#Coursework writing Service London

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Best Assignment Writing Help UK – Expert SPSS, Editing, Formatting & Plagiarism-Free Services

Comprehensive Assignment Writing Services for UK University Students – Trusted, Fast & Plagiarism-Free

At Tutors India, we specialize in academic assignment writing help tailored to UK university standards. Whether you're a postgraduate student, coursework candidate, or preparing for PhD-level assignments, we provide cheap assignment writing services without compromising quality.

Our UK-based assignment writers deliver subject-specific, evidence-based, and plagiarism-free assignments with support in critical thinking, research methodology application, and academic referencing.

We provide assignment writing support across major UK cities, including London, Manchester, Edinburgh, Birmingham, and Leeds, ensuring location-aware service delivery and university-specific formatting.

Our Specialized Assignment Writing Services Include:

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UK-based academic Writers familiar with British university standards.

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FAQs

Q: Do you offer urgent assignment help in the UK? A: Yes, we provide 24- to 48-hour turnaround for urgent submissions, without compromising quality.

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Q: Can I get help with data analysis in SPSS or Python? A: Yes, we provide SPSS, R, and Python analysis services for statistics-based assignments and research projects.

Q: Do you support UK university formatting and referencing styles? A: Yes, we strictly follow Harvard, APA, MLA, and custom university-specific formats.

Additional Academic Support Services Available:

Essay Writing Services

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Book Your FREE Assignment Writing Consultation Today!

Don’t wait until the last minute! Get professional help from UK-based academic experts. Whether you need help with SPSS analysis, proofreading, or full assignment writing, Tutors India offers personalized consultation and fast-track services.

Locations: London | Manchester | Birmingham | Edinburgh | Glasgow Email: info@tutorsindia.com UK: +44-1143520021 | IN: +91 8754446690

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University College Of London Assignment Help: Your Ultimate Guide

Do you have problems writing and getting your assignments done? Well, if you are in the University College of London, you won't be alone. Most students usually go through the ordeal of turning in close to impossible workloads within extremely limited timelines. Help is out there for you, though. This article provides a detailed resource on the merits of University College of London assignment help and its contributions to an enhanced academic experience.

What is University College of London Assignment Help?

University College of London assignment help is an offer dedicated to those who require help in the completion of their homework. Either you're having a tough time dealing with one particular subject or you just don't have time for those numerous assignments. Assignment help is meant to create support, and that is what the best proofreaders, editors, researchers, and writers do at most assignment help services.

How Can University College of London Assignment Help Improve Your Grades?

The first that comes to mind when thinking of possible benefits from the University College of London assignment help is that it could simply improve your grades. It guarantees that the quality of your assignments will be very high, as you have actually engaged well-experienced professionals who actually know your subject matter. Therefore, the grades will be better, and the whole experience will be better.

Benefits of University College of London Assignment Help

Expert Help: Taking an assignment help is taking a helping hand from an expert in the desired field and can help students understand complicated sections better and enhance their overall knowledge.

Time Saver: Time is saved when students take the on-time assignment writing services from online experts, for the time they would have spent doing homework could take hours or days of effort and could be easily put into other things just as important.

Better Grades: All experts dealing in writing assignments will give you quality work so you can secure grades as you want.

How to Choose the Most Effective University College London Assignment Help Service

In fact, there are some important things to consider when selecting an assignment help service. The first is individualized service; the second is service confidentiality; and the last should have a definition in relation to quality. And test these by looking for reviews and testimonials posted by past clients.

In Conclusion

University College of London assignment help can be one major source of relief for a student from an assignment workload that is really getting unmanageable. Professionals will guide you in boosting your academic credits; they will save you time, make it understandable to you, and teach the actual meaning concerning your coursework. What are you waiting for? Get online for assignment assistance now, and make your learning experience much better at the University College of London.

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The Surprising Perks of Distance MBA Colleges You Didn't See Coming (But Should Have!)

The classic MBA experience conjures images of packed schedules, intense coursework, and a bustling campus environment. But what if you crave that coveted MBA credential yet the traditional route doesn't quite fit your life's blueprint? Look no further than distance MBA colleges! They offer a revolutionary path for busy professionals to gain the knowledge and skills they need to take their careers to the next level, all while maintaining their current commitments.

Sure, flexibility is a massive perk of distance learning – you can study in your PJs at 2 AM, no judgment. But the benefits go way beyond that. Buckle up, because we're about to unveil some surprising advantages of pursuing your MBA through a distance program:

1. Budget Baller: Traditional MBAs can leave a crater in your wallet. Not so with distance programs! With lower overhead costs, distance colleges can offer significantly cheaper tuition fees. Think of all the things you can do with those savings – a celebratory trip after graduation, perhaps?

2. Global Classroom, Endless Connections: Distance programs often attract a diverse student body, transcending geographical boundaries. This translates to a virtual classroom filled with international perspectives, enriching your learning experience tenfold. Imagine brainstorming marketing strategies with classmates from Tokyo or discussing leadership styles with someone in London – invaluable exposure in today's interconnected business world.

3. Sharper, Faster, Better: Distance MBAs are designed for the time-crunched professional. Streamlined coursework focuses on practical application, ensuring you gain the skills and knowledge you need to hit the ground running after graduation. No more wading through endless theoretical lectures – you'll be equipped to tackle real-world business challenges efficiently.

4. Tech-Savvy Learning: Distance MBA colleges are at the forefront of educational technology. Interactive learning platforms, online simulations, and real-time collaboration tools create a dynamic and engaging learning environment. It's not just about textbooks and lectures anymore – you'll be actively participating in your education, making the most of cutting-edge technology.

Symbiosis: Your Bridge to Success

Now, let's talk specifics. Symbiosis, a name synonymous with academic excellence, offers a compelling range of distance MBA programs. But what truly sets them apart?

Industry-Aligned Curriculum: Symbiosis doesn't operate in a bubble. Their curriculum is meticulously crafted in collaboration with industry leaders, ensuring you graduate with the most sought-after skills in today's job market. It's not just about theory – it's about practical knowledge that will make you a valuable asset to any organization.

Learn from the Legends: Imagine being mentored by seasoned professors and industry experts who bring their real-world experience to the virtual classroom. Symbiosis boasts a renowned faculty who are passionate about knowledge transfer and your professional success.

Career Support, Supercharged: Symbiosis understands that an MBA is just the beginning. They offer dedicated career services to help you navigate the next chapter. From resume writing workshops to interview preparation support, their team provides the tools and guidance you need to land your dream job.

Taking the Leap: Your Future Awaits

Distance MBAs break down the barriers to postgraduate education, allowing you to pursue your aspirations without putting your life on hold. You can manage your work, family, and personal commitments while still acquiring the skills and knowledge to take your career to new heights.

Ready to unlock a world of possibilities? Explore the distance MBA programs offered by Symbiosis and embark on a journey of transformation. Remember, an MBA shouldn't disrupt your life – it should elevate it.

Here are some additional SEO tips to keep in mind:

Targeted Keywords: Throughout the blog, I've sprinkled in relevant keywords like "distance MBA colleges," "distance learning benefits," and "Symbiosis distance MBA programs." However, don't overdo it – keyword stuffing hurts readability.

Meta Description: Craft a compelling meta description (around 160 characters) that summarizes the blog and entices readers to click.

Headings and Subheadings: Use clear headings and subheadings to break up the text and improve readability. Search engines also love well-structured content.

