by Helly Acton
‘Awful. Every move makes me itch,’ she replies, with a wry smile.
Ben chuckles. Nothing makes Millie’s insides flutter like the sound of his high-pitched giggle at something she’s said or done.
‘Well,’ Ben replies, ‘I’m not actually as intrepid as you think I am. In fact, my ex would probably complain that I’m anything but. I also love my home comforts. Why do you think my flat is covered in pictures of the past? Why do you think I still have the same backpack and carry cup from school? It’s because I like to be reminded of the past. Surrounded by the familiar.’
‘I didn’t know you spoke Italian,’ Millie mutters.
Ben looks at her, confused. ‘Ha, yes. Exactly! Famiglia. I love to be surrounded by that, too. I mean, why do you think I made friends with the first redhead I saw in London?’ He smiles. ‘You’re like a little piece of back home for me, Belle!’
Feeling the chill of the ocean air, Millie closes her eyes and turns her face to the sun to warm up her cheeks.
‘You’re cold,’ Ben says, passing her the picnic blanket from the basket. Millie drapes it over both their legs and leans back, watching the jagged cliffs of Caldey Island race by. The warmth of Ben’s body next to hers and the boat’s gentle bounce along the water’s surface is making her feel sleepy.
‘So, what made you move to London if you love your home comforts so much?’ Millie asks, sitting up straight before she gives in to the temptation to rest her head on his shoulder.
‘My mum encouraged me,’ Ben replies. ‘She said it broke her heart to see me break up with Sarah and cut my big trip short, because of her being ill. She convinced me I needed to spread my wings again and see the world. And yes, London isn’t the world, but perhaps it will be a jumping-off point.’
Millie opens her eyes. Her heart sinks at the idea of him only being there temporarily.
‘But that’s a way off, I reckon,’ he adds.
She closes her eyes again.
‘I haven’t told my parents what I’m working on yet,’ Ben says. ‘I think it would just upset them. Have you told your mum?’
‘She thought it was genius,’ Millie replies.
‘Well, if we all had the same opinions, we’d have nothing to discuss, I guess.’
Just as he says this, the boat lurches and an enormous sheet of water appears from the bow and lands, drenching them. Stunned into silence, they stare at each other in frozen shock. Then they burst out laughing, the salty water droplets running down their faces and into their eyes, their whole bodies shaking and huddled together in the wind.
Back on dry-ish land, Millie examines herself in the public toilet mirror, scraping a brush through her rusty-coloured, wire-sponge hair and dragging her fingers under her eyes to remove the mascara stains. Yesterday, she’d have wanted to wear a mask; this afternoon, she feels the weight of caring has lifted. She’s sampled spontaneous adventure, and it tastes good. Maybe even moreish. Exiting the toilets, she leans against the railings and stares out across the sea, taking in that intoxicating scent for the last time. In her head, she runs through the process of returning to her flat.
Kettle on.
Feed Bruce.
Unpack.
Laundry on.
Bath.
Pyjamas.
Single Me Out!
It’s her hamster wheel routine for every day of the week, and she doesn’t hate it. On most days, she longs for it. She counts down the hours until she’s safe on the sofa, listening to the busy world outside as she folds her knees under squishy cushions and flicks through the channels in peace.
The smell of fish and chips wakes her out of her daydream and her stomach rumbles.
‘Are you hungry?’ Millie asks Ben, when he reappears.
‘I could eat,’ Ben says.
‘How about two of those and a stroll on the beach?’ Millie says, pointing at the fish and chip stand behind them.
‘Woah, that isn’t on our schedule, Belle! Are you sure? We’d probably have to get a later train back to London. I’m cool with that if—’
‘Or we don’t go back to London,’ she says, staring at him. ‘If it’s okay with Betty and Marius, obviously.’
‘Wow. OK, yeah. I’m keen, but are you sure?’ Ben asks, surprised.
Millie takes her phone out.
