Millie's Game Plan

by Rosie Dean

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled at me and said something about the garden but I was lost in my thoughts about Lex and whether the wine could have been imported by Marshal & Crowe. Damn. I hadn’t even learned anything about wine; no trips to sunny vineyards in France…no complimentary case of mixed vintage...

  ‘Busy day?’ Josh asked, as he wound the cork off the corkscrew.

  ‘Sorry, yes. I was miles away.’

  ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’

  ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’

  He grinned. ‘Far as I know. Unless the A B of C has staged a coup.’

  ‘A B of C?’

  ‘Archbishop of Canterbury.’

  I’d forgotten about his day job. Standing there in his pale blue Oxford shirt, he could have been a colleague at work. Oh hell. That made me think about Graham and Simon Sodding Ostler.

  Josh handed me a glass of wine. I hovered my nose over it and sniffed. Should I slurp it over my tongue, suck air through it and choke or (my preference) neck it and hold my glass out for a refill?

  ‘You look like a connoisseur,’ he said.

  ‘Looks can be deceptive.’ I took a sip. It was actually nice – very nice; crisp, fragrant and beautifully chilled. In my current mood, I could easily sink two glasses before dinner. ‘Lovely. You chose well.’

  He asked me about my meeting, which I didn’t even want to think about, never mind talk about. ‘Oh, a typical client meeting; I showed them our designs…they didn’t like them.’

  ‘Sounds disappointing. What are you working on?’

  ‘Panty-liners.’

  I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.

  He nodded slowly. ‘So, Millie, how are you going to fill your evenings now?’

  ‘Erm…’ Did he already know about me and Lex?

  ‘Do you start rehearsing for another show?’

  ‘Ah…yes. We’ll be putting on a variety show in September.’

  Mum came in, bearing a vegetable tureen with a chip on the rim – also wedding-present vintage. ‘Now, sit yourself down, Josh. Millie – will you give me a hand?’

  She loitered to make sure I followed and once we were in the kitchen, pushed the door closed behind me and hissed, ‘What’s got into you, Millie? This may not be what you want but please respect my reasons for inviting him round, and take that look off your face.’ Her lips clamped in a fine line. ‘I mean it.’

  I certainly wasn’t about to tell her I’d just been dumped. ‘Sorry. I had a really crap client meeting.’

  ‘Well, you’re home now. Don’t let business intrude on your private life.’

  Oh, the irony.

  She handed me the gravy boat. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘And smile!’

  Mum might not do sophisticated haute-cuisine but she can knock out a scrumptious roast chicken with a Mediterranean twist. She’s good at drawing people out, too, something I’d always found intensely embarrassing as a child – thinking she was nosy and interfering. But by inviting people to talk about themselves, she put them at ease. And that’s what she did with Josh, drew him out; covering his sporting prowess, the jobs he did and his family background. And Josh was the same – would she ever return to Spain to live? ‘I couldn’t leave my lovely grandchildren.’ And had she nurtured the bedding plants from seed? ‘Oh yes. I can’t afford garden centre prices.’

  Too soon, he turned his attention to me. ‘Will you be coming to the Marshalhampton Summer Ball?’ he asked.

  By now, I was performing my daughterly duties with a smile. ‘No,’ I said brightly. There was a summer ball? ‘Will I be missing anything?’ I’d learned this technique on a sales training course. When you don’t want to get drawn on a subject or don’t know the answer, seize power by countering the question with one of your own.

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea. I’m told it’s the highlight of the year.’

  ‘Surely, your wine-chap will be taking you, won’t he?’ Mum chipped in.

  ‘Lex? I believe he’s going to France, that weekend. Coffee anyone?’ I stood up.

  ‘We’ve not had dessert, yet.’ Mum said, placing her hand on my wrist to stay me. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

  We had strawberries with ice-cream. I was onto my second mouthful, when she said, ‘I suppose you’ll be going to the ball, Josh?’

  ‘I will.’ He smiled at us both. ‘If you’d like to go, Dolores, I dare say I could find you a willing partner.’

  Mum raised her hand and laughed. ‘Dios mio! My dancing days are behind me, thanks to the arthritis. And I wouldn’t have a decent dress to go in, anyway.’