Internal Linking: Link to relevant pages on your website, such as program information or student testimonials. This improves user experience and helps search engines understand your website's structure.

By following these tips and creating informative, engaging content, you can increase your blog's visibility and attract potential students interested in distance MBA programs at Symbiosis.

[essaywriters-posts]

Finding the Best Essay Help in the UK: A Comprehensive Guide

In the pursuit of academic excellence, students often seek reliable and effective essay help to ensure they meet the high standards expected in UK institutions. From London to Edinburgh, the demand for quality essay writing services has grown significantly, reflecting the challenges and pressures students face in their academic journeys. This guide explores the key aspects of finding the best essay help uk including the types of services available, the benefits of professional assistance, and practical tips for selecting a trustworthy provider.

Understanding the Landscape of Essay Help Services in the UK

The UK educational system is renowned for its rigorous academic standards and a strong emphasis on written assignments. Essays, in particular, are a crucial component of assessment at all levels of education, from high school to postgraduate studies. However, not every student possesses the innate writing skills or the time required to craft outstanding essays. This is where professional essay help services come into play, offering tailored support that ranges from proofreading and editing to full writing assistance.

Types of Essay Help Available

Custom Essay Writing Services: These services provide fully customised essays written from scratch, tailored to the specific requirements and guidelines of the student’s assignment. This is the most comprehensive form of help, ideal for students who need substantial support.

Editing and Proofreading: For students confident in their writing but seeking a professional touch to enhance clarity, coherence, and grammar, editing services are invaluable. Proofreading services focus on correcting surface errors, ensuring the essay is polished and error-free.

Consultation and Advice: Some services offer consultation sessions where students can receive guidance on structuring their essays, developing arguments, and enhancing their critical thinking skills.

Benefits of Professional Essay Help

Improvement in Academic Performance: The primary advantage of obtaining essay help is the potential for improved grades. Professional writers bring a level of expertise and insight that can significantly elevate the quality of the essay.

Time Management: Balancing coursework, exams, and personal commitments can be overwhelming. Outsourcing essay writing can free up time, allowing students to focus on other important aspects of their academic and personal lives.

Learning from Experts: By engaging with essay writing services, students can learn from the edits and comments provided by experienced writers, thereby improving their own writing and analytical skills over time.

Stress Reduction: The pressures of academic deadlines and the fear of underperforming can lead to significant stress. Having reliable essay help can alleviate these pressures by ensuring that quality work is submitted on time.

Choosing the Best Essay Help in the UK

Selecting the right essay help service is crucial for achieving the best outcomes. Here are several tips to ensure you choose a reputable provider:

Check for Reviews and Testimonials: Look for reviews on independent platforms or testimonials on the service provider’s website. Feedback from previous users can provide insight into the quality and reliability of the service.

Evaluate the Quality of the Writers: Ensure that the service employs writers who are native English speakers with relevant academic qualifications. Many reputable services will provide details about their writers’ backgrounds and areas of expertise.

Assess the Range of Services: A good essay help service should offer a comprehensive range of services that accommodate all aspects of essay writing, from drafting to final edits.

Plagiarism Concerns: Reliable services guarantee that all work provided is original and free from plagiarism. They should also provide a plagiarism report upon request.

Customer Support: Effective communication is key when using essay help services. Look for providers that offer robust customer support through various channels and are responsive to your needs.

Price vs. Quality: While cost is an important factor, the cheapest option is not always the best. It is crucial to balance cost with the quality of service provided to ensure value for money.

Conclusion

Finding the best essay help in the UK involves careful consideration of various factors, including the type of help needed, the expertise of the writers, and the reputation of the service. By following the tips outlined above, students can select a service that not only meets their academic needs but also enhances their learning experience, ultimately contributing to their academic success and personal growth. Whether you're a struggling student looking for a leg-up or someone simply seeking to polish your work, the right essay help can make a significant difference in your academic journey.

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At Projectsdeal, experts will help you in completing your coursework help according to university standards. We’ll also help with your term papers, research papers in statistics, marketing, law, medical or finance. 

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[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 15

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 15 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, drinking

Historical Inaccuracies:

Mary didn’t go on tour with Queen in 1975

On the 14th of November, 1975, Queen did not leave early for the start of the ANATO tour. Indeed, they “had to rush from London to Liverpool��� (x) because they had been shooting the music video for ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in the very same afternoon as the day of their first gig on tour!

Word Count: 3.8k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

August, September, and October disappeared in such a whirlwind rush that you hardly noticed them. You didn’t have time to notice much these days.

Queen were running thirty-eight-hour sessions at multiple recording studios throughout London, working day and night to record and refine the material for their still unnamed fourth album.

Preparations for a release in late November were in full swing, and Queen’s manager Reid was neglecting meetings with Elton John— Elton bloody John, it would never cease to amaze you— to dedicate his time to organising the legs of Queen’s next world tour. Locations, bookings, the transport of instruments and equipment and people, lodging, catering, insurance; the list of things to arrange was endless.

Which was why you often played assistant to Reid, in the absence of Reid’s actual assistant— some clonker named Paul Prenter who turned up late to meetings and had far too much to say for how few hours he put into going to work. You couldn’t be Reid’s full-time assistant, however, because you also tagged along with Roy Thomas Baker, Queen’s producer, since Freddie had more or less insisted that you do so.

You spent a lot of time with Queen, both in the studio and out of it.

In the studio, Freddie consulted you on album concept, Deacy relied on you for input on the song he was writing about Veronica, and Brian taught you to play ‘‘39’. Hearing you sing along with Brian, Roger decided that you should help with backing vocals on one of Freddie’s tracks, and much to everyone’s delight, he coaxed you into agreement. You weren’t delighted with this arrangement, though; you were far too nervous that you’d ruin the vocals of the others.

Outside of the studio, Freddie continued to harp on about your musical education, as he called it, lending you records until you were listening to his music almost constantly.

“I want you to have memorised my collection, darling,” he said one night, swirling his wine, “by the time we set off on tour.”

“Um, okay… That’s a lot of music, Freddie,” you’d swallowed, eyeing the quite frankly enormous record collection that Freddie’s living room housed.

“Psh, all in a day’s work.”

You saw Roger the least out of the four, because when not at Queen’s various recording locations, he was… well, he was bedding Heather, to put it politely. He did take you for the occasional drink and a banter, though. You found that you and he shared a lot of similarities in terms of childhood and upbringing, and this made Roger more brotherly to you than ever.

When he had the time, John would join Roger and you for drinks at the local pub, and the three of you would spend far too long chatting away into the evening. But mostly, Deacy and Ronnie were knackered from their parenting of Robert, and when you could see it all beginning to take a toll on John— he went from the studio to caring for his son and did not sleep in between— you offered yourself as a babysitting service. Deacy and Veronica were immensely grateful for this, because Robert seemed to like you, Auntie Y/N, and though the child could scream bloody murder if he so wished, he was generally a good kid. It was enjoyable to see him learning the ways of the world around him, from lights and colours, to the sounds of his parents’ voices.

Sometimes, when you babysat Robert, Brian came along.

Robert may have liked you, but he loved Brian.

Brian had helped John and Veronica to hang glow-in-the dark stars and planet-mobiles from the ceiling of what was to be Robert’s room when he moved out of his parents’ bedroom, and Brian had been as animated by the activity as though he had been decorating a room for himself.

