CHAPTERSIX
The remains of July and nearly all of August flashed by in a succession of weekend visits to historic places. For trips out of London, George hired a car and instead of having the radio on during the journey, Millie would read to him from one of his many neglected textbooks. She read very well, bringing to life the dry contents in a way George had not believed possible.
At their destinations, they would explore, Millie pointing out details related to what she had read. In evenings during the week, while she worked, he sat at the bar and continued reading the book she had begun on the drive. Castles and great houses, cathedrals and battlefields visited and read about took shape, substance and meaning. With Millie’s help, George found the history of Great Britain became a tangible thing instead of random disconnected facts and dates impossible to hold in his memory. He was at last enjoying his degree subject.
‘What shall we do at the holiday weekend?’ he asked. They were on their way to Millie’s, having collected fish and chips on the route from the pub.
‘I can’t go away. Pete expects it to be busy in the pub. So he wants all the staff in.’
‘Hmm.’ George kicked a pebble out of his way. ‘I sort of expected that would happen. It’s probably best we don’t go away. The roads will be crowded. Best not to drive anywhere.’
‘We could stay home?’
George glanced at her, uncertain if that was an invitation.
‘Martha and Sharon are visiting their families for the weekend. I’ll have the flat to myself.’
‘Oh, um. Nice.’ Ever since the revelation about the heart-breaker bastard Robert, he had been so careful not to push things with Millie. Was she now inviting him for a sleep-over?
‘Well, what do you think?’
‘Think?’ George echoed, worried he’d misread the situation, scared to say the wrong thing.
‘Of staying at my place for the weekend.’
‘Oh, yes… that would be… er, nice.’ George could have kicked himself. This might have been the moment to move his relationship with Millie to another level, but he’d failed to do anything with it, missed his chance.
‘Good.’ Millie squeezed his hand. ‘We’ll have all day Saturday and Sunday together. I’m only doing the evening shifts. So I can cook for you and…’
‘I can take you somewhere in the day?’
‘Where?’
‘What about the zoo? Have you been to London Zoo?’
‘No.’
‘Then that’s what we can do on Saturday.’
‘And on Sunday, I’ll cook, and we can chill during the day.’
It sounded like a plan. Maybe other things could happen. George tried to hold down his excitement. He mustn’t make wrong assumptions.
They turned the corner into her street. His head buzzing with excitement at the prospect of what might happen at the weekend, which was probably why he didn’t notice the youths until it was too late.
Where they came from, he would never know. One minute he and Millie were strolling along, holding hands, looking forward to the fish supper she was carrying and the next there were three or four big louts in front of them–blocking their path.
‘Hand it over,’ one said.
‘Hand what over?’ Millie asked.
‘Don’t get clever with me, bitch,’ the tallest said, moving menacingly towards Millie.
George stepped sideways, shielding her. He reckoned he and the mouthy sod threatening her were about the same age. He pulled himself to his full height. If the kid had been on his own, George reckoned he could have taken him down–no problem. He hadn’t grown up a Halcyon without knowing how to handle himself. But the youth had friends. Two or three of them crowding in behind their mate.
‘Leave her alone,’ George growled.
‘Or what, shorty?’ The youth (probably the leader of the gang) sniggered.
