I think I love you, uptight lady
Millie subtly tucked the five-page book report she’d typed up the night before into her Mulberry handbag, which she manoeuvred under her feet. She rested her hands on her lap and fought to stop them from clenching into fists. Eleanor, who was sitting on a squashy chair opposite, gave her an encouraging smile and she tried to relax her shoulders. Something furry bumped her hand and then a huge, ugly dog’s head came to rest in her lap. The animal smelt, she had droopy eyes, an inordinate amount of thick fur, and she seemed produce enough drool to fill a small pond. Millie lifted a hand tentatively and stroked the large head, which was surprisingly silky. The animal didn’t exactly fit in with the clean modern lines of Jamie and Libby’s spacious semi in Wimbledon, but she seemed more than at home there.
‘Oh God,’ said Libby, moving from the kitchen to shoo the dog away. ‘I’m sorry, Millie. I know she’s gross. However much shampoo we use on her she still smells like a dead badger. Beauty! Come here.’ She hauled on Beauty’s collar but the massive beast stayed put. She looked straight at Millie and almost seemed to roll her eyes as she continued to ignore the lady of the house.
‘Please,’ Millie said, both of her hands now settling on the dog’s head and into the ruff at her neck. ‘It’s nice … I … let her stay where she is.’ Millie had never had a pet. She couldn’t say if she was a dog person or not. All she knew was that she now felt less overwhelmed with her hands buried in this one’s smelly fur than she had a moment ago.
Book group, it turned out, did not actually entail discussing books. Or at least most of the conversation had yet to veer anywhere near literature. There was a lot of wine involved (of which Millie had taken a glass, as she thought it might help her fit in), a fair amount of chocolate (this was something Millie did like, love even, but she was too nervous to eat), and an incredible amount of chat.
The group included Kira, Libby, Amy (Libby’s sister-in-law), Tara and Claire (both strippers who worked with Libby). Eleanor had come with Millie for moral support. Millie had gone to her in a flat panic that afternoon. She had no idea what you wore to a book group. Casual was not easy for her. Eleanor (who, over the last few weeks, had insisted that Millie call her El) had for some reason been thrilled that Millie was going to a book group. She wasn’t quite as excited as she had been about the wedding, but then again she had been pretty disappointed to hear that Millie had only gone to the service and not the reception.
So when El had smiled at Millie and given her hand a squeeze after she’d found the perfect jeans-and-sloppy-jumper combo for the book group, Millie had found herself blurting, ‘Will you come with me tonight?’ As soon as the words were out she’d regretted them. El’s eyes had gone wide and she’d been speechless for endless seconds. ‘I mean,’ Millie had put in to fill the silence, ‘if you like books and … look, don’t worry. I –’
‘Of course I’ll come with you,’ El surprised her by saying, her face breaking into another wide smile. ‘I haven’t got a book group. I’d love to be part of one.’
Millie was still in shock that she’d agreed, but having El there calmed her nerves. El knew how hard this stuff was for Millie. But despite even El’s help, Millie knew after the first hour that this was not going to work. She had no idea what to say to these women. The way conversation flowed effortlessly between them was a complete mystery to her. For so long she had weighed and measured every word she said against possible consequences and interpretations. So whilst the chatter filled the room she stayed silent, her hands sifting through Beauty’s fur (and eliciting deeply satisfied snorts).
‘I’m giving him a chance, okay? He’s not all bad. Sometimes he can be really sweet,’ Tara told everyone whilst she fiddled with the stem of her wineglass.
‘He beat you!’ Claire said, and the room fell silent as Tara glared across at her. ‘How can you take him back? You should –’ Millie snapped out of her frozen cocoon and for a moment she forgot herself.
‘This man, he … he physically assaulted you?’ Millie asked, surprising herself, but she was so shocked it just slipped out. Five sets of wide eyes swung to her.
Tara blinked. ‘Well … it was only the once and he just slapped my –’
‘He put his hands on you in violence?’
‘I guess, but he’s changed now so –’
‘A study in America showed that 62 per cent of domestic violence offenders reoffend within two years.’
‘Well –’
‘And those were only the ones who were arrested, the actual figures are thought to be much higher.’
