Chapter 8
MARCUS
I’m up early on Sunday morning to get a run in before I go and pick up Sam from Miranda and Rob’s to take him to his club football match. Ruby won’t be awake until later, and she has plans to hang out with Libby for a couple of hours.
Leaving our house, I turn in the opposite direction from Ellie’s because I don’t want to risk bumping into Frankie. I can’t imagine she’d like to see me any time soon, and I also have no desire to see her.
She’s clearly gone through a nightmare break-up very recently, and she was also clearly extremely drunk last night.
Plus she obviously cares hugely about her grandmother and doesn’t want her to worry about her.
So – weirdly – I do actually understand why she went down the insane route of pretending that she had a boyfriend, and I’m guessing she said it was me because I was the first man her eyes lit on.
She’s really just lucky that I’m single, or her grandmother would have realised she was lying and presumably been really upset.
Irrespective, though, of whether or not she had good reason, your average person would be feeling a little embarrassed in this morning’s cold light of day. She obviously won’t want to see me.
And from my side, there was something… odd… about last night, interacting with Frankie. Something… I don’t want to repeat. Too uncomfortable.
So, yep, I’m literally running away from her.
Today it’s early autumn at its best, dry and sunny, a scattering of leaves underfoot, and I like running (it always clears my head), and then I enjoy Sam’s football match, so it’s a great morning.
Just as the game ends, my phone pings, and I immediately pull it out of my pocket; since Ruby first started going places independently, I always check messages when she isn’t with me, just in case. I see that I have, oddly, received a message from Rose, Frankie’s grandmother:
Good morning, Marcus. I got your number from the village WhatsApp group. If you’re free, I’d love you, Ruby and Sam to come for lunch here with Frankie today so that I can get to know you all better. If you’re able to come, I’d love to welcome you at about one. Best wishes, Rose Winters
Oh. Oh dear. Frankie has woven an over-tangled web.
Obviously we aren’t going to go.
I send an immediate reply:
Dear Rose, Thank you so much for your very kind invitation. The children and I would have loved to have joined you but unfortunately Sam and I have a previous commitment: we’re going for a pub lunch with the parents and boys in his Sunday football team. Thank you again and best wishes, Marcus
I wonder whether Frankie knows that her grandmother invited me.
Maybe I should tell Ellie so that she can let her know.
No, there’s no need, surely. Rose will mention it.
And Frankie will know that she’s going to have to get creative with her excuses and her speedy fizzling out, as she called it, of our fake relationship.
Our pub lunch is great, and when we pick Ruby up from Miranda and Rob’s, she tells us she’s had an amazing time with Libby.
She could walk home – it’s under twenty minutes – but she has a serious case of teenage lethargy when it comes to any form of exercise other than netball and tennis, and, if I’m honest, I love car journeys with her, even short ones, because sitting side by side in the two front seats staring straight forward out of a windscreen seems to be the time we communicate best.
We have a nice, remarkably friendly conversation in the car, and when we get inside the house, I reflect that Ruby’s birthday weekend seems to have gone very well, far better than I would have predicted.
Sam switches the TV on as soon as we get inside, and I’m about to remonstrate with him – the battle against screens is both an arduous one and a losing one, but I can’t give up – when Ruby says, ‘Last night with Frankie was crazy. You have a fake girlfriend. Libby and I have been talking about it.’
‘I don’t actually have a fake girlfriend,’ I correct her. ‘It was for one evening only.’
I’m not surprised that Ruby and Libby talked about it afterwards – I’ve never introduced a single partner to Ruby and Sam since their mum left, so me having even a fake girlfriend would have been huge news to them – but I’m quite surprised, and a little terrified, that Ruby wants to share her thoughts on the topic with me.
‘Yes, that’s one of the things we talked about,’ Ruby says.
Oh God. I really don’t want to hear my fourteen-year-old daughter’s ruminations on my completely and utterly fake relationship.
‘We feel really sorry for Frankie,’ Ruby continues.
‘So do I.’ I’m feeling on safer ground. Anyone with a heart would feel sorry for Frankie right now.
‘Good. Because we think you’re going to have to continue with the fake-relationship thing for a while.’
I nod. ‘Frankie’s going to continue with it for a while, but I don’t need to be involved. She’s going to make excuses for me, and then fizzle me out.’
‘We think that will make Rose really sad. Libby’s mum said she’s been really ill and she’s got heart problems and she’s nearly eighty-five and we don’t want to upset her.’ Ruby’s looking at me with big eyes, like she does when she’s going to ask for something I do not want to give her.
