Millie's Game Plan (16 page)

He was.

Despite our chat with PC Ryan, we were still obliged to give formal statements. Was I never to have Lex to myself? As a special dispensation, I was allowed to have breakfast up at the house before making my journey to the police station.

Vonnie was jagged with anxiety over the whole affair.
‘Right on our doorstep. Under our noses. Violating our church.’

‘Come on, Mother. No need to sound so pious. The truth is, darling Millie suffered most.’

I resisted saying Josh had suffered more.

‘Of course.
It must have been torment.’ She drew deeply on her cigarette. ‘But, I mean, it was practically at the bottom of our garden, while we were all enjoying the fete. The sheer nerve of it.’

‘Opportunists, clearly,’ Lex said, mopping up egg yolk with a corner of toast.

I took a small bite from my bacon sandwich. Arabella was beside me. I could feel her sympathy pressing on my silence.

‘Security in churches today is totally ineffective,’ Lex continued. ‘Where else would you find thousands of pounds worth of silver on show without alarms and plate glass? I’m amazed it hasn’t happened before.’

‘People are so unnecessarily brutal,’ added Vonnie.

‘Oh,
Warwick’s alright. It could have been worse.’

My stomach churned as a vision of a more savage, Tarantino-esque attack began to take shape. My throat tightened. I could feel the first tremble of another anxiety attack shiver up my back.

‘Are you okay?’ Arabella whispered.

I nodded as a second shiver vibrated through me. ‘Gosh, I’m thirsty.’ There was a glass of apple juice in front of me but I still headed over to the sink for some water. I grabbed a mug from the draining board, filled it and glugged it down – determined to shift the blockage in my throat. As I lowered the mug and turned back to the table, all eyes were on me and nobody was talking. I fixed a bright smile on my face. ‘That’s better. Can’t beat pure water when you’re thirsty, can you?’

Vonnie smiled back at me. ‘Personally, I find tap water ghastly, with all those chemicals – but I know what you mean.’

I glanced at my watch. ‘With any luck, my trip to the police station will be over in time for a late lunch.’ I looked at Lex. ‘Shall we find a country pub somewhere?’

‘Sorry, Millie.’ He stood up and walked over to me. ‘I have to meet Jacques, the chap from Beaune.’

‘How uncivilised, doing business on a Sunday,’ Vonnie moaned.

Lex’s jaw clenched. ‘That’s the way it is, mother.’ He smiled at me and said quietly, ‘Sorry Mills. I have to be back in London by three.’

There was a tingle of tears fizzing at the back of my nose so I shrugged and turned away. ‘S’okay,’ I said, feeling my chin crumple.

I wanted to lean into him, feel his warmth and be held tight against his chest. He reached a hand out and stroked my shoulder. ‘You just have to tell your story to the police and put it all to bed. I’ll call you later.’

With horrifying finality, he gave my shoulder a tennis coach squeeze and walked out.

Numb, I sat back down at the table and surveyed my half-eaten sandwich, while Arabella chattered about her exams. I guess it seemed like a safe topic.

Sacha was asleep on the sofa when I got home. She was still in her dressing gown and there were empty plates on the coffee table and a nearly-consumed packet of chocolate malted milk biscuits – my biscuits. I reached for the last three and shoved half of the first one into my mouth, collapsing into the armchair and closing my eyes to enjoy the cooling taste of chocolate on my palate. I listened to Sacha’s rhythmic snores, trying to calm my breath to the same beat – and failing.

I’d just spent three hours at the police station. Josh had already gone in before me to give his statement so I’d sat in the corridor reading – or rather, not reading – the Basingstoke Gazette. When Josh had come out, he’d hugged me straightaway. It seemed that having shared something so extraordinary, we were on a page alone. It was the hug I’d needed from Lex but didn’t get, and that made me well up all over again so he’d hugged me tighter. ‘Hey, you’re probably very tired – I know I am. Why don’t you ask if you can give your statement tomorrow?’

‘I’m fine. I want to do it today.
While it’s fresh in my mind.’

After stepping back to look up at him, I saw the scar above his eye. The scab was dark and there was the faint discolouration of a bruise beginning to show. I swatted away the desire to stretch up and kiss it better. ‘How’s your head; did you get it checked out?’

‘It’s a bit sore, thanks, but the hospital say I should be okay.’ His hand moved upwards but avoided touching the scar and instead, ran through his hair. ‘Do you want me to hang around? Maybe grab a coffee, after?’

I shook my head, perhaps a little too quickly. ‘I just want to go to bed. To sleep,’ I added.

He smiled kindly at me and said, ‘Good idea. Hope you sleep well,’ and I had the preposterous urge to throw my arms round his neck so he’d hug me again. Instead, I stepped away and raised my hand in a brief wave.

Now, I sat in the comparative normality of home, munching biscuits and watching Sacha, who groaned and opened an eye a fraction. ‘Hey,’ she murmured, rolling onto her side.

‘Had a good day?’ I asked.

She stretched.
‘And an even better night.’

‘How come?’

She smiled the self-satisfied smile of the sexually satiated. ‘You first. Give me all the goss on Copulating at Clavering.’

