Chapter 10
MARCUS
It’s Wednesday lunchtime. I’m busy doing work admin, and Ruby has just texted me from school.
I don’t think she’s allowed to text during the school day but clearly there are worse things she could be doing.
She’s invited Libby and a couple of other girls over later today and she wants me to make a lasagne for them and buy one of Simon’s chocolate cakes.
There are so many times when I’d like to have a co-parent, and this is one of them.
I have a lot of work to do this afternoon and I’m not great at making lasagnes – I’ve tried a few times but I just can’t make a smooth bechamel sauce of the right consistency – and it’s actually our amazing cleaner/housekeeper, Victoria, who makes the lasagnes that we eat.
Victoria is, however, on an extended holiday for the next month.
I don’t want to let Ruby down. So I’m going to have to find a lasagne somewhere.
Okay. I’m going to ask Simon for help when I go and get the chocolate cake.
A few minutes later, I’m in the café. And there – behind the counter – is Frankie, not Simon.
‘Hi.’ I’m surprised to see her, and I’m even more surprised by the fact that she’s signalling at me with her eyes, in a slightly insane-looking fashion, swivelling them hard between me and the corner of the café.
I look towards the corner and see an elderly woman I vaguely recognise. She’s looking directly at me, and smiling and waving, so I return the smile and say hello to her.
Frankie then says, ‘Could I have a quick word with you in the kitchen?’ before beckoning me round the end of the counter.
‘Basically,’ she hisses, as soon as we’re in the kitchen, the door pulled closed, ‘until I’ve told Gran that our relationship has fizzled out, we have to behave as though we’re in the relationship in front of anyone and everyone.
’ She pauses and then adds, ‘If that’s okay with you.
Sorry. Assuming. I mean, I know it isn’t.
But also… The thing is, already today four customers have referred to our “romance”.
I mean it’s mad. I didn’t even recognise three of them. But everyone knows everything.’
‘Yep. Got it. No problem. Although.’ I feel myself frowning. ‘What do you mean exactly?’ I can’t believe she’s suggesting that we should go down the PDA route, but I feel I should check.
‘Oh my goodness, no. No, er, hand-holding or… anything. Obviously. No not at all.’ She pauses, and wrinkles her nose. ‘I’m babbling. I’m sorry. Just, you know.’
‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘Not the most usual of situations.’
‘Oh really? This is the first time you’ve been in a fake relationship while living in a very nice but possibly the most gossipy village in England?’
‘Oh no, I’ve done dozens. Just not for the past few months. Out of practice.’
We smile at each other and then I say, ‘Okay, so, we need to act like a non-PDA kind of couple at all times in the presence of anyone who might notice anything amiss with our relationship and report that to the grapevine.’
‘Exactly. Thank you so so so much. I cannot describe how much I owe you.’ She does a half-smile, which is very cute. Her ex-boyfriend must have been made of stone not to react to that.
We both move towards the door, and then, as we go back outside, she says, ‘Did you come in for a carrot cake by any chance?’
I glance towards the woman in the corner, who is watching us again, in a remarkably focused fashion, and then return my gaze to Frankie and say, ‘Well, obviously I came in to see you.’
She bats her eyelids at me and says, ‘Aww, so sweet. A lovely middle-of-the-day surprise.’
‘Yeah. And, also, Ruby has girlfriends coming over later and wants me to make a lasagne and buy one of Simon’s chocolate cakes.’
‘Chocolate cake coming up.’ Frankie turns round and reaches for a flat-packed cake box. Which is the first time I register, as in think about it, that she seems to be working in here.
‘Are you…?’ I begin, and then realise that as her devoted boyfriend I would probably know what she was up to. I lean closer and ask very quietly, ‘You’re helping Simon out today?’
‘Working here as my actual job for a while,’ she murmurs. ‘And going to be living upstairs.’ Then she raises her voice back to normal pitch. ‘So chocolate cake.’
‘Is Simon not around at all today?’ I check.
‘Nope.’ She lowers her voice again. ‘He’s trying to work full-time on his new interior design business.’
‘Dammit.’
‘Would you like me to pass a message on?’ She carefully slides the cake into the middle of the box and begins to build the sides.
‘I just wanted him to help me with a lasagne issue.’
She raises an eyebrow.
I lower my voice again, just as the door opens and two women pushing buggies enter.
‘My cooking repertoire is fairly limited and the lasagne that Ruby likes is usually made by my housekeeper, but she’s on holiday at the moment and I was wondering if I could pay Simon anything he liked to either make one for me or get me one from one of his suppliers.’
‘I’ll happily make one for you,’ Frankie says, morphing into an angel before my eyes. ‘I massively owe you and it would make me feel a lot better if you’d let me help. Also, as you can see, I’m not exactly run off my feet in here.’
