Chapter 30
T he cottage door clicked shut behind her and Millie flopped down on the sofa. Her entire body ached with exhaustion and her throat felt raw from laughter. Now she was sat in a silent room, she finally had the chance to process everything that had happened that day and a whirlpool of emotions flooded through her.
She had just spent the entire day with Sam, touring around Cornwall. They’d left super early that morning, when the sun had barely risen and in the eight or so hours that followed, they’d visited several towns, villages and beaches around Cornwall, some even Millie hadn’t been to yet. It had been his idea. Their dinner the night before had been more of a success than she’d ever thought would be possible. She’d been so close to cancelling, wondering why she’d even agreed to it in the first place. Yet, there was still a miniscule part of her which was genuinely interested in what he had to say for himself, how on earth he was going to defend what he’d done. It turned out, he wasn’t going to defend himself. He admitted there was nothing he could say to explain himself or justify his behaviour but that he realised what a complete and utter idiot he had been. Having imagined the conversation happening many times before, she’d always thought she would be a strong, independent woman and tell him where to go, never succumbing to his pleading words. But she’d found herself listening intently, believing him. When he’d leaned across and took her hand on the table, she hadn’t moved it away. When he threw his arm around her shoulder on the walk back to the car, she’d leaned into it. And when he’d kissed her after dropping her home, she’d kissed him back, the familiarity rushing back over her like they’d never been apart.
There was something about seeing Sam in a new setting as well; all she’d ever known of him was the sharp, fast-paced city boy who relished packed bars, bustling trains and high-rise buildings. Spending time with him away from all the expectations, the pressure, the need to impress had brought out a different side to him. He was listening to her, asking questions and showing a genuine interest in her new life here. He’d even asked her about her artwork which had never happened before. After the meal last night, she still sensed an element of confusion about how she felt but after spending the day together, she found her mind daring to wander to the thought of him moving down here and them beginning a whole new life together. Maybe starting over in a brand-new place could be the blank canvas they needed to move on from the dark memories, the fact he had cheated and the infertility news. Whilst it wouldn’t change the fact, she’d never be able to conceive, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much here? They could buy a farm full of animals, she could make jam to sell; they could live happily ever after…
Yet, of course, that would mean saying no to Alfie.
She had thought about Alfie on and off throughout the day, her mind more occupied with Sam; now that she was alone on her sofa, she found her mind wandering back to him. They hadn’t had a proper conversation alone since before she’d left for Christmas. Since he’d given her the pink camellias – the message hadn’t been lost on her. She glanced across at the table, where they sat in a stripy vase, looking a little sadder now than they had before. She leaned her head back on the sofa, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. There was no hiding the fact she still felt a huge attraction towards Alfie – all she’d thought about whilst she was away was him and she’d had every intention of coming back from London, heading straight there and telling him she wanted to give things a go. This had seriously thrown a spanner in the works. The thing was, did she cast caution to the wind, follow her heart and give things a go with a brand-new person, who, honestly, she still didn’t know much about? Or did she place trust back in the person she knew the most in the world and try to recreate the good parts of what they had before?
Her brain fizzed and started to feel like it was overheating, and she suddenly felt like she really needed some air. Grabbing her scarf and coat from the hook, she pulled the door shut and made her way down to the beach.
* * *
“You’ve helped so much Alfie, we can’t thank you enough.” Alfie wiped his paint covered hands on his old jeans which were already splattered in various coloured streaks and smiled.
“It’s honestly not a problem, Eric. I’m pleased to help.” He’d answered a flustered call from Eric, the caretaker at the village hall, saying he’d received a call from a well-known travel magazine asking to do a feature on the village after seeing a local news report. It could really help their cause to keep the hall and the clock tower, but it was clear that if photos were to be taken for such a high-profile event, a facelift of the hall was needed – more than just the window washing and sweeping up that had already taken place. Eric had pleaded with Alfie to lend his painting talents and help him completely repaint the outside of the hall as soon as he possibly could. Alfie had explained he was in a lull of commissions (all of his Christmas ones had been and gone, and he didn’t tend to open up to anything new until the end of January to allow himself some space to create without any pressure). So he could help paint the hall before the New Years’ Eve party in two days’ time. Eric had been so grateful, as he struggled to do more physical jobs since his hip replacement.
