‘I know.’ I agree, but I don’t think she was easily led at all. I’ve concluded that that’s what Nan has told herself over the years to deal with her loss. I’m happy to let her have that.
‘Livy.’ She shifts her hand carefully to avoid smudging my polish, so she’s the one gripping mine, and it’s a firm grip – a reassuring grip. ‘Everything about you is your mother, but not this.’ She taps her temple with her index finger. ‘You mustn’t be afraid of becoming her. It’ll just be another life wasted.’
‘I know,’ I admit. My own underlying reasons to avoid a repeat of my mother’s life are good enough, but remembering my grandparents’ devastation has only ever sealed it.
‘You’ve completely shut yourself down, Livy. I know I was, well, a little bit of a handful after your granddad died, but I’m fine now – have been for some time, sweetheart.’ She raises grey eyebrows at me, desperate for me to acknowledge it. ‘I’ll never get over losing them both, but I can still live. You haven’t experienced half of what life has to offer, Olivia. You were such a spirited child and teenager until you found—’ she halts, and I know it’s because she can’t say the words. She’s talking about the journal, the frighteningly vivid accounts of my mother’s life.
‘It was safer that way,’ I murmur.
‘It was unhealthy that way, sweetheart.’ She lifts my hand and kisses it lovingly.
‘I’m beginning to see that.’ I take a deep breath of confidence. ‘That man, the one who came for dinner . . .’ I don’t know why I don’t use his name. ‘He unearthed something in me, Nan. It’ll never go anywhere, but I’m glad I met him because he’s made me realise what life could be if I let it.’
I don’t divulge any more than that, and I also don’t confess that given the chance, I would have whatever that is with him, if only he would let me. It’s not the sex; it’s the connection, the feeling of complete refuge that beats anything I’ve attempted to achieve on my own. It defies sensibility, really. Miller Hart is irrational, arduous and temperamental, but the times between those irritating moments are inconceivably blissful and serene. I want to, but I have no faith in finding those feelings with another man.
Nan looks at me thoughtfully, keeping her firm grip of my hand. ‘Why will it not go anywhere?’ she asks.
I’m honest and she must see it for what it is, anyway. She’s not stupid. ‘Because I don’t think he’s really available,’ I say quietly.
‘Oh, Livy,’ Nan sighs. ‘We can’t help who we fall for. Come here.’ She stands up and pulls me into her arms, giving me a big squeeze. The tension and uncertainty seems to drain right out of me under her hold. ‘In every experience we have in life, we have to find a positive. I can see many positives coming from your encounter with Miller, sweetheart.’
I hum my agreement into her shoulder, but wonder if I’ll be in any fit state to embrace these supposed opportunities. He’s already successfully intercepted one date. If I’m going to continue to resist Miller Hart, I need to maintain my willpower and grow some resilience. The sass the Taylor girls are renowned for has eluded me, but I’m on a mission to relocate it. It’s there. It’s popped up now and then recently, but I need to grab on to it and never let go.
I squint as a camera is shoved in my face and Nan blinds me with the flash. ‘Get a grip, Nan,’ I moan, pulling down the hem of my ridiculous dress. I’ve been standing in front of the mirror for twenty minutes deliberating on the dramatic transformation. All day, all bloody day, I’ve spent waxing, plucking, painting, smoothing and straightening. I’m exhausted.
‘See, George!’ Nan snaps a few more shots. ‘Sassy!’
I roll my eyes at a smiling George and pull my hem down again. ‘Stop it now.’ I push the camera from my face, feeling like a teenager going to a prom. It was inevitable, but the fuss is just making me feel even more conspicuous.
‘You look spectacular, Livy!’ George laughs, taking the camera from Nan and ignoring her appalled glare. ‘Leave the poor woman alone, Josephine.’
‘Thank you, George,’ I say, again pulling down my dress.
‘Stop tugging at your dress.’ Nan smacks my hands away. ‘Walk tall, chin high. Keep fidgeting and you’ll look out of place and uncomfortable.’
‘Oh God, I’m going.’ I grab my stupidly small bag and make for the door, desperate to escape the over-the-top reactions to my . . . enhanced look. I slam the door harder than I mean to and click on my heels down the path, hearing Nan shout at George as I do. I smile, pull my shoulders back, and set on my way, shoving my bag under my arm and resisting the urge to pull the hem of my dress down again.
I’m only a few paces into my strut when I see Gregory in the distance, walking towards me. He falters slightly mid-stride, and I know that if I was close enough, I would see him squinting. Strangely, this reaction doesn’t make me feel conspicuous; it makes me feel bold, so I raise my chin and make my best attempt of impersonating a model on the catwalk. I don’t know if I pull it off, but it makes Gregory grin from ear to ear and wolf whistle from fifty yards away.
‘Hot stuff!’ He halts and spreads his legs, holding his hands out to me. ‘Fuck me, I’ll be fighting them off!’
I don’t even blush. I perform a perfectly executed twirl before throwing my arms around his neck. ‘I’ve been practising all day.’
‘I can tell.’ He removes me from his body and runs his eyes up and down me, then smooths my hair and smiles. ‘Straight and sleek. You look even more gorgeous than normal. Holy shit, look at those legs!’
I glance down at my legs, seeing curves I never have before. ‘I feel good,’ I admit.
His arm falls around me and he pulls me into his side. ‘Well, you should, because you look amazing. Were you leaving without me?’ he asks, starting us towards the main road to get a cab.
‘No, I couldn’t stand it in there any more.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘You’re looking very dapper.’ I give the sleeve of his pink shirt a little tug. ‘Trying to impress?’ I glance up at him, finding a restrained grin. It makes me smile.
‘I don’t need to try, Livy.’ He’s cocky. ‘Promise me something?’
‘What?’
‘You’ll call me Greg tonight.’
My smile widens and my arm snakes around his waist. ‘I’ll call you Greg if you call me sassy lady.’