Читать книгу While You Were Dreaming - Lola Jaye - Страница 7

Millie was in the middle of what could only be described as a monumental state of bliss as one set of larger-than-average toes jutted out from the end of a very messy bed.

‘Wake up sleepy!’ she said, the rest of her body emerging from under the duvet. The foot stirred a bit in response and she leaned over to the side table, switching on the tiny pink digital radio. The beginning of a muffled yawn escaped from the snugness of the duvet as the silky voice of the DJ kicked in. ‘We’re nearing the end of drive time–here’s something from back in the day!’

‘Millie,’ moaned the drowsy voice from inside the duvet, as ‘Firestarter’ blasted over the airwaves.

‘Morning, handsome,’ she beamed. She rarely felt this happy and complete: it made a nice change.

‘What the…?’ Rik was still half asleep; he rubbed his eyes frantically.

‘It’s almost evening, time to get up!’ She said brightly, prising the covers away from his head and flashing him a beaming smile. Her untamed shoulder length curls bounced around her oval-shaped face.

‘Mmmmm, I’m hungry,’ Rik sighed. She’d been seeing him for the past month and she really, really liked him…In fact…‘Any chance of some food, Mille?’ he went on, twirling his hand in the air.

And then there was the way he said her name, the way he scrunched his nose just before he laughed; even his massive feet were cute. She’d fallen for him hard and, looking at Rik now, she knew exactly what she needed to say.

‘I…’ she began warily.

Rik leaned over to switch off her tiny pink radio–a twenty-fourth birthday present from Lena only a few months ago that matched Millie’s CD player, along with the card inscription: ‘To my irresponsible, loving, and beautiful little sister, Millie. Happy Birthday. You’re a star. Love, Lena.

‘I’ll see what’s in the fridge, but it’s probably going to be cold pizza from last night. Unless you want me to put together something from Lena’s stash. Warning though: it’s only going to be healthy stuff like aduki beans and apples. Oh, but I think I know where she keeps her secret store of Toblerone,’ Millie said excitedly.

‘Actually, don’t worry about the food,’ Rik said, suddenly changing his mind. He jumped out of bed, sliding his perfect frame into his Diesel jeans.

Her heart leapt. She wanted to say it. She really had to tell him she loved him. And now, before it was too late.

‘Rik,’ she began, realizing her lips had to move fast if she was to get the words out before he left the flat. He hardly called as it was, and they never went out to places (unless you counted the fish-and-chip shop last Saturday), so she didn’t know when the next ‘perfect’ time would come about again. He now had his shirt in his hands, after all, and his trainers had magically slipped onto his feet; she had to work fast or else the moment would be lost.

She had to tell him now.

Now.

Now! ‘I love you.’

And then silence. In fact she couldn’t hear anything but the ticking of her Betty Boo alarm clock as they stood facing one another as though they were in some type of face-off, his belt unbuckled, muscular six-pack tantalizingly naked.

She bit her bottom lip nervously and waited.

Rik merely sighed and then averted his gaze to his jacket–hooked on the edge of the wardrobe door, which was itself hanging off its hinges. He slipped into his shirt, still saying nothing, and Millie grabbed the duvet, hugging it close to her as she suddenly felt quite cold.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything, Rik?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Millie, I do like you…But…’

And there it began. A jumble of words that, once strung together, all amounted to the same thing.

He. Didn’t. Want. Her.

‘I think we need time apart,’ he muttered finally.

She pretended not to hear him, desperate to shut out the words she’d been hearing for as long as she could remember. From guys, mainly. Ex’s who clearly weren’t as perfect for her as Rik. And he was perfect for her. Rik, who spelt his name without a ‘c’. Rik, who made her feel a lot less lonely. Rik, who looked out for her. Of course she had Lena and sometimes Cara (very rarely, Cara), but it was so nice to have someone like Rik around and she needed to remind him of just why they were so, so, so, so perfect for one another. She loved him. He was the one for her and she for him.

She needed him–didn’t that count for anything?

So, what Millie did next came naturally.

‘No, stop it Millie,’ he murmured, pulling away from her tight kiss. This was futile, of course, as she was clinging onto him oh-so-desperately. Her hands digging into his arms as he attempted to extract himself from her grip and possibly from her life forever. And she couldn’t have that. Not this time and not again. She didn’t know if her heart could cope with yet another crack.

He gripped her shoulders firmly. ‘I said no, Millie!’ His voice was strong, firm, like a father telling her off, she suspected.

The mixture of pity and coldness she clearly recognized, though.

‘Don’t,’ he said, as he gently moved her face away from him. ‘Don’t do this, Millie.’

A huge feeling of rejection washed over her, threatening to devour every one of her senses if she didn’t begin some sort of damage limitation.

‘I get it, you’re knackered, I shouldn’t have woken you up! Go home, get some rest and I’ll see you later?’ she said breathlessly, but he returned a look she couldn’t quite read–or didn’t want to.

‘No, I don’t think it’s a good idea, seeing as though–’

‘No! Don’t say it!’ she snapped, jumping off the bed and leaving the bed shaking in her wake.