‘Look,’ Tara snapped, her face flooding with colour. ‘You might be able to get a nice bloke with your fancy worthwhile job and your perfect little outfits, but the likes of me –’
‘I have never had a … “bloke”,’ Millie put in, and Tara’s mouth snapped shut. ‘I have never been in any sort of relationship. My “perfect outfits” are all chosen for me by Eleanor who is my personal shopper and whom I have dragged along here tonight as she is the closest thing I have to a friend – apart from Don, but he’s in the wrong age group and gender for tonight. Anwar’s my therapist so he doesn’t count either.
‘And by stating that my job is “worthwhile” you are implying that your own is not. I would question this hypothesis. I perform a function at work and I get reimbursed for my time; you do the same. We both pay tax, we both contribute to society; both of our roles are vital to the people who rely on them. You could argue that your role in society is even more valuable than mine in fact. I am paid by the state to work in the state-funded NHS. You are working for a business and encourage people to spend money in that establishment, thus stimulating the economy and improving the country for everyone. I presume there are also foreigners attending the club?’
‘Well … yes, of course. We get the Russians, the Japanese, the Yanks …’
‘Even better. You are bringing foreign investment into the UK. The tax you pay is out of the profits of the business; the tax I pay is money that has already been collected in tax to fund the NHS. In the grand scheme of things you are helping this country to recover from the economic downturn and in turn aiding the world’s recovery. I … am not.’
Tara’s mouth dropped open and she blinked again. ‘I … well, I’ve never thought about it that way.’
‘No,’ Millie said, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Tara. ‘You have not, which has probably contributed to your lack of self-esteem.’
‘What makes you think I have low self-esteem?’
‘It is the only reason you would believe that it is acceptable for an incredibly beautiful woman and a valuable member of society such as yourself to align herself with a genetically deficient male.’
‘Oh.’ Tara sat back in her chair and puffed out a breath. Everyone’s mouths were open now and they were all staring at Millie. She began to feel uncomfortable and shifted in her chair whilst her hands tightened and her nails started digging into her palms. She had a feeling that this was one of the many times she had missed some sort of social cue and inadvertently offended someone.
‘I think I love you, uptight lady,’ Claire declared into the room, her face lighting with a wide smile.
‘Right on, sister,’ Kira put in, her fisted hand punching the air.
‘Well said, Millie,’ Libby murmured in her ear, and squeezed her arm.
‘You didn’t drag me here,’ El told her, a frown marring her expression. ‘I wanted to come and I’m honoured you consider me a friend, right?’
‘Oh,’ Millie blinked and for the first time in the longest while her face broke into a very small spontaneous smile without having to force it.
‘Woah,’ breathed Tara. ‘Chicky, you need to do that more. You look about ten times prettier and super-young.’
‘How old are you, Millie?’ Kira asked. This was the first time Kira had ever used Millie’s Christian name.
‘Uh …’ Millie, even with her social dysfunction, knew that this was not an altogether polite question, but then she suspected that if Kira wanted to know something she just plain asked, polite or not.
‘Ki-Ki, you are so bloody rude,’ Libby snapped, confirming Millie’s suspicion. ‘You don’t have to answer that, honey.’
‘It’s okay,’ Millie told Libby – straight honest questions she could deal with. ‘I’m twenty-six.’
‘What?’ Libby’s startled voice responded. ‘That’s only three years older than us.’
‘How is that even possible?’ Kira asked. ‘You’re a consultant.’
‘No, I – I’m not,’ Millie said, stiffening in her seat but letting the feel of Libby next to her and the fur under her fingers calm her nerves. ‘I just do the consultant on-calls and reporting. I’m supervised.’
‘What year are you in your training?’
‘I’ve just started my fourth year of my radiology specialty training.’
‘But … but that means you’ve been qualified for five years,’ Kira said, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. ‘You would have been …’
‘Twenty-one,’ Millie said. ‘I was twenty-one when I qualified. I started medical school at sixteen.’
‘Jesus, so you did your A-levels early, huh?’
‘Yes.’ Millie decided not to admit that she had actually done her A-levels at thirteen, then done a chemistry degree at Oxford, before she was accepted to medical school. She was well aware that this made her a freak. Going to school and university with kids five years her senior had not been easy. And she didn’t want these women to look at her the same way everyone did back then. Libby’s hand slid down from Millie’s arm to her hand and gave her a squeeze. It was then Millie remembered a conversation they had had a few weeks ago with Rosie:
‘Did you hear how cool Millie is? She can do any sum you ask her.’
‘That is cool, darling,’ Libby muttered.
