Chapter 23
23
Frankie
Hello Frances,
You’ll think I’ve been stalking you, hunting you down because for some reason you’ve got it in your head that I’m out to hurt you. But please believe me when I say that nothing is further from the truth.
I have obviously found out where you’re staying but only because there are things we need to resolve. You’ve made it very clear how you feel about our relationship and I’ll admit that made me more upset than I’ve ever been. I really thought we were good together. But I’m also not stupid and I can see that you have made your mind up – using your maiden name again is proof enough of that. However much I want you back, I know I also have to be realistic and see that it’s time for me to move on with my life.
That’s all I’m asking for, Frances, just a chance to put things right going forward, to be practical and make arrangements so that we can both begin again, properly. I love you so very much, and I hope you know I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you. It breaks my heart to say it, but I can see now that we’re probably better off apart.
You know my number. Get in touch, and we can have a chat, that’s all, just a chat about where we go from here.
Much love,
Robert
William’s brows drew together, his lips working as he reread the letter for a second time.
‘It could be worse,’ he said. ‘Sorry, I know that’s not helpful, but at least he’s not threatening you.’
Frankie shook her head. ‘He’d never do that, not when there’s a chance that someone else could hear him or see what he’d written. That’s not the way he works. He’s always so reasonable …But what he’s written here is a pack of lies, William. His very first sentence gives away what he’s really done. He has stalked me, hunted me down. He draws attention to the very thing he’s guilty of and then refutes it, makes it sound crazy, like it’s something which could only have come from the mind of someone unhinged. Don’t you see that?’
She stared at him in exasperation, but to her surprise, he nodded.
‘I don’t know Robert,’ he said. ‘But you do. You’ve lived with his behaviour for years, so if you say that’s what he’s doing then I accept what you say.’
‘He’s looking for a way in – just a chat – it sounds so casual, but that’s how he works. If I meet him, he’ll be charm itself – friendly, complimentary – he’ll make me believe that I’m in control, and then he’ll slowly take it away.’
‘Except that now you know what he’s like, you won’t fall into that trap again.’
‘But what if I do, William? I’m scared. It happened before. I fell victim to his behaviour for well over twenty years. Whichever part of me allowed that to happen is still within me.’
‘And so is the part which worked out what was happening and fought back.’ He studied her face. ‘Plus, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t the weapons he used on you dependent on one thing – your desire to please him? Not because you were weak,’ he added quickly, ‘but because you loved him. That’s no longer the case, surely?’
Frankie shook her head several times. ‘I hate him,’ she said. ‘I hate him for what he’s done to me. For taking half my life and making it his.’
‘Then you’ll be fine,’ replied William. And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Frankie felt she might be.
‘ Plus , you also have me now, don’t forget,’ he added. ‘I’ll make sure you don’t get led astray.’
She smiled at his easy assumption that he would be there for her. She felt safe, she realised, and she hadn’t felt that in a long while.
They’d been in the bakery half an hour or so by then, and leaving the sanctuary of William’s flat had taken nearly all of Frankie’s resolve. But William had walked with her, step by step, until they reached the door. Even then, it had taken a reassuring touch on her arm before she could step over the threshold. William relocked the door, checking both the street outside and the alley before taking up a stance in the middle of the room while she read the letter. If Robert had wanted to see her reaction when she read it, he would be in for a big surprise.
‘So, what do I do?’ asked Frankie. ‘Do you think I should meet him?’
William nodded. ‘Yes, because you do need to sever ties, legally and irrevocably. But you do so on your terms. Meet him when you want, where you want, and trust me when I say you’ll be okay.’ She fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. ‘ Do you trust me?’ he asked.
Did she? The question had never even entered her head, but her actions seemed to suggest that she did. She had acted on instinct, and if the last two years had taught her anything, it was that the one person she could trust was herself. She nodded, uncertain of this new feeling within herself – allowing herself to be vulnerable in the presence of another – but, she reminded herself, she had to do this if she was to have any kind of meaning in her life.
‘Look at me,’ William added, ‘and tell me what you see.’
She blushed, knowing that what she had first seen when she met William was certainly not what she saw now.
As if reading her thoughts, he laughed. ‘And don’t be polite. First impressions, go on…’
She pursed her lips. ‘What I actually thought, which is extremely ironic under the circumstances, was that I wouldn’t like to meet you down a dark alley.’
William was still amused. ‘Thought so. And I’m hoping that Robert will be no different. I’m fifty-two. I’ve had a life, Frankie, and I’ve done things I’m not especially proud of. So, although I wouldn’t hurt a fly now , it wasn’t always the case. And that is what people see when they look at me. They see my height and my build, and they see capability.’ He smirked. ‘Robert won’t try anything while I’m around.’
