I squeeze him harder. We lie on the fleece blanket for ever, Miller humming and painting pictures across my midriff with the tip of his finger, me just feeling him, listening to him, smelling him, and giving him his thing. It is quality time, and it’s the most blissful quality time imaginable.
‘This has been nice,’ he muses, pushing up onto his elbow, resting his perfectly stubbled chin in his palm. He continues to trace faint lines across my tummy, observing his tender motions thoughtfully. I’m happy to watch him. It’s unbelievably pleasurable, total heaven. We’re captured in our own private moment, surrounded by the ramblings of Hyde Park and the distant chaos of London by day. Yet totally alone. ‘Are you chilly?’ He looks up at me, then skates his gaze down my little floral dress. The evening is drawing in and a light breeze is whipping up. I look up to the sky and note a few grey clouds slowly drifting over.
‘I’m okay, but it looks like rain is on its way.’
Miller follows my eyes to the sky and sighs. ‘And London casts its black shadow,’ he muses to himself, so quietly I almost don’t hear him. But I did hear him, and I know there’s a deeper meaning to that statement. I draw breath to speak but think better of it, and he pushes himself to his feet before I can ask, anyway. ‘Give me your hand.’
I take his offering and let him pull me effortlessly to my feet. He’s creased as hell, but apparently not too bothered by it. ‘Can we do this again sometime?’ I ask as I gather up our half-finished salads and place them in a bag.
Miller sets about folding the blanket into a tidy bundle. ‘Of course,’ he agrees gladly, with no trace of unwillingness. He really has enjoyed himself, and that warms my contented heart further. ‘I really must stop by the club.’ My delicate shoulders sag and Miller spots it. ‘I’ll be quick,’ he assures me, moving in and dipping to brush our lips lightly. ‘I promise.’
Refusing to let anything more spoil our quality time, I link arms with him and let him walk us across the grass until we hit the pathway. ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’ I’m feeling guilty for my regular absence from home, but I know Nan’s not in the least bit bothered by it, and I’ll call her as soon as we’re back at Miller’s.
‘Livy, you stay with me whenever you choose. You don’t have to ask.’
‘I shouldn’t leave Nan alone.’
He laughs lightly, pulling my eyes up his chest to his face. ‘Your grandmother would put the most ferocious guard dog to shame.’
I return his amusement and rest my head on his arm as we amble along. ‘I concur.’
A strong arm wraps around my shoulder and hugs me to his side. ‘If you’d prefer me to take you home, then I will.’
‘But I want to stay with you.’
‘And I’d love to have you in my bed.’
‘I’ll call Nan as soon as we’re back at your place,’ I affirm, making a point to remember to ask her if she minds, even though I know for sure that she doesn’t.
‘Okay,’ he agrees on a little laugh.
‘Oh, there’s a bin.’ I rustle the bags in my hand and head over to the bin, but my stride falters when I spot a sorrowful-looking man slumped on the bench nearby. He looks tatty, dirty and vacant – one of the many homeless people who frequent the streets of London. My pace to the litter bin slows as I watch him twitching, and I conclude very quickly that drugs or alcohol are probably the cause. Human nature stokes the compassion within me, and when he raises empty eyes to mine, I stop walking completely. I stare at the man, who’s probably barely a man – late teens, perhaps, but life on the streets has taken its toll. His skin is sallow, his lips dry.
‘Spare any change, miss?’ he croaks at me, yanking tighter at my heartstrings. It’s not uncommon to be asked such a question, and I usually find it reasonably easy to walk on by, especially since Nan reminds me every time that by lining their pockets with money, you’re also probably funding their drug or drink habit. But this dishevelled young man with scruffy, ripped clothes and disintegrating sneakers is reminding me of something, and I can’t seem to push my legs on.
After spending far too long staring at him, his open palm extends towards me, snapping me from my miserable thoughts and the flashbacks of a lost-looking child. ‘Miss?’ he repeats.