by Helly Acton
‘Oh, fuck off, Sasha,’ Ben says. ‘You won the pitch, now give it a rest.’
‘I’m not going to sit here and let her accuse me of stealing when she has no proof!’ Sasha cries. A few people near them turn round and Millie shushes both of them quickly.
‘Let’s not do this here,’ Millie says, quickly regaining her composure. Now is not the time for her to react with her heart instead of her head.
‘No, let’s not,’ Ben says, standing up and offering her his hand.
‘What are you doing?’ Millie whispers to him, looking at the crowd near them, red-faced by his offer.
‘I think we should go,’ Ben says quietly.
‘I don’t,’ Millie says, staying seated with her hands firmly on her lap. ‘And can you please stop offering me your hand, people are staring.’
‘I didn’t think you’d be such a sore loser, Millie,’ Sasha says. ‘Thanks a lot for ruining my big night.’ She stands up, pings on her bald cap and disappears into the dance floor crowd.
Ben rubs his face before sitting back down. ‘Why the hell do you want to stay here? Let’s just leave! It’s not like we want to hang around with anyone else, is it?’
‘No, Ben!’ Millie hisses back. ‘What do you think that’ll look like to everyone else? That’s how rumours start. It was bad enough Skye catching us in the loos, and now this.’
‘Who gives a shit, Belle! Let them think what they like!’ Ben cries.
‘I give a shit what they think, Ben! And please don’t call me Belle in front of people,’ she says, lowering her voice. ‘Look, I can handle this myself. I don’t want anyone thinking I need some kind of saviour.’
‘I’m not trying to be your saviour, I’m trying to save us both from spending any more time in the company of these utter twats. And any embarrassment by having a big argument.’
‘Well, it’s a bit late for that now, and you’re just making it worse!’ Millie cries.
‘Look, whatever. Handle this situation however you like. But you kissed me, Millie – don’t act like I’m the one ruining your bloody reputation. I’m leaving.’
Ben slams his glass on the table and walks off without looking back.
Millie’s eyelids feel like sandpaper and her tongue tastes like something she’d wipe off the bottom of her shoe after a night out.
Ping!
It’s a voice message from her mum.
‘Millabelle Jones, chief creative officer of Slide. Have you got used to it yet? I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Congratulations. See you tomorrow at lunch. I’ll put the champagne in the fridge.’
Al:
I’m guessing congrats are in order, grand fromage?
Ruth:
Tell me everything! X
June:
How’s the new CCO this morning? Call me when you’re conscious.
Millie sighs as she types a separate message to June.
Millie:
I did something really stupid last night. Can I call?
Millie’s phone starts ringing immediately.
‘What happened? Are you OK?’ June asks, sounding worried.
‘No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Well, not fine, actually. I didn’t get the job,’ Millie responds flatly.
‘Oh Millie,’ June replies. ‘I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry. But that’s not stupid, that’s them being idiots.’
‘That’s not the stupid thing. The stupid thing is . . . I . . .’ Millie stops before she confesses about the bathroom kiss. It’ll be the first time she’s kept something from June in their lives, but today is not the day for the third degree. She changes direction. ‘I had a fight with Sasha. A loud one. Sasha won the pitch. She got the promotion. Then I found out that she stole our ideas. Although I don’t have any proof, so I can’t do anything about it. And then I took it out on Ben, so he might not be talking to me.’
‘What the fuck, that’s crazy, Millie!’ June says.
‘I’m crazy,’ Millie says.
‘No you’re not, you’re normal. If you didn’t confront her about it, that would be crazy.’
‘Yeah, but you know I don’t do confrontation. I was a completely different person last night,’ Millie says, thinking of the kiss in the office loos. ‘I was out of control.’
‘Oh, stop beating yourself up. I bet you there were people silently applauding. The only thing you did was have a fight. I fight with my colleagues all the time, ’cause they can be utter twats.’
It isn’t the only stupid thing Millie did. But Millie isn’t ready to talk about the other thing. She’s not sure she ever will be.
Twenty-Eight
‘How long have you been here?’ June whispers, approaching Vivian’s front door. Millie is leaning against the wall outside.
