‘Bloody hell,’ he whispered, his eyes sweeping her figure in the long, deep-blue evening gown she was wearing. Her hair had been artfully styled into an up-do of waves at the side of her head. Her make-up seemed even more flawless than her usual perfect, and her heels were a few inches higher than normal. ‘You look … incredible.’
Millie wasn’t listening to him. Her eyes were darting up and down the street. ‘You have to leave,’ she whispered.
Maybe he’d misjudged this situation. Her face had drained of colour and there was actual panic in her grey eyes. But Don had implied that she needed him to be here. For the hundredth time since that conversation earlier, Pav cursed himself for being such a self-absorbed arsehole and not bloody knowing why Millie’s parents were such an issue.
‘Okay, look, can I just stay to meet them? What’s the worst that could happen?’
Millie bit her lip and looked away from him for a moment.
‘You’re not ashamed of me are you?’
Her eyes snapped back to his. ‘Ofcoursenot,’ she said, her voice and expression fierce. ‘I would never … I mean … nobody would ever be ashamed of you.’
She looked horrified that he would even suggest such a thing. A split second later and she had grabbed his hand and dragged him into the house. Once the door was closed behind them he grinned down at her still fierce-looking face, slid one hand around her tiny waist and the other up to her neck to touch the sapphire earrings she had on.
‘Have I told you how stunning you look?’
‘Pav, I –’ He cut her off with a brief kiss, or at least it was intended to be brief. Once he was engulfed in her expensive perfume and had her chest pressed up against his, it turned into something a little less PG than anticipated. She blinked up at him as he pulled away, her lipstick smudged, her pupils dilated and her breathing shallow.
‘Okay,’ he said, keeping his hands on her but allowing them both some space for sanity to return. ‘Before they arrive I think we should talk about wh –’
A loud burst of staccato knocks interrupted his speech and Millie jumped in his arms.
‘My father –’ she started, only to be cut off by another burst of knocking. She sighed, her shoulders drooping and her gaze dropping to the floor. After closing her eyes briefly she straightened and turned to the door, opening it wide. Pav started to smile, ready to launch an all-out charm offensive on these people and prove to Millie that his gate-crashing was not the end of the world. But in the shock of recognition his smile died and his mouth fell open. The current Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change, and bookie’s favourite for the next Prime Minister, was standing on the doorstep next to his wife: David and Valerie Morrison. David wasn’t as tall as he looked on the telly but he had the same greying hair, the same three-piece suit, the same smug expression and a pair of all-too-familiar grey eyes. Valerie looked exactly the same in real life: thin, perfectly tailored – the only difference being the black evening gown that now replaced her normal suits.
Pav was standing slightly behind Millie and to the side, so they didn’t notice him at first. Valerie stared at her daughter, her eyes sweeping from the top of Millie’s head to her shoes before they narrowed.
‘Mother,’ Millie said, her voice devoid of any emotion.
‘Your lipstick is smudged,’ Valerie told her, her lip curling in disgust. ‘And your heels don’t tone with your dress.’
Pav cleared his throat. Millie’s mother’s gaze snapped over to him and her eyes narrowed even more before she cleared her expression. She did another sweep, this time of Pav’s appearance; he was glad he’d worn his best suit, and exceedingly grateful to Don for the warning.
‘Mother, Father, this is Pavlos Martakis.’ Millie’s quiet voice cut through the silence. ‘He’s a consultant surgeon at St George’s hospital. Pav, these are my parents: Valerie and David Morrison.’
Valerie’s posture visibly relaxed at the mention of consultant surgeon and her eyebrows lowered. Pav shook himself out of his shock after witnessing possibly the coldest family reunion in the history of the planet, and moved forward to the couple with his hand out to shake.
‘Pleasure to meet you,’ Pav lied as he shook first Valerie’s (he didn’t dare go in for a kiss) and then David’s hand. David Morrison was known for his global-warming-sceptic views and his politics were the polar opposite to Pav’s.
‘Right, yes … well, this is a surprise,’ David said, his politician’s facade slipping into place to mask his obvious shock. Valerie was frowning as her gaze flicked between Millie and Pav.
‘Are you here for work, Mr Martakis?’ she asked, with a fake smile. ‘Is there a project you and Millie are doing together? I’m terribly sorry but we are going to have to steal her away for the evening.’
‘No,’ Pav said slowly. He moved next to Millie and felt her stiffen as he put his arm around her shoulders. ‘No, Millie’s my girlfriend. We’re together. I asked if I could meet you both.’
Valerie’s carefully controlled expression dropped for a moment and her mouth fell open as her eyes went wide. Her father simply burst out laughing; it wasn’t a kind, encouraging laugh either, it had a cruel, mocking edge to it.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, after he’d controlled his hilarity. ‘It’s just … girlfriend? Young man, I’ve known Millie all her life and that seems … unlikely.’
Pav’s expression closed and he pulled Millie even closer into his side.
‘I’m not sure what it is that you see as unlikely, Mr Morrison.’
Valerie flicked her husband an irritated look, then stared at Pav again, having managed to school her expression. Her head tilted to the side as if she didn’t quite know what to make of him. ‘You’re comingwithus tonight?’
‘Yes,’ Pav said.
‘No,’ Millie put in at the same time. Pav gave her shoulder a light squeeze, remembering Don’s words from earlier and just instinctively knowing that he wasn’t going to leave Millie alone with these people.
