But Millie didn't care. "Tea!" she called, imperious as a cat. "Ben's here, and I'd rather the poor sweet boy didn't expire of dehydration, after coming all the way to visit us! When you set out the biscuits, don't forget the chocolate Viennese, they are his favourites."
She hobbled back to me, and she was still feigning a fragility that was only partly phoney. Manipulative old bird, she was, and he didn't grudge her it. Weren't they all, if it served their advantage. She wasn't so frail that she didn't settle herself on the footstool she hooked over with her stick, in front of the chair he was in, and give a wave of her hand that was every bit as imperious as her yelling down to Mrs H moments ago. "Boots up!" she instructed him, and pointed at his biker boots, mud-splashed and scuffed.
"Millie," he sighed. "I can do it myself. I could have whipped them off in the hall, if you'd given me a moment." And he tried to match deed to word, but Millie was too quick for him. Since she was already squatting and grabbing at his boot, the exertion was done, and he gave in. She was pulling off his boots, as Mrs H waddled in with a silver tea-tray. And Mrs H. gave him the usual evil sneak-glance.
"Tea and biscuits for you, then, Master Ben," Mrs H greeted him. Right then, Millie almost went flying backwards, when the second boot gave in to her assault. "Welcome home, then. I suppose." Sarcastic old bat. The 'Master' bit was definitely intended as irony. She couldn't have been less of a loyal feudalistic old retainer.
Mrs H. had always loved and adored him. She loved and adored him. She just didn't show it, much. Or know it, perhaps. Or perhaps she was getting ready for the revolution, when she'd dob him in to the authorities and grab his inheritance.
Millie pulled herself up from the Persian carpet, by means of tugging on the fringed tablecloth on the sideboard at the side of his chair. And she came up weaving, bobbing and waving her stick, too, ready to take on Cassius Clay anytime. And a bit dishevelled. "Have a civil tongue in your head, Horny. Give the boy a proper welcome," she tutted.
YOU ARE READING
Erase You
RomanceMichael is a musician, Cambridge-educated but living in London. He's successful, attractive and has plenty to keep him busy and happy. So why can he still not get over his old college boyfriend, Ben? Fortunately his old Great-Aunt Millie, a notor...
