Waking in the basement, my mind instantly craves sunlight to anchor my internal clock. Or something to make me feel I haven’t, finally, lost my mind. I can’t hear Jack, but I sense he’s near, listening. Suddenly, the door swings open.
‘You’re going to have to move quicker than that if we’re to be in time to take Millie for lunch,’ he remarks, as I get slowly to my feet.
I know I should feel pleased that we’re going but the truth is, seeing Millie gets harder with each visit we make. Ever since she told me that Jack had pushed her down the stairs, she’s been waiting for me to do something about it. I’m beginning to dread the day she’ll actually manage to persuade Jack to take us to the hotel because I don’t want to have to tell her I still haven’t found a solution. Back then, it never occurred to me that I would still be a prisoner a year on. I had known that it would be difficult to get away from him but not that it would be impossible. And now, there is so little time left. Seventy-four days. The thought of Jack counting down the days until Millie comes to live with us like a child waiting impatiently for Christmas makes me feel sick.
As usual, Millie and Janice are waiting on the bench for us. We chat for a while—Janice asks us if we enjoyed the wedding the previous weekend and our visit to friends the weekend before that and Jack leaves it to me to invent that the wedding was in Devon, and very lovely, and that we enjoyed the Peak District, where our friends live, very much. Jack, ever charming, tells Janice that she’s a treasure for allowing us to take advantage of the short time we have left together before Millie comes to live with us and Janice replies that she doesn’t mind at all, that she adores Millie and is happy to step in for us whenever we need her to. She adds that she’s going to miss her when she leaves and reiterates her promise to come and visit us often, which Jack will make sure that she never does. We talk about how Millie has been and Janice tells us that thanks to the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed, she’s getting a good night’s sleep, which means that she’s back to her normal self during the day.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says apologetically, looking at her watch. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you. My mother will kill me if I’m late for lunch.’
‘We need to get going too,’ Jack says.
‘Can we go to hotel today, please?’ Millie asks eagerly.
Jack opens his mouth, but before he can tell us that he’s taking us somewhere else, Janice intervenes.
‘Millie has been telling me all about the hotel and how much she likes it there and she’s promised to tell us about it in class on Monday, haven’t you, Millie?’ Millie nods enthusiastically. ‘She’s already told us about the restaurant by the lake and the one that serves the pancakes so we’re looking forward to hearing about this one. And Mrs Goodrich is thinking of taking the staff to the hotel for the end-of-school-year dinner,’ she adds, ‘so she’s commissioned Millie to write a report on it.’
‘Need to go to hotel for Mrs Goodrich,’ Millie confirms.
‘Then the hotel it is,’ says Jack, hiding his annoyance by smiling indulgently at her.
Millie chats away happily during lunch and, when we’ve finished, she says she needs to go to the toilet.
‘Go on then,’ says Jack.
She stands up. ‘Grace come with me.’
‘There’s no need for Grace to go with you,’ Jack tells her firmly. ‘You’re perfectly able to go by yourself.’
‘I have period,’ Millie announces loudly. ‘Need Grace.’
‘Very well,’ says Jack, hiding his distaste. He pushes his chair back. ‘I’ll come too.’
‘Jack not allowed in Ladies’ toilet,’ Millie says belligerently.
‘I meant that I’ll come as far as the toilets with you.’
He leaves us at the end of the corridor, warning us not to be long. There are two ladies at the sinks chatting away happily as they wash their hands and Millie hops from foot to foot, impatient for them to leave. I rack my brains for something to tell her, something that will make her think I have a solution in mind and marvel at the way she contrived to get Jack to bring us here by drawing Janice and Mrs Goodrich into the equation.
‘That was clever of you, Millie,’ I tell her, as soon as the door closes behind the women.
‘Need to talk,’ she hisses.
‘What is it?’
‘Millie have something for Grace,’ she whispers. She slips her hand into her pocket and draws out a tissue. ‘Secret,’ she says, handing it to me. Puzzled, I unfold the tissue, expecting to find a bead or a flower and find myself looking at a handful of small white pills.
‘What are these?’ I frown.
‘For sleep. I not take them.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t need them,’ she says, scowling.
‘But they’re to help you sleep better,’ I explain patiently.
‘I sleep fine.’
‘Yes, you do now, because of the pills,’ I insist. ‘Before, you didn’t, remember?’
She shakes her head. ‘I pretend.’
‘Pretend?’
‘Yes. I pretend can’t sleep.’
I look at her, perplexed. ‘Why?’
She closes my hand over the tissue. ‘For you, Grace.’
‘Well, it’s very kind of you, Millie, but I don’t need them.’
‘Yes, Grace need them. For Jorj Koony.’
‘George Clooney?’
‘Yes. Jorj Koony bad man, Jorj Koony push me down stairs, Jorj Koony make Grace sad. He bad man, very bad man.’
Now it’s my turn to shake my head. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
‘Yes, you understand.’ Millie is adamant. ‘It simple, Grace. We kill Jorj Koony.’
