Chapter 20
MARCUS
It’s Sunday evening and, while I sit at my desk in my study filling in a seemingly never-ending set of forms about Ruby’s upcoming school trip to Normandy, I’m texting Frankie to check that she’s back safely from London.
I realise, as I tap my screen, that I might well be overstepping the mark because I am not her actual boyfriend, just a regular friend, and is it normal for regular friends to check up on each other?
Yes, it is, I decide. Women definitely check that their friends are back safely.
It’s just that I don’t happen to have had any close female friends recently.
I’ve been missing out, I realise. I had female friends in my group at uni.
But then I met Astrid, and since she left I’ve been very busy with the kids.
I’d definitely call Ellie a good friend, but we’re both busy and don’t chat that much.
There are school mums, like Miranda, but I’m more friends with their partners.
And… well, that’s about it. I suppose part of it is that, as a single dad in his thirties, you just don’t meet that many women if you aren’t in the market for a relationship.
Anyway. Frankie has immediately replied to say that yes she’s safely back in Milbury and yes she had a great weekend, thank you.
Well, good. I’d really like to ask whether she enjoyed it so much that she’s tempted to move back to London sooner rather than later but, firstly, somehow that isn’t the kind of thing we talk about, even though we talk about all sorts of topics, and, secondly, I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
If she leaves – or rather when she leaves – I’m really going to miss her.
She’s been away for a day and a half this weekend and, weirdly, even though I’ve been quite busy during that time, I’ve felt slightly lonely.
I like knowing that she’s there, around for a five-minute chat every so often, as well as our evenings together.
Yesterday evening, Ruby, Sam and I went to the cinema together.
I enjoyed it, but I would have enjoyed it even more if Frankie had been there.
I wanted to text her immediately to tell her that we’d seen another Marvel film and that being honest this one wasn’t great, but that there were a couple of funny bits that she would have appreciated.
But I didn’t, because I didn’t want to intrude into her London weekend and her time with her real friends.
I am, of course, an interim friend. I assume – hope – that we’ll keep in touch when this is all over.
When she goes back to London, though, she’ll obviously be busy and when she does make it back to Milbury she’ll be busy with Ellie and her grandmother.
Yeah, no, I’m thinking stupid thoughts. Probably brought on by the boredom of admin.
Frankie is a good friend, we have fun together, she gets on well with the kids, which is a brilliant bonus, she cooks us delicious food, and I should just be grateful to have made a fantastic new friend at my time of life and take it as it comes.
She’s very attractive, obviously. Once you get to know someone’s personality and you love their personality, you always find them very attractive, because they’re them. And, also, objectively, she is very attractive. And that is all actually entirely irrelevant. To anything.
I should really just get back on with my admin.
* * *
The next lunchtime, I decide to go to the café for a sandwich and to buy a cake for the kids for later. They’ve been on half-term for a week, and they weren’t ecstatic to be back at school this morning. This will cheer them up.
Frankie’s face splits into a wide smile when she sees me come through the door, and I feel my own lips broaden into an even bigger grin.
‘Hey, stranger,’ I say. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been travelling. I visited the big smoke.’
‘How was it?’
‘You know.’ She smiles more. ‘Big. Smoky. Well, polluted, anyway. Seriously, you only have to have a few weeks away from London to find the Tube disgusting. Like when you blow your nose after you’ve been on it, it’s all black.’
‘Only solution: you’re going to have to stay here forever.
’ I’m slightly aghast as soon as the words are out of my mouth; I was not going to ask her about things like this.
‘Or somewhere else in the country,’ I amend my words.
No, that just sounded odd. I need to switch the subject a little. ‘So how was your party?’
‘Really fun. I saw a lot of old friends. Met some new people. Had a little too much Prosecco. Danced for a long time with some of my oldest girlfriends and got blisters.’
‘Sounds like the perfect evening.’ I really want to know what she meant by met some new people. What kind of meeting was that? Chatting? Or… other stuff. Like, did she hook up with someone? And is that anything to do with me? No, it is not. It really isn’t.
‘Yeah, it was great,’ she says.
‘So.’ I think we should get off the subject of London and parties and meeting people. ‘Has the café changed at all since you went away?’ I shake my head as soon as I finish the question, because, er, of course it hasn’t.
Frankie laughs. ‘Well, I was away for nearly a full thirty-six hours, during which time obviously you would imagine a lot could change, and yet… no. Still the same. And the job is the same. I’ve baked some cakes this morning.
Two blueberry, lime and pistachio ones, and two parsnip, ginger and lemon ones. ’
‘Parsnip?’ I query.
‘Yup. It’s good. Like carrot or courgette in a cake.’
‘But parsnip?’
‘Exactly.’
She beams at me, like please like my weird new flavour, so I find myself saying, ‘Well I think I’d better try a slice now. And I’ll take a blueberry and lime one for the kids for later. And could I get a coffee? And what sandwiches do you have?’
Frankie talks me into today’s seasonal specials: a gingerbread latte and a roasted butternut squash, cranberry and brie sandwich. I decide to stay and eat my sandwich and parsnip cake in the café. I’ll just work later this evening after the kids are in bed.
