MILLIE'S FLING (42 page)

Hester appeared at the top of the stairs clutching an empty Evian bottle.

‘I’ve just spilt water all over my bedroom carpet.’ Innocently raising her eyebrows, she said, ‘Okay if I borrow your Aquavac?’

Twenty-seven hours later, Richard went to the gents’, leaving Millie alone at their table. Actually, it wasn’t twenty-seven hours, it was only two, but it felt like twenty-seven.

He had brought her to Vincenzo's, a popular Italian harborside restaurant with candles flickering on every table, fishing nets slung authentically from the ceiling, and Just-One-Cornetto-type music oozing sensually from the rickety speakers above the bar. Nobody could accuse Vincenzo of failing to provide potential young lovers with lots and
lots
of atmosphere.

Poor old Vincenzo, thought Millie, it certainly wasn’t his fault their evening wasn’t going with a swing.

The problem was Richard, who had all the charisma of a party political broadcast. Her earlier fears that he might talk non-stop about his father hadn’t materialized. Instead, he’d gone on and on about something far worse.

Gardening.

With the occasional dollop of Salman Rushdie thrown in for light relief.

Feeling mean, but not mean enough to stop, Millie fantasized about the toilet door getting stuck shut, forcing Richard to spend the rest of the evening in the gents’. She was bored, bored, bored. Not to mention horribly sober.

Terrified of repeating his performance at Orla's party, Richard was sticking resolutely to mineral water. When he had asked Millie earlier if she’d like some wine, she had nodded eagerly, expecting him to order a bottle. Richard, in turn, had smiled his true-blue, crinkly-eyed smile at the waitress and announced with pride, ‘And a small glass of white wine for the lady.’

To be fair, he’d ordered her another, fifty-five minutes later. Forty-five minutes after she’d finished the first.

Feeling wicked—why,
why?
—Millie resolved to take advantage of his absence. Reaching for her empty glass, she attempted, valiantly, to gain the attention of a waiter.

He whisked past without noticing the pleading tilt of her eyebrows. Bugger, so much for subtlety. Nat had always told her it was the height of rudeness to click your fingers for attention, but it had worked for that fat bloke over by the window. Maybe if she stood on her chair, pointed, and bawled, ‘Oi, you!’ that might do the trick.

Millie's shoulders were in the process of slumping in defeat when a voice murmured in her ear, ‘If there's one thing I can’t stand, it's a damsel in distress.’

THE TABLES AT VINCENZO'S were squashed together—to make it more atmospheric, Millie presumed. Startled, she watched one of the men at the adjoining table whisk her glass from her hand and fill it to the brim with red wine. With a flourish, he presented it to her, his chair still tilted back on its hind legs, and added, ‘There you go, you look as if you need it.’

He was in his late twenties, Millie guessed, and he was laughing at her. But in a nice way. And he’d certainly done a kind thing, even if he did appear to think she was an alcoholic.

‘Thanks. But I’m not a damsel in distress.’

‘Ha, could have fooled us.’ The other one grinned at her.

‘Really, I’m not!’ Even as she was protesting her innocence, Millie couldn’t resist glugging back the wine.

‘My dear girl, you can’t fool us. We’ve been sitting here eavesdropping for the last forty minutes. And you are not having a happy time of it,’ the first one solemnly pronounced. ‘Furthermore, as doctors, we are in complete agreement. Our diagnosis is acute distress.’ He refilled her glass as he spoke. ‘Triggered by terminal boredom and talk of rhododendrons.’

‘And deciduous seedlings,’ monotoned his friend.

‘And rockeries and nasturtiums and the importance of mulching your grass cuttings.’

‘Although, to be fair, we did find the bit about cross-fertilization techniques
almost
interesting.’

‘Only because you thought he was leading the conversation around to sex,’ the other one chided. He shook his head at Millie in sorrowful fashion. ‘We’re right though, aren’t we? You’re in the middle of the date from hell and you need rescuing.’

Oh I do, I do!

‘He's a nice person,’ Millie feebly protested.

‘Treatment is simple. A good brisk walk. I’m Jed, by the way.’ He winked and nodded in the direction of the propped-open front door.