When Brian visited Robert, he sang to him and rocked the child in his arms and danced about the room, quite forgetting that there was anybody else there. Robert would giggle and occasionally attempt to poke Brian’s nose, which brought Brian no end of wonder, and once again affirmed for you that Brian’s aspirations of one day becoming a father were well-suited to him.

Unfailingly, on the nights when Deacy and Veronica were away, once Robert fell asleep, Brian would suggest that the two of you take to the rooftop to see the stars— of course bringing with you a baby monitor. Thus, you spent many an evening wrapped in a blanket atop the roof of your friend’s house while your best friend sat beside you, cheeks flushed with the cold but unwilling to return inside, even though his teeth chattered and his hair blew about his face in the chilly wind. You began to bring hot chocolate to the roof, though what you really wanted to do to warm Brian was to curl into his side and snuggle close to him.

You didn’t, though. You reserved your pining for him in the form of long, lingering looks.

He’d called you his best friend, and best friends, you told yourself, were built upon platonic principles. If he’d wanted romantic involvement with you, he would have made that clear, and he hadn’t, so you resigned yourself to pushing your feelings down in the pit of your stomach and pretending that his smiles didn’t melt you as easily as chocolate on a summer’s day. Naturally, however, pushing feelings down doesn’t make them go away, but rather concentrates them more, so that every brief glance and accidental touch makes one feel that everything is just that much closer to bubbling over entirely.

But Brian was everywhere you looked, inescapable, inevitable, smiling and just being generally goofy, spouting the most fascinating facts about the cosmos at odd intervals, urging you to sing with him when he sang, nodding at you approvingly over his guitar when you matched his vibrato almost perfectly one Thursday night. Because despite everything, despite Queen’s dawn-to-dusk-to-dawn schedule, Brian still made time for teaching you guitar on Thursday nights.

If it wasn’t for the nights, you might have thought that you could take it.

Take him winking at you and calling you ‘love’ at irregular moments so that your heart stuttered and your thoughts grew sluggishly slow. Take him being near you at almost every hour of every day, and long into the nights as well. Take him existing in his willowy gorgeousness, sunshine-warmed skin and sunlit eyes, soft curls, wide-eyes, angular frame.

But the nights were long, because Brian had confessed that he had begun to sleep better as of late, and this rendered his beauty healthier, more stark, in light of his getting enough rest.

Yes, the nights were long, not for him but for you, because you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing his gentle smile and his hazel eyes.

It was as though he had traded you a milder case of his insomnia, and it frustrated you perpetually, because when you weren’t working or lounging about with Queen, you were studying intensely so as to take your final exams early.

Indeed, you’d committed to not only Queen, but to astrophysics as well.

You were working overtime to finish this year’s coursework early— very early— in fact, by the middle of this month.

You’d been surprised that Dr. Carmichael had even agreed to help you in the first place, but you suspected that something about your situation had reminded him of himself. In the very least, when you’d boldly asked him why he was willing to help you with extra lecture hours and study sessions, he’d said something cryptic about once having missed an opportunity himself, and that he regretted nothing more in his life. You’d been floored that he would openly admit something so personal, being that Carmichael wasn’t the open-book type, but he’d only smiled sadly and told you to have your next paper on his desk by Monday.

It was all very stressful, going from the studio to studying and back to the studio. Your days dissolved into exam preparations and recording sessions, with only guitar lessons in between.

The most difficult part of it all was the guitar lessons.

Brian right across from you, biting his lip, bending strings up the fretboard with long fingers and a concentrated gaze. He’d glance up and nod to you, upon which you’d copy the movement he’d just done, and he would either nod again and continue in whatever song he was playing, or offer you critique. He was articulate in his teaching, and his manner utterly enamoured you, because he moved as though he were made of light.

God, you wanted to kiss him. Just the thought of him being so close to you, touching you, made you shiver. He was so delicate in everything that he did, and you wanted his delicate hands against your skin, his mouth on your mouth, breathing the same air, and you wanted him to want you.

Perhaps that was why you’d begun flirting with him, against your every notion of common sense.

It was just an innuendo here, a touch there, winking at him over your guitar. You didn’t even know where any of it was coming from, because you’d never once in your life had the confidence to flirt. Maybe you drew confidence from Brian’s reaction each time you said or did something suggestive; he blushed, looked down, smiled boyishly. Fucking hell, he was cute. And you felt an inexplicable rush of adrenaline every time you got away with pushing boundaries.

It had been Friday afternoon when Freddie opened a bottle of Moët et Chandon in the kitchen of his flat, and you were with him and Roger and John and Brian to cry woah! when the bubbly liquid shot out of the bottle and onto the floor.

“Freddie,” Brian tutted, shaking his head, and you tried not to laugh.

Roger tossed Brian a tea towel and Brian mopped up the spilled champagne.

“Well, darlings, that’s it,” said Freddie a few minutes later as the five of you gripped filled glasses, “that’s the next album!”

There was a cheer.

Roger raised his glass. “To…” He frowned. “To what? We haven’t exactly named the album.”

You all frowned. Then Deacy shook his head. “To the album!” he said.

“To the album!” you all chorused, laughter abundant in the moments before everyone drank their champagne.

This afternoon, it had been just you and the band, because Freddie had wanted an in-celebration before he threw the actual party for the album on the first night of the tour. But this afternoon gathering also had other significance: today was Reid’s deadline for when the name of the album had to be decided.

And by the time you left Freddie’s place at five that evening, a film had been watched, and a decision had been made.

The name of the album was to be as rivetingly dramatic and as magnificently opulent as the name of Queen.

The album was to be called A Night At The Opera.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The wind was a character in itself, and the sky was weary with the plethora of grey clouds it carried, but it was not raining.

You noticed, because you wanted to remember. You wanted to remember everything about today, the day you set off for Liverpool. With Queen.

You were going on tour.

With Queen.

It hadn’t really sunk in yet. Still, it was happening, because you were walking from the Underground to the tour bus pickup point, which was by one of the studios Queen had been using to record the album.

You had packed light— a minimal array of clothes that would last you a while, being mixed and matched and reused until a washing machine could be located; some essential toiletries; a few well-loved books; your messenger bag; your guitar.

You’d dressed in your warmest, heaviest clothes from the beginning, layering as your mum had always taught you to do.

Your mum. She’d rung you last night.

“And you promise me you’ll call?” she’d said, as though she were in some dramatic film about her daughter leaving on some risky adventure, during which all the characters in the movie learn emotional maturity through a montage of artistically-shot scenes.

You’d sighed, every bit the exasperated daughter. “I’ve promised you before, mum. You know I always keep my word.”

But the dramatic film analogy had indeed borne a grain of truth. This was an adventure, and it was risky.

Money wasn’t something you’d brought much of, because it wasn’t something you had much of. Queen were already covering your expenses as far as food and lodging, and you hadn’t wanted to bother your parents for any money, given how you were already letting them down a little in postponing the completion of your astrophysics degree.

But, as ineloquent as the phrase was, this tour was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

How many people would be able to look back on their life and say, ‘yes, I went on a world tour with a rock ‘n’ roll band’? So few. So few that it was almost saddening that you were getting the chance to do something like this, while so many others would never.

And to think that you’d almost not come along.

