Chapter 9
T he air was noticeably crisper this evening, Millie thought, as she gently pulled her door shut and wrapped her new jacket around her. With the clocks going back last weekend, the evenings had drawn right in, and the weather had turned. The week had flown since her shopping trip with the girls last weekend. Most of her time had been taken up with painting and it made her realise just how much having a full-time job had hindered her creativity.
She’d cleaned the cottage thoroughly from top to bottom, not quite believing just how much dust could exist in one place. And, after much convincing from Amy, she had gotten a haircut and colour. Her dull, mousey brown hair which she had lived with all her life (apart from the phase of dying it red to look like Cheryl Cole circa 2010 – never again) had gone and been replaced with freshly cut chestnut brown locks and a sweeping fringe cut in to frame her heart shaped face. It had taken some getting used to, but she was now starting to really like it.
There had been no further developments on the job-hunting front, but she just felt a sense of achievement that she had made it through another week unscathed, she had a cleaner home with art drying on her makeshift drying rack (precariously balanced cooling trays were a satisfactory dupe, she’d learned). Now, it was Friday night and even though she hadn’t been slaving it away at a 9-5 all week, she felt content that she was on her way down the lane to the pub to meet her new group of friends, almost as an “end-of-the-week” celebration. Things almost felt…happy?
“Oww!” she shrieked, staggering slightly from the impact she’d just received. Something or someone had just come round the corner, right before the pub and smacked right into her.
“I’m so sorry, I…” A frown. A widening of the eyes. “Is that…Millie?”
“Yeah, it’s me! I’m barely standing now though!” she grumbled.
“Well, maybe you should look where you’re going?” Alfie countered back, his face clouding over. She brushed her new jeans down.
“I mean, I’m struggling to even stand in these new boots, let alone survive a collision,” she said. She glanced up the long, darkened lane she had just come down, towards her house.
“Look, I’m sorry, I genuinely didn’t see you…” he began, his voice softer now but he was interrupted by a click clack echoing towards them. Out of the dim light of the streetlamp, a girl emerged. It was Dana; she recognised her instantly. Millie couldn’t help but notice how striking she was, with beautifully long and styled blonde hair, a perfect face of make-up and a figure-hugging outfit. She leaned in and wound her arm around Alfie’s waist and Millie couldn’t help thinking how great they looked together. She held her hand out, indicating that they should go into the pub first.
Heat hit her face as she walked through the heavy, wooden door. Chattering filled her ears, and the odd outburst of raucous laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses. A cursory glance around and she spotted the group sat at a round table. Millie had to allow a small smile. She felt very fortunate to have met a group of friends like them and for them to have just taken her under their wing. Things might be very different now had that not happened.
“You’re late,” Daisy stated, watching Millie with concern. “You’re never late.”
“I had an altercation with Alfie Drew,” she said discreetly whilst shrugging off her jacket, her eyes wandering to the door as she noticed him and Dana come in together. “He was somewhat distracted by his girlfriend .” She spoke the last word very obviously but quietly and Daisy’s eyes flashed over to Alfie, who offered a wave over at their group, before heading to the bar with Dana.
“And it bothers you, why?” she asked, looking back at Millie.
“It doesn’t,” Millie insisted firmly, feeling herself turn red. “Just drop it, yeah?” Daisy pulled a face but turned to Evan, who was gesticulating so wildly, his beer was nearly spilling. Something about the latest football match all the boys had played together. Millie rolled her eyes. Her gaze roamed around The Sandy Anchor: it really was a sweet pub. Cosy but not too cramped, huge open fireplace and plenty of choice in drinks.
She noticed Dana at the bar, arm draped around Alfie, her hand grazing his cheek. He looked a bit uncomfortable; she couldn’t help noticing. It did feel very much like he was being paraded in front of everyone. His eyes flickered over to hers and she looked away quickly. Football. Yes. Focus on the football chat. No need to stare, nothing to see and…. she was looking again.
Oops. Dana was looking back at her now. She truly was startlingly beautiful and really didn’t look like she belonged in a small village like this one. She wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Michelin starred restaurant back in London, sipping Cosmopolitans at The Shard. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t look out of place on the front cover of Cosmopolitan! Yet, she hadn’t seemed approachable at all. She wasn’t a warm person. The look she was giving her was completely frosty and she wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve it. Millie’s gaze snapped away quickly when she noticed Dana had clutched onto Alfie’s hand and was making her way over to their table. Eeek.
“Room for a little one?” she announced, dragging a stool noisily into the smallest gap around the table. Daisy was slumped to the side by the movement and made a face. It was clear that none of these guys were that keen on her. They’d never said explicitly but she got that impression. She guided Alfie to the stool and pushed him onto it, perching sideways on his lap and arms draped around his shoulders. Millie took a long sip of her wine, feeling uncomfortable at this obviously outward display of affection. Dana’s tight, leather trousers puckered up around the thigh as she wriggled in his lap.
“I don’t believe we’ve properly met,” she directed towards Millie. It was an announcement rather than a friendly ice breaker.
“No, I don’t believe we have,” Millie replied, lowering her wine glass.
“So, where have you sprung from?” she asked, in a condescending tone.
“Errr, I’ve moved here from London,” she explained, trying not to look at Amy’s amused face. One look and that would be it. The giggles would ascend.
“Oh my god, no way?! You moved from London , to come here ?” A pause. “ Why?!”
Despite the rude, intrusive tone of Dana’s voice she suddenly felt six pairs of eyes boring into her, wanting to know the answer to a question they hadn’t yet asked (apart from Amy’s minor intrusion.) It’s something she still hadn’t really shared and was an obvious elephant in the room. She felt herself flush and started to stutter a little, frantically thinking up a garbled explanation that didn’t involve her cheating scumbag of an ex, her fertility struggles or her dead mother. She felt somehow that it might dampen the spirits a little.
“Um, Dana, isn’t Arthur calling you from behind the bar?” Alfie suddenly piped up, glancing to the landlord who didn’t look like he’d called her at all.
“What? No, I don’t think so…”
“Oh, but he is. We better go and see what the old bugger wants.” Hurriedly, he gently shoved her off his lap and led her over to the bar. With that, the moment was shattered, and the group had gone back to discussing the Halloween do at the pub the following weekend. Millie exhaled discreetly and glanced over at Alfie. He peered across and gave her a small, knowing smile. He’d saved her on purpose. Why, she wasn’t yet sure, but she was extremely grateful for it. And a little surprised.