36. Millie
Millie
Millie breathed in the salty air as she walked the cliff route to the town. This was the closest she’d felt to freedom in weeks, maybe months.
She twisted the promise ring around her finger. It made sense to keep wearing it in case she bumped into someone who’d heard honeymooners were staying.
Strike would be pissed she’d sneaked out, but after all the revelations of the last days, she needed thinking space.
She wrapped her hand around the phone in her pocket. She’d turned her notifications off because she couldn’t fully clear her head with that thing vibrating all the time. As she advised her clients, sometimes you must switch off from the world and be in the moment.
Except your clients aren’t running for their lives.
She pursed her lips and stared at the sea. A boat with a white sail bobbed on the water as a strip of sun lit its path. Real freedom. A chance to sail away from her decisions.
The conversations with her family replayed as she stared.
She couldn’t hate them, although she wasn’t sure if she’d ever forgive them.
But she wasn’t blameless. She should have told them earlier that she was interested in psychology.
Strike’s departure gave her a reason to follow those dreams as everything else crumbled.
She glanced at the boat again as seagulls screamed above her.
“I don’t want to hide anymore.” But that meant action.
She lifted her past to the skies as the wind whipped her blond waves across her face and she shoved her glasses up her nose.
The grass was the greenest she’d seen for a long time. History faded into the atmosphere before being carried away on wisps of white cloud. She’d held onto her pain for so long that now she knew the truth, it was easier to let it go.
But then there was Strike. He’d loved her but left because of it. They were the actions of a man who didn’t deal with his problems by talking them through but by running.
Had he always run while she’d always hidden?
If so, there was no future for them.
And I don’t know if I want one with him.
Millie reached the town as people opened coffee shops and boutiques for the day.
Strangers smiled at her, and she smiled back. She side-eyed a couple of people, waiting for their stares to linger suspiciously, but aside from the occasional good morning, nothing stood out.
A cottage with a bright yellow door caught her eye, and she imagined living in the town, working as a counsellor in a grey brick building with a yellow door.
The scents of freshly made bread drew her like it was the Pied Piper, and she stepped into The Little Bakery of Joy. Merryn’s bakery.
A couple of people sat on wooden seats and sofas. Watercolour seascapes covered the walls. Drool collected in her mouth when she spied the array of pastries and bread behind the glass shield.
“You came. I knew you would,” Merryn cheered. “I kept you a chocolate du pain. Is that okay?”
“That’s lovely. Thank you,” Millie replied. “Could I get a latte as well?”
“Of course, darling. I’ll bring it over, and you can tell me all about your wedding.” She spoke with an accent so soft that Millie lingered, relishing it.
“And can I also have three chocolate cupcakes to go?” A peace offering, or goodbye cupcake, for Strike.
“My favourites. Pick those up when you leave rather than have them sitting around. Take a seat,” she replied.
Millie nodded her thanks and paid quickly before taking one of the comfy chairs near the window. A man strolled past. He wore combat trousers, the ones with loads of pockets. She tilted her head as she stared. He reminded her of Strike.
With everything she knew about the past, she must make a decision. Should she continue living her life as she had before, in her little apartment, waiting for life to happen, or was it time to let him in?
She ran her thumb across her forehead, smoothing lines, as she considered his reaction if she told him her secrets. How would he react to her fear of being touched? What if the things she said to men on the apps weren’t just fantasies? What if she wanted a man like Strike to dominate her?
You might be rejected again.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” Merryn said, making her jump. “Are you sure it’s okay if I join you? On a Saturday, the rush doesn’t kick in for another ten minutes, and I want my new waitress, my daughter Elsie, to practice with the current stragglers.”
Millie chewed the inside of her mouth as she looked up. She’d have said no before last week, but meeting Liss and the lads showed her that her high walls didn’t protect her, they hid her. And if she was being honest with herself, there was a reason she’d come to Merryn’s bakery. “I’d like that.”
“I wondered if I’d see you today.” When Millie didn’t answer, Merryn pointed to how she’d made a heart-shape with the foamed milk on the latte and added, “I decided you needed some love. You’re thinking hard enough to give you worry lines.”
“I thought it would be nice to see the town. It’s beautiful. Have you lived here long?”
“All my life, although I travelled years ago when I broke up with my husband.”
Merryn grinned at Millie’s wince. “Don’t worry.
He wasn’t an arsehole, but we didn’t love each other anymore.
He’s living with the local vicar now, and I’m searching for Mr. Right while trying to get my Elsie to be less scared of the world.
” Merryn pointed at the hunched girl behind the till.
When two people walked in, her recoil was visible beneath the blue hair hiding half her face.
“Were you serious about what your mum did at your wedding?”
