by Helly Acton
He shakes his head and leans on the table, closer to Millie.
‘You know, I’m sad for her that she had a hard time,’ he says, seriously. ‘But I think people should be free to be in a couple without fear of judgement or scorn. My parents aren’t selfish, they’re in love. It just happened naturally. Or unnaturally, as some people might view it. Sarah and I didn’t actively decide to go against the grain and be a couple.’
‘Of course, I mean, who would do that?’ Millie adds, starting to wonder if Ben still has feelings for Sarah. This isn’t the first time she’s come up in conversation.
‘Exactly. Sarah and I met working at a coffee shop. We clicked, spent time together, then spent more time together until we realised we preferred being together over being apart. It just felt right.’
Millie clenches her jaw at the description, which feels a little too close to home.
‘My mates even tried an intervention!’ He laughs. ‘But I think they just missed me. I don’t know, Millie. We’re all conditioned to think that being single is the right path. That we can’t possibly be happy if we aren’t living our lives alone, cooking for one, caring for no one’s needs but our own. We grow up, get a flat, get a job, have meaningless sex on tap, grow old. Everyone’s on the same path. It’s depressing, isn’t it? Where’s the colour in that?’
‘But where’s the colour in going home to the same person every night? Arguing about what to have for supper or whose turn it is to take the bins out sounds a bit bleak to me,’ Millie says, smiling.
‘Touché,’ Ben says, and grins. ‘Let’s just agree that everyone should do what the hell they like without judgement.’
‘So, are you going to see her again?’ Millie laughs nervously, hoping not.
‘I hope not! My mate Owen set us up – she’s his cousin. He must have known what her story is, the absolute prat. Anyway, her attitude stank, and it just kept me up all night thinking how horrible humans can be when they face the unfamiliar. What really does my head in is that I’m letting it affect me. I shouldn’t give a toss. I never normally do. I don’t care what people think of me.’
Millie could see that, from when they’d first met, Ben had always done the unexpected, from feeding ducks to chatting about puzzles in the pub. She can see the appeal, but it was completely opposite to how she lived her life.
‘I’ve spent my life defending my parents – not that I’d tell them that,’ Ben continued. ‘They’d be mortified if they knew how hard it’s been. Anyway, I shouldn’t moan. I was lucky. My childhood was really happy, and I have my parents to thank for that.’
‘I get it,’ Millie says. ‘We should all care less about how others live their lives and focus on what makes us feel fulfilled.’ Feeling in that moment that she should do the same.
Like many people, Millie has spent her life worrying about what people think of her. And now, with the pitch, she’s more worried than ever. Perhaps it’s time she took a lesson from the Book of Ben and cared less. What she can’t remove from her mind is that he knew he was going on a date. Does that mean he is looking to be a couple?
Millie feels Ben’s legs shift under the table and press against hers. She isn’t sure if he knows he’s doing it, but either way, she doesn’t want to move an inch. She closes her laptop, looks out of the window and catches his eyes in her reflection.
‘I wondered when you were going to stop pretending to work.’ He smiles at her, and nudges her knees with his.
Fifteen
‘Here we are,’ says Ben, as he parks the hire car outside a smart Victorian terrace in Whitchurch. It’s an expensive-looking street. ‘Someone’s doing alright for themselves, aren’t they? I’m starving. Would it be unprofessional to ask him for a spot of lunch? Bet you his fridge is full of fancy food like . . . lobster.’
‘Unprofessional and messy,’ Millie laughs.
A man with a moustache answers the door in a black polo neck, which is odd for August, cream chinos and pristine white slippers. He hides a strained smirk as he turns, gesturing for Millie and Ben to enter.
‘Hello, I’m Daniel,’ he says calmly. ‘Do you mind?’
In the hall, he points at Millie’s shoes and then towards a shelf of white slippers. Millie hesitates, wondering who’s worn them before her. Ben removes his shoes on the hessian rug by the front door, revealing mismatched socks.