Brian was leaning against the tour bus, a book held elegantly before his face as he rested his elbow on his other arm, which was wrapped around his upper body. He looked cold, with windburn colouring his cheeks, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, and his arm was likely wrapped around him more for warmth than in support of the book.

He lowered the novel as you approached, a lovely smile already on his face.

“Morning!” he said brightly.

“Shh,” you chided. “It’s three AM, Brian.”

“Ah, yes,” Brian nodded, his face serious. “No decent people have got up yet.”

“What does that make us?” you laughed.

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Indecent,” he winked.

You’d thought there was only so many times that Brian May could make you blush, but here you were again, blushing like you were five years old, instead of twenty-five.

“Not on my bus, you’re not,” said Freddie to Brian, hopping down off of the tour bus.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Fred.”

“I think you should be directing your chastity comments toward Roger and Heather, Freddie,” you said, nodding in the direction of the two shadowy figures that had been approaching, only to stop in the middle of the empty road to have a snog.

Freddie wrinkled his nose. “Yes indeed. We may need some ground rules.”

Deacy stuck his head out of the bus. “ROGER! No shagging on the bus!”

“Shhh!” you and Brian and Freddie cried all at once.

“Three o’clock in the morning, everyone,” you said. “Three o’clock.”

“Now that, dearie,” Freddie raised a finger, “reminds me. I’m going back to sleep.”

He mounted the steps to the bus once more, and disappeared inside.

“Me too, I think,” said John, blinking tired eyes before following Freddie back onto the bus.

Tucking his book into the folds of his coat, Brian turned to you. “Can I give you a hand with that?” he nodded to your suitcase.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He took your suitcase and loaded it onto the bus, and offered to take your guitar as well, until Roadie-John turned up and muttered something about being put out of a job, confiscating your guitar from Brian.

Brian widened his eyes at you, and the two of you boarded the bus before you could offend any more roadies at far too early of an hour.

“By the way,” Brian said as he held the door open for you, “I like your scarf.”

You tugged on the end of the rainbow garment. “I wonder why.”

Inside, Roger and Heather had arrived and were sitting in a booth by the window, flicking through polaroids. Mary was there too, and she smiled sleepily at you and Brian as you entered, her eyes only half-focussed on the magazine in her lap.

Freddie and Deacy had each drawn the curtains of their bunks. From the sounds of snoring that drifted from their direction, it was obvious that they’d both already fallen asleep again. You envied their ability to slip into unconsciousness so quickly; sleep did not come easily to you, these days.

Brian seemed to think the same thing. “Lucky bastards,” he muttered, “falling asleep like that.”

“Treacherous,” you agreed, and Brian smiled at you. But then you yawned, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Am I to expect your betrayal as well?” he said.

You shook your head. “No, just my annoyingness as a travel partner. Chances are I’ll just yawn for hours and never have anything come of it.”

But Brian frowned thoughtfully. “Exactly what time did you go to bed last night?”

You winced, remembering the late hour. In fact, it wasn’t many hours ago at all. “Midnight,” you responded sheepishly.

“Midnight?” said Brian. “You’re worse than me! Go on,” he ushered you toward a pair of seats, “sit down, have a rest. Even if you can’t sleep, it’s good to close your eyes for a bit.”

“Says the insomniac,” you retorted, albeit half-heartedly. You really were rather tired. You slid into the narrow gap, taking the window seat, and Brian sat down beside you. “You know how hard it is to keep your eyes shut when they don’t want to be.”

Brian smiled, and you knew he empathised. “All the same. Less than three hours of sleep, Y/N. That’s quite bad.”

You sighed. “I know, I know.”

Soon, Roadie-John, Crystal, and Ian Brown, who was to be managing the UK leg of the tour, boarded, and with the driver in his seat, the bus rolled out of Osborn Street and onto the main road.

“Think I’ll try reading,” you said, pulling out the book at the top of the pile in your bag. Brian shrugged off his coat, folding it in his lap and retrieving his paperback from one of the inner pockets.

He looked at his book, and then at yours, and then back at his again.

“What is it?”

“We could just have brought the one copy and shared it,” he said, “saved that packing space.” A goofy grin was on his face as he waved his copy of Steppenwolf, the very same book you held in your hands.

“Oh! You like Hermann Hesse?”

“He’s my favourite author,” said Brian, and the same stupid grin he’d worn before appeared on your own face.

“Good taste,” you told him, covering a yawn.

Crystal dimmed the overhead lights. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced to no one in particular, and as you looked around, you found that, with the exception of the driver, you and Brian were the only ones left awake.

“Well then,” Brian said in the darkness, “there’s not really any good light to read by.”

You snorted. “If you’re trying to convince me to go to sleep, you’re failing miserably.”

Wordlessly, Brian slid his book into the seat pocket in front of him, then eased your bag from your lap and the book from your hands, setting your bag on the floor and the book into its own seat pocket. He lifted his coat from his own lap and draped it over you, tucking it in around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I’ve nothing more to offer you,” he said softly, as the lights of the city swept over his face through the uncovered window.

And yet he’d given you everything he had. Selflessly, without a thought, though the morning was cold and he still had not warmed from standing outdoors in the wake of the wind.

The simple gesture filled you with such an adoration that you had no way to express it.

You shuffled closer to him and laid his coat across you both, then settled your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Brian.”

He leaned his head against yours, and you were reminded of the night at Ridge Farm.

You sighed quietly, cuddling into his side. You fought to keep your eyes open, but you were so tired, and Brian was so warm.

“Go to sleep and dream again,” he murmured sweetly, and your eyelids felt a thousand times heavier than before.

“What if I miss something?” you whispered, because the fear of the world passing you by was suddenly overwhelming.

Brian’s voice hummed in harmony with the peaceful silence around him. “I’ll be right here to tell you about everything when you wake up again.”

“Everything?”

“Every butterfly and every tree,” he promised. “Every hole in the road and every star in the sky.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Y/N,” Brian was shaking your shoulder gently. “Love, we’re here.”

You groaned. “M’was fimally ‘sleep,” you said.

“I know. I’ve already postponed waking you for this long, though,” he said. “The others have left. They’ve unloaded the bus.”

You sat up blearily. “Well, I should get on with it, then.”

Brian smiled. “You can sleep when you get to your hotel room. It’s not like we’ve got anything to do today, anyway, until soundcheck.”

“Well, you’ve got to tell me about everything you saw while I was asleep.”

He laughed. “Shouldn’t take too long. It was London to Liverpool, there’s not much to report.”

You passed him his coat, which had somehow migrated entirely over to you, and he passed you your bag, slipping your book back into one of the pockets.

Brian looked at you a moment, and you stared back up at him, wondering what he saw in your half-open eyes and messy hair while you were met with the sight of pretty hazel irises and immaculate curls.

He reached for the rainbow scarf and wound it around you more tightly, adjusting your jumper so that it wasn’t in the way. His touch lingered on the nape of your neck, his eyes roamed yours. His lips were rendered a dusky pink in the pale morning light.

“It’s cold in Liverpool,” he said, and slid from his seat.

Your eyes followed him as he disembarked the bus, his curls bobbing as he bent a little to avoid hitting his head on a beam.

Anyone could have seen the longingness in your stare, how you yearned to call him back, pull him to you, kiss him until he was lost for both breath and words, watch him blush the way he made you blush.

There was really nothing stopping you.

You’re my best friend.

So perhaps there was one thing stopping you.

Brian poked his head back through the door. Affection bloomed in your chest at the mere sight of him. It was sickening.