‘Are you sure? Do you have the ingredients?’
‘Well as it happens I was going to make a spag bol this evening for Ellie and Jack, and Jack’s a big dairy fan, so they always have a lot of milk and cheese in, and I’m sure Ellie will have lasagne sheets.
’ She pauses for a moment, head tilted to one side.
‘I’m just thinking about timings. I’m closing here at five today, then obviously clearing up.
I can then make it as soon as I get back and drive it round to you for you to put in the oven? ’
‘Are you sure that isn’t going beyond the call of duty?’ I ask.
Frankie stares at me for a second and then leans over the counter, giving me a momentary view of her cleavage that I really should not enjoy as much as I do.
‘Marcus.’ She lowers her voice again. ‘Fake relationship versus making a lasagne? I could make you a hundred lasagnes and it wouldn’t be as big a favour.’ She has a point, although it would be rude for me to agree out loud.
‘Plus,’ she continues, lowering her voice again, ‘it’s really boring doing nothing all day at work.
There are various points during the day where quite a few people come in at once and sometimes there’s even a queue – as we both know from the carrot cake day – but there are also a lot of times where I’m doing nothing but thumb-twiddle.
I mean, you’d really be doing me a favour. Giving me something to do.’
‘Put it like that,’ I say, ‘and you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll have to accept your offer.’
‘You will.’ She nods, smiling like she’s just won an enormous victory, which makes me laugh.
I take out my phone. ‘We should exchange numbers so we can plan the lasagne handover. And then I should pay for the cake and let you get on with serving these new customers—’ I gesture at the women who just came in with their babies ‘—so that we don’t ruin Simon’s business.’
And just like that, my lasagne problem is solved.
Frankie sends me a running commentary through the afternoon on lasagne progress:
Just in case you’re worried I might forget… just texting to say I HAVEN’T forgotten…
Leaving work now five minutes later than expected (I didn’t realise at the time but those babies got some SERIOUSLY sticky stuff just under the edge of their table – impressive) but all still in hand on the lasagne front.
Okay I’m back at Ellie’s now and have all the ingredients so no supermarket dash necessary.
All made hooray. On my way.
I say:
No, no, surely I should pick it up from you. Least I can do
She replies:
Remember, YOU are doing ME a favour and also the lasagne dish is already nestled very nicely on my front passenger seat, which dips in the exact perfect way to hold it and who’s to say your car is as well designed as mine for lasagne transportation. See you in a minute. Switch your oven on.
* * *
And five minutes later, she’s at my front door bearing a lasagne.
‘You’re an angel,’ I tell her.
‘Yes,’ she says, her features very serious. ‘Making a lasagne for someone is so angelic compared to being their fake boyfriend. If I were you I’d ask me for as many favours as possible until we fake break-up. You have a desperate and bored person at your complete mercy. You should take advantage.’
‘Well,’ I say, in an equally serious tone, ‘I’d like to have the whole house cleaned and meals cooked every single day. I wouldn’t mind having the lawn mown too and actually I’d like to have some wardrobes built in our spare room.’
‘I wasn’t joking,’ she says. ‘I am so grateful. I’d happily do all of that. Although I’m not an experienced carpenter.’
‘Any experience at all?’
‘I once assembled an IKEA bed. And I would more than happily assemble as much IKEA furniture for you as you would like.’
I laugh. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
‘Good. Right. I’ll let you go and put that in the oven, and make sure our own one isn’t burning – I killed two lasagne birds with one stone. Have a lovely evening.’
And off she goes, leaving me with a lasagne in my hand and a smile on my face.
* * *
‘This lasagne’s amazing,’ Ruby says forty-five minutes later. ‘The cheese sauce is even better than usual and so’s the sauce the beef’s in.’
She’s right. It is. If I were a competent home cook I’d ask Frankie for her recipe.
‘I didn’t actually make it myself,’ I admit.
‘Thought not. Different lasagne dish,’ Ruby says.
‘Good observation. Thank goodness I didn’t lie about making it,’ I say.
‘Life lesson,’ Ruby replies. ‘Only lie if you won’t get found out.’
‘Er… yes, but also no? Morals?’
‘Oh, please.’ Ruby grins at me. ‘So who did make it?’
‘Frankie.’
‘She’s a good cook,’ Ruby comments.
The evening passes with no teenage strops whatsoever, and when her friends have left, Ruby says, ‘Thank you for getting the lasagne and cake. I feel like… sometimes it’s almost okay not having Mum here. Like… sometimes you can be as good as a mum.’ That’s a pretty big compliment coming from Ruby.
I hold my arms out for a hug and, rather than ignoring me, or indeed actively sneering at me, she actually smiles and steps into them.
‘Love you,’ I tell her.
Who knew that becoming someone’s fake boyfriend could actually improve things between me and my daughter.