The three of them glide across a hallway of sparkling white tiles, stopping at a cabinet filled with trophies. It reminds Millie of the one her mum has at home for her and June. Originally it was in the lounge, but Millie and June convinced Vivian to retire it to the box room. Talking about their achievements was tedious and boastful, and it made them feel mortified in front of visitors.
‘I adopted Deion when he was two years old. And he’s been winning awards since he was three,’ Daniel explains. ‘Across the board, too. Academic work, sports, music. He’s always been advanced. I suppose that’s what every parent says, but I guess I’ve got the proof!’
‘Congratulations,’ Millie comments.
‘Thank you. You know, I’ve invested so much in Deion,’ Daniel continues. ‘Time and money, emotion. I want to give him every opportunity to achieve his full potential. And, up until recently, he has. You name it, Deion has mastered it. Under-eighteens Welsh chess champion three years in a row, top of his mathematics class. He’s achieved grade eight in the violin, he’s fluent in four languages, captain of the first in rugby, and his poetry could melt a heart of stone.’
A look of disappointment washes over Daniel’s face.
‘Let’s move into the dining room, shall we?’ he says.
Millie stops at a wall of identically framed photographs of the family from over the years. Daniel and Deion are wearing matching black polo necks. She’s never seen a baby in a polo neck. How could he breathe? Deion’s expression matches his dad’s. Neither of them is smiling in any of the pictures.
‘Isn’t he flawless?’ Daniel whispers.
‘He certainly is,’ Millie says softly. ‘It looks like you’ve done a wonderful job.’
‘Well, I’ve tried my best. The best that money can buy, I suppose.’
‘Have you ever had anyone else in your lives?’ Ben asks directly.
Daniel instantly stiffens.
‘No, it’s always been just the two of us.’
Millie nudges Ben as they follow him into the dining room. They take seats on chairs as hard as concrete at a glass table so polished that the ceiling light is blinding in the reflection, and Millie is afraid to touch it.
‘I’m Ben,’ he says, reaching his hand out. ‘The strategist. It’s my job to ask difficult, sometimes uncomfortable questions.’
‘I’m a waver,’ Daniel says, looking at Ben’s hand, which retracts into a thumbs up.
‘Millie, creative.’ Millie waves.
‘So, where would you like to begin?’ Daniel asks, the strained smile appearing again.
‘Let’s start with why you’d be interested in a product like Oxytoxin?’ Millie asks.
Daniel lets out a sigh and looks up. ‘Sorry, I get very emotional about it.’
Millie and Ben glance at each other briefly. Daniel is showing as much emotion as the vase with a single white rose stem behind him.
‘As I was saying in the hallway,’ Daniel begins, ‘Deion has been a dream. Quiet, kind, respectful. I’ve put thousands into his education and extracurricular activities to ensure he makes the most of what he was born with. The best schools, holiday schools, teachers, tutors. Not that he needed it,’ adds Daniel, defensively. ‘I just didn’t want him to waste hours on TV shows or computer games. Although he is a very good coder. I sent him to a special camp to learn earlier this summer. I guess you could call code his fifth fluent language!’
‘Well, it certainly sounds like you got your money’s worth,’ Ben states. ‘He sounds like a dream child,’ he adds quickly, seeing Millie’s wide-eyed stare.
‘Up until a few months ago, he was,’ Danie
l sighs. ‘My investment was paying off. For me and him, obviously. I mean, you saw all the trophies. He is a remarkable child, and I’ve given him everything to ensure he excels in the one life he has.’
‘What happened a few months ago?’ Ben asks.
‘It all started one Saturday, just before term ended in July, when he didn’t get up for violin practice,’ Daniel says, a shadow forming over his face. ‘Deion gets up at five thirty every day – weekends included – for violin practice, and has done since he was five years old,’ he explains.
Ben clears his throat. ‘That seems awfully young.’
‘It’s the only way to compete in this day and age!’ Daniel raises his voice at Ben’s disapproval. ‘That’s why he’s won so many national awards. But that Saturday, last month, he didn’t come down. I went up, and he was still asleep. I tried to wake him, and he refused to get up. Just like that. He said he wasn’t going to practice, that he was tired. He even shouted at me, which isn’t like him at all. It was all very out of character.’