Alfie had been more grateful though, for the distraction. He still hadn’t spoken to Millie, not able to bring himself to message her after finding out she had gone to dinner with Sam the night before. If she’d wanted to talk, she would have messaged, he thought. And after not hearing from her all day today, he guessed she had been with him. He shoved his phone back into his pocket after checking it for the millionth time that day – nothing. If he didn’t hear from her by tomorrow evening, he’d make the first move and contact her himself. The day after that would be the New Year’s Eve party and he wanted to know where he stood before then, for fear she may turn up with him and make him look a total fool. He’d absolutely poured his heart out to her, and she’d suggested she would let him know where he stood when she returned from London. Yet here he was days later and nothing. It wasn’t OK.
He flicked the lights off in the hall knowing Eric would be back later to lock up and stepped out into the twilight of the evening. Drizzle was in the air again. It was hard to remember a full day since she had left where it hadn’t rained in some way and the darkness were starting to impact him. The dim, winter days affected his artistic creativity too – there was only so much inspiration he could suck from the same, dreary skies and shadowy corners of his apartment.
The pub, at least, glowed warm and, remembering he had no plans for that evening, he decided to head back to his flat, take a shower and pop in for an hour or so. None of the gang would be out tonight but there was always at least one local character he could sit at the bar with and chat to and it would pass the time. A strong whiskey wouldn’t go amiss, either.
Taking the short walk back home, he glanced to the slope which headed down to the beach. The tide was out quite far, the murky waves and misty sky mixing like an inky concoction. A figure stood down by the shore and Alfie’s heart leapt as he recognised it instantly; the enormous tartan scarf, visible even from the back, was undeniably hers. What should he do? Keep pacing past like he hadn’t seen her and go for a drink, leaving the ball firmly in her court? Or go down and confront her, ask what the hell is going on and why hadn’t she at least messaged him? He swallowed, glancing around as though someone was going to come out of nowhere and tell him what to do. But he knew no such person was going to do that and he needed to follow his head. With purpose, he started striding down towards the slope.
As he made his way down the beach towards her, he wished he’d at least grabbed a jacket from his apartment first. The dicey rain was freezing and was soaking his t-shirt quicker than he’d like. His bare arms and face bore the brunt of the cold, goose bumps erupting on his skin. She hadn’t turned around – had she heard him? His feet crunched on the pebbles before landing on firm sand the further to the shore he walked. His heart beat in his chest. In reality, it had only been a few days since he’d seen her, but the distance had felt cavernous. He had to find out where he stood.
He reached her side and she turned, blinking in shock at his appearance. Her hood was up covering most of her head and her scarf covered her chin, but the rest of her face was there, right in front of him and it was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was down and exposed to the elements, a shade darker than usual thanks to the dampening from the rain. Her eyelashes glistened with the moisture from the air and her cheeks burned pink with cold. Slowly, she took her hands out her pockets and crossed them over her body.
“Hey,” he said quietly, unsure if she was annoyed at seeing him.
“Hey,” she replied, offering a small smile. A few moments of silence passed between them.
“Millie…” he began but was swiftly cut off.
“I’m sorry I haven’t messaged you, Alfie. I had meant to, I promise. But things have been a little bit…different than I expected.” She glanced downwards, not meeting his eyes and he studied her face. He couldn’t work out if this difference had been a good or bad thing for her. She wasn’t giving anything away.
“Yeah, I heard. I saw ,” he replied, referencing the moment he had witnessed her and Sam in the square below his apartment. Her cheeks pinked a little further and he suspected it wasn’t due to the cold this time. She still didn’t offer any other information, so he knew he’d have to pry if he wanted to know what was going on.
“So, Sam…?” he began and peered across at her to gauge her reaction. “How’s that going?” She hesitated for a few moments before continuing.
“It’s unexpected. Like, if someone had given me a list of scenarios for how the end to this year was going to play out, I never in a million years would have thought of this one.” Alfie squeezed his eyes shut. She wasn’t giving anything away. This was frustrating.
“Amy said you went to dinner with him?” he pressed further.