2 missed calls from Mum
4 text messages from Mum
1 voice note from June
Tomorrow is Sunday, which means it’s Sunday lunch at her mum’s. Bar holidays, Millie has never missed a Sunday lunch with her mum and June. It’ll prompt a million questions from both of them. But Millie will just have to deal with those consequences when she comes to them. For now, reality can wait.
‘Before we do that, I got you something,’ Ben says, handing her a small paper bag.
Millie throws him a confused look, takes the material out of the bag and smiles when it unfolds. It’s a T-shirt with a picture of two naked people on Castle Beach on the front.
‘Thanks, I hate it,’ she says, laughing at him.
‘The best bit is on the back,’ he says, pointing.
Millie turns it over and bursts out laughing.
I WAS OFF MY TITS IN TENBY
DI MEDDWI’N GOCLS YN NIMBYCH Y PYSGOD
‘I actually think Mum has the same one,’ she says, deadpan.
Millie and Ben lie still next to each other, weighed down by the quilt and staring up at the beams of the barn above them. It should feel awkward, but it feels fine. Perhaps it’s because they’ve spent so much time together over the past few days. Or maybe huddling up earlier on the boat was a gentle introduction. Whatever the reason, lying next to Ben feels totally natural. Her toes are uncurled and her fists are unclenched. Even her heart is steady. Not for long. When Ben rolls over to face her, she feels his hand touch hers on the duvet, sending her pulse throbbing. She resists every temptation to stroke his hand back, and instead rolls over the other way. Millie might feel comfortable lying next to Ben, but crossing the line into intimacy could ruin everything. There’s just too much at stake.
Twenty-One
‘Sorry sorry sorry sorry!’ Millie shouts repeatedly, leaping past the hall drawers and tossing her bag into the bedroom on her sprint to the sofa.
She kicks her shoes off and swipes urgently at the TV, scrolling through the listings with one hand and calling June with the other.
‘Ha! There,’ Millie shouts when she sees June’s face on the screen, which she’s balanced on the coffee table. ‘Now, what have I missed?’
‘More like, what have I missed. What did you two do together all weekend?’ June asks pointedly. ‘You look like you’ve been crawling through hedges.’
‘Work, basically,’ Millie fibs, tying her wild curls into a tight topknot. ‘We were in the middle of nowhere. But with hardly any distractions we managed to do a lot.’
‘Grim. So, did you manage to get lots done by staying on Saturday night? And were the couples you met as dire as these two?’ June says, nodding towards her TV screen.
Millie looks up and sees new contestant Blake kneeling at his girlfriend Jessica’s feet on a tropical beach.
‘Mate!’ June shouts. ‘Those linen chinos look pricey, get up! So much for him saying he was ready to decouple last week.’
As June’s running commentary continues in the background, Millie nods along, tuned out. Instead, she’s tuned in to the last forty-eight hours. She lets her hair down again and stretches it across her face, breathing in the salty scent from the beach. She rubs her toes, searching for a few grains to take her back.
‘Don’t you think?’ June asks.
‘Huh?’ Millie answers.
‘Earth to Millie! I was saying – don’t you reckon this is all for the headlines? A week ago, he was the one telling Alpha Joe that he was ready to walk away. And now he wants to marry her? I don’t buy it. Maybe the producers told him to do it,’ June says.
‘Yeah . . . probably,’ Millie agrees, without a clue.<
br />
‘Check Blake out. She’s looking for someone behind the cameras. That’s a cry for help if I ever saw one. What’s she supposed to do? I mean, she obviously has to say no, but it’s kind of rough to do that on TV. He shouldn’t have put her under this pressure. Yup! There we go. Now she’s crying. Oh, thank god, here comes Alpha.’
Millie watches Blake’s blonde hair fall in front of her crumpled eyes.
Doctor Alpha Joe, the show therapist, is circling them as he drones on about understanding the difficulty of walking away from a complex five-year relationship. He likens them to a ball of two fragile woollen threads which have become tightly entangled. He tells them how important it is to unravel slowly to ensure their individual threads remain intact. He reminds them of the reasons they wanted out when they applied for the show, and he implores them to stay strong. How they might feel stressed now, but how being single has been scientifically proven to reduce stress long term. Jess doesn’t look like he’s buying it. He keeps on grabbing onto Blake’s hand and begging her not to leave because he can’t live without her. It’s distressing to watch, but it’s difficult to turn away.
