Chapter 13
T he pain. Oh, the head pain. The…the…light? That wasn’t normal light. This was surely the searing light you experienced when you stood just metres from the sun?! Her mouth was as dry as the satsuma you forget about in the bottom of the fruit bowl: shrivelled and crusty. Her body felt clammy and there was a horrendous grunting noise coming from behind her.
Cautiously – mainly due to her fragile state but also because she had no idea what it was – Millie rolled over and was met with a sight that made her eyes widen. It was Amy, flung out on her back, one arm above her head. Her costume make-up from the night before was smeared over her face and her hair a remarkable bird’s nest. Her mouth was wide open, contributing to the horrendous, guttural snoring rumbling in her throat. Despite the annoyance and her pounding head, Millie let out an exhalation of air, smiled and shook her head. There hadn’t been many times she’d woken up with an unexpected person next to her, but this one would definitely be the most memorable.
Knowing Amy would be feeling like utter crap when she woke up (she’d never seen someone mix so many drinks before), she decided to let her sleep. Ignoring the screaming voice in her head telling her to down a pint of water and go back to sleep, Millie couldn’t ignore the pull of the beautiful sunlight and the temptation of some fresh air. After two huge glasses of water, a gorgeously warm shower and a slice of toast, she headed out for a walk around the village. It was deathly quiet, even for an early Sunday morning and she knew this was likely down to last night’s antics. Only the odd seasoned dog walker passed her, but she was grateful for the peace.
She turned the key in the lock extra quietly so as not to wake Amy – she would need her sleep today. Pushing the latch shut gently, she unwound her scarf from her neck and padded through to the tiny kitchen to pop the kettle on.
“Morning!” a voice came, making Millie yelp and jump out of her skin. There, leaning against the cooker and munching an enormous bowl of cereal, was Amy. Her face was completely flawless, every scrap of crazy make-up removed, her hair was pulled up into a casual bun, glistening wet from an apparent shower, and she was wearing an ordinary pair of joggers and a hoodie, which Millie recognised as hers after a longer look. Amy frowned slightly, pausing with the cereal spoon halfway to her mouth and looked downwards.
“Ohh, don’t tell me...you’re one of these people that get freaked out by other people taking your clothes without asking?” she asked.
“No, it’s not that! I’m just...how are you...you were fast asleep?!” she pointed to the ceiling, indicating the bed she’d inhabited a mere hour before.
“Aaaand then I woke up. It’s something I will strive to keep doing for quite a few years to come yet,” Amy replied, placing the bowl in the sink and chugging back a glass of water. “Plus, I’m glad you don’t get funny about sharing clothes. I just used your face wipes and your toothbrush,” she continued, tapping her teeth. Millie rolled her eyes and reached past Amy to flick the kettle on.
“I take it you wouldn’t be too hungover for a cuppa?” she asked, waggling a mug. Amy glanced at her watch.
“Better make it a quick one. I’m at work in an hour.” Millie widened her eyes at her again in dismay. This girl would never cease to amaze her.
“So,” Amy began and the word felt loaded, “what happened to you last night?” Millie slowed the unscrewing of the milk cap at the words.
“Uhh, I don’t know, what did happen to me last night?”
“You mean you don’t remember?” Amy replied, her voice shrill. Millie’s heart dipped.
“No... should I?” These weren’t words she wanted to hear. Amy’s face of disbelief cracked into laughter, and she pressed her face into her hands.
“Oh wow...oh NO!” Millie groaned, shaking her head. Fear flashed through her head as she desperately tried to remember something – anything – from the night before. Images flashed like an old-fashioned silent movie, flickering and fuzzy. She remembered being in Alfie’s kitchen, looking at his fridge. Sharing an emotional moment. Drinking champagne straight from the bottle. Some unsavoury dancing with Amy and Daisy. Vague visions of the pub... She lifted her gaze to meet Amy’s, who was staring at her with intent. Millie shook her head.