  ‘Talking of that, Mum, we must go shopping, sometime. You said you needed a new outfit.’

  ‘Did I? Probably. My wardrobe is very out of date. Although, I must say, Millie…that suit of yours is rather severe for this evening.’

  I looked down at my navy two-piece. I’d have taken the jacket off but all I had beneath was a lacy bra. ‘It’s my business suit. I came straight from the meeting.’

  ‘Well, it’s not very feminine, is it? You look so much prettier in jewel colours – what about that ruby coloured dress you wore the other day or that lovely blouse with the aqua print?’

  ‘Not corporate enough.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she placed her spoon in the empty bowl. ‘So, who will you be taking to the ball, Josh?’

  My buttocks tightened. Any minute now, she’d offer my services.

  ‘Not sure, at present.’

  I felt a curious twang in my chest. I didn’t like to think of missing out on the ball or, oddly, Josh going with someone else. When Mum offered coffee, I leapt up. ‘I’ll do it.’

  Josh stood and began stacking the dishes. I fully expected Mum to wade in and deter him from sullying his hands with domesticity but she just sat there, neatly folding her napkin.

  As I filled the kettle, Josh began clearing the sink for the washing up.

  ‘Don’t do that. I mean, we’ll do it when you’ve gone. Really, I’ll bring your coffee through.’

  But he began running water into the bowl. ‘I can get these done while you make coffee. Your mum deserves a rest.’ He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, exposing strong, tanned forearms dusted with sun-bleached hairs. ‘By the way, did you accept the police’s offer of counselling?’ he asked, totally wrong-footing me.

  ‘No.’ I hadn’t even considered it. After all, I was okay, wasn’t I?

  He looked at me then. His blue eyes fixing on me till I looked away. ‘But have you talked it over with somebody – a friend?’

  ‘Well, I told Sacha and my family about it.’

  ‘Good. I think it’s too easy to bury these things, or you end up with troubled sleep, and little anxieties can take over.’

  ‘Did you have counselling?’ I asked

  ‘I talked it over with one of my colleagues.’

  ‘Did it help?’

  He nodded. ‘It allowed me to explore what might have happened; how much worse it could have been, and be grateful for what actually did happen.’

  ‘Grateful?’

  ‘If you think of the worst outcome, then what we experienced doesn’t seem so bad.’

  ‘It’s thinking of the worst outcome that scares me.’

  He stopped washing cutlery and turned to look at me. ‘You’ve been scared?’

  Had I? I studied the small white buttons on the front of his shirt. Cutting through the whiff of roast chicken, was the familiar fragrance of freshly laundered shirt, shampoo and Josh. They say the sense of smell is the most evocative and, in that moment, I recalled the unique, somewhat magical mood of our night together. ‘Well…scared of what could have happened. But it didn’t. So, like you say, what really happened was…’ I looked him in the eye then, and realised what I wanted to say was far from bad; it had been uncomfortable – yes, but getting to know him had been…I swallowed. ‘Let’s say, it wasn’t too traumatic, at all,’ I finished.

  ‘Good. But if you ever want to talk, I’ll be happy to listen.’
r />   ‘Thanks.’

  Mum was in the armchair with Mungo on her lap, leaving the sofa free for Josh and me. I was grateful she didn’t wheel out my old photographs but, inevitably, she wanted to understand more about our night in the crypt. Josh fielded her questions with gentle efficiency. But her Latin emotions still got the better of her, so I moved across to hug her and joked, ‘Hey, you always said I should go to church more.’

  Big mistake.

  ‘Mass, Camilla. And confession. It’s because of a lifetime of saying prayers for your safety, that God spared you.’

  A lifetime of prayers hadn’t stopped me from getting whacked, nor had it kept Dad alive. I clenched my teeth.

  She blew her nose, sniffed and patted my cheek. ‘Mi niña querida. Mi hija tan preciosa.’ My darling girl, she was saying, my precious daughter.

  I smiled back at her and breathed steadily.

  After one final sniff, she turned to Josh. ‘Are you good friends with Lex?’

