Chapter 15
FRANKIE
Work drags a little less than usual on Thursday, for several reasons.
I have Wednesdays off, so yesterday I had a break from the monotony of being behind the counter.
Obviously that helped. I had a long lunch with Gran and helped her deadhead some plants in the garden, which was very relaxing and a world away from, well, everything else in my life.
She mentioned Marcus once and said that she’d heard that we were out together the other evening (so obviously we’re doing a good job of convincing the grapevine that we’re in a real relationship).
The mention made me feel a little tense, because no-one likes lying, but once that was done, things felt exactly like they usually do between Gran and me and we had a lovely, chilled few hours together.
I think the main reason, though, that work feels better than usual on Thursday might be that I have plans for both the next two evenings, Friday and Saturday. I’m discovering fast that when your days aren’t super full and you live alone, you do kind of need to have social things arranged.
I already had plans with Ellie for Saturday, and now I’m going to the cinema with Marcus tomorrow.
I have to say I’m really looking forward to it, because I feel like we’ve somehow morphed into proper friends.
It’s a date but it is also absolutely not a date.
There’s none of the pressure you feel when you’re on one of your first dates with someone new, because this is never going to be a real romance.
At the end of the weird film we watched the other evening, I had a strange moment where I thought briefly about kissing him, but we didn’t kiss, in fact we didn’t get anywhere near kissing, and we obviously never will.
And, yes, he’s very attractive, and, yes, maybe little thoughts – wonderings – about what it might be like to kiss him – and other stuff – might on occasion pop into my head. But I’m not going to act on them. I mean, he obviously doesn’t want to, and nor do I.
So this is a genuine platonic friendship with a nice person, at a time in my life when I’m happily welcoming new platonic friends.
And if we could enjoy watching that terrible film together, I think we can enjoy watching any film.
Looking forward to the weekend has me in a happy enough mood that I smile my way through the early morning rush and the dead bit from nine thirtyish to eleven, during which time I have one table of people to look after and that’s it.
During the dead time, I get an email from my mother telling me that, yes, she’d love to join Gran’s party and she’s sorry she didn’t reply earlier (it’s actually nearly two weeks since I emailed her) and can I book her plane ticket and she’ll pay me back.
I book the ticket (which as always with all the different airlines and flight options is quite time-consuming, so that kills a good half hour) and then I spend the rest of the time trying to work out ways to have the café busier for longer and also make sure that we don’t ever have to throw any food away.
I’m interrupted by Mrs Bittern coming in.
‘What can I get you?’ I ask her.
‘Oh, nothing, thank you.’ She waves a dismissive hand in the direction of all our wonderful cakes.
‘Not even maybe a gorgeous cinnamon latte?’ I suggest. ‘All the oranges and browns outside with the leaves falling are making me crave lovely autumn food and drink, and I’m guessing you might feel similarly.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘I don’t like modern drinks.’
‘Cup of English breakfast?’
‘No.’ She shakes her head firmly. ‘I don’t want any food or drink. I just came in to ask how you and Marcus Brooks are getting on. I’ve got bridge club this evening in the church hall and all the ladies were asking about you last week.’
‘Oh,’ I say. My goodness. The gossip levels in this village. Marcus is absolutely right about us having to make sure we really do demonstrate our relationship by visibly seeing each other a lot.
‘We’re getting on very well,’ I tell Mrs Bittern.
‘Is marriage on the cards?’ she asks.
Seriously.
‘Early days,’ I say, with a smile as fake as my romance.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ And off she goes.
Well, wow. I’ll have to tell Marcus about this. He’ll laugh.
I stare after Mrs Bittern for a while and then I get back to trying to think of ways to make myself busier.
Suddenly, I have a brainwave. I could host a two-course potluck supper once a week for maybe a tenner a head, and use up all the ingredients that we haven’t used during the week.
Also, maybe we could have different themes for our evenings.
A bingo night. A film night (nothing post-apocalypse-related).
A board games night. That might help lonely people like Mrs Bittern as well.
I fire off a several texts to Simon describing my plans, feeling more and more enthusiastic as I write.