She nodded. But even though it seemed one problem might now have a solution, she had another quite pressing one to deal with. She looked at her watch and groaned.
‘I’m in so much trouble,’ she said. ‘It’s nearly one o’clock and I’m way behind where I should be. I should have called my boss to let her know what was going on, but…’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I needed this job, William, so I wasn’t exactly truthful about my past. Vivienne has no idea about Robert, about any of it.’
‘She knows you’re a damn good baker, and that’s all she needs to know.’
‘But what am I going to tell her when I can’t open the shop tomorrow because there’s hardly any bread to sell? I need her to recommend me to any prospective buyers, not tell them I’m a useless liability.’
‘You’re hardly that. When have you ever let her down before? And you’re not going to let her down now either. There are two of us here tonight, and believe me, I’m very used to taking instruction. Tell me what to do and I’ll help.’
‘But I can’t ask you to do that. You’ll be up all night.’
‘I would have been up a considerable part of it anyway. I told you, I don’t sleep all that well. Besides, I’m not leaving you here on your own, so you might as well put me to good use.’
Frankie thought quickly. Was it possible? Could William help her? If she concentrated on the items which were ready to be baked, then it might work. Whether they would have enough time to prepare the various doughs ready for the next day was a different matter, but she would worry about that later. ‘Okay, let’s make a start,’ she said. ‘And see what’s what.’
It was something she did every night, several times a night and so, as she had on every other occasion, Frankie gave no thought to opening one of the fridges, sliding forward the huge tub of dough and hefting it from the shelf with a practised pull.
The cry left her lips before she could stop it, pain searing its way up her arm, leaving a vapour trail in its wake which burned its way back down to her wrist. The tub lurched sideways, and she fought to control it, but with only one hand, it was an impossibility, and she twisted her hip and knees to catch it on the way down. It was almost on the floor before two strong hands appeared beneath it and lowered it gently the rest of the way. They lowered her gently to the floor as well, cradling her arm as she cradled her wrist, tears running freely down her cheeks. She let them fall.
The shock of the sudden pain had brought them, together with the burning embarrassment of her vulnerability but, as she let herself lean into William’s solid bulk, it was also the realisation that it was okay to cry. That, this time, there was someone to catch her when she fell.
If she had cried before at the relief of reaching a place of safety, at the tumult of thoughts which had assailed her as she fled from Robert’s presence, this time she cried for all the times she’d been unable to, the times when she’d put on a brave face, the times when she had denied herself her true feelings, and the years she had lost. But mostly, she cried for the young woman who had set out on her life with such hope, such faith for the future, and had lost herself .
Eventually, for the second time in as many hours, she pulled away from William’s arms, only slower this time, as new thoughts rushed around her head. The realisation that this man, whom she barely knew, had rekindled the faith and hope she once held. But, more than that, in doing so he had shown her the woman she could be, the one who still believed in friendship, in kindness, and who didn’t push people away, but who instead could draw them to her. It was a heady sensation.
It took a lot of courage to meet William’s eyes, but when she did, she was surprised to see her own shyness and a certain awkwardness reflected back. And, as the corners of his mouth began to curve upwards, there was humour there, too.
‘I’m too old to be sitting on the floor,’ she said, smiling, aware that her knees were now joining in the protest so brilliantly led by her wrist.
William groaned. ‘I’m not sure I can feel my feet,’ he said, wincing as he extricated them from under him and stretched out both legs.
Laughing, they helped one another to stand, grimacing at their stiff limbs and, in William’s case, a bad bout of pins and needles. It was several minutes before they were able to face one another again.
‘And before you say it, there’s really no need to apologise,’ said William, turning his attention to her wrist. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?’
‘I slipped over…I didn’t think…’ She screwed up her face as she very slowly tried to rotate her wrist. She stopped almost immediately.
‘Here, sit down,’ said William, pulling out a stool from under the worktable. ‘I’ll get something cold. Do you have any ice?’
She shook her head. ‘But there’s a cold pack in the bottom of the freezer.’
He assessed her for a moment, eyes missing nothing. ‘Okay, so we’ll sit for a while and see if that helps, and then I think a trip to A&E might be in order.’
‘No.’ Her reply was louder than she intended. ‘Sorry…I didn’t mean to shout. But I can’t go to the hospital.’ She looked around the room with anxious eyes. ‘There’s so much to do, and besides, I’m sure nothing’s broken, I just wrenched it, that’s all.’
