Miller’s up and dragging Gregory with him, pinning him to the low wall at the end of our front garden.
‘Goodness gracious!’ Nan flies past me and throws herself into the middle of the two men, her notorious spunk rearing its ugly head. There’s no display of fear on her old face, just sheer determination. ‘Pack it in!’ she yells, muscling between them and pushing them apart on a shout. ‘That’s enough!’ Both men heave on each side of her, sweating and glaring over her head. She’s brave, but my fear for her is rife as I absorb potent anger firing off from both men, showing no sign of receding. She’s far from frail, but she’s an old lady nonetheless. She shouldn’t be intervening between these two men, especially not Miller. He’s frenzied, unable to rationalise. ‘I’m giving you one chance!’ she warns. ‘Cut it out or deal with me!’
Her words put the fear of God in me, but I doubt they’ll have any effect on these two. So imagine my shock when both men relax and break the staring deadlock in unison. Then I remember William’s light quip.
No one ever made me quake in my boots, Olivia. Only your grandmother.
‘That’s more like it.’ She releases her palms from each man’s chest slowly, ensuring they’ll remain in place. Her face screws up in disgust as she flicks eyes heated with anger between Miller and Gregory. ‘Don’t you dare make me pull you apart again. Do you hear me?’
I’m staggered when Miller nods short and sharp and Gregory sniffs an agreement, wiping his bleeding nose.
‘Good.’ She points to the front door. ‘Get in the house before the neighbours start talking.’
I remain a quiet, stunned observer as Nan takes the reins and regains control of the horrid situation, pushing both men towards the house when neither moves fast enough for her liking. Miller’s head is dropped, and I know it’s in shame at having my dear grandmother, a woman who he respects, bear witness to this aggression. I’m only thankful that she didn’t appear moments earlier when she would’ve caught Miller in full psycho action.
Gregory passes me first, then Nan, and when Miller approaches my motionless form, he slowly drags disturbed eyes to my traumatised ones and stops in front of me. He’s a dishevelled wreck, his shirt and waistcoat all askew and ripped at the shoulder, his hair wild and tangled.
‘I apologise,’ he says quietly, and then turns and strides down the pathway, his long legs eating up the distance to his car in no time.
‘Miller!’ I shout, panicked as I go in pursuit of him. My unsteady legs are of no assistance and tyres screech away from the kerb before I make it to the end of the path. My hand instinctively reaches for my chest, like a bit of pressure might calm the erratic thumping. It doesn’t and I’m not sure there is anything that will.
‘Livy?’ George’s low husk brings my eyes away from Miller’s disappearing Mercedes to his confused form approaching the house. ‘Sweetheart, what’s going on?’
I give in to my emotions again and fall apart, letting him wrap me in a bear hug and hold my weak body up. ‘It’s all gone horribly wrong,’ I cry into his cable-knit jumper, letting his squidgy chest mould around my diminutive frame.
‘Oh dearie me,’ he soothes, rubbing calming circles into my back. ‘Let’s get you inside.’
George takes a firm hold of my shoulders and guides me up the path, shutting the door gently behind us. Then he steers me to the kitchen, where we find Nan dabbing Gregory’s nose with a damp compress. I can smell the TCP and hear Gregory’s continued hisses, proof that it’s Nan’s treatment of choice. ‘Hold still,’ she chastises him, annoyance still rife in her tone.
Gregory eyes me as George pushes me into a chair and hands me his clean hanky, and Nan swings around, clocking the loss of one person and the gain of another. ‘You’re late!’ she yells at poor, innocent George. ‘Dinner’s ruined and I’ve had a wrestling match in my front garden!’
‘Now hold on one minute, Josephine Taylor!’ George’s back straightens and mine tenses. She’s in no mood to take any backchat, and George should note this from the annoyance pouring from her short, plump body. It doesn’t deter him, though. ‘I’ve just arrived and I can see that dinner being ruined is the least of our worries, so why don’t you put a lid on it and let me help sort out these two sorry states.’
She dabs the compress over Gregory’s lip on a few stutters of shock. ‘Where’s Miller?’ she blurts, her fury now directed at me.
‘He left,’ I admit, wiping at my eyes with the hanky and stealing a risky glance at Gregory. His eyes are narrowed and it isn’t because they’re closing up from the swelling. He’s going to have a shiner on one eye for sure, the opposite eye to the one Miller blackened during their last clash.