Millie turns her head lazily. ‘I just needed five minutes,’ she says, and sighs.
‘How’s the head?’ June murmurs.
‘It’s a two-day hangover,’ Millie moans.
‘Ready to break the bad news?’ June smiles, rubbing Millie’s shoulder.
Millie has been avoiding her mum’s calls for the past twenty-four hours. Their weekly Sunday lunches are usually where good news is celebrated. Not today.
They hear Vivian marching down the hall. Millie sighs as she drags herself off the wall and puts on a half-hearted smile.
‘Hello, darling. Your skin looks dry,’ her mum says, as soon as she opens the door. She holds Millie’s chin and turns it towards the light.
‘I’m just tired,’ Millie says.
Her mum taps Millie’s cheek three times. ‘Hard at work, as always. That’s my girl. Still. You need to protect that precious skin,’ she calls as she marches back down the hall and into the kitchen, the two of them following behind. Vivian reaches into the fridge and brings out a bottle of champagne.
Millie wanders over to a familiar paper recipe book on the counter. It’s the only keepsake that Vivian has from her mother, Veronica. They didn’t speak for years after Millie was born. Veronica was appalled at Vivian for having a child so young, when at twenty-five she should have been focusing on her career. But Vivian was rebellious and determined. Despite this stormy relationship, sunny memories were made with Veronica’s cookbook. Millie recalls sitting at the kitchen counter after school and flicking through the pictures while Vivian made her recant the peaks and troughs of her day. She strokes the grease stains, wondering what meal they were cooking when these marks were made. Millie only met Veronica once, when she was six years old. The memory is vivid. Pale blue eyes staring at her in what seemed like disbelief.
‘My goodness, Vivian, she doesn’t look anything like you,’ Veronica remarked. ‘Isn’t that funny? You insist on having a baby at your age, when you should have been focusing on yourself, and you end up with one who could be somebody else’s. Don’t expect me to babysit. This is all on you.’
It was the first and last time Millie had seen her mother cry. Tears running over soft cheeks that burned Millie’s own as she stormed out of Veronica’s living room hugging her close on her hip. Outside the house, Vivian placed Millie gently on the floor and crouched down to her level. She looked into her eyes without blinking, gripping her shoulders tightly with both hands.
‘Millabelle Jones, you are my baby. And you are perfect. Don’t you ever let anyone suggest otherwise. It’s you and me, Millie. Forever,’ she said with a shaky voice that belied the firmness of her grasp.
From that moment, Millie had made a silent pledge to please her mum. To help Vivian prove that Millie was perfect in every possible way. Top student at school. First-class honours at university. Chief creative officer. When Millie was little, being placed on a pedestal of high expectations made her feel special. Today, it’s giving her vertigo. June was pushed too, but never to the same extent.
‘So,’ says her mum, smiling as she hands Millie a glass of champagne. ‘Shall we toast you, then? Come on, I’m dying to know. Was everyone thrilled at their choice? When do you start? Do you get a new offic
e? Pay rise? Press release?’
‘Actually, Mum, I get nothing,’ Millie states casually.
‘What do you mean?’ Vivian’s flute pauses midway to her mouth. ‘Did you negotiate? I mean, I know you don’t like confrontation, Millie, but you can’t be a doormat. Sometimes you have to upset the apple cart in order to get the apples.’
‘I didn’t get anything, because I didn’t get the job, Mum.’ Millie says it quickly, brutally – it is the only way she can get the words out. ‘Sasha, the other senior creative, got it.’ Millie shrugs. ‘It’s fine, she’s good for the role. Let’s just say she’s a lot more Slide than I am.’
‘It is not fine!’ Vivian exclaims, putting her glass on the counter with a loud clunk. ‘She can’t be better than you! And you’ve been at Slide for eight years, how can anyone possibly be more Slide than you?’
‘Well, apparently, they are. Please can I have a top up?’ Millie replies, wondering if hair of the dog will help.
‘Who is this Sasha?’ Vivian asks, her eyes growing wider and her lips getting tighter.