A few other customers come in and I help Frankie out while I eat my (surprisingly good) sandwich.
I approach the cake with a certain amount of trepidation. In fact, why don’t I take it away and taste one mouthful out of curiosity and then tell her it was nice.
‘I might…’ I begin.
Frankie raises a finger. ‘I literally just saw a whole idea pass through your mind. You think you’re going to hate the cake so you don’t want to taste it in front of me. In fact, you don’t want to taste it at all. But you don’t want to offend me.’
I laugh. ‘Fine. I’ll eat it here. Maybe only one mouthful though.’ A minute later, I swallow and say, ‘Okay, weirdly that was nice. Actually delicious.’
Frankie nods very smugly, and something strange shifts inside me. All I can do is smile at her, until my phone buzzes several times in quick succession with email notifications and I remember that I do have a job.
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Work.’
‘Russian spies to catch?’
‘Exactly.’ I stand up. ‘Maybe see you tomorrow? The kids and I will definitely be here on Wednesday for potluck.’ I know that’s only two days away, but I feel like I don’t want to wait that long to see her again.
‘Tomorrow I’m having dinner with Gran, who’s been very elusive recently – she has such a good social life – but I’m here during the day or just after work.’
‘What about a walk after you finish? We need to make the most of the lighter afternoons before the clocks change?’ I can’t remember the last time I suggested going for a walk round the village with anyone. The kids would say no and… I wouldn’t ask anyone else.
‘Perfect. See you tomorrow five thirtyish? Obviously let me know if MI5 need you.’
* * *
I’m at the café the next afternoon waiting for her as she finishes. We walk round the back of the High Street and along a path to a stile that leads to a path up a hill overlooking the village and the bay.
‘How’s your day been?’ Frankie asks.
‘Good. The usual. A lot of tramping around fields and a lot of paperwork. What about yours?’
‘Made some cakes, served some customers, finished all the party prep apart from last-minute stuff, did some blue-sky thinking about my future career.’
‘Where did you get to on the career thoughts?’ I realise that I’m being extremely selfish but I don’t want Frankie to leave Milbury, even though I have nothing to offer her beyond friendship.
She clearly feels drawn to London, and, after what happened with Astrid leaving us and going to Germany, I’d always be worried that Frankie would leave too.
The kids really like her, and there would be a risk that she would become some kind of mother figure to them, and I couldn’t bear them then to feel abandoned for a second time if Frankie then left.
Ruby and Sam are everything to me, and I have to do what’s right for them, i.e.
not have a serious romantic relationship.
‘I like organising events,’ she tells me.
‘I loved doing the potluck supper last week. I’ve loved organising the party.
I also love cooking and would happily do larger-scale catering.
But I still don’t love working in the café.
I could do part-time here, definitely, but not full-time.
Also… yeah, no.’ She looks like she had something completely separate to talk about but then thought better of it.
I open my mouth to probe and then remember that I’d be hypocritical in the extreme to expect her to tell me about her career plans if I won’t tell her what I do. I’d like to tell her and I do trust her, so maybe I will. Actually, no, what am I thinking? I haven’t even fully told the kids.
‘I want to find something that fits in with my long-term plans,’ Frankie continues, while I’m still thinking.
‘Oh, yes?’ I ask, looking ahead at the path rather than at her. It’s definitely the case that teenagers talk better when you’re side by side with them, not really looking at them. Maybe that works with adults too sometimes.
‘A lot of my friends have or are having babies. I think I’d like to try for a baby myself.’
‘Oh.’ I had not expected that. God. She isn’t going to want to carry on with this fake relationship for a lot longer then. Or… does she want me to…? No, of course not. Of course not.
‘Your face is so funny right now.’ She sniggers.
‘You look so wide-eyed shocked. No, I am not expecting our fake relationship to extend to fatherhood. What I meant was I’m done with real relationships.
Too many bad ones and no good ones. I’m going to try to go it alone.
With a sperm donor. So I think I’ll want to work flexibly and obviously I’ll need to be in a position to support a baby. ’
‘Wow,’ I say, still a little bit thrown, although I’m certain she’d be an amazing mother and what she says makes total sense. ‘Big plans.’
‘Yeah,’ she agrees.
‘So are you thinking you’d rather stay in Milbury or go back to London?’
‘I’m really not sure right now. I think, ultimately, if I decide to try for the solo parenting route I should maybe move back to London.
I do have Ellie and Gran here, but in London I just feel that my job opportunities would be better, and there’s more childcare available.
Ellie obviously has her job and Gran is elderly, so I couldn’t possibly rely on them to help too much.
So, yep, probably back there in due course.
Maybe when my tenants’ term on my flat is up next year. ’
I nod. That exactly underlines my concerns about what would happen if we allowed romance to develop between us. She’d leave eventually and I’d be bereft, and, more importantly, so would the kids.
God. I don’t know at what point in our friendship we morphed into talking about big things, but I do know that this is a big thing and that I really don’t want Frankie to leave Milbury but that I cannot possibly ask her to stay.