‘I hate myself for watching this show,’ Millie groans.
‘Ugh, get off her!’ June shouts at the screen. ‘Doesn’t he care who’s watching? His friends, his family, his work? What happens when he goes back to the office? Does he just carry on as normal, after exposing himself like this? It’s so awkward.’
Millie glances at June on the screen and wonders if there would be any type of romantic relationship June would support.
‘Millie, thank fuck you and I have our heads screwed on,’ June says.
‘You’re being a bit harsh,’ Millie says, mustering the energy to disagree. ‘Put yourself in his shoes. He’s had Blake in his life for five years. That’s hard to walk away from. Habits, routines. Maybe he’s happy to be in a couple for the rest of his life. Maybe they should just carry on, set in their ways. I mean, them being in a couple has no impact on us or anyone else. Why do people care that much about couples becoming single? Why do they have to question their motives in the first place? Why do they think it’s any of their business to “fix” them? I think we should all just stop having an opinion on something we know nothing about.’
‘They did choose to be on telly, Mils. This show is literally made so that we can watch and judge,’ June says, staring down at the screen. ‘Besides, I’m not being harsh, I’m being . . . caring. I don’t want to see anyone coupled up and miserable. I hate watching them waste the best years of their lives on one person who soaks up all their time and emotion. Blake and Jess shouldn’t be sobbing on that beach, they should be independent, free, exploring the world, doing what they love. They have their whole lives ahead of them. They’ve made bad life choices that have landed them in this couple prison. I mean, look at Jess. He is literally on his knees, sobbing, on national TV. That’s what being in a relationship has reduced him to. Begging. And they obviously weren’t happy if they chose to come on this show. They’re desperate for an out.’
‘Maybe they want to do all of that together. For some people, it’s possible to explore the world with a partner, you know.’
‘It’s not the same, Mils. You know that.’
‘I think if Blake and Jess are happy to come as a pair, they should be free to. How does Doctor Alpha Joe know what’s best for them? What’s he a doctor of, anyway? Has anyone ever asked that? And why tar them all with the same brush? The world is more beautiful when it’s painted with a rainbow,’ Millie says.
‘What?’ June asks, laughing. ‘When did you become a motivational speaker?’
‘I’m just saying, if we were all the same, i.e. single, then the world would be a very grey place, wouldn’t it? And we wouldn’t have Single Me Out!, would we?’ Millie states firmly.
‘Well, that’s true,’ June says. ‘I just think that being single is what normal people want, Millie. And, no matter what you say, most people want to fit in.’
‘Or,’ Millie argues back, ‘perhaps single people are threatened by couples because they’re destroying the myth that single people are happier. They don’t want to believe that being in a couple can make you happy.’
June stares at her in silence on the other end of the phone.
‘June?’ Millie says.
Suddenly June bursts out laughing.
‘It wasn’t that funny,’ Millie says.
‘Sorry, just got a slide. He’s put a toupee on it.’
‘Let’s see!’ Millie says, before squirming. ‘Why is it always willies in fancy dress?’
June ends the call, leaving Millie alone with that image and the start of the next show on the Therapy Channel, Life After Love. Millie rolls her eyes, switches it off and stares at her flat.
Meow.
‘There you are!’ Millie sings, lowering her arms to the floor and tapping her hand against the sofa. Bruce weaves his way across the room, drawing the act out for as long as he can. When he reaches the sofa, he extends his neck towards her, stopping his nose a millimetre from her finger. Then he sniffs twice and struts back round the corner. Millie’s phone beeps. It’s a voicemail.
‘Oh, hello, Millabelle, this is your Mother speaking. Perhaps you remember me from such occasions as the trauma of your vaginal birth, the indignity of wiping your bottom for three years, the expense of feeding, watering and schooling you for eighteen. June and I had a lovely lunch, thanks for checking. CALL YOUR MOTHER.’
