Boundaries, schmoundaries
Pav drained the last of his beer and stared down at the empty bottle hanging loosely in his hand. He tried to concentrate on his next move, on being constructive, but, as seemed to happen continuously over the last month, other thoughts crowded his mind: Millie’s pale face and her horrified voice whispering ‘Pathological . . .’; the accusation in Don’s eyes after she’d come back to work a shell of the person she’d started to be; even worse, the fact that that accusation transformed into worry and even fear, as Millie withdrew completely into herself, working such long hours and with such ferocity that she’d cleared the entire reporting backlog for the department; then the way she looked through Pav when he tried to approach, and the obvious stress etched on her features that those approaches caused.
It was an impossible situation. Millie was determined not to engage with either him or any of his friends, even though they were her bloody friends too now, dammit! And she’d know that, if she’d just listen. Nothing they tried worked. She blanked all communication: she wouldn’t answer his calls, she wouldn’t answer the door to him, wouldn’t let him into her office, and was polite but ice-cold when she saw him or the others in the hospital. So Pav was stuck. He felt like his chest had been ripped open and his heart removed. In fact he felt like his heart was working away in the radiology department, losing weight and becoming more depressed every day, and there was not one bastard thing he could do about it. Frustration washed over him and in a sudden movement he drew the hand holding the bottle back and threw it across the room to smash in the fireplace.
‘Jesus,’ he heard muttered from the doorway, and spun around to face Jamie with a scowl.
‘I didn’t give you that key so you could prowl about my house like some sort of stalk …’ Pav trailed off as a small figure stepped out from behind Jamie. Eleanor was staring between Pav and the shattered glass nervously.
‘Don’t worry, El,’ Jamie told her, rolling his eyes. ‘He’s always been a drama queen; it’s all that Mediterranean blood – rather undermines any attempts he makes at a British stiff upper lip.’
Pav ignored Jamie the Dick and focused on El instead.
Of course.
Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Of course El would be the best way to get to Millie. There was no reason for Millie to cut El out of her life.
‘How is she?’ he asked, moving around the sofa towards them.
El straightened her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height and mustering a decent glare at Pav, despite her obvious nervousness.
‘Well, she’s crap,’ she told him. ‘But I expect you know that. Whether you give a toss remains to be seen.’
‘I –’
‘What happened? One minute she’s coming out of her herself, she’s my friend, I’m finally getting the real Millie: the funny, dry, kind woman I’d only seen flashes of before, and the next she’s totally shut down. She’s bloody worse now than she was when I first met her.’
‘I … I let her down,’ Pav said, his voice heavy and his chest constricting. He’d been angry with Millie at first for not listening to him, but over the last two weeks he’d realised that he was the one at fault. He should have been honest with her from the beginning. He should have taken care of her like he promised. The way he spoke to her … he let his ambition and frustration get the better of him, and he snapped. It was inexcusable.
‘Oh –’ El broke off and her posture relaxed slightly on seeing the dejection wash over Pav’s features. ‘Oh … right, well, at least you admit it. Do you … do you still –’
‘I love her,’ Pav cut in. ‘If she would just let me explain, then I …’
‘Thank God for that,’ El breathed, finally cracking a relieved smile. ‘I knew you weren’t a total wanker.’
‘Uh … thanks, I think.’
‘Pav, mate,’ Jamie said, drawing both of their attention. He was currently in Pav’s kitchen area, making a huge sandwich for himself. Pav rolled his eyes.
‘Make yourself at home,’ he said as he watched the greedy bastard slap the last of the ham on top of the brie he’d been saving for later.
‘El came over to see Libby ’cause she’s worried,’ Jamie told him, talking around a brie-and-ham-filled mouth. ‘As you’re in self-involved-broody-mode your bloody phone was off so I had to bring her round here.’
‘I think …’ El paused and tilted her head to the side. ‘I don’t know how much you know about Millie’s parents?’ Her expression was guarded and her eyes had narrowed. She was obviously torn between her concern for her friend and her desire not to betray Millie’s confidence.
‘I’ve met them,’ Pav reassured her. ‘I promise I know all about them.’
El blew out a relieved breath. ‘Right, great, well, you’ll know that it’s not a great idea for Millie to have any contact with them.’
‘Yes,’ Pav replied with conviction.
‘She came to me this week asking for an outfit she could wear to a press conference.’
‘What?’ Pav exploded; if he’d been holding another bottle it would have gone the same way as the first.
