Unveiled
Page 16
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‘You promised to hear me out.’
‘That was before I knew it was about Nan!’ I shout, feeling my sanity run away with me. I thought I was going to be hit with another obstacle, a piece of Miller’s history or . . . I’m not sure what, anything other than this. ‘Tell me what’s happened!’
‘She had a heart attack.’
My world explodes into a million shards of devastation. ‘No! When? Where? How do—’
‘Olivia, damn it, let me speak!’ He’s short, but gentle, his eyebrows arching to back up his calm warning.
How can I be calm? He’s drip-feeding me information. I open my mouth to fire some choice words at him as my impatience and worry grows, but his hand comes up and silences me and I finally accept that I’ll learn more information if I shut the hell up and listen.
‘She’s OK,’ he begins, rubbing circles into the tops of my hands, but nothing will lessen my apprehension. She’s ill and I’m not there to take care of her. I’ve always been there for her. My eyes start to burn with the threat of guilty tears. ‘She’s in the hospital being cared for.’
‘When did it happen?’ I choke my question through a sob.
‘Yesterday morning.’
‘Yesterday?’ I shout, shocked.
‘George found her. He didn’t want to call you and worry you, and he didn’t have my contact details. He waited for William to stop by the house. Anderson said he’d let me know.’
I sag with sympathy for old George. I bet he felt lost and helpless. ‘When did he call?’
‘Late last night. You were in bed.’
‘You didn’t wake me?’ I shake his hands off and shove myself back, away from Miller and his reach.
‘You needed to sleep, Olivia.’ He makes a play for my hands, but I doggedly knock him away and get off the bed.
‘I could’ve been halfway home by now!’ I march to the wardrobe, enraged and astounded that he didn’t think Nan’s heart attack was a good enough reason to disturb my sleep. I yank the sports bag out of the cupboard and begin stuffing what I can inside. Much of the stuff I’ve bought since arriving will have to stay. We had planned to buy suitcases, but haven’t got around to doing it yet. Now I haven’t time to worry about leaving behind hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothing.
My frantic packing is disturbed when the bag is taken from my hands and thrown to the floor. My emotions won’t remain contained any longer. ‘You arsehole!’ I scream in his face, then proceed to bash the side of my fist into his shoulder. He doesn’t move or reprimand me on it. He’s impassive and cool. ‘You arsehole, you arsehole, you arsehole!’ I strike him again, my frustration building at his unresponsive approach. ‘You should have woken me!’ Both fists are working now, repeatedly hitting him in the chest. I’ve lost control of my emotions and my flailing body. I just want to lash out and Miller is the only thing in my proximity. ‘Why?’ I fall into his chest, exhausted and overcome with grief. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He holds my weak body up, one hand cupping the back of my head, pushing me into him, the other working soothing circles into my lower back. I’m hushed repeatedly, kissed over and over on top of my head until my sobs abate and I’m left snivelling sporadically into his shoulder.
Taking my cheeks, he holds my contorted face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve betrayed you . . .’ He pauses, watching me cautiously, and I’m certain it’s because he knows I’m not going to like his next words. ‘We can’t go back to London, Olivia. It’s not safe.’
‘Don’t you dare, Miller!’ I try to locate some fortitude, something that’ll show him that it’s not up for discussion. ‘Call William and tell him we’re coming home.’
I can see his torment. It’s written all over his tight face.
I can’t find that fortitude. ‘Just get me home!’ I beg, brushing away my falling tears. ‘Please, take me to my nan.’
I see defeatism crawl across his pained face as he nods faintly. It’s a reluctant nod. He hasn’t prepared himself to go home. He’s being pushed into a corner.
Chapter 6
His palm on my nape has been a constant source of comfort since we left New York. At JFK, on the plane, through Heathrow, every available opportunity to hold me has been taken. It has been needed and welcomed. I’ve been quite oblivious to our surroundings, not even getting myself worked up each time our passports have been checked. Between gentle kneads of my nape, my mind has only allowed me to think about Nan.