“Coming?” he asked, far too awake for seven o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah,” you said. “Coming.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: filler? call me out. it’s okay, because next week is chapter 16 :’)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @sgt-stardustkillerqueen @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @brianmays-hair​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​ @cloudyyspace​ @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen​ @annajolras​ 

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

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[lindparkera-blog]

Extraordinary Milly Parker

Milly Parker Biography

 Milly Parker was born into an East Coast family of means around the turn of the last century. In Milly’s teens her father operated, then purchased one of the first movie theatres near their home, eventually taking over operations of several surrounding cinemas. By the time the Depression hit, he owned more than twenty Parker Cinemas up and down the east coast. Parker Cinemas boomed during the 30’s and Mr. Parker sold the chain to Warner Bros. when he retired just before World War II. He had influence in the films that were shown in his theatres which gave him access to some movie industry elites including a few movie moguls and celebrities.

 Milly attended private schools, but kept friends in many strata of life. Her best childhood friends were Clara, the daughter of her apartment building doorman and her school chum Henry Rudd, nephew of JD Rockefeller.  Milly found high school pedantic and as a voracious reader and a charismatic confabulator, she was able to convince her teachers to let her graduate early to “just get on with life.” She expected to participate in her graduation, but was invited by Henry on a last-minute folly to voyage from New York to Liverpool with is family aboard the Ellerman Line’s brand new SS City of Paris during her sea trials. With a full complement of staff and only one tenth of the ship’s passenger capacity on board, Henry and Milly took full advantage of the opportunity to not only explore every nook of the ship from which they weren’t shooed away, but also to partake in all of the luxuries that were lavished upon them. During the voyage they were a bit blindsided when their youthful friendship bloomed into affection and they became more than just chums.  

 Milly had planned to return home directly, but after traveling around England with Henry and falling-in with several of his compatriots from Cambridge, whom she called “people of big appetites for both food and ideas” she remained in London for an extended period. She would insist later in life it was to pursue a pass degree in English at Girton Women’s College Cambridge, but those who knew her well said she clearly wanted to stay in close proximity to Henry. During that time Milly, Henry and her new-found merry band would bundle off to Paris for weeks at a time where the sensibilities (or lack thereof) of the Années Folies were in full swing.  Milly found herself folded in to the crowd that gathered for Gertrude Stein’s impromptu salons. Henry was enamored with the salon crowd, but Milly preferred the after-parties and stopped attending the salons altogether once they became too erudite, opting for the wildly feral late-night discussions that somehow always ended on the roof of the Hotel Le Bristol where the gang generally headquartered themselves. Eventually she and Henry drifted apart romantically, but stayed in touch through their entire lives.

 A few classes away from completing her pass degree, Milly returned to the states for what was supposed to be a brief visit to attend the opening night of her friend George Kaufman’s new play on Broadway. While in New York, she met travel writer Richard Halliburton and pilot Moye Stephens through acquaintance Douglas Fairbanks (who pursued Milly on and off after they met sharing a cigarette in the alley behind the Rivoli Theatre when the world-premiere crowd for his newest movie became too madding. Although very private about the true nature of their relationship, friends said they would disappear for days at a time when Doug came to town.)

 After a post-cocktail-party conversation that lasted nearly 18-hours and spanned three speakeasies ending with eggs, cigarettes and “breakfast martinis” at Chumley’s, Halliburton and Stephens insisted Milly join them on the next leg of their “flying carpet expedition” (that would later become Halliburton’s well known book, The Royal Road to Romance.) Milly convinced herself she would return to her coursework after the trip and agreed to go along. A few weeks later at the appointed rendezvous in England, on a chilly Christmas morning she climbed aboard Moye Stephens’ open cockpit Stearman C-3B breezily abandoning her belongings on the tarmac when it became obvious the trunk would not fit in the plane’s diminutive cargo hold.

 After a year or more of hopscotching across Spain, Morocco and northern Africa the high-spirited threesome was grounded with mechanical problems in a desolate fuel stop 50 miles south of Tripoli. Officials from a nearby desert village sent out word and an Italian military caravan diverted to pick up the travelers who were somewhat reluctant to leave the exuberant hospitality of the locals. Stephens stayed with the plane while Halliburton accompanied Milly to arrange her passage back to the US. He needn't bothered. While traveling with the caravan, Milly secured a berth in the officer’s quarters on a Regia Marina cargo ship headed to Algiers by besting its commander in several games of hocca along the way.  Once in Algiers she boarded the RMS Aquitania for passage back to America, adjusting to the fact that she would no longer be the “playful mascot” on the bridge; a privilege she enjoyed while aboard the Italian military cargo ship.

 =======================================

 During the long days at sea aboard the Aquitania, Milly heard rumors that the second class lounge was featuring an American jazz trio. Finding jazz much more compelling than the string quartet that lullabyed the first class guests on their after-dinner promenade, Milly and several other travelers turned accomplices snuck their way down to Deck 4 most evenings and even occasionally smuggled a few of their new found second class friends up to Milly’s parlor for animated debates on jazz v. “real music.” It was one of these evening that Milly found Alexander Dollar amongst the crowd in her parlor. He was staunchly, yet playfully a member of the “real music” camp and Milly became smitten as they exchanged barbs and counterpoints tit for tat. Alex was returning to Philadelphia from a business trip in North Africa on behalf of his family’s shipping business.

 Milly followed Alex to the Philadelphia area and invited herself to lodge in a guest house on her brother’s estate there. During a long courtship she and Alex spent a few seasons “corrupting” her nieces and nephews with spontaneous train trips to New York and occasionally Washington DC. The couple treated the teens as contemporaries instead of children; skipping the typical sights in exchange for explorations of more obscure destinations like poetry readings, experimental theatre and long quiet hours in the ornate public library where the youth would pour over books and contemporary magazines to sharpen their forensic skills that would be tested at the next late night dinner with Aunt Milly, “Uncle” Alex and guests twice their age.

 During her time in Philadelphia, Milly reconnected with her childhood friend, Clara, after she had mailed Milly a small packet of writings, drawings, clips and musings she and Milly had collected in their youth for a never-realized scrapbook. Milly invited Clara to lunch at the Oak Room and discovered that Clara had continued to write into her adulthood. Milly was able to parlay Clara’s talent into an entry level job for her as proofreader and copywriter for the New York University Press through an “uncle in every way, but blood” who sat on the board of directors. Still girls at heart, the pair fell back into close friendship and saw each other frequently.

 While proofing a departmental manuscript, Clara became acquainted with Jonathan Stoker the assistant head of the Mathematical Sciences department at the university. Over the academic year, the acquaintance blossomed into a relationship and the pair were soon married. Jonathan, Clara, Milly and Alex became a galvanized foursome easily falling into a pally friendship.

 Milly and Alex continued to court while Jonathan was sought by the British Royal Engineers to oversee the administration of the newly founded Maclagan Engineering College in India’s Punjab Province. It was never a question that Milly and Alex would be excitedly encouraged to accompany the couple as they established a new home on the sub-continent. Milly jumped at the invitation, but Alex held back. His family’s business was booming and he felt it was time to focus on business pursuits and called the trip “just folly.” Their relationship wobbled as the disagreement persisted. Alex cared for Milly deeply and in an effort to tame the relationship that was spinning away from him, he rather abruptly proposed to Milly one night at dinner. Milly gently rebuffed. The relationship became clunky after that and the couple spent less and less time together eventually letting go completely.

