Chapter 18
MARCUS
Frankie is adorable.
Big hair, big eyes, an even bigger smile.
She’s wearing that smile as she looks up at me and all I want to do is keep on smiling back and looking into those eyes for as long as I can.
Well, that isn’t all I want to do. I’m having a lot of thoughts and instincts right now that I should not be having and certainly shouldn’t act on.
It’s just that the way she has just one dimple that peeps out when she’s grinning, and the way she tilts her head…
It’s very difficult to remember at times that this is fake.
It is fake, though.
We are platonic friends. We’re becoming really close platonic friends, actually, and I’m loving that. It’s rare to have such a close female friend – certainly in my experience anyway – and I’m enjoying it a lot.
‘I apologise,’ I reply. ‘It was totally plausible. I can’t think of a more plausible film.’
‘You like Star Wars. Super plausible?’
‘I mean, yes?’
We smile at each other – kind of soppily – if I’m honest, and then I remember that we’re platonic friends, and I say, ‘Time to go?’
I manage not to take Frankie’s hand as we walk out of the cinema and along the road to the car, because that would clearly be inappropriate given the fully platonic nature of our friendship, which it seems this evening I do need to keep reminding myself about.
All the way back to Milbury we’re busy talking about nothing, the way good friends can do, and when I stop outside the café, I don’t want to stop the nothing chat, so I say, ‘Guessing I should pop in for a few minutes to satisfy the grapevine.’
‘That would be perfect if you have time.’
I think about my big house which contains lots of admin and other jobs but is empty of people currently, and say, ‘Plenty of time,’ and then get out of the car.
‘Do you like Scrabble?’ Frankie asks as we climb the stairs.
‘Kind of ambivalent. I can’t remember the last time I played.’
‘Simon is a very keen Scrabbler. He has two boards. He brought a board up the other evening for us to play. I also hadn’t played for a long time but it’s a good game.’
‘I don’t think Mrs Bittern will be expecting us to play Scrabble now.’
‘No,’ Frankie agrees. ‘But are you up for it?’ She pauses, her key in the lock of her front door. ‘Bittern. I think that’s a kind of bird. It’s seven letters. Simon is really good at seven-letter words. I think maybe he learns them purely for Scrabble.’
‘Sneaky.’ I mock-frown. ‘How do I know that you haven’t been learning words before luring me up here to lose to you?’
‘Good question. You’ll just have to wait and see.’
Fifteen minutes later, it turns out that Frankie and I are extremely evenly matched. We’re both delighted when she places the word ‘tern’, which she manages to get quite a lot of points for, because she cross-links it with several other words plus uses a double word score twice.
‘Thank you to Mrs Bittern,’ she says.
‘And an even bigger thank you,’ I say, placing a ‘bit’ in front of her ‘tern’.
‘Did you save those letters for a long time?’ she asks.
‘Yep. You?’
‘Yes,’ she says happily.
Seriously. It really does feel as though we were meant to be friends. We do just get on very well. I mean, Scrabble? Not something I’ve ever imagined as fun. But here we are, having fun playing it.
‘Simon was right,’ I observe. ‘Genuinely good fun.’
‘Indeed.’ She tilts her head to one side, which is a thing she does when she’s had an idea and wants to think it through. ‘What about a Scrabble evening in the café? Scrabble and cake?’
‘I think you might struggle to get a lot of people in the first place,’ I say, ‘but once you’d dragged them through the door they’d really enjoy it and would come back.’
‘We could have some kind of speed version,’ she muses. ‘Or one where everyone in the room has the same letters and you put the best score down each time.’
‘Or a theme?’ I suggest. ‘Like cakes?’
‘What, you have to put cake-related words down every time?’
I nod. Then we look at each other and I shake my head. ‘That wouldn’t work.’
We continue to muse while we complete our game, and I really cannot remember when I’ve had such a pleasant evening with anyone.
Other than Ruby and Sam, obviously. Other than last time I saw Frankie.
It’s almost better each time, though, as we get to know each other more and more, get more comfortable in each other’s company.
‘I’ve just remembered,’ I say suddenly. ‘Ruby asked me to ask you. No pressure whatsoever. As in, please just say no. Or maybe it’s Simon’s decision in which case please tell him that he is more than welcome to just say no.
Or I can ask him myself if you’d prefer not to.
