Page 15 of Millie & George: Young Love
‘Or you’ll fucking regret it,’ George replied and considering attack the best form of defence, he launched a punch straight into the youth’s gut. There was a gratifying oof sound, but that was soon followed by sounds less satisfying. The friends moved in, one slid in behind him and hit the back of his knees with a sharp blow. Catching him right on the tendons so that his legs folded. He felt himself collapsing before the pain registered.
Millie screamed.
His face met the cold, hard pavement. He saw boots, heavy metal capped and felt the first connection with his stomach. Their fish and chip supper landed on the ground beside him. The smell of vinegar on chips filled his nostrils as a second boot rammed in his guts. George coiled around the pain and another boot landed on his head. Then another followed and another.
‘Stop it, stop it.’ He heard Millie shrieking.
A new voice told her to shut up if she didn’t want some of the same.
Someone took him by his shoulder and rolled him over.
‘Listen, brave man, listen to your little girlfriend scream.’ It was the leader of the pack again, leering down at him.
‘You know what we’re going to do to her. We’re going to give her a reason to scream proper. You wanna watch while we–’
George wriggled, trying to stand. Then another voice interrupted urgently. ‘Stop!’
The leader grunted, ‘What?’
‘Stop, I said. You know who he is?’
‘No, who is he – Prince Harry?’ The leader and one of his mates laughed.
The other voice said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. If he clocks us, we’re dead.’
There was the sound of random voices and feet running. George tried again to get up. The street was swirling around him.
‘George, George,’ Millie’s voice. ‘Oh, George… are you okay? Tell me you’re not hurt badly.’ She was kneeling beside him, and through a blur, he saw her anxious eyes.
‘I’m fine.’ He grunted. ‘I suppose they’ve ruined our supper?’
Mille gave a tearful smile. ‘Aye, they have. But if you’re talking of food, you can’t be too badly injured. Can you walk?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’ Groaning, George pulled himself vertical. ‘Let’s get you back home to safety.’
Martha was sittingat the breakfast bar, eating a supper of cereal. Sharon was gawking at the television as Millie stumbled in with George.
‘Oh, my God! What’s happened?’ Martha squealed and rushed to them.
‘We were mugged,’ Millie said.
‘Did they take much?’
‘Nothing, George fought them off.’
Martha blinked at him. He didn’t miss the surprise on her face. ‘Look at the state of him,’ she said and turning again to Millie, she asked fiercely, ‘Did they hit you?’
‘No, George stopped them.’
‘So you said.’ Martha’s brown eyes switched back to George, and he thought it wasn’t just her teeth that reminded him of the Weston Super Mare donkey.
Feeling suddenly faint, he asked, ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
Arms around his shoulders, Millie led him to the sofa.
Sharon shuffled up to give them space and, switching off the television, she asked, ‘Shall I call the police?’
‘No!’ George replied, quicker and louder than he intended. ‘Sorry,’ he added. ‘No point in wasting their time. I didn’t know the attackers.’