I often give in when I shouldn’t. On this occasion, though, I will not be giving in; she’s clearly going to suggest that I do a bit more in-person fake-boyfriending, and the answer is absolutely non-negotiable.
‘Yeah, no,’ I say. ‘I get that. We don’t want to make Rose sad.
But the thing is, Frankie’s relationship has ended.
And she does not in fact have a new partner.
So at some point Rose will have to accept that Frankie is single again.
And of course being single is great. No-one needs a partner.
’ I certainly don’t, whether they be real or fake.
I have a fantastic thing going with Ruby and Sam (give or take the odd completely out-of-my-depth difficult conversation with Ruby), and after everything they’ve been through (or more specifically not been through) with their mother, I don’t want to upset the apple cart by introducing another woman into their lives who might or might not stay around.
‘The thing is.’ Ruby’s still doing her big eyes. She lowers her voice. ‘We don’t think Rose has much time left.’
I choke. ‘We?’
‘Miranda and Libby.’
‘How do they know?’
‘I don’t know.’ Ruby waves her hand like she’s brushing away actual details. ‘She’s old. She’s been ill.’
‘I hadn’t heard that.’ I’m horrified. If Ruby’s right, it makes even more sense that Frankie wouldn’t want to upset her. But we can’t fake being in a relationship together. That would be insane. It was ridiculous enough for one evening.
‘Think about it,’ Ruby advises me, like I wouldn’t now be going over this in my mind.
My phone buzzes and we both instinctively look towards it.
Ruby pounces on it before I can get to it.
‘Rose is messaging you.’ She has no concept of me being allowed privacy in my private life. Probably because I don’t have a private life. Which is a good thing.
I hold my hand out and raise an eyebrow, and, miraculously, Ruby actually gives me the phone. Although she is still peering over my shoulder.
Rose’s message reads:
Dear Marcus, A further idea has occurred to me. Perhaps you and the children might like to join us for afternoon tea after your pub lunch? We would all very much like to see you if you’re free in the next half hour?
‘We have to go,’ Ruby says decisively.
‘We do not.’ I’m equally decisive.
‘What excuse would you make?’ Ruby asks.
‘I could say anything. Not back from the pub yet; you have homework to do; we’re going somewhere else for afternoon tea. The list is endless.’
‘The list is empty. She could have seen your car drive past. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing in this village. And the homework thing is so lame. It sounds like an excuse. Like you don’t want to go. And if we don’t go, she’ll worry that you aren’t very interested in Frankie any more.’
I stand and gape at her, trying to think of another – better – excuse. There must be loads.
‘Regular Sunday afternoon game of squash?’ I suggest.
‘But someone will know that isn’t true. Telling lies is a very bad idea unless you know you won’t get found out.’
I frown. ‘I don’t think that’s the main reason for not telling them.’
‘Dad. You can do the good, moral parenting thing another time. Right now we need to go.’ She turns towards Sam and hollers, ‘Sam, we’re all going out. There’ll probably be cake.’ Then she turns back to me. ‘You should text Rose and tell her we’re going.’
‘No,’ I say.
* * *
Within under fifteen minutes, the three of us are ringing Rose’s doorbell.
The door’s opened by Frankie.
‘Oh,’ she squeaks when she sees us.
‘Hello.’ Ruby beams at her. ‘Your grandmother very kindly invited the three of us for afternoon tea.’
‘Oh,’ repeats Frankie. ‘She didn’t mention that.’
‘Maybe she didn’t want to disappoint you if we couldn’t make it,’ Ruby says. ‘Or maybe she likes surprising people.’
‘Oh,’ Frankie says a third time. ‘Well… come in.’
I let Ruby and Sam go ahead of me and then whisper to Frankie, ‘Ruby thought this would be a good idea. She doesn’t want to upset your grandmother by me fake-dumping you too quickly.’
‘Right,’ says Frankie a little faintly. ‘Well… great. And thank you. But there really was absolutely no need.’
‘Put the kettle on again, Frankie,’ calls Rose from somewhere inside. ‘Take Marcus into the kitchen with you to help. Ruby and Sam, why don’t you join Ellie, Jack and me in here. I’ll send Jack to show you the way.’
Ruby and Sam disappear with Jack, and Frankie leads me into a large, farmhouse-style kitchen.
‘Glorious view,’ I say, indicating the windows, through which I see a beautiful, shrub-filled garden against the backdrop of Milbury Bay and an amazing view of the white sand beach curving around the headland, the trees and bushes on which are now turning stunning autumn colours.