He replies:
Hun, that might work or it might not but if it makes you happy let’s do it. Anything to reduce food waste. Mi café es tu café. You plan it, I’ll come.
Okay. Good. Hopefully that will both keep me a bit busier and do some good.
I know that I’m very lucky to have this job but being honest I do not love being cooped up indoors.
I might not miss Rick but I do miss my old job, where I was out and about a lot.
I can’t even leave the café during my lunch break because there’s no-one to cover for me.
Marcus turns up at about eleven forty-five, to buy a coffee, and, he tells me, to maintain our visible relationship status.
‘I am so glad to see you,’ I tell him. ‘I’m really, really grateful for this job, like really grateful, but, also, I’m feeling so, so stir-crazy. And if I can’t go outside it is at least lovely to have someone to talk to.’
‘Oh my God,’ Marcus says. ‘I hadn’t thought that you’re stuck in here all day every day. I kind of vaguely thought you and Simon would be working together a little.’
‘Simon’s here on the weekends. And we’re looking to hire someone else to help on Saturdays.
And I have Tuesday mornings and all day Wednesday off.
And Sunday afternoons if it isn’t too busy.
It’s totally fine. And I’m really pleased to be helping him.
He’s loving his new business. He’s opening a shop in Chartfield, and he’s out and about the whole time either sorting that or seeing clients and he’s buzzing with happiness. ’
‘Amazing luck for both of you that you turned up at this point.’
I nod. ‘Yes. I don’t think he could have moved ahead with his new business if he hadn’t had someone he trusted with the café.
’ Simon is extremely fussy about people and therefore struggles to find anyone he’s happy to hire, so before I came along he was working here by himself the majority of the time, frustrated that he had no time for his interior design work.
‘And obviously, yes, it’s been amazing for me. ’
‘But you wouldn’t mind a little break outside.’
‘Just occasionally. But I feel guilty for even thinking that let alone saying it out loud.’
‘You know what. I have an hour spare. Why don’t I mind the café while you go for a walk?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that,’ I say automatically.
‘Because?’
‘Erm, because I already owe you big.’
‘Seriously.’ Marcus mock-frowns at me. ‘From my perspective we’ve become friends, and sometimes friends help each other out. Simon and I know each other well; he’ll be totally happy for me to do it. I have an hour free now and I have my phone so I can catch up on some of my never-ending emails.’
‘Emails from the spy people?’ I check.
‘Exactly. They all relate to poisoned umbrellas and leaving notes in trees.’
‘Well, in that case… I wouldn’t mind taking a quick fifteen-minute walk. In the interests of helping MI5 admin.’
‘Do it,’ he orders. ‘Also, the grapevine will be pleased to see me helping you out.’
‘Oh yes, I meant to tell you. Gran commented yesterday that she’d heard about our cinema trip. And Mrs Bittern asked me earlier if we have marriage plans.’
‘Wow.’ Marcus’s eyes are wide and his lips are quirking upwards like they do as he begins a chuckle. His laughs are extremely infectious because they start smallish and then they really build and there’s something about them that just makes you happy.
‘I know.’ I grin at his mirth and then I’m laughing too.
When we stop with the laughter, we’re both smiling, into each other’s eyes, and there’s a long moment of… something.
I’m suddenly swallowing, hard, and I see Marcus moisten his lips.
‘Okay,’ he says, after another long moment, his voice a little odd. ‘Go and take that walk.’
‘Thank you.’ I feel almost shaky. So weird.
I smile at him again, and he smiles back again, and I spend a good few seconds marvelling at how gorgeous his smile is and how you could happily spend a lot of time just looking at him – the smile is wide and just a tiny bit crooked, and it causes his eyes to scrunch at the sides, and it’s like the whole world feels better when you see it – until I realise that we’ve now been standing just smiling at each other for really quite a long time.
‘I need to show you how to use the till,’ I suddenly realise.
Marcus moves round behind the counter with me, and I’m very surprised by how little space there is here. When I’m behind here with Simon there’s loads of space, and it isn’t like Simon’s tiny.
I think the difference is that every time Marcus and I brush against each other, I really notice, whereas with Simon, no, I don’t.