 =======================================

 Milly decided to join Clara and Jonathan without Alex. Within a few months she found herself in Lahore, India attending parties at the government houses of the Indian Civil Service officers, many of whom’s sons were studying at the college where Alex was working.

 During a Christmas holiday, the Under Secretary of Punjab Province invited several academic families and their friends to accompany his family on a trip to the Christmas Festival in Bandra. Expecting their first child, Jonathan and Clara opted to stay in Lahore, but the Under Secretary made a special effort to assure Milly she was quite welcome on her own. A mathematics graduate student Ishan Ghosh was assigned to Milly as a travel escort and on the train down to Bombay she developed a quick bond with him. Ishan, a British national, had been raised in India and Milly was beguiled by the way he navigated the narrow, noisy streets around the train station in Bombay as he searched doggedly among the vendors for the orange that Milly had casually mentioned as being her favorite Christmastime treat. When settling on a mango which Ishan conceded “at least had a similar hue”, the pair realized they had ventured far too deeply into the city to make it back in time for the departing connection to Bandra. Fluent in Urdu, Ishan made quick work of a Plan B by engaging a rickshaw puller. Before dinnertime they had checked into rooms at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel with Ishan’s promise to have the chef prepare Milly’s mango for dessert. After hearing their story, the chef surprised the pair with a three course dessert: orange parfaits, orange mascarpone and oranges flambé.

 One day in Bombay stretched into two and two into many. Although they kept both guest rooms rented, only one showed signs of much use. Eventually they sent word ahead to their party in Bandra that they would be Christmasing in Bombay and made arrangements to have their travel trunks delivered to them at The Taj. They had settled in quite easily to their daily schedule of exploring the city, spirited conversation in the evenings around the piano in the hotel lounge with other guests, followed by lengthy dinners prepared by their new favorite chef.

 When they had nearly exhausted the sights of Bombay, Milly was approached by Sydney Gorrie, a hotel guest that had caught Milly’s attention in the ladies day room with her cerebral tea-time discussions on modern feminist philosophy. Sydney suggested that Milly and Ishan travel with her to Hyderabad for an upcoming charity ball. Still having some time before classes recommenced, Ishan agreed and two days later the three of them gathered on the front steps of the Hyderabad Government House for a photo as they entered the grand ballroom of the National Collegiate Board’s Annual Charity Gala. During the six hour long festivities, Milly was introduced to Annie Besant the founder of the National Collegiate Board. Finding Milly easier to talk to than the “guests of obligation”, Annie kept circling back to Milly. Deeper into the party, Milly manage to scuttle the hostess outside to the side garden where the two smoked cigarettes in the dark as Annie told stories of her women’s rights activism and provocative feminist writings.

 When it came time for Ishan and Milly to head back to Lahore, Annie was unwilling to let the conversation end. She invited Milly to stay-on in Hyderabad offering her one of the many accommodations on her expansive estate where she and her staff managed the philanthropic work of the Collegiate Board as well as hosted many artists and writers. Captivated by the intellectual vortex of art and non-conformity that swirled around everyone Milly had met through Annie, she told Ishan to let Clara know she would be staying “for a time” in Hyderabad. After much cajoling to get Milly to accompany him, Ishan reluctantly returned to Lahore without her to continue his classes.

 =======================================

 Annie and Milly spent most days together, each energized by the other. Annie engaged Milly in assisting her to compile her writings into a book. Milly was positively absorbed by the project. Over time, Milly also began organizing Annie’s work with local women’s rights groups and read every book on feminism she could find on the estate. During this time Milly wanted to share these new ideas with Clara and sent her some samples of Annie’s writings. Clara encouraged Milly to send more and eventually Clara sent the most provocative pieces back to an editor at the New York University Press. They were soon published and Annie was invited to New York to share her work at a gathering of the National Women’s Party. A few days before Annie and Milly were to leave for America, Milly received a letter from Alex. Alex had been missing Milly deeply and desperately wanted to find a way to reconnect. He had heard she left Lahore, but he did not know where she ended up. A friend pointed out a mention of Milly in the byline of one of Annie’s articles and Alex took a chance that a letter might reach Milly if he sent it care of the National Collegiate Board in Hyderabad.  The letter reminded Milly of all the reasons she originally fell for Alex and it compelled her heart to tug in his direction. There was no way to respond since Milly knew a return letter would arrive in America after she did. She would just have to wait to contact him until she was back in the states.

 =======================================

 Milly reached out to Alex soon after Annie had finished her work at the conference. Alex invited them all to visit in Philadelphia, but Annie opted to remain in New York with her adopted son Jiddu who had accompanied them on the journey and was anxious to see all that New York had to offer.

 Milly settled once again at her brother’s to be close to Alex hoping that Annie was not feeling rushed to return to India. During this time Milly and Alex rekindle their relationship, spending most nights dining out together. Milly’s days were spent compiling and editing the ever growing body of Annie’s work into articles which she fed to press contacts she made at the National Women’s Party conference. Through this group of women Milly was invited to functions at the New York Women’s Press Club where she became well known for her wit, lively conversation and astonishing stories of her travels. They insisted she join and when the press club’s magazine The Pen Women lost its assistant editor, Milly’s name was immediately brought up for consideration. She took the job only after receiving Annie’s blessing to stay in the US, promising to continue to find outlets for publishing Annie’s work.

 Milly was torn between her love in Philadelphia and her work in New York. She adored working on the magazine, but missed her evenings with Alex. Alex was not about to let Milly get away again and made a bold gesture that ultimately won him Milly’s heart. He offered to move is office to the Dollar Shipping Company’s New York building so Milly could continue her work and they could remain together. Milly saw the veiled marriage proposal for what it was and exuberantly agreed.  The pair moved in to a townhouse on the Upper East Side and left for work every morning holding hands while they walked all the way to 57th street where they parted company for the day.

 Not long after the lazy patterns of newlywed life kicked in, the Dollar Shipping Company landed a contract to be the primary shipper for the new Dutch rubber harvest operations in the Putumayo River region along the Peru/Brazil border. Alex was called upon to head to Manaus to set up their offices there. This time it was Milly that was reluctant to leave. After much hand wringing by Milly, the publisher of The Pen Women assuaged Milly’s concerns and let her know her job would be there for her when they returned. They also encouraged Milly to consider writing her own articles and submit them while they were in South America.

 The move to Manaus was no trifle of a journey. Milly and Alex flew aboard Pan American to Caracas, Venezuela then traveled aboard one of the Dollar cargo ships around the east coast of South America and up the Amazon River to the surprisingly cosmopolitan city of Manaus. Others they met along the way were surprised to know that neither the transcontinental flight nor the voyage aboard a cargo ship were firsts for Milly.

 They settled in a house provided for them in the Adrianópolis neighborhood and it took Milly little time to connect with fellow expats in the area. Her method was to say yes to every invite to tea among the local aristocracy, magnates and diplomats and then befriend any women who she never saw at any of those parties.

