Chapter 7
FRANKIE
I’m very happy. Marcus is a wonderful man. I don’t know why I ever thought I didn’t like him. Who cares about a trashed carrot cake or cat-antibiotic rudeness.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’ I seize his hand and pull him back out of the utility and into the kitchen.
‘Will we be hand-holding for long?’ he enquires in a low voice in my ear as we stand just inside the room, facing everyone. A lot of eyes are turned in our direction.
I look down at where I do indeed still have his hand in mine and say, ‘Oops,’ before releasing him.
Gran waves her stick at us from a chair in the corner of the room, just as Ruby rushes forward.
I turn to Marcus and instruct him in a whisper, ‘Talk to her outside,’ before heading over to see Gran.
I check over my shoulder as I cross the room, and see Marcus disappear with Ruby and Sam.
‘Tell me more about Marcus,’ Gran commands. ‘And I’ll tell you something about him.’ She pauses. ‘Or maybe you already know?’
‘What?’ I ask. I now realise that I was a little drunk before, but I’m feeling a lot clearer-headed now, and strangely interested in whatever information she might have about him.
‘He’s the grandson of the man I jilted at the altar,’ she announces.
‘No! That’s such a coincidence.’
‘Not really,’ Gran says. ‘Roderick has always lived quite locally and when Marcus moved here recently it was because he’d bought out a family farm.’
‘Wow, though.’ I feel pre-emptively guilty about double-generational jilting for a moment before I recall that Marcus and I are only together for this one evening and there will be no jilting involved in our brief fake relationship. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Did you not remember that Roderick’s surname is Brooks, like Marcus’s?’ Gran queries. ‘It isn’t a particularly common name.’
‘Roderick’s name slipped my mind,’ I improvise. Obviously I had no idea what Marcus’s surname was because I don’t actually know him.
‘Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose it’s natural that I would remember facts about Roderick much better than you would.
Well, it’s a lovely end to an awkward story that you and Marcus are now together,’ Gran continues, smiling fondly at me.
‘And, in fact, if Roderick and I had married each other instead of our respective partners, you and Marcus wouldn’t exist. What a wonderful way for things to turn out.
Hmm.’ She looks thoughtful for a moment.
‘I wonder how Roderick will feel about this.’
Eek. I don’t think Marcus is going to be very pleased if ‘this’ expands beyond this room.
‘I don’t think anyone should tell Roderick,’ I say. ‘Just in case he isn’t happy.’
‘Well, I suppose that will be up to Marcus.’ Gran looks wistful for a moment.
‘Roderick and I still aren’t really on speaking terms. It’s been sixty-three years now.
I’m sure he loves his grandson more than he hates me, though.
I’m sure all he wants is Marcus’s happiness.
And no-one could fail to be happy with you, my darling. ’
I think about Rick and how he evidently wasn’t happy with me, and how my own mother has never wanted to spend any time with me, and look around for another glass of champagne, just as Ellie pops up next to me holding a glass of water.
‘Were you looking for a drink?’ she asks. ‘Here you go.’
Hmm. If I were suspicious I’d think she’d been watching me and didn’t want me to drink any more alcohol.
I do fancy some water, though, and, when I sip it, it does taste very nice. Very cold and a bit lemony.
‘I was just telling Frankie that Marcus is the grandson of Roderick,’ Gran updates Ellie.
‘What, the Roderick?’ checks Ellie. ‘Jilted Roderick? I didn’t know that. How come you haven’t mentioned it before?’
‘I don’t really enjoy talking about him.’ Gran’s cheeks are tinged a little pink.
Ellie and I look at each other, alarmed. Neither of us would ever want to upset her.
‘Let me tell you about the dreadful team-building mixed football I was dragged into yesterday,’ Ellie says, and then launches into a very long and very funny description of the match she played.
It’s perfect. Gran has no further opportunity to talk to me about Marcus, and her cheeks return to their usual colour.
Meanwhile, I begin to realise that I was really quite drunk earlier on.
I’m now sober enough to realise that I am in fact still not that sober.
I wouldn’t back myself right now to thread a needle or pour any of this champagne into these very slim flutes without spilling it.
But I do now have the ability to think straightish, and I can’t help feeling that, even though it felt entirely normal and acceptable at the time, strong-arming someone into being your fake boyfriend for an evening is not fully normal behaviour.
Hmm. I had excellent reasons for doing it and I definitely still think it was a genius idea, but also I think I might actually have to apologise to Marcus.
Not now, though. I’ll think about it properly in the morning. Right now, I’m really, really tired and my head’s starting to ache quite a lot, and I just want to go to bed.