‘I think it has to do with her father,’ El paused. ‘I tried to get more information out of her but she clammed up and … well, I didn’t want to push her, she seems … fragile: really pale, thin, and she said the outfit had to have long sleeves. I caught sight of her forearms when I was adjusting one of the jackets and …’ El trailed off and bit her lip, glancing between the two men, obviously unwilling to betray another confidence.
‘What about her arms?’ was Jamie’s barely interpretable reply as he continued to plough through his massive sandwich. Pav ignored him; he was struggling not to punch something, hard.
‘I’ll sort it,’ he told El through gritted teeth and with his trademark confidence, which at the moment he was very far from feeling.
*****
‘Uh … I’m just heading out so …’
Libby narrowed her eyes at Millie and put her hands on her hips. Hilariously Rosie mimicked her gesture exactly, but with an added five-year-old foot-stomp. Beauty just gave a big hurrumph as she pushed her nose into Millie’s crotch in greeting. Lurking behind them all was an apprehensive-looking Kira.
‘I haven’t seens you in ages,’ Rosie’s grumpy voice whined from the doorstep. Millie’s cool expression softened significantly as she looked down at the little girl.
‘I know,’ she said, her voice holding more than a hint of strain and her hand dropping unconsciously to the top of Beauty’s head. ‘I’m sorry, Rose-Pose. I just …’ She trailed off and swallowed, then surprised Libby by taking a step back to open the door so they could all step through. Libby could smell cleaning fluid in the air, and as she followed Millie through to the living room she frowned when she saw the meticulous throw cushion arrangements and immaculate space. Libby knew that Millie cleaned and organised when under stress; judging by the state of her house her current anxiety levels must be through the roof.
‘Rosie, Kira,’ she said as she walked over to the sofa. ‘Go take Beauty into the garden for a minute. I need to do some grown-up talking with Millie.’
‘Great idea, Libs,’ Kira said, backing away towards the garden door. ‘Grown-up talk’s not my forte.’
Rosie however scowled at her mother before skipping to Millie and giving her a hug. Beauty lumbered that way as well and sat her massive backside down on Millie’s feet. Millie looked startled for a moment, then a tiny smile broke through her strained expression. She laid one hand on Rosie’s head and the other on Beauty’s.
‘Rosie,’ Libby said in a warning voice. Rosie huffed but released Millie after another few seconds.
‘I needs to do grown-up talkins with Millie too,’ she said indignantly as she flounced to the back door with Beauty in her wake to grab Kira’s hand. Once they were out of hearing distance Libby took Millie’s cold hand and pulled her down to sit of the sofa. She could feel Millie stiffen under her fingers, but Libby had waited long enough to confront her, and she wasn’t going to back off just because she knew it made Millie uncomfortable.
‘Right, now then,’ she started. Millie had withdrawn her hand and was avoiding her gaze, preferring to look at the coffee table instead. ‘We’re going to get a few things straight.’
Libby saw Millie frown in confusion and flick her a quick, bemused glance before looking away again. Progress, Libby thought. Anything that broke through that bland, ice-cold expression was progress.
‘Since you won’t answer your phone to me or reply to any messages anymore, I’ve come to see you in person. I’ll get straight to the point: I’m bloody furious with you.’
That got Millie’s attention. She sat up in her seat and looked away from the coffee table and straight at Libby.
‘You’re furious with me?’ she asked, total confusion and a little anger in her expression now. More progress, Libby thought.
‘Yes.’ Libby clipped, and then softened her tone. ‘I thought we were friends, Millie. You can’t just cut people out of your life. That’s not the way this works.’
‘But … but I …’ Millie trailed off and her eyes darted away again. Libby sighed.
‘I was friends with you before you even started seeing Pav. Before the idea of this bloody conference came up.
Millie bit her lip and shook her head. ‘I didn’t … I mean, I offered to help with Rosie and …’
‘And you thought that was why I spoke to you? You thought I was using you to – ?’
‘No,’ Millie interrupted, shaking her head more vigorously now. ‘No, I never thought that. I was lucky to spend time with Rosie. I knew I was lucky. Now you’re doing a medical attachment you don’t need me to help so …’
‘Oh, Millie, what am I going to do with you?’ Libby groaned. ‘Of course we still need you. Rosie’s missed you, I’ve missed you; the bloody dog has missed you. We care about you. You were never just convenient childcare. And you know that I never gave two shits about any bloody conference so there’s no excuse for cutting me out.’
‘Oh … I …’ Millie pressed her lips together and swallowed again. ‘Okay,’ she said, her voice slightly hoarse, ‘I’m sorry … I just didn’t realise that you’d want to …’
‘Pav told me about the money.’ Millie flinched and stiffened again, which almost made Libby regret bringing it up, but she wanted complete honesty with her now. ‘He told me last week when he was drunk at our place doing his sad-case, heartbroken routine – which by the way I also blame you for. The last thing I need is a six-foot moping Greek man getting in my way of an evening.’
