Chapter 5
T he following morning, Millie awoke with the most horrendous headache. The previous evening, four pints of lager down, she had drunkenly and theatrically revealed to her new friends (and coincidentally the entirety of the pub) that she, in fact, detested lager and it was the worst thing she’d ever drunk. Despite the potential of this seriously offending the locals, they ploughed her with wine instead, insisting she drink that pint she had mentioned earlier in the evening. A local band played until midnight, and she could remember laughing and dancing and, generally, having a wonderful time.
The only thing she could remember clearly was the look of general dismay on the face of Alfie Drew. She really couldn’t figure out what his issue was? He was the only one of Amy’s group of friends who hadn’t really spoken to her all evening. She’d chatted to the others, learning that Ryan worked as a healthcare assistant at a local care home, still living with his parents at the top of the village. Ewan worked on a nearby farm, staying in one of the small outbuildings as part of his wage. Here, he lived with Daisy, with whom she had exchanged numbers. Daisy was a room leader at Sandyhaven Preschool and shared an undying love of prawn cocktail Wotsits with Millie. So, with all the others seemingly accepting her, she had to wonder why Alfie hadn’t.
She lay in bed, staring at the bumpy ceiling, replaying every word she’d ever said to Alfie, of which there hadn’t been many. Maybe that was his problem? Had she been too distant the first time they’d met? Maybe he just really hated being kept waiting at the door? The thing which confused her pounding head the most though, was why did she even care so much? It’s not like she had anything to prove. He was practically a stranger after all.
The sudden and desperate need for water overtook her and she crawled out of bed in search of fluids. Autumn was clearly setting in for good, as the rain battered the rickety windows and wind howled in blanketing draughts across the kitchen tiles. Damn, she still hadn’t topped up that key card for the electric heaters. The village shop wouldn’t be open on a Sunday, and she certainly couldn’t drive anywhere, what with all the alcohol pulsing through her system. With central heating merely a pipe dream, the fire would have to do.
Stumbling pathetically over to the hearth, she noticed there were no logs left and no logs meant no heat. She whimpered, feeling tears well in her eyes as it suddenly hit her like a ten-tonne truck: what was she doing here? Why was she down in, as Jen had so eloquently described it, the “back-arse of nowhere”? How come, only a few weeks ago, she had shared a flat, complete with central heating, with her boyfriend, close to the bustle of London city and all the things she loved? Why was she pretending to play “country girl” in a tiny village where she barely knew anyone, had no job prospects and basically had no plans whatsoever? She didn’t belong here. She certainly didn’t belong here alone. It was as though all the emotion she had held inside over the past week, month, even years spilled out in one volcanic eruption of tears and howls. She sank down onto the sofa, the tartan throw falling over her body, and cried. Cried for herself and her unlit fire.
Time must have passed because, when Millie awoke, she was pretty much bathed in darkness. Her head no longer pounded but she was completely parched. She never had made it to get that water! Completely unaware of the time of day, she felt her way over to the wall, fumbling for the light switch. It was hopeless though as, upon finding it, no lights appeared. She flicked it back and forth several times, but to no avail. Hang on, why was the room this dark? Normally, the streetlights would be flooding the room with an orange, hazy glow, especially with the curtains pulled back. Making her way over to the window, she could see there were no streetlights, but the wind and rain remained, battering the windows and roof. Terrific. A power cut.
Trying her hardest to remain calm, Millie scrabbled back upstairs and found her phone, relieved it still had a decent amount of charge. She flicked the phone’s torch on and stood in the middle of the room. Now what? It was pitch black, she was starving and, oh God, how had she just noticed how cold it was? She cursed herself, wishing she’d checked where candles and other items were before now. She had absolutely no idea what to do.
“Call me if you have any problems,” Alan’s voice echoed in her head. Without hesitation, she pressed his name.
“Oh bugger, I had a feeling that might happen. Follow the weather there on my phone. Sounds like you’ve had a pretty hefty storm?” Alan said after she’d explained. Millie felt her cheeks heat up – she’d slept all day so didn’t actually have a clue what the weather had been doing. A tsunami could have raged through the streets, and she would be none the wiser.
“Well, I’m afraid there won’t be a lot of supplies there. The last time I was down it was spring, and I wasn’t prepared for anything like this. I’ll give Alfie a call, get him to pop round.” Millie’s heart sank.
“Oh no, no. There’s no need for that. I’ll be fine. I’ll just go to bed. No light needed there anyway!”
“No, but you need warmth, and food surely?” he questioned, concern in his voice. Ah, food, she thought. It would be nice. But no. Nothing was worth an encounter with that ignorant man again.
“Honestly Alan, I’m fine…” But he cut her off.
“I won’t take no for an answer. I wouldn’t sleep tonight knowing you’re down there with no heat or light. I’ll ring Alfie right away. He’ll be with you in no time.” And with that, the line switched off and she was left alone in darkness, waiting for the knock at the door.
* * *
“You could have said something, Sam. We could have attempted to work through things before you got under someone else.” She paused. “Or should I say, on top of?” Anger emanated from her body, her words spitting venom.
“You know I never wanted things to work out like this, Mils. It was always you.” The use of her nickname stung as she continued to pull her clothes from the wardrobe. Only the people who knew and cared for her the most used that nickname and it certainly didn’t seem relevant right now.
“Yeah, well. We all know why you’re banging someone else. We all know you have a desire to “sow your seed” shall we say. You know you can’t get that from me.”
“That’s not true! You know I’ve been nothing but supportive to you from the start.” She paused. He’d acted the part of supportive boyfriend, true. He’d said all the right words, in all the right ways at all the right times. And yet she knew, deep down, that he was never OK with it. It was forever casting a shadow over their relationship.
“Sometimes that’s not enough though, is it?” she answered quietly, not able to look him in the eye. A pause.
“No. I was never enough, was I Millie?” He snapped out the words and her eyes met his. She shook her head slowly. This would never work out now. Things were too different. There had been a seismic shift, and they couldn’t go back.