‘And what’s happened since?’ Millie asks gently.
‘He hasn’t played the violin. His marks at the end of term were down. And he wasn’t picked to play at the last game before the summer holidays. He’s basically throwing all the money I spent on his instrument, classes, extra classes, down the drain,’ Daniel states. ‘Honestly, sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to sue your own child!’
‘How do you conclude that Oxytoxin might be the solution?’ Ben asks. ‘What does that have to do with being what sounds like a typical rebellious teenager?’
‘Deion is not typical!’ Daniel exclaims, his face contorted. ‘He’s special! And he’s not rebellious, he’s unwell.’
Ben keeps his hard gaze.
‘Ben didn’t mean it like that,’ Millie says, trying to steer them away from a confrontation.
‘Actually, Millie, I did.’ Ben turns to her with a look she hasn’t seen before, or wants to see again. ‘I’m sure Deion is a very special and talented boy,’ Ben continues. ‘But it would be unusual for him not to go through some hormonal ups and downs at this age. Isn’t that all it is? I mean, teenagers are supposed to rebel a little. That’s what makes them human. It’s just hormones.’
‘Well, of course it is!’ Daniel exclaims. ‘I know it’s bleeding hormones, I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I want to get these hormones under control. That’s what Oxytoxin does, does it not?’
Ben sighs and leans back. ‘I suppose. But what has Deion’s behaviour got to do with romantic relationships? Those are the hormones it suppresses. Not idleness, if that’s the problem we have here.’
‘Well,’ Daniel says quietly, before clearing his throat and shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
‘A month ago I had a call from Deion’s extra maths teacher who he sees every Friday night during term time. He told me that Deion had missed three maths lessons in a row. So, I confiscated his phone and went through his messages. It turns out he’s been seeing a girl in the park after school. That’s where he was going every Friday night.’
‘Ah, Michaela,’ Ben comments.
‘I never liked the look of this Michaela!’ Daniel exclaims. ‘I’ve seen her stare at Deion at the school gates. Reeks of trouble.’
‘Can we speak with Deion?’ Millie asks.
‘Of course,’ Daniel says, before screaming a deafening ‘Deion!’ into the air.
Deion appears at the dining room door a few minutes later. Black polo neck, black chinos, white slippers.
‘You could have put a brush through your hair. We have company!’ Daniel says.
Deion rolls his eyes and U-turns out of the room.
‘Deion, mate,’ Ben calls after him. ‘Fancy a private chat, just us three?’
Daniel looks to Millie for an explanation.
‘He might open up a bit more,’ she says, guessing Ben’s tactic.
Deion hesitates and nods, looking utterly miserable as he walks slowly up the stairs.
Sitting down on crisp white bed sheets in a room that looks more like a hospital ward than a teenager’s bedroom, Deion releases a loud sigh and hunches his shoulders in defeat. ‘My dad is such a control freak. He’s the problem, not me. I’ve done everything he’s asked. I study hard, I get good marks, I go to rugby. It’s not my fault. I can’t help how I feel about Michaela. And I don’t want some pill to control how I feel about her either.’
Deion leans back against his pillows.
‘I like how she makes me feel, and who I am when I’m with her. Or when I see her face at the school gates. Or when a message from her appears on my screen. It’s exciting. I’m still getting good marks. They might not be the best marks in the class anymore, but I don’t care. Michaela makes me happy. Isn’t that the most important thing? Not that he gives a slide about that. All he cares about is that he gets his money’s worth. I’m not a bloody stocks and shares account, I’m a human being. And I’m almost sixteen years old. I’m just counting down the days until my birthday. Michaela and I are planning to run away. Maybe go to Europe. I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together. Fuck university. Fuck my dad, and fuck these black polo necks. Making me look like a muppet since I was in nappies.’
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, mate,’ Ben says, smiling. ‘You guys should check out Barcelona. That’s pretty cool. Too hot for polo necks, as well.’
Deion’s face softens. ‘Yeah, well, maybe we will. But we’re choosing where we go ourselves.’
