Denied
Page 102
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‘She’ll be taken care of,’ he repeats, short and sharp.
‘But I’ll miss her.’
Reaching up, he slides his fingers into my hair, cupping the back of my head. ‘It’s not for long, I promise. Just long enough to let the dust settle.’
‘How long will that be? And what if they don’t let the dust settle? Will William be involved? Does he know them? Who are they?’ I pause to draw breath, wanting to spit out all of these questions before my tired mind shuts down and I forget them. ‘They won’t hurt Nan, will they?’ I gasp as something slams into my racing mind. ‘Gregory!’
‘Shhhh,’ he soothes, like I haven’t just abandoned my best friend in Miller’s apartment when God only knows who are on their way up. ‘He’s with Anderson. Trust me, he’ll be fine. And so will your grandmother.’
Relief swamps me. I do trust him, but he hasn’t answered any of my questions. ‘Talk to me,’ I plead, not having to elaborate on that gentle demand. His lovely blue eyes are trying desperately to reassure me, to eliminate my unease. It’s working in a strange sense.
He nods and pulls me back into his embrace. ‘Until there is no breath left in my lungs, Olivia Taylor.’
Heathrow is chaotic. My mind races, my heart pounds, my eyes dart all the way to the departure gate. While I fidgeted through check-in and security, Miller looked completely composed, holding me close, probably in an attempt to conceal my shakes. I haven’t paid much attention to what’s happened since we were dropped off at Terminal 5. I don’t know where we’re going or for how long. I called Nan, armed with a story of a surprise trip from Miller, only to have William answer the call. My heart stopped in my chest, and then restarted when Nan came on the line, cool as a cucumber. I didn’t understand, still don’t, but she told me persistently how much she loved me before making me promise I’d call when we arrived wherever we are going.
And all of that brings us to now.
I’m standing at the gate, gazing up at the monitor, open-mouthed. ‘New York?’ I breathe, resisting the urge to rub at my eyes, just in case I’m seeing things.
Miller doesn’t humour my awe, instead gently guiding me to the lady who’ll let us pass once she’s checked our passports and boarding passes . . . again. I stiffen. Again. But she smiles and ushers us on.
‘You would make a terrible crook, Olivia,’ Miller says seriously.
I allow my muscles to relax as he leads me down the tunnel towards the plane. ‘I don’t want to be a crook.’
He smiles down at me, his eyes twinkling. All signs of the terrified creature have disappeared, restoring my finicky, refined Miller to his former glory. And he really is glorious. I sigh on a long, sated exhale and rest my head on his arm, looking up to see an overly happy stewardess smiling brightly at us. I could growl in exasperation when she asks for our passports and boarding passes. You would think I’d be used to it after the millions of other times they have been requested since we arrived at Heathrow. But no. I’m beginning to tremble again as she flicks through before glancing at each of us to check we match the photograph. I force a nervous smile, convinced she’s going to scream fake and then call for security. But she doesn’t.
She checks the boarding passes and smiles as she hands them back to Miller. ‘First class is this way, sir.’ She gestures to the left. ‘You’ve just made it on time. The captain has ordered us to secure the doors.’
Miller gives a brisk nod, and I turn to see another stewardess pulling the doors shut.
And every drop of blood drains from my head as I glance down the tunnel, towards the departure gate. It’s an illusion; it has to be. My curiosity gets the better of me and I creep forward as the closing door begins to hamper my view, wanting to get as close as I can, blinking the whole time, convinced I’m seeing things.
Then I stop.
I’m rooted to the spot, my mind empty, my blood freezing in my veins.
And I’m staring at me.
It’s definitely me . . . just nineteen years from now.
‘But I’ll miss her.’
Reaching up, he slides his fingers into my hair, cupping the back of my head. ‘It’s not for long, I promise. Just long enough to let the dust settle.’
‘How long will that be? And what if they don’t let the dust settle? Will William be involved? Does he know them? Who are they?’ I pause to draw breath, wanting to spit out all of these questions before my tired mind shuts down and I forget them. ‘They won’t hurt Nan, will they?’ I gasp as something slams into my racing mind. ‘Gregory!’
‘Shhhh,’ he soothes, like I haven’t just abandoned my best friend in Miller’s apartment when God only knows who are on their way up. ‘He’s with Anderson. Trust me, he’ll be fine. And so will your grandmother.’
Relief swamps me. I do trust him, but he hasn’t answered any of my questions. ‘Talk to me,’ I plead, not having to elaborate on that gentle demand. His lovely blue eyes are trying desperately to reassure me, to eliminate my unease. It’s working in a strange sense.
He nods and pulls me back into his embrace. ‘Until there is no breath left in my lungs, Olivia Taylor.’
Heathrow is chaotic. My mind races, my heart pounds, my eyes dart all the way to the departure gate. While I fidgeted through check-in and security, Miller looked completely composed, holding me close, probably in an attempt to conceal my shakes. I haven’t paid much attention to what’s happened since we were dropped off at Terminal 5. I don’t know where we’re going or for how long. I called Nan, armed with a story of a surprise trip from Miller, only to have William answer the call. My heart stopped in my chest, and then restarted when Nan came on the line, cool as a cucumber. I didn’t understand, still don’t, but she told me persistently how much she loved me before making me promise I’d call when we arrived wherever we are going.
And all of that brings us to now.
I’m standing at the gate, gazing up at the monitor, open-mouthed. ‘New York?’ I breathe, resisting the urge to rub at my eyes, just in case I’m seeing things.
Miller doesn’t humour my awe, instead gently guiding me to the lady who’ll let us pass once she’s checked our passports and boarding passes . . . again. I stiffen. Again. But she smiles and ushers us on.
‘You would make a terrible crook, Olivia,’ Miller says seriously.
I allow my muscles to relax as he leads me down the tunnel towards the plane. ‘I don’t want to be a crook.’
He smiles down at me, his eyes twinkling. All signs of the terrified creature have disappeared, restoring my finicky, refined Miller to his former glory. And he really is glorious. I sigh on a long, sated exhale and rest my head on his arm, looking up to see an overly happy stewardess smiling brightly at us. I could growl in exasperation when she asks for our passports and boarding passes. You would think I’d be used to it after the millions of other times they have been requested since we arrived at Heathrow. But no. I’m beginning to tremble again as she flicks through before glancing at each of us to check we match the photograph. I force a nervous smile, convinced she’s going to scream fake and then call for security. But she doesn’t.
She checks the boarding passes and smiles as she hands them back to Miller. ‘First class is this way, sir.’ She gestures to the left. ‘You’ve just made it on time. The captain has ordered us to secure the doors.’
Miller gives a brisk nod, and I turn to see another stewardess pulling the doors shut.
And every drop of blood drains from my head as I glance down the tunnel, towards the departure gate. It’s an illusion; it has to be. My curiosity gets the better of me and I creep forward as the closing door begins to hamper my view, wanting to get as close as I can, blinking the whole time, convinced I’m seeing things.
Then I stop.
I’m rooted to the spot, my mind empty, my blood freezing in my veins.
And I’m staring at me.
It’s definitely me . . . just nineteen years from now.