“Not really. I was trying to annoy my husband,” Millie uttered.
“Having problems with him?”
Millie stared at her, wide-eyed.
“You seem lost,” Merryn replied, pointing at the pastry Millie had pulled into pieces. “And you keep removing and replacing your ring. Joyce was right when she said I’m a good listener. I’m here if you want to chat.”
Heat filled Millie’s cheeks as she stared at the ring halfway off her finger. “Things are tricky, but because of me, not him. Sometimes I wonder…” She glanced out the window where the same man in pocketed trousers walked past again.
Merryn waved, and the man returned it. “That’s Tony. He’s local. He loves the ladies. I’ve tried setting him up with Elsie, but she’d rather read a book than date. Although if that’s what makes her happy, then it’s okay with me. But you were saying you wonder..?”
Millie sighed. She’d shared her secrets with more strangers than those close to her recently. “I wonder if some mistakes are impossible to get past.”
“Ah, one of life’s big issues.” Merryn rubbed her chin. “I’d say that it depends.”
“On what?” Millie popped a bit of pasty in her mouth and groaned as the chocolate burst through the flakes and covered her tongue.
“I make a mean chocolate croissant.” Merryn chuckled. “Can I ask about this mistake? Was it yours or his?”
Millie tipped her head from side to side. “A bit of both.” They’d both done things they couldn’t change.
“Do you want to get past these mistakes?”
“I’m not sure.”
Merryn sat back and hummed. “What’s holding you back from getting past them?”
“Fear,” Millie blurted. “And I’m not sure he can move forward. Maybe this mistake means we’re meant to be a stopgap for each other.”
“Can I share something?”
Millie nodded with a smile.
“Imagine our lives are a patchwork quilt. Every experience, good or bad, is a patch sewn into this quilt. For me, my husband was a patch, my bakery is a patch, my daughter is several patches, and my travels were many more. My mistakes are patches, but so are my successes and the times I was brave.” Merryn’s hands danced as she spoke.
“I could’ve lived a life where I did the same thing every day, too scared to try new experiences.
When I died, that version of me would still have a quilt at the end, but it would be plain and resemble anyone’s. Which isn’t a bad thing.”
“But it makes for a dull blanket.”
“True,” Merryn concurred. “My quilt won’t look like that.
It will be filled with patches of mistakes that, years later, might make me laugh or cry.
It will have colour and moments of courage and fear.
But it’ll be a life I’m proud I lived rather than hid from.
Our lives aren’t meant to be one colour, emotion, or experience.
They’re a collection of all that was rather than all that could’ve been. ”
“Oh,” Millie said, twisting her lips.
“All I get is an ‘oh’?” Merryn teased. “That’s the most inciteful thing I’ve ever said.”
Millie giggled. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She sipped her latte. It warmed her throat nearly as much as Merryn’s words warmed her heart.
“We’re about to hit a rush, and Elsie’s shaking with nerves, so I’ll leave you to consider what you want your next patch to be.” She stood and thumbed in the direction of the window. “And your husband is trying to get your attention.”
Millie turned to where Strike stared, his lips tight and his hand quaking.
Sorry, she mouthed. Even his distress couldn’t stop the happiness tickling her skin at the sight of him or the butterflies demanding she greet him.
The door shook on its hinges as he ran in. “I was terrified,” he said, his voice wavering. “Please never do that to me again. Make sure you answer your phone, too. Anything could’ve happened. I thought someone had… shit, Sunset.”
“I turned my notifications off. I needed to get away,” she whispered. “Can you give me two minutes?”
His face dropped. “I’ll be outside whenever you’re ready.”
He spoke to Merryn before he left. Merryn smiled as she handed him paper and pens.
Millie met her gaze for an explanation, but Merryn shrugged.
Elsie cleared her plate and mug.
“Hey,” Millie said. There was something about the girl that reminded Millie of herself at her age, scared of what others thought but with a whole life of possibility waiting for her to grab it. Millie wanted a patch that showed she wasn’t scared of strangers. “I like your hair. I used to dye mine.”
The girl blushed. “Thanks.”
“Your mum said you like to read. I love reading romance.”
“I love romantasy. Do you?”
“Yeah, although I’m more into masked men and those who’d do anything for their women.”
“A bit like that guy?” Elsie pointed at the window where Strike waved at her. In his other hand was a piece of paper. He pressed it against the window. It was like their teenage years when he held up signs to entertain her.
She smiled at the words.
I’m sorry, Sunset.
His sheepish smile as he held it was like sunlight tickling her skin.
He turned the paper. She laughed so hard at the second message that strangers stared.
I promise to do better.
P.S. You smell of seagull poo.