‘She’s a snake. She stole Millie’s pitch ideas and presented them as her own,’ June says, taking a sip.
‘More like . . . an ostrich. Long legs. Sticks her beak into other people’s business,’ Millie replies nonchalantly, ignoring the tuts and gasps that are on a loop from her mother’s side of the kitchen.
‘What do you mean, she stole your ideas? Are you going to report it? You’re not going to give in, just like that? Millie, where’s your fighting spirit?’ Vivian cries.
‘It’s already been announced, Mum. Besides, I’ll look like a sore loser if I suggest it. Even if she didn’t steal my ideas, Adrian said he wanted someone ruthless, and that’s what he gets with her. It’s over. It’s done.’ Millie stretches her arm out across the counter and grabs the champagne bottle herself.
‘Not your fault, Mils, you worked so hard on that pitch. You can’t win them all,’ June says, putting her arm around Millie and wincing in anticipation of Vivian’s inevitable outrage at the phrase.
‘Oh, I hate that expression, it’s utter nonsense! Why can’t you win them all? Millie has been winning them all her whole life. Those idiots at Slide don’t understand how lucky they are to have you there.’
‘Mum, please don’t. I’m not really in the right frame of mind to think about it,’ Millie sighs, taking a large glug.
‘You are perfect for that role, Millie! I can’t think straight, I’m so furious.’
‘I’m not fucking perfect!’ Millie explodes, silencing her mother. ‘Sorry,’ she puts her glass down. ‘I didn’t mean to shout.’
‘Well that outburst is long overdue,’ June mutters.
‘They’ve upset you, of course they have,’ Vivian says, ignoring June’s snide comment. ‘Right, that’s it. I’m putting feelers out tomorrow for other roles.’
‘I don’t want to leave Slide right now, Mum. Please, just drop it. And please do not put feelers out. Look, it’s my fault. I am who I am. I play it safe, and that’s not what they wanted.’
‘Playing it safe isn’t always the best option, Millie. Sometimes you need to take risks, be ruthless, be a snake. I blame myself. Maybe I mollycoddled you.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ June sniggers. ‘I’d say milliecoddled.’
‘June, please! This is important!’ Vivian shouts, walking through to the dining room and taking a seat, before dramatically leaning back on the chair.
‘Mum, I’m the one who’s supposed to be upset about this, not you!’ Millie shouts from the kitchen. ‘Can you please say something helpful?’ Millie mutters, nudging June.
‘Vivian?’ June picks up the champagne bottle and wanders through to the dining room. ‘If you ask me, this is the best thing that could have happened to Millie. A CCO is too busy to work on the details of a campaign, so essentially Millie will still be running Oxytoxin. Won’t you, Millie? Her name will still be all over the credits. It’s one of the most exciting projects the company has ever undertaken. Then, with that experience, perhaps she can leave Slide on a high.’
Vivian sits up and holds her glass out for a top-up.
‘Well, that’s true.’
‘If you think about it,’ June continues, ‘perhaps the reason they didn’t give Millie the promotion is because she’s the only one who can be trusted on this Oxytoxin project. They know Millie is the perfect person for the task.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Vivian folds her arms.
‘I’m also starving,’ June replies, returning to the kitchen. ‘When does the food arrive?’
‘Thank you,’ mouths Millie.
June clinks their glasses and kisses the air. She turns the kiss into a snog by sticking her tongue out and rolling her head around.
‘Stop, please,’ Millie begs.
‘Changing the subject, I have some news,’ June says.
Millie and Vivian turn to her in anticipation.
‘I found out on Friday I’m being put forward for partner!’ June beams.
Millie steps forward and wraps her arms around her and gives her a shake. June lets out a fake groan.
‘Junie! That’s amazing!’
‘Congratulations, sweetheart, that’s fantastic.’ Vivian places a hand on her shoulder.
‘Why did you wait so long to tell us?’ Millie cries.
‘Well, it was a bit awkward with your whole situation, to be honest. I figured I should probably let that settle first,’ June replies, uncharacteristically coy.
