Every word, dear
‘Push me faster, boy,’ Gammy shouted from her chair.
‘Any faster and we will literally break people’s legs,’ Pav told her through gritted teeth. ‘We’re nearly there anyway.’
‘No thanks to you and your dawdling.’
Pav rolled his eyes and turned the corner into the entrance of the hotel. He wasn’t exactly sure what Gammy meant by dawdling. If racing over to her residential home, explaining the situation at supersonic speed, then loading her and her wheelchair into his ill-equipped car and nearly breaking his back in the process was dawdling, he’d like to see how fast Gammy usually travelled to her weekly outing at the day centre. Pav doubted that the overweight minibus driver he’d seen earlier lifted Gammy bodily into his vehicle, or that he drove at double the speed limit through London. The foyer was full of people holding cameras and sporting lanyards with Press written on them. Pav powered through to make it to the information desk.
‘I need to see the Morrisons,’ Pav told the stressed-looking receptionist, who just rolled his eyes.
‘You and every other bugger in town,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid that the –’
‘Young man.’ Gammy’s commanding tone cut through the noise of the foyer as she pushed herself up to a wobbly stand next to Pav, who supported her arm, taking nearly all her weight. ‘Firstly, you are a representative of one of the oldest hotels in London. I hardly think that the word “bugger” should be present in your vocabulary.’
‘I –’
‘Secondly, I am certain there will be a problem if you do not allow Mr Morrison’s mother to support him before this very important press conference.’
The receptionist’s eyebrows went up in challenge.
‘Pavlos, my handbag,’ she said. Pav jumped into action, grabbing the huge leather bag from the back of the chair. Gammy snatched it from him and began rummaging in its depths. ‘Ha!’ she shouted after a good few minutes and a number of questionable items, including some ancient-looking boiled sweets, five pairs of reading glasses and what looked like a dead cat, which shocked even Pav until he was assured that it was in fact a hat, had been dumped in front of the less-than-pleased receptionist. ‘There you are.’ Gammy’s wrinkled, papery hand was brandishing a piece of paper so old it wouldn’t have looked out of place next to the Magna Carta. ‘My marriage certificate.’
The receptionist took the paper tentatively from Gammy and examined it. ‘Right, yes,’ he mumbled, still unsure how to proceed.
‘You’ve met my son I assume?’ Gammy asked.
‘Er … well, yes, he …’
‘Arrogant, demanding, awkward bastard, isn’t he?’ The other man’s mouth fell open. ‘Well, if you think he was bad before, imagine how upset he’ll be when he hears that his elderly mother was kept waiting in her delicate condition.’ Nothing about Gammy appeared in the least bit delicate in that moment, but the receptionist seemed to make a decision and picked up his desk phone. A few minutes later, and with Gammy back in her chair, they were efficiently whisked through a conference room and into a large waiting room.
‘What on earth … ?’ Valerie Morrison’s sharp voice cut through the low murmuring in the room. Pav stopped in his tracks, his eyes swept through David Morrison with his two advisers, and he focused in on Millie. She was standing next to her mother, dressed in an immaculate cream suit, with her hair in one of the elaborate but severe styles that Pav disliked and a piece of paper gripped in one of her hands.
Gammy, obviously not in the mood for any more ‘dawdling’, ignored her son and daughter-in-law, addressing the only person in the room she cared about.
‘Millie, child,’ she said in a commanding voice. ‘We. Are. Going.’
Millie blinked, her eyes flicking from Pav to Gammy and back again, her face creasing in confusion. ‘Gammy, what are you doing here?’
‘Taking you home, you ridiculous girl,’ Gammy told her.
‘But … but …’
‘Mother,’ David Morrison’s exasperated voice cut in, and Gammy finally deigned to look his way. ‘I’m about to do an extremely important press conference. May I ask, respectfully, what the bloody hell you are doing here?’
Gammy rolled her eyes. ‘Boy,’ she said, and Pav suppressed a laugh. Mr Morrison must have been in his late fifties at least, and about as far from a boy as humanly possible. ‘You wouldn’t know what was “extremely important” if it smacked you around the face with a wet fish.’
‘Mother M.,’ Valerie Morrison started in a sickly sweet voice, a painful, forced smile on her face. ‘Isn’t this wonderful. Why don’t we have a lovely catch-up just after David has finished talking to the pesky press people.’
‘Oh do shut up, you poisonous excuse for a woman,’ Gammy snapped, refocusing on Millie and softening her tone. ‘Come on now, child. Time to go with Gammy.’
‘But …’
‘They lied to you, Millie,’ Pav put in, reading the worry and confusion in Millie’s eyes. ‘They can’t take Gammy out of that home. Even if she loses the capacity to make her own decisions, she has made an advance directive that only you are allowed to make medical and financial choices for her.’
‘Did you really think I would put these idiots in control of my future? I may have made some mistakes bringing up this one,’ Granny M. made an impatient gesture towards her son, ‘but that doesn’t mean I didn’t learn from them.’