I can see that Marcus is back in the room with Ruby and Sam, and they’re all smiling, so I haven’t caused him any issues with his children, thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to do that.
‘Your lovely boyfriend is back,’ says Gran. ‘You should go and talk to him. Go. Shoo.’
Bugger.
‘Okay,’ I say, and stand up and begin to make my way over to Marcus.
He sees me, and stands, hands in pockets, just watching me. I hope that Gran can’t see the derision in his eyes. He’s definitely laughing at me. Possibly because I’m really, really tired now and it’s honestly a challenge to walk in a completely straight line.
It’s better for him to be laughing at me than angry with me, though.
Hang on, no, I don’t even care what he thinks of me. Or do I? Oh, who knows. I’ll work it out in the morning when I’ve had a very, very long sleep.
‘Hey,’ I say when I reach him. ‘Sorry that I have to come and talk to you, but Gran made me.’
‘I’ll do my best to deal with it.’ He’s definitely in a way better mood now that he’s spoken to his kids.
‘So your chat with Ruby and Sam went well?’ I ask.
‘Yep, they just think you’re a complete lunatic,’ he says very cheerfully, ‘but they’re cool with it.’
‘Great.’
‘Yeah. All good. Now.’ He looks over my head towards the other side of the room. ‘Your grandmother is watching us very closely.’
‘Bloody hell.’
Marcus smiles at me while shaking his head a little, and then throws his head back and laughs.
I stare at him.
‘I’m acting like a boyfriend,’ he says in answer to my unspoken question, about why on earth he’s suddenly behaving like that.
‘Really?’ I raise an eyebrow. Or maybe two.
I’m finding it hard to be fully in control of my face right now.
I would kill to be able to just crawl into bed.
I hate alcohol. I’m never drinking again.
I’m definitely still a bit drunk and also already quite hungover.
Torture. I might not be in charge of my face but I do know that Marcus looks nothing like a boyfriend.
He just looks crazy. Or like a really bad actor.
‘Only if the boyfriend in question is trying to look weird,’ I tell him. ‘You need to stop doing that.’
‘And do what, though?’
‘I mean, just look like a regular person hanging with their regular girlfriend at a regular party.’
‘What does that look like, though?’
I sigh. ‘Just… I mean, just don’t do anything.’
‘Like…?’ And then he stands completely still.
‘No. Now you look weird in a different way. Relax.’
‘Of course I look weird. This is a weird situation.’
‘No it isn’t.’ Why did I have to land on the worst method actor in the world when I chose my fake boyfriend for the evening?
‘Forget about the whole fake-romance thing and let’s just have a normal, regular conversation.
’ I close my eyes for a moment because Marcus is just making my headache worse. ‘Maybe we could sit down over there.’
I move over to a sofa in the corner of the room and sink down onto it, relieved not to have to stand up any more.
‘You seem a lot more sober now,’ he says, sitting a good metre away from me.
‘Yep. Sober enough to realise that I should apologise to you and also that I’m really sorry but could you sit a little closer to me? Like at the moment you look as though accidentally touching my knee with yours would be like putting your bare skin against a nettle or something.’
‘Yeah, well, I… yep, okay, got it.’ He shifts a bit nearer to me, looking exactly like he’s trying to avoid a stinging nettle.
I start giggling.
He raises his eyebrows.
‘I’ve never seen someone so reluctant to come within a foot of me, and it’s very funny.’ I hiccup. ‘Ow.’ I hiccup again. ‘Ow. I didn’t know hiccups could hurt that much.’ I hiccup some more. ‘Ow, ow, ow.’
‘Are you okay?’ Marcus leans over and gives me an awkward little pat on the back.
‘Yes, thank you. I just have hiccups for some reason.’
‘Hmm. I wonder whether it could possibly have anything to do with the bucket of champagne you downed earlier in the evening.’
‘Maybe, but in my defence this is my first time properly out after a triple whammy: big break-up, job loss and home loss.’ I’m trying to speak in a dignified manner but it’s tricky when you can’t stop doing huge hiccups, which really hurt between my ribs.
‘Getting drunk does always solve a problem.’
‘Seriously. Are you always this unsympathetic and sanctimonious?’ I glare at him, and then hiccup again.
‘Sorry. What you told me about what happened to you did sound awful. Sorry.’ He does actually look quite penitent. Then he says, ‘I have to point out in my defence that I am very helpfully being your fake boyfriend this evening.’
‘Very true.’ I look at him for a moment, hiccup a couple of times, and then put my hand out. ‘Truce?’