Chapter 12 #2
‘Nope. And, also, you won’t guess. And, also, I have absolutely no idea why I said it because I could just have told you my cover, and now I’m going to tell you that and you have to forget I ever said what I said or, as aforementioned, I will have to kill you.
’ I think I’ve gone mad. I never allude to this even vaguely, let alone explicitly like this. I can’t even blame it on alcohol.
‘This is amazing,’ Frankie breathes. ‘For this, I’m almost happy to have humiliated myself so spectacularly with the whole drunken fake boyfriend announcement. So what’s your cover?’
‘Dairy farmer.’ I really cannot understand why I told her that it’s a cover.
It is a cover for my main job, but it’s also true.
There was no need whatsoever for me to say anything else.
I think I got seduced by our conversation, genuinely telling each other stuff.
Or just by her smile; I’m not sure. ‘Genuinely, please ignore what I said before and don’t repeat it to anyone, including Ellie.
If that’s okay. I have no idea why I said it. ’
Frankie looks at me for a long moment and then nods.
‘I mean, I am the queen of saying something and immediately regretting it. That’s the entire reason we’re here right now.
I can’t tell you how much I immediately regretted the “Marcus is my boyfriend” thing.
So, yeah, I’m going to assume that you meant the whole you-can’t-tell-anyone thing, and I’m not going to tell anyone else about it.
’ She tilts her head to one side for a moment, thinking, and then smiles, like she’s kind of laughing internally.
‘You know if you wanted to mess with someone’s mind that would be a great line to pull.
Like I will now wonder forever if you are in fact a spy.
And every time there’s something like a Novichok incident within a hundred miles, I’ll be like hmmmm. ’
‘Yeah, you don’t want to get on the wrong end of my poisoned umbrella. Yeah, no, not a spy.’
Frankie leans forwards and says, very seriously, ‘That is what a spy would say, isn’t it?’
‘Would a spy stupidly tell you that they couldn’t tell you or they’d have to kill you?’
‘Well, duh,’ she says. ‘A stupid spy would. Or a cunning one who thought I might notice something odd about them and needed to double bluff.’
‘Very true. Although would a cunning one display any oddness?’ I sit back in my chair as Frankie considers that very valid point. ‘Anyway, I do agree that was very inconsiderate of me. You’ll never know.’
‘I will allow the inconsiderateness,’ she says, ‘purely because I was even more inconsiderate roping you into this.’
I pretend to consider her point but, really, I don’t need to consider it, because this fake relationship is, I realise, no particular hardship, given that Ruby and Sam are cool with it.
If they’d been upset it would have been a disaster.
But they weren’t; they just thought it was funny.
And I have to say, this is a much better Saturday evening than I would have been having at home.
‘Evens,’ I say, and raise my glass.
Frankie laughs and raises hers too.
We stray away from fact finding, and just have normal conversation through our starters, until we break for the server to clear the table.
When he leaves us, Frankie says, ‘So where do you think we are on acceptable levels of knowledge about each other for a couple?’
Out of nowhere I think that I have no idea what it’s like to kiss her, and as her boyfriend I should know that. I’m not her boyfriend, however, and clearly I never will be.
‘What’s your favourite colour?’ I ask, clutching at straws to push the unwelcome kissing thought away.
‘Purple. Yours?’
‘Blue.’
Frankie nods and then says, ‘When do you think Christmas music should start on the radio? I heard some today, and Jack and I had a very heated debate about it.’
‘Today?’ I ask, shocked. ‘It’s the beginning of October! We haven’t even had Halloween yet. That is completely unacceptable.’
‘But it was “Feliz Navidad”. Better than so many non-Christmas songs. I think when you have a really good seasonal song you can play it all year round.’
‘No. All wrong,’ I state. ‘Christmas music should only ever be played between the first of December and the sixth of January. Especially ones that stick in your head like that.’
‘What would you say if someone played an amazing summer song in the middle of December?’
‘That’s different.’
‘I think that’s very discriminatory,’ Frankie says extremely seriously. ‘Why are summer songs allowed to be played all year round but not Christmas ones?’
I just shake my head, because that’s a ridiculous point.
‘Exactly,’ she says triumphantly. ‘You have no answer.’