Millie blinked at Libby and her mouth dropped open in shock. ‘Moping?’ she whispered. ‘You think he’s moping … over me?’
‘Well of course it’s over you,’ Libby snapped. ‘I’ll tell you what’s given that away: you dumping him coinciding perfectly with the start of said moping and the fact that he bangs on about you continuously. I think that’s pretty strong evidence.’
Millie turned away from Libby and stared into the middle distance for a long moment.
‘Right, that’s enough about Moody Greek Boy,’ Libby said briskly. ‘I’m here to talk about you and me.’ She leaned forward and took Millie’s hand, softening her tone. ‘Why did you set up that fake grant, Millie?’
Millie started in obvious shock and bit her lip. It was a good minute before she could reply.
‘You needed it.’ Millie shrugged. ‘You deserved it.’
‘When you started the payments you barely knew me.’
‘Libby,’ Millie said, turning towards her and this time making direct eye contact, ‘I barely know anyone. If you hadn’t noticed I’m not exactly a social butterfly. I could see you struggling. I admired how you were coping and what a good mother you were despite everything. I have … I have a lot of money.’ She shrugged. ‘It made sense to me. It was logical.’
Libby huffed out a frustrated laugh. ‘You can’t just start transferring large amounts of money into somebody’s account because it fits in with your brand of logic. That’s craz –’
‘Did you know that the first hug Rosie gave me was the only spontaneous gesture of affection I’d had since my nanny left me when I was seven?’ Millie told her. Libby took in a sharp breath and she squeezed Millie’s hand tightly.
‘Looking after Rosie meant something to me, Libby. Your friendship meant something to me.’
Libby swallowed and blinked back the stinging in her eyes. ‘Right,’ she said, her voice gruff with emotion. ‘Well, let’s stop playing silly buggers then. I’d like you to talk about our friendship in the present tense if you don’t mind. And I will be paying you back all the money I owe you.’
‘Libby, I –’
‘Every penny, Millie. And you have to stop the payments.’
Millie bit her lip.
‘Millie,’ Libby said slowly in a warning tone. ‘You should know that Jamie’s feeling pretty emasculated since he found out you’ve been supporting his wife. It’s almost worth it for that, to be honest.’
Millie smiled and Libby finally felt like she was getting somewhere. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in her chest when she thought of an affection-starved seven-year-old Millie.
‘Now, I’m a hugger, Rosie’s a hugger, and Kira is definitely a hugger. We’ll have to set up some sort of cuddle schedule because you’ve got a lot of making up to do.’
Millie let out a startled laugh and Libby decided that was all the green light she needed. She lurched forward and snatched her up in a fierce embrace, which, to Libby’s relief and after a long second, Millie returned.
Another set of arms engulfed them both in a crushing grip. ‘Group hug!’ shouted Kira, who had thrown herself bodily onto both of them on the sofa. ‘I knew you’d see sense, Professor X. As if I give a crap whether Dick-Boy gets to talk at his willy-fiddler conference, you loco lady.’
‘What’s Dick-Boy?’ a small voice asked as Rosie’s body launched over the back of the sofa into the middle of the enforced group hug.
‘Ki-Ki, can you please at least try not to load her up with the type of ammunition that gets me called into see her Reception teacher?’
‘No promises, my lovely, no promises.’
Rosie’s small hands found their way up to Millie’s cheeks and she proceeded to squeeze them. ‘I missed your face,’ she told Millie.
‘I missed your face too, little louse,’ Millie whispered.
‘Ki-Ki,’ Libby said.
‘Yes, my beautiful friend.’
‘This is becoming uncomfortable now. Remember we talked about boundaries.’ If anything Kira’s grip tightened and she kissed Libby, then Millie, and then Rosie on the cheek.
‘Boundaries, schmoundaries,’ Kira said, swaying the whole group from side to side. A loud woof interrupted her swaying and a wet nose pushed under their arms. Once Beauty’s huge head had worked its way on top of all their laps she closed her eyes and started to shake it from side to side, her drool flying into the air around her and causing everyone to spring apart.
‘Way to spoil the moment, Beast of Bodmin,’ Kira grumbled, wiping a globule from her cheek. Libby gave Millie, the clean-freak, an apprehensive look but to her surprise she was still smiling. Then Millie buried her face in Beauty’s fur and her body started shaking with muffled laughter. Libby took her hand and gave it a squeeze and this time – this time – she squeezed back.