We had time to buy suitcases. Too much time. I told Miller to go buy them himself, but my order was totally ignored. He was right. I would have only moped around the suite, driving myself up the wall if left alone. So we went shopping together, and I couldn’t help appreciating Miller’s attempts to try to distract me. He asked my opinion on what colour, size, and style of suitcase we should buy, not that my answer counted for anything. After telling him I liked the red, fabric range, I half listened to the reasons why we should buy the graphite, leather Samsonite range.
Once we’ve collected our new suitcases from baggage arrivals and I’ve vaguely registered Miller’s annoyance at the few scuffs on the leather, we emerge from Arrivals into the cool evening air at Heathrow. I spot William’s driver before Miller and quickly make my way over, jumping in the back after giving him a courteous nod. He joins Miller at the back of the car to help load the bags.
Then Miller slips in beside me and rests his hand on my knee. ‘My place, Ted,’ he instructs.
I lean forward. ‘Thank you, Ted, but can you take me straight to the hospital?’ I ask it as a question, but there’s no choice of answer, and my tone tells Ted that.
Miller’s gaze is burning into my profile, yet I won’t allow myself to confront him. ‘Olivia, you’ve just got off a six-hour flight. The time differ—’
‘I’m going to see my nan,’ I grind through a clenched jaw, knowing my tiredness has nothing to do with Miller protesting. ‘I’ll find my own way there if you’d rather go home.’ I see Ted’s eyes in the mirror, flicking between me and the road. They’re smiling eyes. Fond eyes.
Miller makes a point of displaying his frustration with a long, over-the-top sigh. ‘The hospital, please, Ted.’
‘Sir,’ Ted agrees on a nod. He knew it was never up for discussion.
As we break the confines of the airport, my impatience grows as William’s driver weaves through the rush-hour traffic on the M25. We find ourselves at a standstill on more than one occasion, and each time I have to fight the urge to jump out and run the rest of the way.
By the time Ted pulls up to the hospital, it’s dark and I’m beside myself. I dive from the car before it comes to a stop, ignoring Miller shouting after me. I’m out of breath when I land at the main reception desk. ‘Josephine Taylor,’ I splutter to the receptionist.
She eyes me with slight alarm. ‘Friend or relative?’
‘Granddaughter.’ I shift impatiently while she starts tapping on her keyboard, throwing the odd frown here and there at the screen. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘That was before I knew it was about Nan!’ I shout, feeling my sanity run away with me. I thought I was going to be hit with another obstacle, a piece of Miller’s history or . . . I’m not sure what, anything other than this. ‘Tell me what’s happened!’
‘She had a heart attack.’
My world explodes into a million shards of devastation. ‘No! When? Where? How do—’
‘Olivia, damn it, let me speak!’ He’s short, but gentle, his eyebrows arching to back up his calm warning.
How can I be calm? He’s drip-feeding me information. I open my mouth to fire some choice words at him as my impatience and worry grows, but his hand comes up and silences me and I finally accept that I’ll learn more information if I shut the hell up and listen.
‘She’s OK,’ he begins, rubbing circles into the tops of my hands, but nothing will lessen my apprehension. She’s ill and I’m not there to take care of her. I’ve always been there for her. My eyes start to burn with the threat of guilty tears. ‘She’s in the hospital being cared for.’
‘When did it happen?’ I choke my question through a sob.
‘Yesterday morning.’
‘Yesterday?’ I shout, shocked.
‘George found her. He didn’t want to call you and worry you, and he didn’t have my contact details. He waited for William to stop by the house. Anderson said he’d let me know.’
I sag with sympathy for old George. I bet he felt lost and helpless. ‘When did he call?’
‘Late last night. You were in bed.’
‘You didn’t wake me?’ I shake his hands off and shove myself back, away from Miller and his reach.
‘You needed to sleep, Olivia.’ He makes a play for my hands, but I doggedly knock him away and get off the bed.
‘I could’ve been halfway home by now!’ I march to the wardrobe, enraged and astounded that he didn’t think Nan’s heart attack was a good enough reason to disturb my sleep. I yank the sports bag out of the cupboard and begin stuffing what I can inside. Much of the stuff I’ve bought since arriving will have to stay. We had planned to buy suitcases, but haven’t got around to doing it yet. Now I haven’t time to worry about leaving behind hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothing.
