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CHAPTERFOUR
It had stopped raining at last, and they had survived the challenge of a wet day in Brighton. They’d taken a taxi from the railway station and booked into Bide Awhile, their bed and breakfast accommodation, then strolled on the pier in their waterproofs, before finding a bar in which to dry out and have a late lunch. The afternoon had been split between the Aquarium and the Royal Pavilion. They’d enjoyed the fish, then admired the beautiful décor of a Regency prince’s palace. Millie said, George must be really interested in the Pavilion, it being so historic and commissioned by his namesake. He muttered something about it not being medieval, but he enjoyed it. Especially the time they spent by Queen Victoria’s bed, marvelling at the number of mattresses it had. Then in the evening, it was a trip to the theatre and now they were walking back to the bed and breakfast, and it wasn’t raining anymore.
Millie slipped her hand into his and sighed as she stared at the starlit night.
‘Isn’t it beautiful, George?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. Looking at her.
‘I’ve had such a wonderful day. Thank you.’ She turned to him as if suddenly worried about something. ‘What about you? Has it been good for you, too?’
‘Yes,’ he said, tipping slightly forward, focussing on her lips, wanting so much to kiss them.
Millie turned away, and laughing, she carried on walking, still holding his hand.
‘You know, George, you are very special.’
‘I am?’
‘You are. I told Martha and Sharon you were.’
‘You did?’ he said, then added. ‘I didn’t think they liked me very much.’
‘They were just being protective, that’s all. Robert, my last boyfriend…’ She paused, dropped George’s hand and looked out towards the darkened beach. ‘Robert was cruel. He made me think he loved me when he didn’t. Not really… never.’
George ached with her pain. Helpless, wanting to comfort her but not knowing what was right. For the second time that day, he wished he were Owen. Owen, with his natural Welsh charm and an instinctive sense of what was right to say and what was not. He loved Owen. Loved? Yes… he supposed he did. In a manly, nonsexual way, but sometimes he hated him too for being so brilliant at everything. Why couldn’t he have just a tenth of Owen’s genius? Why couldn’t he work out what to say at this moment when it was so important to say the right thing?
‘I’m sorry, Millie,’ he said and tentatively reached for her hand again.
She let him take it and moved to rest her head against his shoulder.
‘You really are so sweet,’ she said.
He tried very hard not to be offended, but sweet was probably the last thing he wanted to be thought of right then. Oh, Millie… longing seemed to stream from him. I love you so much, he thought. But I can’t tell you now, not yet. You’ll never believe me. And if that bastard, Robert… whoever he is, hurt you, then it’s going to be twice as hard for you to trust me when I do finally have the courage to tell you how I feel. ‘Oh, Millie,’ he murmured, and she nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
Having not slept well,George blinked at Millie over the Sunday morning breakfast table when she said, ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea, George.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A way we can spend time together and you can revise your studies.’
He frowned. He’d confessed last night over their interval ice creams he was behind with his course reading. Was she planning to plant him in front of one of his books and force him to read while she sat by taunting him with her beauty?
‘It’s your final year, right? Starting in September. I remember you said, and that’s important. There must be so much stuff you need to rework.’
Not rework, he thought, remembering the books that were still unopened from term one.
‘So, what I thought…’ Millie paused, either for dramatic effect or to pour herself a cup of tea. George wasn’t sure which. ‘I thought since we’ve had such a great weekend, we could do it again.’ She looked at it him as if it all made sense. He stared back at her because it didn’t.
‘I know you are not doing the Regency period. So, this weekend has been a digression, but what if we went to places that are within the medieval period? There must be places… aren’t there?’
All at once, George understood. Millie was asking him on another date. Another weekend. Oh, wow! He smiled. He wanted to lean across the table and plant a great big kiss on her beautiful, soft, pink lips. But looking at the rest of the guests staying at ‘Bide Awhile’, he thought it might be improper behaviour.
‘Well?’ Millie said, ‘what do you think? Are there places we can visit that will help you with your studies?’
‘Yes. For sure. Lots of places in London alone, but if you fancy a weekend away again, then there’s Leeds Castle in Kent and, of course, Canterbury Cathedral. Lots of medieval history in Kent.’
‘Shall we go then?’ Millie leant across the table and took George’s hand. ‘Next weekend?’
‘You want to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll sort it.’ Suddenly he felt in charge. Already he was planning.
Millie sat back in her seat. ‘Is there anywhere we can go today? Is all the medieval stuff in Kent?’
‘No, it’s spread out all over the place. But we might have to hire a car. In Sussex, off the top of my head, there’s Arundel Castle and Battle Abbey, more places I can’t remember, but don’t you want to spend the day on the beach?’ He cast a glance out the window where the sun had already dried the previous day’s rain.
‘No. We can always have a swim this evening when the crowds have gone. Let’s explore the medieval history of Sussex, first.’
