‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What?’ I blurt. I spin over and find the switch for the bedside lamp, and the room floods with a hazy light. I blink back the sudden attack on my eyes, then turn to seek Miller out again. I find him sitting up, his features fretful. ‘Tell me,’ I push.
‘Promise me you’ll hear me out.’ He takes my hands in his and squeezes. ‘Promise me you’ll let me finish before you fly into—’
‘Miller! Just tell me!’ The coldness settling over me accelerates my panic and fear.
His face seems to distort with pain. ‘It’s your grandmother.’
I lose my breath. ‘Oh my God. What’s happened? Is she OK?’ I try to shake Miller off and go in search of my phone, but I’m held in place by a firm grip.
‘You promised to hear me out.’
‘That was before I knew it was about Nan!’ I shout, feeling my sanity run away with me. I thought I was going to be hit with another obstacle, a piece of Miller’s history or . . . I’m not sure what, anything other than this. ‘Tell me what’s happened!’
‘She had a heart attack.’
My world explodes into a million shards of devastation. ‘No! When? Where? How do—’
‘Olivia, damn it, let me speak!’ He’s short, but gentle, his eyebrows arching to back up his calm warning.
How can I be calm? He’s drip-feeding me information. I open my mouth to fire some choice words at him as my impatience and worry grows, but his hand comes up and silences me and I finally accept that I’ll learn more information if I shut the hell up and listen.
‘She’s OK,’ he begins, rubbing circles into the tops of my hands, but nothing will lessen my apprehension. She’s ill and I’m not there to take care of her. I’ve always been there for her. My eyes start to burn with the threat of guilty tears. ‘She’s in the hospital being cared for.’
‘When did it happen?’ I choke my question through a sob.
‘Yesterday morning.’
‘Yesterday?’ I shout, shocked.
‘George found her. He didn’t want to call you and worry you, and he didn’t have my contact details. He waited for William to stop by the house. Anderson said he’d let me know.’
I sag with sympathy for old George. I bet he felt lost and helpless. ‘When did he call?’
‘Late last night. You were in bed.’
‘You didn’t wake me?’ I shake his hands off and shove myself back, away from Miller and his reach.
‘You needed to sleep, Olivia.’ He makes a play for my hands, but I doggedly knock him away and get off the bed.
‘I could’ve been halfway home by now!’ I march to the wardrobe, enraged and astounded that he didn’t think Nan’s heart attack was a good enough reason to disturb my sleep. I yank the sports bag out of the cupboard and begin stuffing what I can inside. Much of the stuff I’ve bought since arriving will have to stay. We had planned to buy suitcases, but haven’t got around to doing it yet. Now I haven’t time to worry about leaving behind hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothing.
My frantic packing is disturbed when the bag is taken from my hands and thrown to the floor. My emotions won’t remain contained any longer. ‘You arsehole!’ I scream in his face, then proceed to bash the side of my fist into his shoulder. He doesn’t move or reprimand me on it. He’s impassive and cool. ‘You arsehole, you arsehole, you arsehole!’ I strike him again, my frustration building at his unresponsive approach. ‘You should have woken me!’ Both fists are working now, repeatedly hitting him in the chest. I’ve lost control of my emotions and my flailing body. I just want to lash out and Miller is the only thing in my proximity. ‘Why?’ I fall into his chest, exhausted and overcome with grief. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He holds my weak body up, one hand cupping the back of my head, pushing me into him, the other working soothing circles into my lower back. I’m hushed repeatedly, kissed over and over on top of my head until my sobs abate and I’m left snivelling sporadically into his shoulder.
Taking my cheeks, he holds my contorted face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve betrayed you . . .’ He pauses, watching me cautiously, and I’m certain it’s because he knows I’m not going to like his next words. ‘We can’t go back to London, Olivia. It’s not safe.’
‘Don’t you dare, Miller!’ I try to locate some fortitude, something that’ll show him that it’s not up for discussion. ‘Call William and tell him we’re coming home.’
I can see his torment. It’s written all over his tight face.
I can’t find that fortitude. ‘Just get me home!’ I beg, brushing away my falling tears. ‘Please, take me to my nan.’
I see defeatism crawl across his pained face as he nods faintly. It’s a reluctant nod. He hasn’t prepared himself to go home. He’s being pushed into a corner.