Chapter 12
MARCUS
As we fasten our seatbelts, Frankie says, ‘Sorry about this. I’m sure you had some much better ways to spend your evening, like watching paint dry or sticking pins in your eyes.’
‘Okay. That has to be your final apology.’ I realise as I speak that I didn’t really have a lot else to do this evening.
I could have found something else to do, but I would have had to look for it.
I mean, I have friends I could have done something with, but obviously a lot of them are coupled up and busy on a Saturday evening, plus usually I have Ruby and Sam at home, so I don’t go out that much at the weekend.
And this evening I would have been home alone.
‘And, honestly, I didn’t have many better things to do.
I’d probably just have been catching up on paperwork.
Single dads don’t always have the most exciting social lives. ’
She laughs. ‘Matches me then this evening.’
I turn to look at her as I put the car into gear, and catch the tail end of her laugh on her face.
Gorgeous, objectively. A lot of people – single dads or not – could, I realise, do a lot worse than spending a Saturday evening with Frankie.
Maybe I’ll gain a new friendship out of this fiasco.
And in the meantime, we should make sure we do this right.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Since we’re doing this fake relationship, let’s do it.
I’m thinking we drive slowly around pretty much every road in the village on our way to Chartfield, so that we get seen by some grapevine participants to reinforce the village’s belief in our relationship, and then we can go through all the pitfall questions we can think of. ’
‘Good plan,’ Frankie says happily. ‘We’re going to be the most overprepared faux couple ever.’
I drive at a very leisurely pace back and forth around the village, without going back over any roads we’ve already covered.
Frankie starts giggling. ‘Imagine anyone out for a walk who might have seen us more than once. They’ll think we’re mad.’
‘Not mad. Just a deeply-in-love couple out for a romantic drive,’ I say.
Frankie giggles more. ‘Around their own village.’
‘Yeah. Okay, let’s go.’ I turn in the direction of Chartfield and, once we’ve left the village boundary, pick up speed.
‘Shall I call ahead and see if we can book?’ Frankie asks. ‘Is there a Thai restaurant in Chartfield? I don’t think I’ve been to one there.’
‘There is actually a very nice one, called Jade Elephant.’
‘We got their last table,’ Frankie says after calling the restaurant. ‘Clearly our preparation evening was meant to be. Okay. So. What’s your favourite film ever?’
‘You think that’s one of the most important things to know about me?’
‘I mean, obviously not the most important. But it’s a thing. We have all evening to get to know as many facts as possible about each other.’
I shake my head. ‘A lot of people don’t even have a favourite film and I think a lot of people wouldn’t know that about their partners. It’s kind of like a GCSE French oral question.’
‘I mean there’s no harm in knowing is there? I feel like favourite-film knowledge would be easy to drop into a conversation.’
‘Fair point. So what’s your favourite film?’ I ask, while I think hard to try to find one of my own.
‘Oh. Ermmmmm. Yep.’ Frankie starts to giggle again.
‘Frankie! Are you telling me you don’t have a favourite film?’
‘It’s hard. Like, there are so many good ones. How can you say what your all-time top one is?’
I shake my head, mock scolding. ‘The hypocrisy.’
‘I know. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I promise I won’t ask any more questions that I don’t have my own answer to.’
‘Favourite film genre?’ I ask.
She laughs again. ‘Still no. Although. I will say that I really hate horror films. And I get bored in all those Marvel films.’
‘Okay, so the Marvel films.’ I indicate left and turn towards the town centre. ‘They are objectively in my opinion not for adults, but when you’ve seen a lot of them, courtesy of your children, you can start to get quite invested.’
‘Really. Interesting. Hard to imagine. Do you like Star Wars too?’
‘Star Wars! Are you telling me you don’t like them?’ I’m shocked. ‘Not even the originals?’
‘Hate them all,’ she tells me cheerfully. ‘Jack forced me to watch them when he was about twelve, and I did my best, for his sake, but seriously, shoot me now if I ever have to watch another.’
‘Wow, so wrong. The first three are great classics for a reason.’
‘I am not wrong,’ she says.
I raise my eyebrows and Frankie smiles, and then says, ‘Okay. Let’s try something less contentious: favourite holiday destinations and last holidays taken.’
It turns out that Frankie loves a city break, a hiking holiday, a skiing holiday, a snorkelling holiday, anything active, as long as she doesn’t have to carry anything because she hates carrying stuff.
‘Yeah, so I spend a lot of time carrying stuff on holiday,’ I tell her as I park outside the restaurant.
