February 7th, 1991

February 7th, 1991

At home, England

Millie rang first thing and the second I realized it was her, I regretted answering. It would be really nice to know who’s ringing so you can see if you want to answer or not!

“Who are you with?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“Your voice,” she said. “It’s different.”

“I just woke up,” which was actually true.

“Are you with Richard?”

“Richard?”

“You’ve already forgotten him?” she shrieked.

“No, of course not,” I uttered, feeling flustered. “No, Richard isn’t here.”

“Well unless William flew in from Antigua to surprise you or David decided he’s straight, I can only guess it’s bloody Ben but please tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Oh good, then who’s there?”

“Ben,” I said, quickly holding the receiver far from my ear, awaiting the onslaught. Not hearing a thing, I tentatively put the phone back to my ear, which is when I heard Millie chuckling heartily, which in turn made me do the same.

“You are a lost cause!” she said, through the giggles.

“Yes, I am,” I nodded, still laughing.

“You know, one of these days one of you will get married and that will be the end of this…this….what would you call it?”

The phrase true love swam in my head but there was no way I was about to jeopardize Millie’s good mood.

“Sickness,” I said. “This mad, twisted sickness I suffer from where he’s concerned.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, surprising me. “I think what you two have is true love.”

“You do?” I said, sounding as surprised as I felt.

“Uh-huh,” she uttered. “They say the path of true love is never smooth.”

“I can’t disagree with that!”

Millie chuckled, something she rarely does. “Anyway, I have to go and get ready for work.”

“Where you off to?”

“LA.”

My stomach lurched.

“Sorry,” she uttered. “And I’m sorry for what I said about David. I know that’s still a sore point for you.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. “But do me a favour. If you see a blonde guy surfing, bop him on the head and tell him it’s from me!”

“Hmmmm, finding a blonde sufer in LA might prove difficult.”

“Try your best,” I laughed.

Before going back upstairs, I made two mugs of tea, a pile of buttery toast and grabbed a box of Jaffa cakes.

 

 

 

 

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