Guilty Pleasures (52 page)

A pale-faced Millie walked back into the kitchen “I’m sorry guys, I’m so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’m going home for a short nap and to walk the dog. I think Horse has been feeling neglected.”

“You go ahead, Mills, and don’t worry, we’ve got everything covered for tonight,” Serge reassured her.

“Come on now, love, I’ll drive you home.” Lance slipped a solicitous arm around her. “And I’ll walk the dog. You go rest.”

From the Diary of Millicent Deafly:

Mother called. She always upsets me and she certainly knows how to push my buttons.
 

There must be something fundamentally wrong with me. I’m a grown woman and I just can’t handle her. She absolutely enrages me, and strikes me dumb at the same time.

I’m quite proud of myself, though! This time I was polite but firm, having a
passenger
certainly upped my courage.

Serge and Will were very supportive.

And then I threw up. It was my very first bout of preggy nausea.

It was wonderful. Well, maybe not wonderful, but very memorable.

I’m going to take a nap. I have to be at work for S.’s do in a few hours.

Speak to you later.

Chapter 43

While on the subject of
the breasts
, let us touch on another sensitive subject:
tit size
.

Does it matter? That is highly debatable and a matter of personal taste.

Personally, I find an overabundance intimidating. I’m a little claustrophobic, and the thought of being trapped in that Vale gives me the creeps.

Other men
love
big tits. Hey, to each his own!

I like them medium to small, firm and bouncy with succulent responsive nipples.

—Sensual Secrets of a Sexual Surrogate

At five, S. followed her tummy into the kitchen to greet Serge and Lance, and to hug and plant two smacking, enthusiastic kisses on Hendricks’s blushing cheeks.
 

“My hero!” Her nose twitched. “My God, what is that? I’m starving.” She started plundering the beautifully arranged displays of sweet pastries and savouries shamelessly. “Millie,” she greeted, unembarrassed, with her mouth full. “This is so good, oh, and you look great!”

Millie hugged her, running a gentle hand over the ballooning curve of S.’s tummy. “I feel great. I threw up today, first time!”

“Wow! Listen, try ginger and honey tea if you have a lot of nausea. Worked for me. Did you like Masterson?”

“Loved him, thank you so much! If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have taken me. He’s so packed.”

“He’s really wonderful. The ladies will be arriving in about an hour, so we have time to gossip.”

“I think you’re doing a great job, S.! Let’s see if they whip out their check books.”

“Well, I’m raffling a private concert so that should be an inducement.” S. gasped suddenly and looked down. Liquid ran down her legs and puddled on the floor between her feet. “Millie, I think my water just broke.”

Millie reached for her cell. “I’m calling Masterson.”

Serge and Lance looked at them helplessly.
 

Hendricks stepped up to the plate. “Miss S., I’ll get you a towel and a tracksuit. I’m sure you’ll feel more comfortable. Perhaps we should phone your fellow organisers and call off the tea?”

“Yes . . . thank you, that’s—” She gasped again. “Ouch!”

“S., Masterson said he’ll meet you at the clinic.”

“Miss S., Miss Deafly, I’ll drive you.” Hendricks came back from the dressing room and handed S. a tracksuit and a towel.

Millie took her to the bathroom and helped her change.

“That feels better. I’m scared, Millie, will you come with me?”

“Of course. Come on!”

In the kitchen, Millie gave Serge the number for the other fundraiser organisers and strict instructions to call them right away. They left under Hendricks’s calm leadership.

Serge called the organisers and set off what must have been a flurry of frantic activity.

“Well, Willie Wanker, it’s just us and food for sixty.”

“Why don’t we take it down to that kitchen you volunteer at, Serge? It will spoil otherwise.”

“Good idea, Willie. I’ll call them.”

They packed the dainties into large plastic trays and loaded them into the van. They delivered it and returned to Guilty Pleasures to wait for news.

Serge broke open a bottle of Australian pinot noir. He poured and they drank in silence. “It will be us next, Willie, waiting for news.”

“Don’t tell me, I’m nervous already!”

“Yes. Waiting is the very worst thing.”

They knocked back another glassful and nodded at each other gloomily.

“So . . . you plan on marrying my Millie?”

“Oh, yes. The question is, is your Millie planning on marrying me? She’s agreed to an engagement, but I think she’s heading me off at the pass.”

“Flighty girl, Millie. She lived through her parents’ marriage, see, which wasn’t what you’d call successful. No, not at all. That bitch mother of hers makes everyone around her miserable.”

“She’s not her mother. We have a different situation, Serge.”

“Give her time, Will, she’ll settle down.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They drank to a lot of other things in the next hours, and a few more bottles later they heard the door open and Hendricks’s and Millie’s voices.

Millie was ecstatic. “It was great! Dr. Masterson is wonderful. S. has the prettiest little girl you can imagine, and I watched the whole thing. She had a caesarean—with epidural—and it was just beautiful. I held her hand, and I held the baby.”

Hendricks was grinning. “Wonderful, makes you wish . . .”