‘Comes with the territory of single parenting. And I have to say I don’t mind it, as long as it’s one bag.
One nicely packed rucksack. I cannot stand lots of different bags.
And I agree, I hate beach or pool holidays where you’re expected to sit around all day.
I mean, I haven’t actually been on one since before Ruby was born but I do remember on a lads’ holiday when I was young thinking there are better holidays than getting off your face every night and lying around all day recovering from your hangover on repeat. ’
‘It sounds like we could very happily go on a fake holiday together. Something active, with you carrying all my stuff in a large, perfectly packed rucksack. Where was your last holiday?’
We get out of the car and carry on our conversation as we go inside the restaurant and are seated at our table.
‘We went glamping in Wales with some friends for the August bank holiday. Lots of hiking, lots of big games of rounders, a big barbecue, paddling in the freezing cold sea, a lot of fun. What about you?’ As soon as I ask the question, I worry that she’s going to get upset if her last holiday was with her ex.
I wonder again why he split up with her.
For anyone who – unlike me – is in the market for a relationship, surely she’d be great to be with.
Although, of course, I hardly know her. For all I know she might be axe-murdering material. Hard to imagine, though.
‘Yeah, my last holiday was with Ellie and Jack. We did a city break to Paris.’ She pauses and then says, ‘I was supposed to be going with Rick the Dick, but at the last minute he said he had to go on a golfing weekend with clients, but that I was welcome to go anyway and take a friend, so Ellie and Jack came. Rick had booked a suite in a very nice hotel – everything he does is OTT – and Jack had a sofa bed in the sitting room, so it worked perfectly. And we had a fab weekend.’
I nod, wanting to say sorry again about her shit-sounding ex, but not sure whether I should.
In the end, I do say, ‘Sorry about Rick. And cool, now we’re sorted if anyone asks either of us where the other one last went on holiday or whether the other likes Star Wars.’
Frankie laughs. ‘Yeah, maybe we aren’t doing this right.’
We take a few minutes off from the prep to study the menu.
‘Do you prefer to share or order just for yourself?’ she asks.
‘The thing is,’ I say, ‘my top favourite meal is lamb with peanuts and mango.’
‘Good memory,’ she says.
‘Thank you. Yep, let’s share, if you’d like to? Happy to avoid anything you don’t eat.’
Menu decisions made, we place our orders.
‘Any other drinks?’ the waiter asks us when we ask for tap water.
‘Well,’ I say, ‘I’m thinking we should drink something celebratory.’ I feel bad for Frankie: moving into a new home is a big deal, and she’s stuck for the evening with me, a near-complete stranger.
‘Although you’re driving and I’m currently not up for more than one drink in your presence for obvious reasons.’
I laugh. ‘What about mocktails?’
‘Actually, that sounds good.’
We both go for their special – called a Thai Shirley Temple – and then Frankie says, ‘Okay. Questions again. What’s your all-time favourite drink?’
‘Just a nice cold bottle of lager,’ I say, no hesitation. ‘Yours?’
‘Apple juice but also champagne.’
‘Both good choices. When’s your birthday?’
‘Good question,’ she approves. ‘Possibly the first useful one. Twelfth of June. You?’
‘Eighteenth of December.’
‘Very close to Christmas. Do you have a middle name?’
‘Really?’ I take a moment to thank the server for my drink, which he’s just placed on the table. ‘Roderick, but really?’
‘Oh, after your grandfather. That’s lovely. And yes, really. You never know.’ Frankie tastes her drink. ‘That is good. It might rival apple juice and champagne.’
‘What’s your middle name?’
‘Haven’t got one. And Frankie is short for Francesca.’
‘Got it.’ I take a poppadom and some mint sauce. ‘Can’t beat a Saturday night Thai.’
‘Very true.’
‘Favourite condiment?’ I grin at her. ‘Honestly, I don’t know whether I’m going to be able to talk to you without posing “favourite” questions.’
‘Hmm, maybe we should be daring and branch out from favourites. We could also venture down bests and worsts. Like… worst ever day at work? Actually.’ She pauses. ‘This is a question that I should know the answer to. What’s your job? If you work. Obviously I shouldn’t assume that you do.’
‘I do work but I’ll have to kill you if I tell you exactly what I do.’ I regret the words as soon as I say them.
‘Oh my goodness, is that true? Please tell me it is; I’ve always wanted someone to say it to me and mean it.’
‘Pleased to be of service,’ I say, because now I’ve started this I have no option but to continue. ‘Yes, it’s true.’
‘Wow. Are you a spy?’