‘I can’t. His father just died.’

‘Probably from boredom, having to sit and listen to his son droning on and on about potting compost and adequate drainage and the importance of pruning—’

‘He's coming back,’ squeaked Millie as Richard reappeared, threading his way between the packed-together tables.

As he sat down, Richard said with enthusiasm, ‘Sorry I’ve been a while. There's a pot of pelargoniums on the window ledge in the gents’, about to expire! I’ve just been explaining to the owner of the restaurant that it needs regular watering and its tips pinched out if it's going to have any chance of flourishing back there.’

‘Really?’ Out of the comer of her eye Millie could see Jed's shoulders shaking. Cradling her glass so Richard couldn’t see the dregs of red in it, she said bravely, ‘I’d love another drink.’

Ten minutes later, Jed and his friend finished their meal and asked for the bill. When they’d paid, Jed stood up and announced, ‘Right, we’re off. Actually, I need the loo first. You go on ahead.’

As he moved away he glanced over his shoulder, catching Millie's eye for a fraction of a second. Waiting until he had disappeared through the swing doors, she reached for her bag and pushed back her own chair.

‘Excuse me for a moment.’

Jed was waiting for her in the narrow corridor leading to the loos.

‘I couldn’t go without checking on that pelargonium,’ he told Millie. ‘I’ve been worried sick about it.’

‘Me too,’ said Millie. ‘I just hope Vincenzo remembers to pinch those tips out.’

‘I knew I knew you from somewhere. Couldn’t figure it out before.’ Jed grinned at her. ‘You’re the gorillagram.’

‘Fame at last!’ Millie was delighted. ‘Where did you see me?’

‘At the hospital. You were great. And all the more reason to rescue you,’ he declared. ‘After all, gorillas are an endangered species.’

‘I can’t just climb out of the toilet window.’ Millie shook her head. ‘His—’

‘Dad's just died. I hadn’t forgotten.’ Drawing a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket, Jed dropped it into her unfastened bag. ‘I’m not completely insensitive, you know.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He flashed her a wicked grin.

‘Maybe you could tell him it's nature's way of pruning the tree of life.’

The next moment, like Superman, he was gone.

Except he wasn’t wearing his underpants over his trousers.

To pass the time, Millie went into the loo and redid her lipstick. The windows, she noticed, were too small to squeeze through anyway. Her bottom would have got stuck and she’d have been stranded there like a wolfhound wedged in a cat flap.

Her bag began to trill five minutes later, interrupting Richard's in-depth lecture on water features just as he was getting to a really exciting bit. Joke.

‘Sorry about this. Excuse me.’ Reaching for the phone, Millie pressed it tight to her ear. ‘Yes, hello?’

‘We’re outside.’

‘What do you mean, where am I? I’m having dinner with a friend,’ Millie replied indignantly.

‘In a dirty, D-reg Toyota with a dented front wing.’

‘But I’m not supposed to be working tonight! Oh God!’ Millie exclaimed, the look on her face changing to one of horror, ‘I completely forgot!’

‘Oh dear me, that’ll never do,’ Jed tut-tutted.

‘So you’ve told them I’m on my way? Okay, okay. I’m at Vincenzo's. Lucas, I’m
so
sorry about this… you’re where? Just around the corner? And you’ve got my costume in the car? That's fantastic, okay, see you outside in thirty seconds. And listen, I really
really
owe you one.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ said Jed cheerfully, before hanging up.

‘What's happened?’ said Richard. As if a five-year-old couldn’t have worked it out.

‘I can’t believe it.’ Millie banged the side of her head. ‘I’m supposed to be doing a wedding reception tonight, in Truro. I wrote down all the details and forgot to transfer them to my diary. The mother of the bride just rang Lucas to find out why I hadn’t turned up. God, I’m such an
idiot
. And Lucas is on his way here now to pick me up… look, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go.’ Shaking her head and reaching for her purse, Millie pulled out a twenty-pound note.

‘You don’t have to do that.’ Richard looked astonished.

I do, I do, because I’m running away from you!

