula mou,’ Mama hissed as she elbowed her way past Pav to glare at her youngest daughter. ‘Your yiayia is sitting right there.’ Pav watched confusion cross Millie’s face and he jerked his head towards Yiayia, who was wearing all black (as she had for the last forty years since Pappou passed) and sipping her whisky with a scowl on her face.

  ‘Yiayia swears more than me, Mama, and she’s stone deaf.’

  Yiayia threw Allegra a dirty look and muttered some deeply unpleasant insults in Greek.

  Pav’s mother ignored them both and turned her attention to Millie, sweeping her gaze from head to toe of immaculate designer perfection, suppressing a lip curl and faking a smile. ‘So glad you could make it, Camilla,’ she lied.

  Pav watched Millie swallow before she forced her own smile. ‘Th-thank you for inviting me.’

  Her voice was tight and expressionless but there were two things Pav knew that his mother noticed: the first was Millie’s slight stammer, and the second was how her hand trembled as she extended it out to the older woman. Pav knew this because he saw his mother’s expression soften as she took Millie’s hand.

  ‘We Greeks,’ Talia said, her tone now much more gentle than before, ‘we don’t shake hands.’ Mama used Millie’s hand to pull her towards her before letting it go and resting both of her hands on Millie’s shoulders. ‘We do like this.’ She kissed one of Millie’s cheeks and then the other. ‘Understand?’

  Millie’s eyes were wide but she didn’t flinch away. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, her voice heavy with relief and her lips forming a genuine, if tremulous, smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Millie!’ a five-year-old ball of fury pushed her way into the group and in between Mama and Millie.

  ‘Rosie …’ Libby’s warning voice came from behind Pav as she reached for her daughter. ‘You are being a right –’

  ‘Everyone’s going to eat all the chocolate, and there’ll be none left for me ’cause you and Jamie-Daddy are so mean! I wanna stay with my Millie.’

  Rosie climbed up Millie like a little spider monkey, her chocolatey hands smearing all over the designer dress. When she reached her goal she shoved her face in Millie’s neck and burst into noisy tears.

  ‘Oh God, Mils, I’m so sorry,’ Libby muttered in horror as she surveyed her daughter’s handiwork. ‘Your dress! Your beautiful dress. I –’

  ‘It’s just a dress, Libby,’ Millie told her, as always loving the warm weight of the little girl clinging to her. Before she’d met Rosie, Millie had never been hugged by a child in her life – had never really been on the receiving end of much physical affection at all. There was no way she would ever take it for granted and no way she would let a dress get in the way of it.

  Libby groaned. ‘But you spent days with El picking it out and planning the whole outfit because you were so worried about making a good impress …’ Libby trailed off as she realised what she was saying and who was in hearing distance. ‘Sorry, hun,’ she whispered.

  Pav watched as heat hit Millie’s cheeks and his mama’s face softened even more. Rosie’s sobs had quietened down to a low whimpering now, but she was showing no signs of emerging from Millie’s neck.

  ‘What happened, Little Louse?’ Millie asked as she stroked Rosie back.

  ‘I’m afraid there was a five-year-old short circuit when she saw the chocolate fountain. We found her face-first, upside-down, trying to ingest the entire thing.’

  ‘Everyone does it that way,’ Rosie’s muffled voice said from the depths of Millie’s neck. ‘Tell them, Millie.’

  ‘I think,’ Millie said carefully, ‘your mother would just prefer you eat some protein and complex carbohydrates before you consume refined sugar.’

  ‘Don’t wanna eat commix barba–hybate! Want chocwate!’

  ‘A bit of chocolate’s fine, Rosie. But long-term consumption of refined sugar can lead to changes in your hippocampus.’

  Rosie stopped crying and leaned back to look in Millie’s face with a frown on her little face. ‘My hippo–bampus?’

  ‘Your brain. It could stop you reaching your full IQ potential.’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Stop you being super-smart.’

  ‘Bu-but I am super-smart! You tell me that all the time.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ Millie said, her voice conveying that any other possibility was entirely ridiculous.

  ‘I do my numbers with Millie,’ Rosie told the group around them. ‘And we learns bout baccy–eara.’

  ‘Bacteria,’ Millie corrected. ‘And that’s all great. But if you want to fulfil your maximal cognitive potential, then you need to eat what Mummy says.’

  Rosie tilted her head to the side. ‘I do wanna ill my co-go-live-ential.’

  ‘Of course you do because you’re –’

  ‘Super-smart!’ Rosie threw both hands into the air and then launched forward to kiss her before she wriggled down to the floor. ‘I’m ready for my lunch now, Mummy,’ she told Libby, holding out her hand imperiously for her mother to take.

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Libby muttered, rolling her eyes and mouthing a thank you to Millie.

  Rosie might be a cute kid, but
once she was in full tantrum mode it was very difficult to bring her back from the brink. Pav had been out with Libby, Jamie and Rosie a few times when they’d had to leave after it had become clear that Rosie was not going to calm down. So he knew how much having Millie diffuse the situation would mean to them.

  ‘I’m definitely signing you up for babysitting,’ Allegra said, rubbing her small bump under the white dress and smiling at Millie.

  Millie’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘I … I would be honoured,’ she said, her voice slightly hoarse until she cleared her throat. ‘I hold a paediatric advanced life-support certificate.’

  ‘Uh … okay?’ Allegra replied with a bemused smile.

  ‘And I have a qualification in dietetics for children and … and a CRB check.’

  ‘Sweetie,’ Allegra said gently. ‘I was sold after just seeing you with Miss Chocolate Fountain, okay?’

  ‘Allegroula mou, go find your husband,’ Mama cut in. ‘Milloula mou –’ she moved to Millie, patted her cheek and linked their arms together ‘– ever drunk ouzo?’ Millie shook her head, her startled eyes coming to Pav’s amused ones before she was dragged forward to the bar. ‘Well, you’re in for a treat.’

  *****

  ‘Grappa!’ Talia Martakis shouted for what seemed like the hundreth time that night with everyone around returning the call and downing their shots of ouzo. Millie loved ouzo. She loved Greek food. She loved Greek weddings, and she loved Pav’s family.

  Millie had done her research. She’d known the wedding ceremony would be long, she knew that plate-smashing was largely out of fashion, and she knew about the kalamatianos dance that was traditional at weddings like these. She did not however in her wildest dreams think she would ever be participating in that dance. But here she was, drinking her fifth ouzo, red in the face and out of breath from spinning around the bride in a circle of her family. And, yes, Millie had danced the kalamatianos in the innermost circle of those closest to the bride. In fact she had been holding hands with the bride’s mother and father.