I let out a snort and fed another biscuit into my mouth.

‘Oh dear,’ she sat up. ‘That sounds ominous. Was he rubbish?’ I took a deep breath, which I guess must have transmitted my disappointment, because she stretched her hand towards me. ‘Millie, what happened?’ and then, ‘Jeez! What have you done to your face?’

I barely had the energy to tell her. ‘Don’t worry. It wasn’t Lex.’ As soon as I said, ‘I was attacked,’ she moved across to the armchair and cuddled up to me, her dressing gown gaping to show a fresh love-bite on her inner thigh.

‘Oh Millie. No.’

And, because she was so caring and because I needed to, it all flooded out; my terror, my disappointment, my confusion.
It started logically, with a blow-by-blow account of the attack but as emotion took over, the whole story became garbled and shot through with pseudo-psychological analysis. ‘Listen to me. I’m a complete basket case. No wonder Lex ran a mile.’

‘You’re not. And he didn’t,’ soothed Sacha. ‘You’ve been through an ordeal. You’re upset. He had a meeting this afternoon. You were only scheduled for rampant sex last night, weren’t you? He fancies the arse off you – you’re gorgeous.’

‘I’m not.’

Sacha held me at arms length. ‘Okay, you’re not at your best right now but come on…other
girls diet for years to be as slim as you; your hair’s fantastic and you have the kind of lips that drive men wild.’

I shrugged. ‘What a complete fuck-up.’

‘Aw, c’mon. It’s just a set-back. If anything, you’re stoking the fires of his lust. Next time you see him, make sure you drink a gallon of that isotonic sports drink before you go out.’

‘If there’s a next time.’

‘Course there will be. And if not, you can always have another crack at the sexy reverend.’

I shook my head, even though something stirred inside me as I recalled being snuggled up to him in the crypt. Maybe Lex had tapped into some visceral stream of lust that had lain dormant for the last twenty-nine years, and had turned me into a raving nymphomaniac.

‘Not that you’ll even need to.’ Sacha crashed my thoughts.

I retrieved the image of her damson-coloured love-bite from my mental filing system. ‘So who was nibbling your thighs last night?’

‘Guess.’

‘I dunno, Mediterranean Man?’

‘Mm-hmm.’
She responded, smudged eyes flashing and breasts jiggling.

‘Go girl,’ I said, lethargically. ‘What happened?’

‘Well, you remember the pub where we saw him after you nearly mashed the car?’

I nodded.

‘Pippa and I went there last night. And…’

‘He walks in.’

‘Not only that, but the minute he sees me, he’s straight over and offering to buy us a drink.’

Which proves my point.
Sacha has NO trouble attracting men.

‘Millie, he is one delicious hunk of male totty.’

‘Nice to know someone was having rumpy-pumpy last night.’

‘I had enough for the both of us, believe me.’

I did. ‘Well, thanks for doing my share.’

She grinned and I managed a smile back. ‘So,’ she ventured, ‘when do you plan on seeing Lex again?’

I shrugged and rolled my eyes, which she interpreted accurately.

‘Don’t leave it up to him. This is your project; you take control.’

I felt I had about as much control as a squid on a skateboard.

‘Here.’ She handed me the phone. ‘When are you free to see him and what could you do?’

‘I’ve got to see him to present our marketing proposal.’

‘That’s work. Invite him for dinner, here. I’m out on Friday.’

I sighed.

‘Millie – don’t quit on this now.’

‘I’m not quitting. It’s our technical rehearsal on Friday.’

‘That’s why your love life’s so crap. You never have any time.’

She had a point. ‘I need chocolate,’ I said, hauling myself out of the chair.

‘There’s some Choco-pops.’

‘None of the hard stuff?’

Sacha shook her head. I filled a bowl with cereal, only to discover a gnat’s bladder of milk in the fridge. Neither of us had been food shopping for days. I took the bowl over to the sofa and Sacha had first dibs. ‘While I think of it,’ she began, ‘where’s your laptop?’

I munched and swallowed. ‘At work. Why?’

‘Marcus wanted to show me some video of him on YouTube.’

‘Doing what?’

She giggled.
‘A tractor tug-of-war.’

I may have raised my eyebrows but probably not a smile. ‘Sorry, I thought my weekend would be too exciting to think about work.’

‘It was kind of exciting.’

Well, I certainly hadn’t thought about work.

‘Hold out your hand,’ I said, tipping a handful of Choco-pops into it. ‘I’m going for a lie down.’

Curled up on my bed, still munching cereal, I thought about Mum. I couldn’t avoid telling her, especially since the story was destined for the front page of our local paper. I really hoped she didn’t draw some religious conclusion from her Lord’s decision to have me locked up in church with one of His holy workforce. I could do without her signing me up for the Postulancy Programme at Our Sister of Mercy. It so wasn’t on my career path.

I was woken, hours later, by an ice-cream van chiming
Whistle While You Work
outside my window. My mouth was dry and still sweet from the Choco-pops. The flat was quiet and Sacha had left a note on my bedside cabinet: ‘Gone to Pippa’s.’