‘Please. Let me.’ Hastily she squashed the money into his hand. ‘I’d rather pay my half, I’d feel terrible otherwise. Right, Lucas is probably here by now, I’d better shoot off! Bye!’

A piercing whistle from across the street rang out as Millie emerged from the restaurant.

‘This is like doing a bank job,’ Jed whooped as she ran over to the filthy silver Toyota. ‘I always wanted to be a getaway driver. Come on, jump in!’

Millie hesitated.

‘I’m not supposed to jump into cars with strange men.’

‘Oh that's good, coming from the girl who earns a living impersonating a gorilla. Anyway, we’re not strange, we’re surgical registrars.’ Jed flashed his hospital ID card as he spoke. ‘What's more, we’ve just rescued you from the gardener who's about as much fun as compost. And you’ve still got my phone,’ he reminded her. ‘Still, it's your call. We’re off to the Mandrake Club. If you want to come along, you’re more than welcome. But I have to warn you, in case you fancy me rotten, I never sleep with strange girls on the first night.’

Millie glanced back at the lit-up entrance to Vincenzo's. Then she checked her watch. Ten-fifteen. If she went home now, she’d have to sit in the armchair while Hester and Nat canoodled together on the sofa.

Hopping into the back seat of the car—and landing on a stethoscope—Millie said, ‘The Mandrake sounds good to me.’

The club was packed and there wasn’t an inch of space on the dance floor, but that didn’t stop Jed and Warren—his co-conspirator—dragging Millie into the fray. Their enthusiasm knew no bounds and they danced like boisterous Labradors, until thirst and exhaustion drove them in the direction of the bar. As soon as they’d downed their pints of lager, they piled back onto the dance floor to trample on yet more people's feet. Millie found herself being flung between the pair of them like a frisbee. It was fraught but it was fun. Jed and Warren weren’t out to impress anyone—just as well, really—they were simply enjoying themselves, making the most of their precious night off. Neither of them had allowed her to buy a
single round of drinks. And—best of all—nobody had so much as mentioned gardening.

This is more like it, Millie thought, panting as she was hurled from Warren to Jed and back again—this time less like a frisbee, more like a grenade. Getting out and having fun, this is what I need to stop me thinking about…

Well, other stuff.

Other people.

Other people who shall remain nameless and who, no doubt, hadn’t wasted a moment of their precious time thinking about
her
.

What was his name again? Gosh, wasn’t that strange, she couldn’t remember.

‘Knackered!’ bellowed Warren in her ear. ‘Tell Jed it's his round!’

Ker-plaaang! Millie spun across the dance floor and ricocheted off Jed's broad chest.

‘Warren says it's your round,’ she yelled above the music.

Jed lifted her up and spun her round like a top. When he lowered her to the ground Millie was forced to steady herself against his arms. Clutching her to his side, he grinned and steered her in the direction of the bar.

‘Ready for another pint? Down in one, mind. Last one to finish is a nancy.’

Millie's bladder was at bursting point. The glasses of wine earlier plus three pints of lager in the last hour were making their presence felt.

‘Just a half,’ she pleaded.

‘A half?’ Jed's eyebrows rose in dismay. ‘What are you, some kind of
girl
?’

‘And my name is Nancy.’ She gave his arm an apologetic squeeze. ‘What can I say? I’m a weak and feeble female, I can’t keep up.’

As the music died down for a moment, the phone in her bag began to ring again. Millie, who had forgotten she still had it, looked around to see where the noise was coming from.

Amused, Jed slid his arm casually around her waist and lifted it from her bag.

‘Yes? Hey, where are you lot? No, we’re at the Mandrake,’ he bawled above the resurgent thud of music. ‘Coming down? Great! See you in a bit.’ Switching off, he grinned at Millie. ‘The late shift have just come off duty. They’re on their way.’

‘Fine.’ Millie crossed her legs.

‘Look, can I ask you something? Um, it's pretty personal.’

‘Go ahead. Only be quick,’ Millie said romantically, ‘because I’m desperate for a wee.’

Jed hesitated. Already flushed and perspiring from their recent exertions on the dance floor, he now turned a deeper shade of crimson.