‘Millie!’
Millie turned in her chair and smiled. Rosie had run full pelt into her office and was standing in the middle of the floor with her arms straight up in the air. Millie didn’t think there had ever been anyone who expressed this amount of delight in seeing her. Quick as a flash Rosie lowered her arms and flung herself into Millie’s arms. Physical contact wasn’t always easy for Millie. Her childhood certainly had not been filled with it, and as an adult her personality did not seem to inspire warm relationships full of affection. So touch wasn’t something she was used to, and the shock of it usually caused her to flinch away (this ensured that anyone who did bother trying to be physically affectionate with her, which to be honest was very rare, was put off by her apparently negative reaction). But with Rosie she hadn’t been given any option. The little girl was all about kisses and cuddles and there was no way Millie could have kept her at arm’s length.
‘You look sad,’ Rosie said, putting her small hands either side of Millie’s face and squeezing her cheeks.
‘I’m not sad,’ Millie lied as she closed her arms around the warm little body. ‘How could anyone be sad with you hanging about?’
The truth was that the hollow feeling Millie had endured to some extent her whole life was gradually expanding. She felt like emptiness was slowly pulling her under, sucking her down into a dark hole. Collapsing in front of the entire hospital had been mortifying. It was the ultimate loss of control, and Millie was all about control. It was like a slap in the face telling her to respect her limits, to get back in her box and live her narrow life. Punishing her for thinking she could function like other people.
‘Hey, honey.’ Millie’s eyes flicked to Libby at the doorway. She gave her a much smaller smile than she had given her daughter and was about to look away when she realized she wasn’t alone. Kira was standing next to her, and, bizarrely, she was smiling too.
‘Hi Dr M.,’ Kira said, still smiling, although it was starting to look a little forced. This may have been down to the fact that Millie could not seem to muster one in return; the Rosie-inspired happy expression had slowly faded when she noticed Kira in the doorway.
‘Hello,’ Millie said, trying with all her might to get her mouth to cooperate so the ends would at least tip up; but her anxiety was getting the better of her again. She looked back at Libby. ‘How long do you need me to have her?’ Libby and Kira exchanged looks, and then, to Millie’s confusion, both of them moved into the room. Libby took Don’s seat and Kira perched on Millie’s desk.
‘We’ve actually come to talk to you, Millie,’ Libby said carefully. Millie pushed her chair back a couple of inches, still with Rosie in her lap, and frowned.
‘Oh … uh …’ There was literally no reason why these two could possibly want to talk to her – unless … She bit her lip. Had Libby found out about the grant? Surely Pav wouldn’t have told her. He didn’t seem –
‘So, tonight? You free to come?’ Kira’s voice cut through Millie’s thoughts and she realized she’d missed some sort of suggestion.
‘Wh-what?’
‘We’re going out to the mess do tonight at The Nag’s Head,’ Libby said. ‘Jamie’s babysitting. We thought it might be fun.’ Millie thought about a crowded pub, filled with people who actively disliked her, and she shuddered.
‘No.’ Her answer was short and forceful. She knew it sounded rude.
‘Come on,’ Kira wheedled, seemingly immune to the rudeness. ‘It’ll be a laugh. Few shots of tequila and you’ll be well up for it.’ Millie opted not to inform Kira that she did not drink and the biochemical reasons behind it at that juncture.
‘I just … I can’t,’ she told them, pulling Rosie’s hair out of her face and re-fixing the grip that had come loose.
‘You could come and have supper with me and Jamie-Daddy,’ Rosie told her. Millie had noticed this gradual change to Jamie-Daddy and sometimes just plain Daddy over the last few weeks. The man in question always seemed to visibly swell with pride every time he heard it. ‘After you show me the my-crows again.’
‘Microbes, Rosie,’ Millie murmured, inching her chair forward so she could get at her mouse and opening the relevant file.
‘Wanna see the flesh-eating one,’ Rosie demanded, and Millie filled the screen with streptococcus.
‘It’s not always flesh-eating, Rosie,’ Millie told her, wishing fervently that she had never gone through all the possible medical outcomes of a streptococcus infection.
‘I know, I know. Impy-tiger.’
‘Impetigo.’
‘Hurty wee-wees.’
‘Urinary tract infection.’
‘Foo-foo stuff.’
‘Vaginal colonization with group b streptococcus.’
Millie heard a muffled snort from across the room. When she glanced over she noticed that Kira’s shoulders were shaking, her lips were pressed together and her eyes were dancing. Millie felt her face heat, turned back to the screen and took in a long slow breath. ‘Rosie … maybe we should do this later. I …’
She heard a small squeal and noticed Kira flinch before rubbing her arm and scowling at Libby, who was now standing right next to her with her hands on her hips. Libby transferred her attention to Millie, squatting down next to her chair.
‘Okay, hun. You don’t like pubs, right?’
Millie turned back to the screen and shrugged. Openly admitting her fear was showing weakness, and she was very sure that, with the events of the last month, she’d done quite enough of that.