My frantic packing is disturbed when the bag is taken from my hands and thrown to the floor. My emotions won’t remain contained any longer. ‘You arsehole!’ I scream in his face, then proceed to bash the side of my fist into his shoulder. He doesn’t move or reprimand me on it. He’s impassive and cool. ‘You arsehole, you arsehole, you arsehole!’ I strike him again, my frustration building at his unresponsive approach. ‘You should have woken me!’ Both fists are working now, repeatedly hitting him in the chest. I’ve lost control of my emotions and my flailing body. I just want to lash out and Miller is the only thing in my proximity. ‘Why?’ I fall into his chest, exhausted and overcome with grief. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He holds my weak body up, one hand cupping the back of my head, pushing me into him, the other working soothing circles into my lower back. I’m hushed repeatedly, kissed over and over on top of my head until my sobs abate and I’m left snivelling sporadically into his shoulder.
Taking my cheeks, he holds my contorted face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve betrayed you . . .’ He pauses, watching me cautiously, and I’m certain it’s because he knows I’m not going to like his next words. ‘We can’t go back to London, Olivia. It’s not safe.’
‘Don’t you dare, Miller!’ I try to locate some fortitude, something that’ll show him that it’s not up for discussion. ‘Call William and tell him we’re coming home.’
I can see his torment. It’s written all over his tight face.
I can’t find that fortitude. ‘Just get me home!’ I beg, brushing away my falling tears. ‘Please, take me to my nan.’
I see defeatism crawl across his pained face as he nods faintly. It’s a reluctant nod. He hasn’t prepared himself to go home. He’s being pushed into a corner.
Chapter 6
His palm on my nape has been a constant source of comfort since we left New York. At JFK, on the plane, through Heathrow, every available opportunity to hold me has been taken. It has been needed and welcomed. I’ve been quite oblivious to our surroundings, not even getting myself worked up each time our passports have been checked. Between gentle kneads of my nape, my mind has only allowed me to think about Nan.
We had time to buy suitcases. Too much time. I told Miller to go buy them himself, but my order was totally ignored. He was right. I would have only moped around the suite, driving myself up the wall if left alone. So we went shopping together, and I couldn’t help appreciating Miller’s attempts to try to distract me. He asked my opinion on what colour, size, and style of suitcase we should buy, not that my answer counted for anything. After telling him I liked the red, fabric range, I half listened to the reasons why we should buy the graphite, leather Samsonite range.
Once we’ve collected our new suitcases from baggage arrivals and I’ve vaguely registered Miller’s annoyance at the few scuffs on the leather, we emerge from Arrivals into the cool evening air at Heathrow. I spot William’s driver before Miller and quickly make my way over, jumping in the back after giving him a courteous nod. He joins Miller at the back of the car to help load the bags.
Then Miller slips in beside me and rests his hand on my knee. ‘My place, Ted,’ he instructs.
I lean forward. ‘Thank you, Ted, but can you take me straight to the hospital?’ I ask it as a question, but there’s no choice of answer, and my tone tells Ted that.
Miller’s gaze is burning into my profile, yet I won’t allow myself to confront him. ‘Olivia, you’ve just got off a six-hour flight. The time differ—’
‘I’m going to see my nan,’ I grind through a clenched jaw, knowing my tiredness has nothing to do with Miller protesting. ‘I’ll find my own way there if you’d rather go home.’ I see Ted’s eyes in the mirror, flicking between me and the road. They’re smiling eyes. Fond eyes.
Miller makes a point of displaying his frustration with a long, over-the-top sigh. ‘The hospital, please, Ted.’
‘Sir,’ Ted agrees on a nod. He knew it was never up for discussion.
As we break the confines of the airport, my impatience grows as William’s driver weaves through the rush-hour traffic on the M25. We find ourselves at a standstill on more than one occasion, and each time I have to fight the urge to jump out and run the rest of the way.
By the time Ted pulls up to the hospital, it’s dark and I’m beside myself. I dive from the car before it comes to a stop, ignoring Miller shouting after me. I’m out of breath when I land at the main reception desk. ‘Josephine Taylor,’ I splutter to the receptionist.
She eyes me with slight alarm. ‘Friend or relative?’
‘Granddaughter.’ I shift impatiently while she starts tapping on her keyboard, throwing the odd frown here and there at the screen. ‘Is there a problem?’