‘Of course. You’re in charge, buddy.’
‘I don’t want to take a fucking crazy pill,’ he says, sounding nervous.
‘You’re sixteen, Deion. Your dad can’t actually force you to take anything, you know. But you can’t tell him I said that. Promise?’
Deion’s eyes soften. ‘Only if you don’t tell him I’m going to run away with Michaela.’
Ben holds out his hand and they shake. Millie watches, feeling torn. Deion is so close to finishing his school career on a high. To throw away twelve years of hard work and good marks for what is, realistically, a temporary crush, does seem like such a waste. He doesn’t have long to go; he should stick it out.
‘Tell you what, though,’ Ben says, and sits on the bed. ‘I wouldn’t leave at sixteen. You know, you won’t even be able to drink or anything. It’ll be dead boring. Why not finish school, get some money in your pocket and then go travelling? Start saving now and you could go further than Barcelona. That’s what I did. I banked the exams to give myself options, worked for a while and then we took off.’
‘Who did you go travelling with?’ Deion looks inspired.
‘My girlfriend,’ Ben answers. ‘We were totally, madly, stupidly in love with each other. We were until we were twenty-five. Then, in what felt like a heartbeat, everything came crashing down and suddenly we were totally, madly, stupidly, out of love with each other. But that’s OK. Heartbreak feels like it will last forever, but it passes.’
‘Do you regret it?’ asks Deion, mesmerised by this tale.
‘Not for one second,’ Ben replies firmly.
That night, as Millie lies between the stiff covers of her sparse hotel room bed staring up at the ceiling, she thinks of Ben on the other side of the wall. There’s only few inches between their heads. She reaches her hand up and lays it flat against the cool plaster. Suddenly, she feels three knocks underneath it. Smiling, she gives three knocks back.
Half an hour later, as Millie is flicking through the channels, there’s another three soft knocks. Only this time it’s not on the wall, it’s on her hotel room door.
Sixteen
Millie lifts the cover from the room service tray in the hotel passage and finds a whole cheesecake on a plate. She wheels it into her room before anyone sees and sits back down on her bed, staring at it. A note on the lid says ‘Happy Hump Day’. She puts the note to one side, takes a photo and sends it to Ben.
Millie:
Did you do this?
Ben:
Do you mind? I’m sleeping. And I’d never say anything as cheesy as Happy Hump Day.
Millie:
How did you know it said that?
Ben:
Well played.
Millie:
Do you have a fork?
Ben:
Fork yeah! Never without one.
Five minutes later, Millie and Ben are sitting cross-legged next to each other on her hotel bed, with the cheesecake in front of them and Single Me Out! highlights running in the background on mute. ‘For research purposes!’ Millie had joked earlier, when Ben had protested.
‘Is there a reason why all the interviews are in Wales?’ Millie teases him.
‘Well, firstly,’ Ben says, leaning back, ‘It’s God’s country. And secondly, I don’t have any connections in London, so I had to use the ones I had. They’re all back home.’
‘I guess it’s nice to see where you come from,’ Millie replies, wincing inside afterwards. She shouldn’t be so interested in his personal life.
‘And I’ve already seen where you come from, so it’s only fair.’ He smiles.
They both reach for the cheesecake at the same time. Ben knocks her spoon away with his and holds one arm in front of her so she can’t reach the plate. After some jostling, Millie giggles and gives up.
‘Belle! Please. I’m trying to be professional here, and you’re making it hard. Let’s talk about Deion. He’s hardly a candidate for a story about Oxytoxin, is he?’ Ben says, after swallowing a large mouthful and pushing the cheesecake in front of her.
‘He might be a candidate for a story on kids who kill their parents,’ Millie replies.
‘Poor guy,’ Ben mutters.
‘Although on paper, I suppose he’s a success,’ Millie continues. ‘I mean, all those trophies, awards, skills. It certainly puts my mum’s shrine to shame,’ she says. ‘He’s done well.’
‘He’s done well to not explode with a dad like that, pushing him to be perfect.’