Millie Hardiman and the Red Parrot Fever

The Miracle Baby - Part 7

Millie's house was an old mid-terrace in Bognor, fifty yards from the sea front. It had a small yard at the back which still had an outside toilet, where Barry now stored his bike. At the front there was a tiny, walled-in, paved square and an old metal gate.

Millie loved to lie in bed at night and listen to the sea roaring in the distance, like a friendly monster.

"Come and sit down, Millie, we've got something to tell you." Gwen ushered her into the lounge. It was a long room, well-lit by bay windows at both ends, with cream painted walls. Several large Dali and Picasso prints nearly covered the back wall, and a large gilt mirror hung over the redbrick fireplace.

A comfortable looking, old, brown sofa was pushed against the wall in the living room, opposite the large screen TV, which was beside the front window. This was where Barry spent most of his time watching box sets. Gwen's armchair was at the head of the sofa, as far from Barry's feet as she could get it.

Millie was immediately worried. This was their domain, where they watched old people's stuff on telly; like couples always having dinner parties and bitching about each other.

"Look Gwen, you've got to be positive," Millie said in her most positive voice. "Barry's obviously having a mid-life crisis. You can forgive him and he won't do it again."

"Millie, please, just for once, shut up and listen." Gwen sat at the oak dining table in the rear, beside Barry, whilst Millie continued to pace the room.

"But the only reason for you both to be talking to me is because Barry's having an affair, and now he's going to go and live in a bedsit with rats, and I'll have to visit him and pretend I'm having fun," Millie babbled. "You don't have to break up with him, do you?" she said, suddenly desperate.

"No-one's breaking up," Gwen assured her. "There is another reason why we might want to talk to you."

Reassured that it wasn't a breaking up conversation, Millie perked up. "Well, I can't think what else it could be. I haven't done anything recently, and I'm too old for adoption now."

"What do you mean recently?" Barry was immediately suspicious.

"Never too old," Gwen pitched in. "There are still families out there who'll take anybody; even a gobby teenager. But for now, please listen to me. I'm going to have a baby."

Millie was shocked. "What? You mean you're going to adopt?"

"For someone who thinks she's so bright, you can be exceedingly dim," Gwen said exasperatedly. "No, I'm going to ask the stork to drop a baby off at the house."

"There's no need for sarcasm," Millie bristled. "But surely it's impossible at your age. Haven't you been through the change?"

"No, I bloody haven't!" Gwen said indignantly. "I'm only thirty five."

"I thought all that moping around last year was you menopausing."

"I wasn't menopausing. I had a water infection."

"I told Chunk that was just an excuse," Millie said matter-of-factly. "Coz you couldn't face getting even older. So when is this miracle baby due?"

"It's due in April and it's not a miracle baby," Gwen snarled. "I'm still a young woman; although you're ageing me by the minute."

"Let's just hope it's a boy." Barry looked meaningfully at Millie as he spoke.

Millie saw the look and sneered at them both. "You do realise that by the time he's ten, I'll be twenty four." Now that Millie was over the initial shock, she was planning for the future. "That means I'll be two years out of Uni, with a degree in English lit, and I'll probably be stacking shelves in Tesco. So don't even think of kicking me out of my room for his football stuff."

"If you're two years out of Uni you'll be twenty three," Gwen corrected Millie's arithmetic, "and you'll be living in shared accommodation, with another ten, out of work, ex-students by then."

"Er, I think you're forgetting about my gap year, Gwen. I haven't decided yet, whether to go to South America or Australia? I hope you're keeping my savings fund topped up."

"Ha!" Gwen snorted derisively. "If you want a gap year, you better get yourself a paper round. There ain't no savings fund."

"Can we get back to the subject in hand, please?" Barry was an old hand at avoiding arguments. "Now that you've finished congratulating your mother and being all emotional, we need to talk to you."

"I didn't do it." Millie was immediately defensive.

"Shut up!" Gwen said firmly. "Your dad, or Barry, as you might know him better, has a problem."

"It might be only temporary," Barry added.

"Let's hope it is," Gwen said. "But for now we need to do this, god help us. Millie we want you to help Barry with storylines, for his darts thingy."

Millie couldn't breathe she was so excited. Finally she shrieked, "Really?" Then she squealed, reminding them both that she was still a kid. She was jumping up and down on the spot. "Yessssss!!!!! I love Double Top. I've got loads of ideas. We can make Deadeye Dick more famous than Phil Taylor."

"Alright, calm down." Barry tried to sound as if this was all perfectly normal. "I'm just having a bit of a dry spell and I need a muse. I'll still be doing all of the writing, you're just there for your mad ramblings, which I probably won't use anyway."

Millie was jumping around the room. "Oh you'll use them. They'll be too good for you to ignore." She stopped and took a deep breath to calm herself down, "Now, we just need to sort out my terms."

"What terms?" Gwen was affronted. "You'll be talking your usual rubbish to your dad, only for once he's going to have to listen to it."

"Don't panic, I'm not asking for money, yet. Just one simple condition that will make life easier for everyone."

Barry was resigned to it. He got up and went to his sofa and sat down heavily. "Go on then, let's hear it."

"Ok." Millie savoured the moment. "No more punishments for storytelling. I have to be given free rein to let my imagination run wild."

"No way!" Gwen was adamant. "We can't have you telling people we've got the plague, or that Chunk's a Martian."

Millie mused on those. "I like your ideas, Gwen. You must get your imagination from me. However, I'm afraid my terms are non-negotiable."

Barry scoffed at her. "You don't even know what that means."

"It's my way or the highway," Millie retorted, clicking her fingers and using an American accent. "Girlfriend."

Gwen looked worriedly at Barry.

"Alright, but only until the end of the season in December," Barry informed Millie. He got up and looked out of the front window. Nothing happened in the street that Barry didn't know about. "From the first of January, all bets are off."

"Cool." Millie was gracious in victory. "I'll make some notes and we'll meet tomorrow for a script conference."

Barry sighed loudly and slumped back down on his sofa. "I'm exhausted."