Millie feels her old enemy panic rear its ugly head inside her. So, she wasn’t totally truthful with her mum and June when she told them why she had to stay a fourth night. But she didn’t tell a total lie, either. She was with a co-worker. They did talk about work. And it was completely platonic. No one needs to know that she was just a finger stroke away from changing everything between them.
Whoosh! sounds an email on her phone.
To: Millie Jones
From: Ben Evans
Re: Memories
Beaut x
Attached to his email is the photo of Millie paddling barefoot on Castle Beach, her hair dancing wildly in the wind. She stares at the photo, wondering who that person is. She doesn’t recognise herself at all. She looks totally and utterly carefree.
Twenty-Two
Millie wears blue on Mondays. But not this Monday, because she got home so late last night that her washing is still damp and she was too tired to plan her weekly wardrobe. Instead, she’s wearing a black minidress with heels, which are the only shoes she has that match. She’s running five minutes late because she was too slow to catch the bus, which is making her panic. But, on the plus side, she looks pretty good, if she does say so herself – under her breath in her bedroom mirror, alone.
In reception, she sees an open lift and speeds up to a scurry, reaching the doors just as they start to close and feeling flustered and embarrassed by the scene she’s caused and the loud echo of her heels.
‘Wow,’ Ben says, looking her up and down. ‘Meetings? Going out tonight? Coming in from last night?’
‘Laundry,’ she says, smiling and straightening her hem.
‘New nightclub?’
‘Yes! Just round the corner from you. Watch out for the hairy bouncer called Bruce – he’s a real piece of work,’ she says, shaking her head and stepping back next to Ben when the lift stops on the second floor. Just two nights ago they were in this exact position, only horizontal. More people get into the lift, and they’re squeezed even tighter together.
‘Thank you for my photo,’ she whispers behind the wall of suits in front of them. ‘I’m going to frame it and put it next to the picture of Mum in the same pose.’
Millie would hate Ben to see how bare her walls really are. He’d think she was made of stone.
‘Sounds like a great idea,’ he says, shaking his left knee repeatedly.
Either she’s being sensitive, or he’s feeling uncomfortable about their weekend. But she can’t imagine Ben has ever felt un
comfortable in his life, so she shakes the paranoia from her mind. There’s a good chance she’s imagining it. Maybe he just needs a pee. Of course, they can’t act the same as they did yesterday. They’re in the office. He’s right to play it safe. No one should ever suspect they just spent the weekend together, even if it was as colleagues. Or friends. She isn’t sure what they are. What she does know is that stepping into the office together, knowing their secret escape is safe between them, is a delicious new thrill that Millie’s never felt before.
‘How was your filthy trip away, you two?’ Sasha shouts as they sit down.
Millie looks wide-eyed at her from across the desks.
‘Research trip,’ Ben mutters, visibly annoyed.
@milliej:
how did she know?
@bene:
skye arranged the travel, must have told her
@bene:
was it meant to be a secret?
@milliej:
no, just wondering
@milliej:
tea?
@bene:
yes please Belle
Phew, Millie thinks. Calling her Belle is a good sign that he doesn’t think their weekend was a mistake. She’d hate things to be awkward between them. He’s the only friend she has left here.
‘Ooh, someone’s made a special effort today. What’s that saying? Dress for the job you want, not the job you have? Or have you got a hot slide booked in for later?’ Sasha coos, approaching Millie with her yoghurt pot. Why Millie has become Sasha’s audience for her incessant yoghurt consumption is beyond her. The way she wipes the spoon against her tongue, leaving a creamy trail, makes Millie want to vomit. It’s almost like she’s taunting her about the accusation of theft from all those years ago.
‘Laundry day,’ Millie replies, sounding tired. This is why she dresses plainly. Nothing makes her feel as uncomfortable as a comment on her outfit, even if it is a compliment. It makes her feel silly for making the effort, in a ‘Who does she think she is?’ kind of way.
‘So, are you going to share your learnings from your sneaky couple deep dive?’ Sasha says, sitting in Ruth’s empty chair. ‘Or is it top secret?’