‘It has to be said because you clearly weren’t listening earlier, Millie,’ he replied gently.

She silently begged him not to say the words again. Yes, she’d heard something in the early hours of the morning after a lovely evening together but, as usual, her natural refusal to absorb or process any of the hurtful words had kicked in.

‘It’s over,’ he said.

She placed her hands over her ears, wanting to switch the radio back on, needing to block out what he was saying to her.

‘We are over. I thought I made myself clear before.’

She threw her hands back down. ‘But, I thought–’

‘You thought that if you managed to get me into bed again, have a few drinks, everything would be all right. Well, it isn’t, Millie. I wanted to make sure you were all right, you know…. You said you wanted me to hold you, so I did and then we…I’m sorry. I really am.’

‘So, if you’re sorry, then don’t do it. Please don’t leave me!’ Millie didn’t care how desperate she sounded; she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to get dumped again.

But Rik’s eyed were darting frantically around her room; taking in the stained mugs, half-read magazines and lip-gloss-covered towel. Millie’s mind attempted to separate and communicate the whirl of questions, answers, protestations, and pleadings that were rushing around in her head like an out-of-control carousel. ‘So…so, are you really going?’

Rik now had his jacket on and was picking his way through the clutter of boxes that Millie had not yet unpacked since her move from the Bow bedsit, three months ago.

‘This room is in such a state,’ he said as he scanned his eyes over two fat bags of washing that still hadn’t made it to the launderette.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’ve lost my watch,’ he said circling his left wrist. ‘If you find it, can you let me know, please?’

She was glad that the place was a mess, that he’d misplaced his beloved, stupid watch. That way at least she had something of his to hold onto and he’d have to come back for it sometime. And perhaps when he did come back, she’d answer the door in that New Look chiffon minidress she’d bought a few months ago. She’d also pile on that new Rimmel mascara her mate Nikki was always going on about and, if she could afford it, she’d splash out on a trip to Monique’s to get her hair straightened. Actually, on second thoughts, Rik liked her soft curls: he’d told her that once.

‘So, you’re really going then?’ she asked, her voice breaking.

‘Yes, Millie. I’m sorry. I mean, you’re a great girl and everything but nothing’s changed since last night. I’m sorry, Millie,’ he replied, buttoning up his jacket.

And with that, he slipped out of her bedroom, quickly. And although she had pretty much used up any last scrap of dignity, all she could do now was listen as he hurried down the stairs, each step he took feeling like one more chip away at her heart.

She shut her bedroom door and sank down onto her bed. Men broke up with her all the time, but she hadn’t a clue why. She was attentive, respectful, loving, sexy, and could usually pass off one of Lena’s delicious dinners as her own. What was wrong with her?

She took a deep breath, wanting to pull herself together, but knowing she couldn’t yet. Yes, she was twenty-four. A big girl now. And she was used to this; but, nevertheless, she was no less tired of it all. Just over two months ago, Olu informed her it couldn’t, ‘wouldn’t work’, and a month before that, Kenny stopped returning her calls. She wiped her eyes just as her mobile phone belted out a rubbish version of the theme tune to The Simpson’s. She stood up quickly, her little toe banging against the edge of the bed.

‘Owwww!’ she cried as the pain shot through her body. The phone stopped ringing and she threw herself onto her bed as the tears came freely. She wasn’t crying because of her toe (though that had bloody hurt!) but she sobbed for the loss of Rik and every other man she’d longed to have a relationship with.

What was wrong with her?

Both her sisters had great relationships.

Why did this only ever happen to her?

Ten minutes later, she was still crying when the phone rang again. This time she answered it.

It was her sister Cara, who normally texted her short, sharp messages–when she wasn’t nagging or shouting at her, that was. Lena was the sister that always tried to keep them from decking one another. Always wanting them to ‘be close’.

Being the youngest meant that Millie grew up bearing the brunt of Cara’s ‘jokes’ when she was irritated or just bored. Like the invention of Spiralicious the sea monster, which was ready to eat her at any moment if she didn’t do as Cara said. At five she’d believed ten-year-old Cara as she regularly threatened her with ‘it’, frightening her into doing extra chores and basically scaring the shit out of her. She’d regularly go and hide, usually under the stairs, and it was always Lena who would find her and try and convince her that Spiralicious didn’t actually exist.

In fact, it was always Lena who would come to her rescue and pick up the pieces. Soothing her, comforting her, and promising her that bar of Toblerone she’d always keep under her bed.

‘Hi Cara,’ Millie sighed, ready to be told off for something or other.

‘Are you sitting down?’ said Cara, her voice uncharacteristically gentle and quiet. It sounded as if she’d been crying. Actually, she’d never heard or seen Cara cry before.

‘What is it?’ Millie asked, sitting up straight, suddenly terrified.

As Cara spoke, Millie gripped the phone tightly to her, her chest heaving with loud, frightened sobs. She knew that by answering that call, her life had just taken a startling turn. In fact, she felt she’d do anything to go back in time to her childhood, find a corner and just hide, until someone told her that this new state of horror didn’t actually exist.