‘Yes I do.’
‘What then?’
‘Erm.’ I might, in fact, have no answer.
‘Anyway,’ she continues, ignoring me. ‘Good to know that we now have Christmas song intel on each other.’
‘Yes, another highly useful piece of knowledge.’
Our main courses – prawn pad thai without peanuts and a green chicken curry – arrive, and we both take some time to agree that they look and smell stunning.
And then we kind of give up on artificially getting to know each other, and just chat, which turns out to be a much more effective way of… getting to know each other.
I find out, amongst other things, that Frankie has a good appetite, is up for trying anything as long as it isn’t in her red meat, peanut or mango food groups, has a really gorgeous smile (which she deploys to great effect on the server, who will not stop coming over to see if there’s anything else she needs), isn’t loving working in the café but is sure she’ll get used to it, and in her school days was a champion high jumper.
‘Yep,’ she confirms. ‘Actual school and district record holder aged twelve.’
‘Erm.’ I don’t know how to put this politely, because clearly one should never comment on anyone’s physical appearance, but I do also want to know.
Because Frankie is – objectively – gorgeous in every way, but she is not tall, or even averagely heighted.
‘Are… most high jumpers usually quite… tall?’
She sniggers. ‘You look so uncomfortable right now trying to pose your question as delicately as possible. Yes, most high jumpers are quite tall. That is why I am no longer a champion one. I grew young. I was genuinely really tall for my age until I was twelve.’
All I can say is: ‘Wow.’
‘What are you thinking about dessert?’ she asks.
‘I’m thinking that if you want one so do I,’ I say promptly. She definitely does. She’s reading the menu very intently.
‘I’m thinking the banana sticky rice looks very tempting.’ She points at the menu.
‘You’re right. As does the passionfruit coconut cake.’
‘We’re going to have to get both and share.’
‘Rude not to,’ I confirm.
Our conversation ambles on, and I learn more small things but nothing big about Frankie, until she fails to suppress a giant yawn just after the server has placed a big pot of ginger and lemon tea between us.
‘Time to go?’ I ask.
‘Mmm.’ She smiles over at our server who leaps straight to attention and is with us within seconds. ‘Could we get the bill please?’ Then, after he’s told her of course and leapt away again to get straight on it, she turns to me and says, ‘I’m getting this. I have a lot to thank you for.’
‘No, no, no,’ I say.
‘Yes, yes, yes.’
‘The thing is…’ I frown, not sure exactly how to word this.
‘Basically. When you were drunk and we were talking in Miranda’s utility, you mentioned that you had no job, no home and no money.
And, um, I don’t wish to be crass, but currently I’m in a perfectly good financial position.
And therefore I cannot possibly allow you to pay for my dinner.
Especially since this is not a cheap restaurant and I chose it.
So I’d love you to allow me to treat you. ’
Frankie shakes her head. ‘But I owe you big.’
I shake my own head. ‘No. You made the lasagne for me. And I’ve enjoyed this evening. I’d just have been sitting at home doing work admin otherwise.’
‘You mean spying admin?’
‘Exactly. And it’s a lot less interesting than it sounds,’ I say. ‘Anyway. Back to the bill. I would like to pay.’
‘But I need to recognise the entirely one-sided benefit of this fake relationship arrangement.’
‘I do get that because no-one likes to feel beholden,’ I say. ‘But bankrupting yourself would not make me feel good and therefore you would in no way be doing me a favour.’
Frankie sits and thinks. ‘It is true that I don’t have a lot of money at the moment.
What’s also true is that I’m going to have quite a lot of time on my hands.
What about if I make you a lasagne – or other dish of your choice – every week?
Or twice a week? For you, Ruby and Sam? I’d like to. If you’d like me to.’
‘I will very happily accept that offer if you let me pay for dinner now.’
Frankie sits and looks at me for several seconds and then says, ‘I feel like my arm has been severely twisted but maybe we have a deal.’
I grin at her. ‘Good. I’ve enjoyed this evening and now the kids and I are going to get a couple of good home-cooked meals a week without any effort whatsoever from me. I’m almost pleased about the fake relationship.’
Weirdly, that’s kind of true.