  I closed my eyes and silently cursed.

  ‘He’s more an acquaintance. I know his mother; she’s very involved with village life.’

  ‘Is it a good family? Do you think he’s worthy of my daughter?’

  ‘Mother!’ Calling her Mother, was like her calling me Camilla.

  She shrugged. ‘I am your mother, yes. And that’s why I have to look out for you.’

  She turned to Josh, waiting for his answer. He looked from her to me and back again. ‘I’m sure Millie can work that out for herself.’ And with the most charming of smiles, he slid forward. ‘Now, Dolores, I’m afraid I must go.’

  Mum stood up and hugged him. ‘Praise God you two survived your ordeal. And I thank Him every day that my Millie had the good fortune not to be locked in there all on her own.’

  ‘Me too,’ was all he said.

  ‘I’ll leave Millie to see you out,’ she said, lifting Mungo off her recently vacated cushion and sitting back down. ‘Her car is blocking yours in.’

  ‘Here, Mum,’ I held my hand out for the dog. ‘I’ll take Mungo for a quick walk.’

  I needed a breather.

  Chapter 27

  Outside, the air was warm and syrupy with the scent of honeysuckle. Over the fence, the sound of the neighbour’s TV was belting through an open window. Before I had chance to move my car, Josh asked if I’d mind him joining me. I had intended bending the dog’s ear about the calamitous state of my life. Mungo was a great listener. ‘Sure,’ I said, half-heartedly.

  We fell into step and turned into Poplar Crescent and continued in silence, Mungo sniffing and squirting as we went. Josh had his hands tucked into his chinos as he side-kicked a stone into the road. He’d elected to come on this walk, it was down to him to make conversation if he wanted to. He stopped and I walked on. Then, realising he wasn’t catching up, turned to look back. ‘What the…?’

  Josh was upside-down, walking on his hands along the verge. His shirt was riding down over his back, exposing a well-toned torso, which lifted my spirits – and my heart rate. I waited till he caught up with us. When Mungo stuck a wet snout in his face, Josh dropped back to his feet, brushed off his hands and smiled.

  ‘Should you be doing that on top of dinner?’

  ‘Probably not.’ He was standing quite close to me now and there was a distinct twinkle in his eye.

  ‘So, tell me…how come you’re not going to the Summer Ball?’

  That again. I turned away and began walking. ‘I told you, Lex is in France.’

  He moved into step beside me. ‘Would you consider going with me, then? You already know a few people in the village.’

  Something inside me skipped a little. I had no idea whether Lex would be in France or not, he could easily turn up with somebody else.

  On the other hand… I focussed on the pavement moving like a conveyor belt beneath my feet.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘That’s assuming Lex wouldn’t mind?’ he added.

  I drew a deep breath and let out a huge sigh. ‘Lex is history.’

  My announcement hung in the warm night air like a large, wobbly bubble, as I waited for Josh to respond. ‘So, you’ve finally worked him out, then?’

  I stopped to look at him. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Well…he has quite a reputation.’

  ‘He does?’ I was feeling like the last person to get the joke.

  ‘Well, I’m not one for gossip but he’s known around the village as Letch Marshal.’

  ‘Letch?’ And to think I’d imagined Lex could be the father of my children. I’d taken his enthusiasm as genuine, his ardour a sure sign Millie Carmichael was the woman of his dreams. Instead, he was a love rat. Maybe I’d sensed it all along. I smiled and shook my head. Imagine if I’d got in deeper and let my plans run away with me? Sacha’s words of wisdom echoed in my head. My smile turned into a grin and I started to chuckle.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I hadn’t sussed him at all.’ I was laughing now. ‘At least, not until this afternoon.’

  ‘Why, what happened?’ The prospect of relating my grapple with Lex was a confession too far. Josh sensed my hesitation. ‘Sorry, none of my business.’

  I shook my head and let out a snort of laughter. ‘Letch Marshall? And you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘Well, no. It wasn’t my place to.’

  ‘You had my undivided attention, all that night, and you said nothing? Shame on you, Josh Warwick.’

