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CHAPTERELEVEN
George stood in the Victorian Gothic surroundings of St Pancras Station feeling small. A weak, pathetic loser. Despite seeing Millie several times since his discharge from hospital, he’d not found the moment or the courage to tell her about his dad, and now he was going back to university. This was his very last chance.
He shuffled off his rucksack and looked down at her. She’d come with him to see him off and was looking up at the train arrivals and departures boards.
‘Not long now,’ she said, shifting her gaze to him.
‘Hmm,’ George made a non-committal all-purpose sound. ‘Millie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Would you like to go for a cup of tea while we wait?’ That was not what he’d intended saying. In his mind he’d planned to say, Millie, I’ve got something I need to tell you. Then he would have confessed.
She shook her head. ‘There’s not really enough time.’
‘Hmm.’ George took hold of her hand, intent on trying again. ‘Millie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Will you write to me?’ Once more, they were the wrong words, but they were good–better than the cup of tea offer. He wanted to say or do something that would keep alive their relationship while he was away from her. Even if he wasn’t sure there was a relationship anymore.
Since the night of the beating, there was an uneasiness between the two of them, and he still didn’t understand the reason. He thought he must have said or done something wrong; he was scared he was losing her. ‘Would you?’ he urged. ‘Letters I mean.’
‘If you want me to.’ Her sapphire eyes sparkled at him.
‘I do… and text and email?’
‘And phone. Don’t forget carrier pigeon,’ Millie added with a laugh.
George gathered her into his arms. ‘Oh Millie, I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘Me too,’ she mumbled into his shoulder.
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.’
‘You’ll manage, I’m sure,’ she said wryly.
‘I don’t know how. But I promise I won’t spend any time with other girls when I’m in Sheffield.’ He stopped and tilted his head so he could see her face. Had he gone too far? Since she’d told him about the liar, Robert, he’d been so scared of making any promises in case she didn’t believe him. Their eyes met. There was no reserve in hers. She seemed to trust he was telling the truth. His heart swelled and more unplanned words burst out of him. ‘Millie, can I see you at Christmas?’
‘I was sort of expecting you to want to.’ She pulled further away from him, adding. ‘And maybe when Martha and Sharon go home for the holiday, we can spend more time alone together…’ she smiled shyly and added, ‘at my place.’
‘Like we planned for the other weekend?’
‘Exactly like.’ She lifted her right eyebrow teasingly.
George leant forward, intent on kissing her, then stopped as a new thought reined him in. ‘Aren’t you going back to Scotland for Christmas?’
‘No. Mum and Dad are going to New Zealand. My brother will have made them grandparents by then and they’ll want to see the new addition to the family.’
‘You will be on your own?’
‘Yes, when I’m not working or with you.’
He pulled her into his arms again… ‘Millie, I–’
‘Thereyou are. I’ve been looking all over the concourse for you.’
George turned around. ‘Owen!’
‘Yes, don’t you remember we said we’d travel on the same train. Come on, we’ve got to run.’
George felt Millie slipping from his grip even before he turned back to her. Owen pulled at his arm.Bloody Owen. Perfect sodding timing. Not!