“Well, Hendricks, I suppose it’s not a secret anymore. I’ll be having a baby, too.”

“Miss Deafly.” Hendricks swept her up into an embrace. “My dearest lady, I’m so happy for you.” His eyes glistened with tears. “You will be a wonderful mother, wonderful!”

“Thank you, Hendricks, thank you!”

Serge gloated. “Hey, Hendricks, take your cue from Wee Willie Wanker here! He hit a hole in one!”
 

Hendricks tearfully squeezed an embarrassed Lance’s hand effusively and left, sniffing and grinning.
 

Millie eyed Lance and Serge suspiciously. “How much have the two of you been celebrating?”

“Not that much, Millie, we’re, like, practising . . .”

“Mmm, I see . . . practising.”

The doorbell rang and Millie marched away to answer it.

“Saved by the proverbial bell, Willie Wanker.” Serge chuckled. “Saved by the bell!”

Millie walked into the kitchen with her lips compressed into a thin line. Behind her trailed Lance’s worst nightmare.

Mrs. Deafly. Millie’s mother, gorgeously dressed in a precisely tailored cream pantsuit and black pearls, teetered in on extravagant heels, her face smooth. She sneered at Serge. “Why, Moreno, are you still here? I thought you’d be dead by now, AIDS or some other equally fashionable crotch rot.”

 
The dwarf’s face was stone.
 

Mrs. Deafly smirked. “Cat’s got your tongue? Well, this cat’s got the cream. She’s giving me a grandchild at long last!” she said, gesturing at Millie.
 

“She?” Serge’s voice was harsh. “You mean
Millie,
your daughter, don’t you? Whatever happened to your
son?
”

Mrs. Deafly ignored him, sweeping her razor eyes away from him. They settled on Lance and widened with astonished glee.

“Why, my goodness, it’s you! And I thought you’d given it all up as a bad job.” Her eyes sparkled with malice, her lips thinned into a smile. “Well done, very well done indeed! And so quick. You really are the best. I’ll have my office send you a cheque tomorrow. I might even consider a bonus!”

Lance’s world dissolved under him. All he could see was Millie’s bewildered face.

“Will? Mother, this is Will Pecklise, my fiancé—”

“Darling, this is Lance Packhard, the prick I hired to get you pregnant, and I had to offer millions before he’d agree to such a distasteful thing.”

Lance’s frozen lips came unstuck. “No. I said no! I took your money and thought of it as a loan. But I gave you back the advance because I could never go through with what you wanted. And now everything’s changed. I love Millie.”

Mrs. Deafly laughed. “Oh, my dear Mr. Packhard, please don’t tell me you fell in love with
that?
” She laughed again. “That’s absurd. She’s hopeless. Plain and a pain! As useless as her father and just as pitiable. Another pathetic emotional cripple!”

A furious howl interrupted her. Serge, teeth bared and eyes blazing, looked likely to tear her to pieces. His raised hands curled into claws. “Stupid cunt! Don’t talk about him. Don’t you dare, you fucking stupid bitch! You think yourself something? You are nothing. You’re a reflection. There’s nothing to you—no love, no kindness, no passion. You are a void! A pretty nothing.”

Mrs. Deafly flinched back.

Serge advanced towards her, his rage shaking his small compact body. “Look at me. I’m grotesque and I was his love. I was Luke’s true love and he was mine. His heart was mine, and when he died so did I, until I realized that Millie was mine, too. The daughter of Luke’s body and my heart! Our daughter. Not yours; never yours. Don’t come in here to hurt my daughter, you envious piece of human offal. You can’t stand it, you harpy. You can’t stand it that this man might love her. Nobody loves you. You’re alone, you poisonous vulture. You will
always
be alone. Crawl off and die.”

“What are you saying? You lie! You lie!”

“Luke and I, we loved each other, you bitch. From the inside out.”

“Of course . . . it makes sense! He wasn’t impotent after all. It wasn’t me, there’s nothing wrong with me. It was him all along. He was a disgusting pervert, a fa—”

“Never that! Luke said soul mates sometimes come with the wrong appendages. It wasn’t about sex. Sex you can buy on any street corner, and I should know. It was about love. Love.
Love
.”

Mrs. Deafly backed away under Serge’s fierce glare, grabbed her purse, and fled.

A deadly silence filled the kitchen.

“Millie . . .” Lance moved towards her, hands outstretched. “Please, let me explain.”

“Get out.” Her voice was strange, hollow. “Out.”

Lance moved towards her.

Serge stepped in front of him, his face set. “Get out, you piece of shit, before I fucking kill you.”

Lance got out. His last glimpse was of Millie falling on her knees before Serge and being enfolded in his arms. They rocked each other in a closed circle of grief and love.
 

He was out. Alone again, naturally.

In the sheltering cradle of Serge’s rocking arms, Millie wept her revulsion and her fierce outrage at Will’s betrayal. Finally the anger ebbed, leaving behind it a dull ache.

A minute flutter within her lifted her to her feet, pressing her hand to her abdomen.