‘Oh, rubbish, don’t even think of that! This is the best news ever!’ Millie smiles.
She means it. It’s the type of happy news she needs after forty-eight hours of wallowing in a pool of self-pity.
‘Shall I open another bottle?’ Vivian asks.
‘Absolutely!’ Millie replies, rubbing June’s arm again. ‘June Moon, Partner, Stumble & Guest.’
‘Sounds rather good, doesn’t it?’ June scrunches up her face.
‘Sounds great!’
‘Message.’ June nods to Millie’s screen on the counter.
Millie picks it up.
Ben:
I’m sorry about how I left last night
Relief floods over Millie. She was dreading seeing him in the office tomorrow, with what was said – and left unsaid – at the party. Millie isn’t sure what she feels more nauseous about, the kiss or the fight. Although the flashback pains her, she remembers the kiss feeling good. The aftermath, not so great.
‘Something amusing you?’ June says. Millie looks up to see her raising an eyebrow in suspicion.
Ben:
I’d had a few and lost my cool
‘What?’ June says. ‘Millie, hello? I’m trying to talk to you. You’re being rude.’
‘Sorry! What was the question?’
‘I asked you what was amusing you.’
‘Nothing,’ Millie responds quietly.
Again June lifts one eyebrow.
‘OK, fine – Ben. He’s just messaged. Think we’re all good.’
Millie puts her phone down and gives June her full attention.
‘Well, at least we’re talking again after Friday,’ Millie says. ‘Otherwise it would have been really awkward at work.’
‘He’s too in love with you to make it awkward,’ June says.
‘He isn’t in love with me!’ Millie says, waving her away. ‘Also, shhh.’ She nods towards her mother, who’s returning from the front door with the food delivery. ‘We’re mates, nothing more.’
‘Well, we’re best mates, and you text each other way more than we do,’ June scoffs.
‘That’s because I see you all the time,’ Millie replies, shrugging. ‘I don’t need to text you when you’re standing right next to me.’
‘You see him all day, every day!’ June hisses.
‘Who do you see all day, every day?’ Vivian asks.
‘Bruce,’ June replies.
‘Ah.’ Vivian nods.
While V
ivian and June lay the food out on the table, Millie replies to Ben.
Millie:
Don’t worry, you didn’t have any cool to lose in the first place, nerd
Ben:
Zing
Ben:
Also, false
Ben:
I am cool, look, I can prove it
Millie giggles, zooming in on a picture of Ben’s feet in dog paw slippers resting on a coffee table in front of the TV, with a crossword on his lap.
Millie:
I’m sorry, I stand corrected
Millie:
Also, quilt, four down
Ben:
I knew that
Ben:
Look, I found another one
The picture is a close-up of the crossword, with mad scribble all over it that spells out . . .
‘S m a r t A r s e,’ she quietly reads to herself.
Twenty-Nine
A fluffy slap in the face wakes Millie up abruptly. Bruce’s bottom is horribly close to her lips, and his tail is flicking her cheeks repeatedly, as if he’s attempting to revive her from a faint. She hoists her body up onto the pillow, while he turns his head and eyeballs her.
Millie, still watching him suspiciously, reaches for her phone on the side table. It isn’t there. Squinting her eyes to her dressing table, she can’t see it there either. A sudden loud vibration in the bed sends Bruce upwards and outwards, all four limbs stretched at angles from his sides. Millie reaches under the duvet and retrieves her phone, tutting at herself when she sees the battery is at 10 per cent. She must have fallen asleep on it after her long phone call with Ben. She checks the last call and tuts at herself again. Going to sleep at 1 a.m. on a Sunday night isn’t a strong start to the week. She smiles, though, remembering snippets of their hours-long conversation, mainly about the changes Sasha might make to the team. Millie’s betting on a dedicated yoghurt fridge by the end of the week. Ben’s betting on a taser on her desk to keep them in line. Then there was the argument about what dessert is best on a hangover, after the obligatory salt intake of fry-up, cheese toasties and ramen noodles throughout the day. He argued for cheese. She argued that a) cheese isn’t a pudding, and b) cheesecake is life.