But basically she’s been investigating and has shown me all the links to the relevant government websites, and from the age of fourteen you can work up to twelve hours a week outside school hours, and she wonders whether there might be a job going for her in the café. ’
‘I think there might well be,’ Frankie says.
‘We do need someone on a Saturday and we have discussed it, but Simon doesn’t like most people, and we can’t have anyone he doesn’t like.
Obviously I’m sure he would like Ruby, but there might be some reason like insurance or something that might mean he can’t hire her.
I’ll definitely mention it to him, though. ’
‘Perfect, thank you.’ I move my letters around, quietly confident that I’m about to perform a miracle and win the game.
‘Look. Quieten.’ I manage to get the ‘e’ on the end of another word so that my genius seven-letter word goes through a triple-word-score square.
Frankie’s been ahead of me most of the way through but I’m now going to win, I’m sure.
‘Wow,’ she says, before adding an ‘s’ to the end of ‘quietens’ and putting her own seven-letter word (‘sitting’) down.
‘We are unbelievably evenly matched,’ I say, doing my best to hide my disappointment that our scores are now even again.
‘Ha, ha, ha,’ Frankie says. ‘You looked so smug and now so crestfallen.’
I really want to hug her, which I’m not sure I should do, even though obviously it would be a platonic hug, so I spend a lot of time rearranging my letters.
When we’ve finished the game we still seem to have a lot of nothing to talk about, so Frankie makes us another coffee, until eventually I see her yawning and check my watch to see that it’s 2 a.m., and immediately stand up to go.
Yes, we’ve had a very nice evening, but, no, I shouldn’t overstay my welcome.
There’s an odd moment in front of her door where we both lean in for a goodbye hug and our faces get a little too close, but we both kind of brush any momentary awkwardness away, and then Frankie tells me that she’ll drop round the veggie tagine she’s offered to make for us for tomorrow evening’s dinner at about 3 p.m., and I thank her quite formally and then leave.
* * *
It kind of feels like everything’s good at the moment, I reflect on Sunday afternoon when Frankie turns up with the tagine, and Ruby – Ruby, not me – invites her in for a cup of tea.
Although it does immediately appear as though she had an ulterior motive for the invitation. Even before Frankie’s seated in the kitchen, Ruby says, ‘Dad mentioned that he asked you whether you need someone else to work in the café.’
‘Simon needs to think about it and work things out,’ Frankie tells Ruby, ‘and it might not be possible, but it’s a definite maybe. He’ll get back to you as soon as he can.’
‘Cool,’ Ruby says. And then she asks Frankie about where she got her coat and then they start talking more generally about clothes, which is also nice.
Not to be stereotypical about male and female roles, but I am at a bit of a loss when it comes to discussing teenage girl fashion, and, while it turns out that Frankie also isn’t entirely knowledgeable about what girls twenty years younger than her wear or where they shop, she’s a lot better at these conversations than I am.
‘You know what,’ Frankie says as I make drinks for us all and Ruby shows her three different tops on her phone, ‘I really like them all but the thing is, I’m twenty years older than you, and at my age you can just wear what you like and what you know suits you, but it’s a little trickier at your age.
Plus, at your age everything suits you.’ She looks sideways at me.
‘I mean, I’m guessing there are things your dad doesn’t think you should wear, but that’s a parent thing. ’
‘He still thinks I’m a little girl,’ Ruby says, also looking sideways at me.
You are, I want to shout. I manage to say nothing.
Frankie looks thoughtful. ‘You’re at an interesting age,’ she says.
‘You’re so grown-up in some ways and really not that far off being an actual adult, but also you are still really young.
As in, a lot of people are still much older than you and you haven’t yet had the opportunity to live much adult-style life.
It’s tricky being fourteen. I remember it. ’
I wait with bated breath to see what’s going to happen next and… Ruby smiles. She just smiles.
And then she says, ‘Yes,’ before standing up and hugging Frankie, who hugs her right back.
And… wow. One of my two favourite people in the world is hugging my new… well, I’d have to say almost best friend. I’m getting a warm-inside feeling.
‘Would you like to stay for dinner with us?’ Ruby asks.
‘I’d have loved to, thank you, but I’m eating with Ellie and Jack. Also veggie tagine. I made double.’
‘Soon?’ Ruby asks.
‘That would be wonderful,’ Frankie says.
‘I really like Frankie,’ Ruby tells me when Frankie has left.
Me too, I think.
‘Yeah, she’s great,’ I say.