William’s only reply was to raise his eyebrows.
‘Honestly,’ she said. ‘I’m happy to sit for a bit, but after that…’ Her eyes widened. ‘What on earth am I going to do?’
William opened the freezer. ‘ You are going to stay there and put this on.’ He handed her the cold pack. ‘ I am going to get to work, and we are going to sort this.’ He picked up the fallen tub of dough, which, thankfully, seemed none the worse for its sudden descent, and placed it on the worktable. ‘What do I need to do first?’
Frankie sighed with relief as the fire in her wrist began to abate slightly. She nodded towards the far side of the room where the storeroom lay. On the wall beside it was a whiteboard, sectioned into grids and covered in green writing. ‘That’s the plan,’ she said. ‘Every type of bread we make, and each pastry, quantities and weights. It hasn’t been updated much since I got here, but what isn’t written down is up here.’ She tapped her head with her good hand. ‘And that’ – she pointed to the tub of dough – ‘is for the first batch of sandwich loaves. We need to divide it up into equal weights, shape it, put it into the tins, which need to be prepared first, and then leave it to rise again. Basically…There’s a little more to it than that.’ She gave a wry smile.
William just grinned, holding up both hands. ‘Better wash these then, hadn’t I?’ He moved towards the sink but then stopped, turning. ‘I assume I get a pinny as well?’
‘A pinny?’
‘Yeah… an apron.’
Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘I know what a pinny is.’ She smothered a smile. ‘Just that it seems such an…’ She didn’t want to offend William. ‘Old-fashioned word…’ she finished, wrinkling her nose in amusement.
‘ And …?’ William’s eyes twinkled in challenge.
‘And…it’s hanging on the back of the storeroom door,’ she said, trying her hardest to keep a straight face.
It seemed impossible. And improbable. Given all that had happened, how could she simply watch while William worked? Yet that’s exactly what she did, effectively ignoring everything until something which had, at first, seemed insurmountable, gently assumed new proportions, less scary ones, until what she’d thought of as the hugest of obstacles became one which could be simply stepped around with ease.
At first, she explained every detail, every action William should take, every process he should follow, but as the minutes turned into hours, she gave less and less instruction, becoming aware that she had swapped from watching his every move to simply watching him.
‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.
William barely looked up. ‘Once or twice,’ he replied. ‘Like I said, I’ve had a life, Frankie. I’ve made the odd loaf of bread in my time.’ He flicked her a glance. ‘Not like this, but this is good. I’m enjoying it.’
It was true. Frankie could see it in the way he moved, his body relaxed and at ease. His face was the same. He had been concentrating so hard in the beginning, but gradually his initial anxiety at getting things right had been replaced by a simple peace. And she felt peaceful, too. It was a spell she really didn’t want to break.
Eventually though, light crept into the room as the rising dawn gained mastery over the night.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Frankie, looking around at the result of William’s labours. They hadn’t finished, but they had done enough. William had done enough. But she wasn’t referring to the to-do list.
‘About what?’ replied William, although it was clear he understood her meaning.
The word us seemed to hover in the air but Frankie turned her head slightly so as not to see it. ‘This…me…the situation. And me crying all over you.’
William cocked his head to one side. ‘Do we have to do anything about it?’
Frankie thought for a moment. ‘I suppose I thought you’d want to talk more about stuff – me, and what happened. And I don’t mind, if you want to ask me anything.’
William’s look was warm. ‘I could do, but your situation didn’t happen overnight. It’s taken time to rise, but now you’ve been punched down, it’ll take a while before you?—’
‘That’s really corny,’ interrupted Frankie, laughing.
‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘But it’s a pretty good analogy, all the same.’
‘So, what now?’ she said, amused. ‘Into the oven with me?’
He scratched his head. ‘That’s where it kind of falls apart. But what’s important here is that I understand this is not something which has only just happened to you. It runs deep and will take time to come right again. Poking it every five minutes to check if it’s okay will probably have the opposite effect.’ The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘So I’m trying really hard not to.’
He was giving her space. She understood. And his honesty endeared him to her even more. ‘That actually makes a great deal of sense,’ she said. ‘And it isn’t that I don’t want to talk about my life, but…’ She was grateful for the opportunity not to.
He nodded. ‘Frankie, we can’t know everything there is to know about each other in just one night. And that’s okay.’
She smiled at the slight warning note in his voice. And she nodded, it really was okay. Perhaps, for the first time in a long time, Frankie could simply get used to breathing in the company of another.
‘But on a purely practical note,’ continued William. ‘What do we need to do now?’
‘Put the kettle on?’ she suggested.