 The large house came with resident help, which was a boon for Milly since this was her first experience with running a large home.  Milly particularly liked one of the young cooks named Mururi. She was from an indigenous tribe called the Witoto. Milly saw brightness behind Mururi’s eyes that intrigued her. Although Mururi only spoke her indigenous language and a few words of Dutch and Portuguese, Milly engaged her in conversation anyway. She was absolutely willing to include gesticulations and pantomime to get her ideas across. Mururi was enthralled by Milly and appreciated the extra attention. They hadn’t lived in Manaus for long before Mururi was mastering some English and even reading a few words. Alex and Milly took Mururi under their wing and began to treat her more like one of the Philadelphia nieces than kitchen help. She went with them on some of their outings and they included her when they invited their friends over for dinner.  Milly continually asked Mururi to take them to meet her Witoto family, but she was respectfully turned down each time. Milly sent an article about Mururi back home and it was eventually published in The Pen Women as a travel log.

 ==========================

 About the time Milly was feeling at home, but also longing to know when they might be returning to New York, Alex contracted malaria while overseeing the dock expansion and died very suddenly.  The shock was tremendous and the added complication of living in a remote city in the jungle compounded the devastation for Milly.  Her small cadre of American friends quickly came to her aid and helped Milly deal with the unexpected tragedy. There was no way to transport the body quickly, so Milly had to make arrangements to bury Alex in Manaus. Although not churchgoers, Milly accepted the offer from the nearby Church of St. Sebastian to hold a small service in their side chapel.  One afternoon after the tumult had died down, Mururi led an exhausted Milly to a small bench under a tree in the yard. There she made a circle around Milly from exotic flower petals and placed a small pouch of white powder she called yakoana in Milly’s hand. They had never covered the vocabulary around death and mourning, so Mururi had to use their modified gesture language to explain to Milly that she should put the powder under her tongue to take away the sting of grief. Milly did not have the strength to protest and did as she was told. Milly never learned what was in the powder. All she knew was she awoke the next morning tucked in her bed feeling very well-rested and very peaceful.

 Alex’s family arranged for Milly’s return home. Milly left Mururi in charge of closing up the house and shipping her belongings with the promise to have Mururi come visit her in America once the task was completed. Milly found comfort and renewed energy at The Pen Women offices. She worked long hours continuing her assistant editor duties as well as submitting a few articles from her time in the Amazon. The townhome seemed too large now, so Milly moved to smaller quarters closer to work. Once she had resettled, she sent for Mururi and the two enjoyed a summer exploring the East Coast through Mururi’s fresh eyes. With Milly’s continued tutelage Mururi was now nearly fluent in English and Milly offered to enroll the bright young woman in the girl’s secondary boarding school near Philadelphia that Milly’s nieces had attended. Mururi heartily accepted. Inspired by Mururi’s dedication to her studies, Milly decided it was time to take the remaining classes that would complete her degree in English studies. Through her connections with Clara and Jonathan at New York University she received special commendation to enroll in just the classes she needed.  Within a couple of years she had her degree which gave her a satisfied feeling of completion.

 ==========================

 Around this time Milly received an invitation to speak about her time with Annie Besant to the Los Angeles Women’s Press Club through a photojournalist friend Margaret Bourke-White whom she had met in Hyderabad when Margaret was covering Annie and the suffrage movement in India. Having been editing, writing and studying non-stop for a number of years, Milly decided a trip to slower-paced Southern California was well deserved.

 Her brother’s youngest daughter (and Milly’s namesake niece), Mildred (Millie) Parker, got word of Milly’s forthcoming trip and invited her to visit on her way out west. Milly delighted at the idea of reconnecting with the wildest of her nieces who had left Philadelphia immediately after college. Determined to do everything on her own, “Little Millie” made her own way west by working in a string of train station Harvey Houses until she landed in Denver where she got a job working in the kitchen of Colorado Women’s College as she pursued a master's degree in creative writing.

 Since Little Millie refused any monetary assistance, Aunt Milly thought she could give her niece a leg-up by connecting her with the few Denver Women’s Press Club members she had heard of through her work at the magazine. Aunt Milly insisted on sharing some of Millie’s writings with the ladies of the club and soon after Milly’s visit, young Millie was taken under the wing of several members of the club. They encouraged Millie and offered help in ways that allowed her to keep her fiery independence.

 Suffering from undiagnosed fatigue and malaise, Margaret Bourke-White had rented a house in Playa Del Rey in Los Angeles for several months. Milly fell-in easily to Margaret’s breezy lifestyle on the water. They visited many art openings, salons and movie premieres. Margaret quizzing Milly about her time in India working with Annie and Milly countering with endless questions of Margaret’s coverage of the war.

 ===============================

 During one of their jaunts into Hollywood, Milly was recognized by Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. at a movie premiere. He had met Milly a time or two when he traveled east with his father. He hadn’t seen Milly since his father died and he was anxious to know if all the wonderful things his father had said about her were true. He invited Milly and Margaret over for dinner with a few friends.

 At that dinner Milly met Robert Surtees an accomplished cinematographer who was recently signed to be Director of Photography for an upcoming Arcola Pictures film. He was particularly interested in Milly’s vast travel experience as the production crew was about to set off for several months of shooting in Bora-Bora and Robert had never traveled abroad. Robert and his wife Maydell wanted to hear more and asked Milly and Margaret over for a nightcap after the dinner. A friendship blossomed and Milly found herself invited to the Arcola Pictures lot for a tour and lunch. It was there that Robert mentioned that due to the extended shooting schedule the studio was offering to bring his family along for the duration. He asked Milly if she might be willing to help Maydell with their two young children in exchange for a tropical vacation. Having already taken so much time away from her assistant editor duties in New York, Milly hesitated. She conferred with a melancholy Margaret who was discovering whatever ailed her was not being cured by sunshine and moist ocean air. Margaret reminder her that women like them “are not meant to be still.”

 Fueled by Margaret’s wisdom, Milly explained to her publisher it was time for someone else to have the opportunity to work on such an impactful and important publication. They only partially accepted her resignation, insisting that she forever stay a member of the writing pool. Milly agreed.

 Once again Milly found herself on a long ocean voyage, but this time across the warm Pacific. The staff onboard provided respite care for the children, so Milly’s duties were minimal. But even after they arrived in the Pacific Islands Milly discovered the Surtees’ had overestimated their family’s need for additional help.  Maydell asked Milly to do less and less and eventually their time together became more social than anything else.

 Milly loved watching the hustle and bustle of the crew and actors, but her charisma and uninhibited nature didn’t allow her to blend in on the edges of the crowd. Before she knew it she was being included in conversations, lunches and even after work revelry. Although still compelled to be a part of the action Milly surprised herself as she began to feel drawn to the quieter people and smaller groups and even occasionally found pleasure in walking the secluded nearby beaches all by herself. With so much time on her hands, she crafted her writings more precisely and uncharacteristically took time for rewrites before mailing her articles back to New York.

 During one of her early morning writing sessions a gust of wind lifted the papers from her lap as she sat outside the Surtees’ palapa. A gentleman that was walking by the row of stilted houses rushed to help Milly recover her papers. His name was Pike Emory, Jr. and he was a geologist from the US Geological Survey sent to Bora Bora to study the chain of volcanoes along the Leeward Islands. He had, of course, heard there was a Hollywood movie being shot on the island, but didn’t know much about it. Milly offered to take him to the set and show him around. Milly (as well as everyone he was introduced to) was charmed by Pike’s quiet, yet radiant demeanor and his sparkling aqua colored eyes. Pike had to attend to his research, but as often as he could he found reasons to be “coincidentally” walking by Milly’s hut or drifting near the set. Very little of the hours they found together was spent talking to each other. Their companionship possessed a quiet understanding. They were perfect company and didn’t need to work at explaining why.