I put on some fresh clothes and dragged my hair across the bruise. I still had to go over and tell Mum, and the last thing I wanted was to give her a heart attack the moment she saw me. I drove slowly through the quiet Sunday-afternoon streets, preparing my explanation in the simplest terms possible.

She was in the back garden, kneeling on a thick plastic cushion and weeding one of the borders so her focus was on the damp soil. She was in good spirits and brushed off my initial enquiry as to whether or not she’d sorted out her MOT with an It’s-all-taken-care-of wave of her hand.

‘And the washing machine?’
I asked, fiddling with my hair and keeping my face turned slightly.

‘Douglas Farmer at church knows a washing machine engineer. Isn’t that a blessing? He’s coming round next week.’

‘Well, that’s a happy coincidence isn’t it, Mungo?’ I said, bending over the dog who had parked himself on a solitary garden chair the moment I arrived, as if to say ‘this is mine!’ ‘Will you be nice to him, Mungo, hmm? No terrorising the poor man so he ups his callout fee, hmm?’ I rubbed the dog’s ears until he turned on his back, inviting me to further intimacies. Typical male.

‘It’s lovely to see you, cariñ
a, but is there something the matter?’

‘Oh, you know, just a Sunday afternoon…I wasn’t doing anything else. Was I, Mungo?’

‘I hope you’re not still worried about my financial situation. I told you I would be okay and you see, I am.’

‘Of course, I’m a little bit worried but that’s not why I’m here.’

‘I knew it must be something…or you wouldn’t be paying so much attention to Mungo and avoiding looking at me.’

I glanced up as she sat back on her heels, placed her fork on the ground and plaited her fingers. She raised her eyebrows in the certain knowledge I had beans to spill. Once she’d settled her eyes on me, I began delivering my story, with a broad smile plastered on my face. I kept up a rhythmic stroking of Mungo, all the while watching Mum’s reaction. Her eyebrows were at their most expressive and her customary thumb twiddling changed tempo a couple of times but she didn’t say anything until I came to a natural break.

Finally, she crossed herself and said, ‘Praise God you were not hurt.’ Then she struggled to stand, reaching her hand out to me. ‘Promise me, you are okay?’

I helped her up. ‘Well, they did bruise my face, here…’ I tugged back the curtain of hair.

‘For the love of God. Look at you!’ she gasped, peering at my exposed cheek.

‘I’m fine.
Just tired. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet. But honestly, it could have been much worse. Imagine if I’d been on my own.’

‘Camilla, they might have killed you. Oh, what if they had?’ Her eyes watered so I squeezed her hand.

‘But they didn’t. It was just a robbery. Look – I’m absolutely fine. All parts in full working order.’

‘Thank the Lord.’ She sniffed. ‘Do they know who did it? Will they catch them?’

I shrugged. ‘That’s the million dollar question.’

‘Come,’ she said, squeezing my hand and leading me into the house, ‘let me make you a cup of tea. No. Brandy.
Brandy and hot lemon.’

I smiled. ‘Mum, I don’t have a cold.’

‘I know but we’ve both had a shock. Brandy is good for shock.’

These days, the only booze in her house was a litre bottle of Veterano, which she kept in the kitchen. It was strictly for cooking and emergencies.

We sat on the sofa, each nursing a slug of brandy in a tumbler, topped up with hot water, honey and lemon slices; even though I’d much rather have had it neat over ice.

‘You’re staying here tonight, I suppose?’

‘No.’

She eyed my brandy.

‘This won’t put me over the limit.’

‘But are you sure you want to stay in your flat?’

‘Of course. Honestly, Mum, I’ll be fine. They don’t know where I live.’ Thank goodness I hadn’t got around to putting contact details on my camera case.

Mungo sat on the floor, eyeing us both like he had centre court seats at
Wimbledon.

‘Hmmm.’
She sipped her brandy. ‘And this Joshua…he sounds like a good man.’

‘Oh, yes. He was very supportive.’

‘And nobody came looking for you?’

‘No.’

‘He didn’t have a wife who might have missed him?’

It wasn’t a massive leap of perception to catch Mum’s drift. ‘No. He’s not married.’

She nodded slowly and her face relaxed into a benign smile as she tutted.

‘What?’

‘Cariña, you know, I pray every night you will find a good man…’

‘Oh, Mum.’ I stood up and then sat down again before Mungo could move onto the warm spot. ‘You don’t honestly think God set this all up in answer to your daily plea for my salvation, do you?’

She shrugged. ‘Well…’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’

‘Camilla!’ Her bark was almost as harsh as Mungo’s. She pointed her finger at me. ‘The Lord hears your cursing, and he sees your life. Maybe He knows what’s best for you but you’re too stubborn to take His help.’

I stood again. ‘Unbelievable. Mother, you are unbelievable. Only you could turn this into a modern parable. I get bashed on the head, bundled into a tomb and miss out on a brilliant night at Clavering, followed by fantastic sex with the man of my dreams…’ yes – I added that to wind her up, ‘…and you manage to put a religious twist on it. Well, I don’t buy it. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ I said, echoing Josh’s words.