‘If only all children felt like you, Rosie, I might have had friends at school,’ Millie said, smiling down at Rosie as she pulled her mass of brunette strands into the sleek knot she always wore, then carefully straightened a couple of items on her desk so they were back in perfect alignment.
‘What do you mean?’ Rosie asked. ‘Why didn’t you have friends?’
‘Oh … I …’ Millie froze, her eyes still focused on the desk. ‘Well, I am a bit … different, Rosie.’
‘You’re a good different,’ Rosie told her, and Millie glanced at her briefly, flashing a small smile.
‘I’m glad you think so. But at school they didn’t think it was a good different.’
‘That’s stupid!’ Rosie shouted in affronted disbelief.
Millie smiled and squatted down in front of the small tower of rage that was Libby’s daughter. ‘Most of the time I wasn’t even with children the same age as me, so friends … well, making friends was tricky. Not everyone has a gift for this. Now, you – you are twice gifted: you can make friends and you can do maths.’
Millie took a deep breath, then turned her hand in Libby’s to close her fingers around the other woman’s. When she caught her eye Libby looked startled for a moment but then she smiled so wide it looked almost painful.
‘Right,’ Libby said, turning to the rest of the group. ‘It’s late and we haven’t even got to the book yet. I propose we make the book club a weekly thing – every Tuesday night. What do you say?’ Everyone, including to Millie’s surprise Eleanor, agreed.
‘How often do you normally meet?’ Millie muttered under her breath to Libby. Libby paused for a moment and looked away.
‘We’ll do it at my place next,’ Tara chipped in, bouncing in her chair. ‘I’m going to set up a bonfire of all Mark’s stuff. You guys can help me burn him out of my life.’ To Millie’s shock Tara stood up from her chair, skirted the coffee table and squatted down in front of the sofa, before pulling Millie in for a tight hug. Millie stiffened for a moment, until Tara muttered in her ear.
‘Thanks, babe. Thanks for making me feel … like I matter.’ Millie’s hand that wasn’t held in Libby’s came up to give Tara an awkward pat on the back, after which Tara pulled back slightly, smiled right into her confused face and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. ‘Right, I’m outta here, bitches. Got a double shift tomorrow. Need my Zs if I’m gonna be able to shake my ta-tas to stimulate this country’s economy.’
‘Well, with that last boob job you’ll certainly be stimulating something,’ said Claire, moving across the room to drag Tara away from Millie. ‘Good to meet you, hun,’ Claire threw over her shoulder as she pulled Tara to the door. Millie looked up and Claire met her gaze for a minute. To her surprise it was soft and warm. Up until then Claire had struck her as anything but. She winked at Millie and mouthed thank you, before turning the corner into the corridor.
‘Woah! Loverboy and his sidekick Dick Doc,’ Millie heard Claire shout after the front door opened, and frowned in confusion. She had started to feel safe. Not relaxed, not comfortable, but safe.
‘Ladies,’ the deep voice sounded from the doorway, sweeping her feeling of safety away. ‘Always a pleasure, despite the adopted use of Kira’s infantile nicknames.’
‘Oh, you smooth-talking son-of-a-bitch,’ Millie heard Claire reply. ‘If my toast was buttered on the other side I would eat you for breakfast. Tara, put your tongue in: you’re driving me home.’ Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor and Millie flew into action, tearing her hand out of Libby’s and grabbing her bag from the floor. The dog she’d been stroking for the last hour, however, had other ideas: Beauty’s big body trapped Millie’s legs next to the sofa and her heavy head remained in her lap.
‘I’ve got to g –’
‘Hey there, fellow book lovers.’ Pav’s large frame filled the living room and Millie flinched. ‘So, what great literary works are up for debate today? Hit me.’
‘Don’t tempt me, Willy Fiddler,’ Kira shot back as he flopped down into the seat next to her and poked her in the ribs.
‘Argh!’ she shrieked, retaliating by yanking his jumper down and pulling so hard on his chest hair it looked like she’d actually ripped it out.
‘Hands off the merchandise,’ he said through a smile as he grabbed her hand, twisted it away from her body and poked her in the ribs again. It was then that he noticed Millie, and paused mid rib-poke. As soon as their eyes met Millie looked away. Of course Kira and Pav would be together. They were both so confident, so open and free. Them as a couple made complete sense. But for some reason her chest felt so tight it was a struggle to breathe.