 Looking for more opportunities to spend time together, Milly began accompanying Pike on some of his research treks near the dormant volcanos nearby and she proved herself valuable by being a quick study with Pike’s theodolite and other surveying tools. She did not mind making the exacting notations in his voluminous research journals and found she had a head for geometry.

 ===============================

 Although the big stars of the film had a tendency to keep to themselves, they sensed that Milly had a genuine confidence and charm that made her stand out from “needy” show biz people. As a result Marlon Brando included Milly on the guest list for his wrap party aboard a small sea yacht that took the cruisers to nearby Teti'aroa for the day, a small island that Marlon was considering buying. She brought Pike along and again found herself sitting quietly next to Pike, away from the fray, on the roof of the pilot house, the wind whipping their silvering hair into tangled messes.

 With the last of the production being packed up, it was time to board a ship back to Los Angeles. Pike asked Milly to stay on to help him finish his research. He swayed her with the promise of an upcoming trip to Japan where he would be meeting up with fellow geologist Kiguma Murata to finalize their paper. Milly didn’t need much persuading since the easy flow of island life and the rigors of Pike’s research satisfied both her contrasting contemplative and analytical sensibilities.

 By the time Pike was wrapping up his work on the island, Milly had transformed into a long-haired bohemian islander. Her skin had turned a tawny brown and her hair was an unruly nest that she pretended to control with beaded hair ties she bought from the locals. Since there were no commercial airports in the region, the trip to Japan was a hopscotch of small prop planes over the islands to Patpeet, Tahiti, where they boarded a French research cargo plane to Hawaii. During their short stay on Oahu, Milly’s fruitless attempt to civilize her hair ended with her shrugging to the hair dresser, “Just cut it all off.” In an era of big hair, Milly’s yet to be named pixie cut made her even more conspicuous.

 Pike and Milly boarded one of Japan Airline’s first transcontinental flights that stopped in Honolulu on its way to Tokyo.

As soon as they were settled in Tokyo, Pike’s research partner, Kiguma Murata, insisted they accompany him to a social gathering of expats, university and government people. Although it sounded formal in its description the event turned out to be surprisingly casual. Among the many people Milly and Pike were introduced to that evening, was Jirō Shirasu a writer for The Japan Advertiser, an English language newspaper. When inevitably Kiguma and Pike’s conversation turned to their current paper, Jirō and Milly swapped press club stories and inevitably the conversation circled back to Milly’s extensive travels. While recounting the tale of how she convinced a police officer near Cambridge to give her a ride on the back of his motorcycle because she was running late for class.  Jirō pulled on the thread to discover that Milly dated his Cambridge classmate Henry Rudd. Milly was thrilled at the connection and was happy to hear some news about her boyfriend from all those years ago.

 During their time in Tokyo much of Pike’s days were spent in meetings and writing, but when they did have free time Jirō and his wife  Masako Shirasu were their first choice in companions. Masako was an artist with a cutting edge aesthetic and Milly relished their long talks when the foursome would venture out to their country home, Buaiso, on the weekends.

 Milly’s time in Japan was rich with art, conversation, writing and the deep learning that comes with living once again in a new culture. The affection she and Pike had for each other took on the patina of marriage, but neither expressed a need to formalize the relationship. When Pike and Kiguma’s paper was finally published, the USGS wasted no time in assigning Pike to his next project near Tokyo at the caldera island of Nishinoshima. Pike asked Milly to go with him.

 She pondered it, but felt the last several months with Pike had been so perfect that she didn’t want to add a coda and potentially ruin the perfect ending. Pike was disappointed, but understood Milly so deeply, her response did not surprise him. Milly promised to write and she kept that promise, writing to Pike regularly for the rest of her life.

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 Once she was back stateside, Milly lingered in Los Angeles for a little while, checking in on Margaret whose mysterious symptoms had started to point hauntingly toward Parkinson's. Milly took the time to help Margaret travel back to Connecticut where she could be near her family and pursue a more hopeful diagnosis.

 On her train trip down to New York, Milly reconnected with Mururi who was raising her family with her husband on a small orchard near Gardners, Pennsylvania. Milly enjoyed seeing Mururi so prosperous and happy. When asked what she might be able to do for the couple, Mururi told her she had already done it.

 ===============================

 Manhattan seemed a bit fast-paced for Milly’s sensibilities now, so she cleaned out her apartment and asked after “her” cottage on her brother’s estate. His son was running most things nowadays and assured Milly the cottage will forever be Aunt Milly’s place whenever she needed it. She settled in there once again.

 ===============================

 Train service into the city was becoming less frequent and to keep her independence intact, Milly decided it was time to learn to drive. Instead of taking lessons, she just went out and bought a brand new white Oldsmobile Delta Royale convertible. She sat in the dealer’s lot going over the controls remembering what she observed when Margaret drove them around Los Angeles. When she felt it was time, she “just turned the key and drove.” And drive she did. Milly drove and drove. At first it was mostly into the city to lunch with some of her press friends, but soon she was driving past the city, into the country, along the coast, over the hills and even through snow. She visited every friend, family member and acquaintance within a 150 mile radius usually keeping the top down except on the most frigid of days.  Around this time Clara and Jonathan returned from India and were living in Washington DC. Milly drove down to see them while two of their grown children were visiting for Thanksgiving (a third still lived in India.)

 Milly’s Oldsmobile circle ever widened and when she ran out of people to visit in the east, she began making broad loops through the Midwest. When she wanted to visit a city, but couldn't come up with anyone to visit, she would just drop by the local newspaper or women’s press club and make new friends on the spot.

 After years of hard driving her Delta Royale’s drive train began to fail and so did Milly’s eyesight. After nearly 150,000 miles on the open road Milly’s confidence waned when she accidently drove off the road by miscalculating the distance to the exit ramp. Her traveling circles became smaller and eventually she was sticking to the familiar roads near her cottage. Her second driving mishap left her stranded down an embankment out of sight of the road. She sighed, got out and walked the remaining three miles home. She never saw her “great white” again, asking her nephew to sell it without towing it home so she wouldn’t have to see it.

 ===============================

 Unable to do her visiting in person anymore, Milly leaned more heavily on letter writing. She continuously sent notes and cards to keep up with everyone’s news. The postman always had a stack of envelopes for Milly to open. Milly got a surprise one day when one of those envelopes was postmarked Calistoga, California. Milly could not remember meeting anyone from Calistoga. It turned out to be a photograph of Milly, Richard Halliburton and Moye Stephens standing in front of Moye’s C-3B. On the back was scribbled, “Morocco. Marvelous Milly, Rich and me.” A note was included from Moye’s son. After Moye had died his children found the photo. The son remembered his father’s stories of his wild escapades that year and the “marvelous Milly Parker” was mentioned often. Though it took some time, he was able to track down the correct Milly Parker through the Halliburton family and thought she might like to have the photo. She did.

 ===============================

As her body failed her, Milly kept writing. When arthritis got the best of Milly’s fingers, Mururi brought over a typewriter she had from her school days and Milly continued to slowly peck out travel articles for The Pen Women (and letters to Pike.) That is how her nephew found her one sunny morning when she wouldn’t answer the phone. Slumped in her chair, one finger still on the keyboard. The letter read, “To My Dearest Pike.”

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