“Oh my gosh. You really DON’T remember! Let’s just say Dana isn’t your biggest fan right now,” she half-explained.
“Dana? Dana, as in Alfie’s girlfriend Dana?” she pressed. Amy’s eyebrows shot up.
“Do you know any other Danas?” Millie ignored her sarcasm.
“Well, what did I do to upset her?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Please don’t say she’d kissed Alfie. Surely she would have remembered that?!
“Well, Dana was dressed as some sort of naked-bunny hybrid. And you can’t have a bunny without ears and a tail. Well, not that you seemed to think so...” her voice tailed off.
Like a light being switched on, Millie suddenly remembered something. Dropping the teaspoon into the mug with a loud clink, she rushed over to her bag from the previous night which had been discarded on the floor. A quick rummage and her hands felt on something fluffy. With trepidation, she extracted the not-so-mystery object from the bag, to reveal one, jet black, fluffy pom-pom tail and a pair of furry rabbit ears. She stared from the objects up into Amy’s face. After a few seconds, they simultaneously burst out laughing and Millie flung a hand to her mouth.
“Did I take these?” she asked in disbelief.
“Took. Stole. Yanked from her very own head and arse.” Millie’s eyes widened.
“Nooooo!” Why?!”
Amy had explained the whole sorry story. It had happened in the pub, with Millie being approximately three bottles of wine under. Apparently, everyone had drunk a fair amount and the atmosphere was charged. They had been sat around a table together: Dana had perched on Alfie’s lap, as had become compulsory in any social situation where other women were involved and her dominance had to be asserted. She’d been questioning the other girls on their choices of outfits, which were more “scary” than “sexy” in comparison to her own efforts. Millie had taken a drunken offence to Dana’s interrogation, not pleased that her homemade effort had been mocked. So, the next time Dana had stood up to go to the bar, she had leapt out her chair and, in a swift movement not commonly associated with a person as intoxicated as her, had whipped the ears off Dana’s head and ripped the tail from her behind. Absolute hilarity ensued, with the majority of the pub falling about laughing and jeering, some staring on in disbelief and Millie there in the midst of it all, holding the items aloft like some sort of trophy. Dana had stared daggers, practically expelling steam; had Millie not then fallen backwards over her own feet, she would likely have been on the receiving end of a wicked slap.
She peered out from behind the cushion she had pressed against her burning face. Her pounding headache had returned two-fold, and she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“And what happened then?”
“Dana stormed out. She’d protested to Alfie to do something, but he was aware you were flat-out on the floor so he kind of just stood there like a shocked lemon. She ended up pushing him in the chest and leaving in a haze of distastefulness and fishnet tights.”
“And Alfie...” she continued. Amy shook her head slightly and made a face.
“We got you out of there before we could chat to him. He looked pretty pissed though.”
Millie couldn’t quite believe what she had heard. She had never been the type of person to do something like this when drunk. She was the person relaying the drunken story, or laughing about one she had just been told, feeling second-hand embarrassment alongside a secretive smugness, relieved that it wasn’t about her. She’d even been known to question how anyone could get in such a state to act out like that. Oh, how the tables had turned.
Amy had left shortly after finishing her explanation to go to work, leaving Millie alone with her shame. Her face was still burning red – she’d even considered sticking it in the freezer for a while in an attempt to cool down. How had her life come to this? She had come to Cornwall and the quiet, unassuming town of Sandyhaven to live a peaceful life away from drama. She wouldn’t even have been bothered if she’d never gone out to a pub again. She wasn’t interested in scandal. She wanted to live simply, try to find some inner peace, and hide out. And yet here she was, no doubt the talk of the village, behaving raucously, making enemies with powerful women and seriously pissing off the brooding village heartthrob. Her mother’s words of “you can be crafty when you want to be!” and “I know you think you’re so perfect but you’re not” echoed in her head, as they regularly did and any shreds of positivity she’d developed about her new life and ability to move on were now decimated before her. How wonderful. She could and would never show her face again.