“Last night. And today we spent the day together.” Ouch, that stung. In the fantasy turn of events he’d concocted in his head; they would have gone to dinner together last night and Millie would have realised he was still an absolute tool and told him it was over for good. Meeting up again today didn’t confirm that dream. He wished he knew exactly what had gone on between them. If he knew that, he’d least have a strong case to make her see he wasn’t good news for her. He had a feeling it involved him being unfaithful due to some cryptic comments overheard between Daisy and Amy. If that was true, he had no idea why she’d even be entertaining the thought of spending time with him, let alone actually doing it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Millie continued. “That I’m absolutely crazy for seeing him again. I sort of think I’m crazy too,” she admitted. She looked so vulnerable, stood there in the now almost total darkness, cold and damp. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, protect her, and reassure her that she deserved more than to be someone’s afterthought.
“I mean, it might not be my place to say this but I’m going to say it anyway. I know I don’t know exactly the situation between you two, but I can tell you from just the few times I’ve met him – he’s bad news for you Millie.” She looked across at him, her brow creased. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “The way he acted when I let him into the cottage before you arrived home and the way he spoke to me. Simply the way he’s striding around here like he owns the place. Like he owns you. He made that as clear as day to me when he arrived. I don’t know if he saw me as a threat – I can’t think how he’d know there was anything at all between us but it’s like he was claiming you before you even had the chance to explain that.” He watched her face register everything he said.
“He doesn’t own me,” she answered, disgust in her voice. “I don’t know why you’d even suggest that?” Alfie paused, realising she’d taken his words and twisted them, accidentally.
“No, I don’t mean that he does own you…”
“No-one owns me! And you’re right; you don’t have a clue what we went through. You don’t know anything about him. I appreciate that you’re feeling a certain way because I haven’t replied to you and I’m sorry for that, but I’ve had a lot to deal with over the last few days…” She was babbling now, words pouring out like lava, unstoppable. Her arms had uncrossed, and Alfie gently took her hands, bringing them down to her side to calm her. She didn’t resist so he kept hold of them. They were freezing.
“I didn’t mean that, Millie. I mean…it’s obvious from what I’ve heard that he was unfaithful to you. Do you really want to get involved again with someone like that? Who treats you like that? That’s not what you deserve and deep down you know that.” She snatched her hands back.
“You don’t understand Alfie. Sam knows me better than anyone else. We’ve been through things together that I’ve haven’t been through with anyone else. It’s not something I’ve been able to easily forget!” She was raising her voice now, frustration spouting from every word. He had never seen her like this and the thought he’d upset her hurt but he had to keep going. Make her see that she was making a huge mistake.
“You deserve more than him, Millie! You deserve someone who won’t cheat on you!” She flinched, as though the word “cheat” had slapped her. Darkness washed over her face.
“You don’t understand Alfie. Again, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you but that’s no excuse to come at me like this. You can’t ambush me and tell me how stupid I am and then expect me to just fall into your arms and live happily ever after! It doesn’t work that way.” He closed his eyes and realised he’d lost her. This was a huge mistake. He shouldn’t have stuck his nose in. If he wanted any chance of them being together, he should’ve left her alone and let her realise that for herself.
“You may be right. But I want to find that out for myself,” she said, more quietly now, tears welling in her eyes. He held his hands up in surrender.
“You’re right. I’ll leave you alone, Millie. I never should have interfered. I’m sorry.” He walked backwards a few paces, before turning and striding as fast as he could back up the beach. His legs felt frozen, his arms biting with the cold, but he had to keep going. That had been such a stupid, careless decision. He’d wanted to tell her what an amazing person she was and how Sam was certainly not the one to bring that out of her but instead he’d messed it up totally and pushed her away. Potentially forever.
He definitely still needed that drink, but it would be coming from his liquor cabinet to be drunk alone in darkness. He didn’t want to see anyone. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. He would forget the party. Nothing seemed worth celebrating anymore. For the first time in ages, he found himself starting to cry, wishing his mum was still here. He’d do anything right now to have a chat and a cuddle from her, to reassure him that even though he’d seriously messed up, he was still a good person deep down. He was still her son, worthy of love.