‘Well, I –’
‘Honestly, why not just come to me about it?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you, Gammy,’ Millie said, snapping out of her frozen shock to move forward, around her father, and then kneel in front of Gammy’s chair.
‘I’m not a helpless doddery old fool,’ Gammy said, softening her tone and laying her good hand on Millie’s cheek. Millie leaned into the hand, closed her eyes and nodded. ‘Always wanting to make everything better, keep everyone happy; ever since you were a child. Time for you to be happy now.’ Millie opened her eyes and to Pav’s shock they were glistening with tears. One escaped and fell onto Gammy’s hand. ‘That’s it,’ Gammy muttered, wiping the tear away. ‘You live your life now. You let yourself feel.’ Millie nodded again and then fell onto Gammy in a fierce hug. When she finally released Gammy, Millie drew back and her eyes caught Pav’s for the first time.
‘Camilla.’ Valerie’s abrasive voice cut across the room but Pav and Millie didn’t break eye contact. ‘I’m sure we’re all pleased to see your grandmother, but family reunions can wait. I want you to get up and come with us into that conference room, like we agreed.’ Millie started to rise from the floor, her eyes unreadable but still fixed on Pav.
‘Camilla.’ Valerie’s voice was sharper now. ‘Will you –’
‘Leave her a –’ Pav started, but stopped abruptly at Millie’s frown and the shake of her head. She turned to her mother and lifted her chin, her hands bunching into small fists at her sides.
‘How dare you try to blackmail me,’ she said, her voice clear and surprisingly loud.
‘I don’t know what you’re talk –’
‘I used to think I was a weak person,’ Millie went on, taking a threatening step towards her parents and even raising a finger to point in their direction. It was only because Pav was standing so close that he could see the fine tremor in her hand. ‘But I’m not weak. To survive a childhood with two soulless people who do not give one single shit about me –’ Pav blinked at the swear word, then smiled. He knew Kira would rub off on her eventually ‘– and come out the other side … to even function. Well … I’m not weak, I’m … I’m bloody brave actually. And you can both go get … get stuffed.’ Pav would have preferred that she told them to go fuck themselves, but made allowances for her profanity inexperience. Next time.
She spun around as her parents both spluttered out various protests. Pav ignored them all, stepped around the wheelchair, grasped Millie by the shoulders, and gave her a hard fast kiss on the lips. This predictably ramped up her parents’ annoyance, but both Pav and Millie had tuned them out. When Pav pulled back and searched her face she looked shocked for a moment; then a slow, wide smile emerged.
‘Forgive me?’ he whispered, and she laughed.
‘I think finding Gammy, racing around London and saving me from having to be on television supporting my …’ she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulder again before raising her voice slightly, ‘total arsehole of a father –’ this drew shocked gasps from around the room which only served to widen her smile even further ‘– I think that might have earned you enough brownie points in the forgiveness stakes.’ She lowered her voice again. ‘And I think I’m ready to believe that maybe … maybe you like me, just a little.’
Pav rolled his eyes. ‘If risking life and limb to interrupt your Gran’s chair-aerobics session doesn’t prove how much I love you, then –’
‘You … you love me?’ For the second time that day Millie’s eyes shone with tears. The awe and wonder in her voice was nearly enough to unman Pav as well. Luckily, just as he felt the suspicious stinging sensation at the back of his own eyes, Gammy cut in.
‘Of course he loves you, crazy girl,’ she said, huffing impatiently and using her umbrella to give Pav a poke in the leg. ‘Now let’s get out of this place. My son and his screaming banshee are starting to give me a migraine. I’ll have to resort to taking my hearing aids out in a minute.’ Pav let out a short bark of laughter and moved to grip the handles of the wheelchair.
‘Fine, get out,’ Valerie shouted, her true colours emerging as she sensed defeat in the air. ‘You always were a spineless, ungrateful brat anyway. Your father can win this election without your help. The public aren’t going to care whether a nobody like you shows up or not.’
‘Well …’ All eyes swung to a small figure standing near the doorway that Pav was approaching. ‘As far as I know, your husband is only a candidate for leader of his party, not for the election. Not yet.’ The woman stepped forward into the room and smiled at Valerie and her husband, both of whom had gone a rather alarming shade of white. ‘I’m Rachel Mulholland by the way, political correspondent for the Herald. I must say if this is how the Morrisons go about their business I can’t wait for the press conference.’ She turned to Pav and Millie, gave them a wink, and then slipped out of the door ahead of them.
By the time they had negotiated the doorway and corridor with the chair, leaving the muted, panicked tones of Mr and Mrs Morrison and their campaign team, Rachel had faded back into the depths of the press pack.
‘How much do you think she heard?’ Millie asked as they made their way to the exit.
‘Every word, dear,’ said Gammy from her chair. ‘She was watching us in the reception and followed us there. I don’t know. You young people really are the most unobservant sort. You would never have survived the Blitz. Come along.’ She tapped Pav smartly on the shin and he winced. ‘If we start back now I might catch the last few minutes of the residents’ meeting, and I want to complain about the downstairs toilet again. Betty spent a good thirty minutes looking for the loo roll the other day. Madness.’