Running Away
Leaving London behind her, Millie drove faster, picturing thousands of crazed fans in pursuit, desperate for what – a lock of her hair? Or Julian; except after the last gig, somehow she knew he wouldn’t follow.
She knew from bitter experience that distance solved problems. Cleared heads. Had the added bonus of a tan – if you were going somewhere like the South of France or the Caribbean – but she was heading for freaking Hampshire.
Yes, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. And she’d had a vodka or two (or three) as she surfed the internet for the easiest way to melt into the scenery and disappear. When you lived in London or huge expensive hotels, what was more appealing than a chocolate-box cottage in the heart of the countryside?
As she booked it, she’d felt that tight part of her breathe out slowly. Then she’d cut off her hair