  ‘Listen, you were so disappointed at missing the concert, I was hardly going to say, “It could be worse – you could be the next scalp on Lex’s belt,” was I?’

  ‘You didn’t give me the slightest indication – not a nudge, not a hint. Nobody did.’ Although, Arabella had almost spelled it out when she’d reeled off that list of his past girlfriends.

  ‘In any case, you and Lex looked so – together – at Dominic’s dinner, how was I to know you weren’t the woman to tame him?’

  ‘Tame Lex? I can’t even get Mungo to walk to heel.’

  He laughed then and, for a moment, it felt like we were connected; like two best buddies sharing a joke. At the disturbing shift in mood, I began walking again.

  ‘He’s had a reputation for years,’ he added. ‘Serena was one of his early scalps.’

  ‘Really?’

  Josh tapped a stone with his foot. ‘He treated her like dirt and went off with her best friend.’

  ‘Poor girl. Still, she looks none the worse for it, now. I mean, she’s stunning. Who cares about Lex?’

  ‘Well, she did at the time.’

  Just like I had, earlier today. ‘It must have been hard for her at Dominic’s dinner, then.’

  ‘That’s why I went. For moral support. She knew Lex would be there.’

  ‘Why didn’t she stay away?’

  ‘She wanted to see everybody else.’

  ‘But why did Dominic sit her at our table?’

  ‘You’re assuming he knew how she felt about Lex.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ I stopped and put my hand out. ‘Serena would have been stranded at Clavering with Lex, and no moral support from you. How did she cope?’

  He smiled. ‘Absolutely fine. Dominic took her under his wing – rather enthusiastically, I think.’

  ‘Good for her. And one in the eye for Lex.’

  ‘Lex, apparently, had other diversions – some female music students from Oxford. He took a couple of bottles of champagne over, and that was the last anyone saw of him.’

  Cristal, I imagined. ‘So, I’d have been stood up, anyway?’

  ‘I doubt it. He’d have found his way back to you with some plausible explanation.’ He was looking quite intently at me, now. ‘He’d have been daft not to.’

  And I’d have been pretty thick not to spot the signals Josh was telegraphing my way. He might not have dropped any hints about Lex’s reputation, but he was certainly dropping one, now. But how, exactly, did that make me feel? ‘Um…
what date is the summer ball?’

  He smiled. ‘The same weekend Lex is in France.’

  That’d teach me. I’d have to phone Vonnie and find out. ‘Of course.’

  He stepped towards me and murmured close to my ear, ‘Saturday. Eight o’clock. Strictly formal dress.’

  I suppose I should have stepped back but I was liking it too much. ‘You knew he hadn’t invited me, didn’t you?’

  ‘I had a hunch.’

  ‘What do you know that I don’t?’

  ‘Vonnie let it slip she had no idea who he was going to turn up with.’

  ‘He’s going, then?’

  ‘Are you worried about bumping into him?’

  Was I? I remembered how jealous Lex had seemed over me spending the night in the crypt with Josh, which was pretty rich bearing in mind his own conduct. I smiled. ‘Actually, I’d quite enjoy seeing his reaction.’

  Josh levelled a look at me. ‘I hope you’re not planning on using me to score points.’

  ‘No. Absolutely not. I wouldn’t.’ My hand shot out to his arm. ‘I’m not like that...at least, I don’t mean to be.’ The feel of his broad, firm muscle beneath my fingers was disturbingly good. ‘No. I…I’d be really happy to go with you.’ Would I?

  His eyes were studying mine; a smile softening the corners with fine creases. ‘And I’m really happy to hear that.’

  I swear my insides started to melt – like a tub of ice-cream in the microwave – it was pooling, warm and syrupy, deep within me. I was one, huge, Millie-bocker-glory. All Josh needed to do was scoop me up.

  And he might have done if Mungo hadn’t lunged at a cat across the road, yanking me after him. I was straddling the white line by the time I regained control. The moment was well and truly lost.

  When we reached the end of Poplar Crescent, I could still hear the neighbour’s TV. I turned towards the house and pulled the car keys from my pocket. ‘How long will it take you to get back to London?’

  ‘I’m staying in Marshalhampton this week.’