Chapter 22
MARCUS
As I arrive for Rose’s party, I’m looking forward to seeing how Frankie and Ellie have finished the decorations; I had to leave mid-afternoon to pick Sam up from his party.
I’m also, I know, looking forward to seeing Frankie and spending a lot of the party with her. And my other friends, obviously.
I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a great evening.
Ruby and Sam are at Rob and Miranda’s for another sleepover.
Miranda’s sister’s staying the night, to babysit Miranda’s four plus my two.
(I gave her a huge box of chocolates plus a bottle of wine as a thank you, because babysitting six kids of varying ages is clearly no easy task.)
The first thing I notice when I get inside the hall is that, wow, it really came together in the last few hours.
It looks amazing. Frankie and Ellie were both carving pumpkins when I left and they’ve done a fantastic job of giving them lots of different expressions.
They’ve put them on window ledges and shelves all round the hall and it’s genuinely as though wherever you go there’s at least one pumpkin head looking at you. The Mona Lisas of pumpkins.
The second thing I notice, because lately my eyes are always drawn in her direction, is that Frankie looks absolutely stunning in a long red dress that fits her very well. I begin to walk towards her, because I can’t not.
She’s walking towards me too, and, God, I love the way she walks in her dress. As she moves I can see that she’s wearing much higher heels than she usually wears. She always looks good, and this evening is definitely no exception.
I bump into someone – I’m struggling to pay attention to my surroundings – and murmur a sorry, before continuing towards Frankie, and then realise that the person I bumped into has grasped my sleeve.
I turn to look who it is – it’s hard to imagine why anyone other than one of my children would grab hold of me like that – and discover that it is my grandfather.
‘Roderick,’ I say. He’s never liked us to call him anything like Grandpa or Grandad.
Ruby and Sam call him Roderick too. ‘I didn’t know…
I’m surprised…’ He doesn’t know Rose, surely.
Well, to be more accurate, he doesn’t know Rose any more.
Legend has it that, over sixty years ago, they were engaged until she did the stuff of Mills every time I’ve called to see if he’d like a visit he’s been out. But, also, I’ve been a lot busier than usual too, being a fake boyfriend. Oh, God. He’s going to meet Frankie and we’re going to have to tell him that we’re a couple.
Oddly, I don’t much mind that thought, although I really should.
‘I hear you have too. With romance.’ He raises his eyebrows in Frankie’s direction, and if I’m not mistaken, goes for a bit of eyebrow waggling. ‘Could this be the young lady in question?’
I’m surprised; I didn’t think he’d be up to speed with Milbury gossip.
‘Yes,’ I say, and reach my hand out in Frankie’s direction.
After a moment’s hesitation she takes it.
I can’t believe that after all our chat about preparation we forgot to plan the specifics of this evening, as in how we’re going to act around each other, in particular in regard to PDA.
I also can’t believe how right her hand feels in mine.
‘Roderick,’ I say, ‘this is Frankie. Frankie, this is my grandfather, Roderick.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Frankie says.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you too. We must sit down and get to know each other much better later on.’
‘I’d love that.’ Frankie doesn’t bat an eyelid; she’s a great actress. Clearly she doesn’t actually want to get to know him, because that’s just going to make things even more awkward when we… in her words… fizzle out.
‘I need to go and speak to Rose now, but I’ll see the two of you again this evening.’ And off he heads, straight for Frankie’s grandmother, who’s sitting in state on a raised area at the end of the hall, on one of two red-velvet-covered, high-backed chairs.
‘He’s amazingly fit for his age,’ Frankie says. ‘Wonderful. Something to aspire to.’
I open my mouth to agree, but no words come out because at that moment Roderick reaches Rose, kisses her on the lips and takes the chair next to hers.
‘Erm.’ Frankie is blinking and shaking her head. ‘What?’
I don’t have any words at all right now, so I can’t answer.
‘Maybe,’ Frankie says, in a grasping-at-straws manner, ‘that’s just a thing amongst their generation. When they’re greeting very old friends.’
‘Kissing them on the lips?’ I query.
‘Yep.’
‘Not something I’ve ever witnessed before between two people who haven’t spoken for over sixty years.’
‘No.’ Frankie nods slowly. ‘You do have a point there.’
I look down at her slightly pursed lips and wish that I could kiss her. I mean, it’s kind of ridiculous. We’ve been living this fake relationship in all ways except physical for the past few weeks, and we obviously are not kissing, while my grandfather and her grandmother are.
I draw Frankie away, into the corner where she and Ellie had the stepladder earlier, and say, ‘That was very, very odd, but I think the biggest thing we need to discuss is how we…’ I’m not really sure how to put it ‘…interact this evening. With each other, I mean. We probably need to… hold hands a little. For example.’
‘Oh, yes! You’re right!’ Frankie’s very squeaky and exclamatory all of a sudden. ‘Yes, we should hold hands. The appropriate amount. When people are watching.’
‘Like this.’ I take both her hands in mine and smile down at her.
God, she’s beautiful. Especially when she wrinkles her nose and bites her bottom lip like that.
Actually, she’s beautiful whatever she does.
When I met her I thought she was attractive.
Now I know her properly, well, if I were younger I’d call her insanely hot.
‘Very good.’ Her voice has switched from squeaky to husky. ‘You’re an excellent actor.’
I tug her hands a little and pull her a little closer, in a very lover-like fashion, so that our chests are almost touching and – despite her heels – she has to tip her head backwards to look at me properly.
‘I am a great actor. I think this is…’ God, my own voice is equally husky now. ‘Very lover-like.’
‘Mmm.’ She takes a deep breath and I find it very hard not to look at her chest and the low neckline of her dress.
‘I wonder whether…’ I move a strand of hair away from her face with my finger ‘…lovers would do this.’
‘I think they might.’ Frankie’s voice is a little shaky.
If I were really her lover, there’s a lot I would do right now that would be entirely unacceptable since I am not her lover. I need to remember that and not go too far with the method acting.
So I take a deep breath and say, ‘We should probably dance together later on too.’
Frankie responds with a deep breath of her own. ‘Good idea.’
‘I like your dress,’ I can’t help observing. ‘It… fits you very well.’
She gives me a cheeky little half-smile, very flirtatious-looking.
Great acting. Definitely acting. We’re both acting right now.
Definitely only acting. ‘Thank you.’ She does a little shimmy for me and I wonder whether it’s possible to pass out from lust. ‘I like your dinner suit. I haven’t seen you in a suit before. ’
‘Thank you. I haven’t seen you in a dress like this before.’ I’m trying very hard to talk normally and I’m not sure I’m succeeding.
‘No.’ She smiles some more, and I wonder why it is only now that I’m articulating to myself that I find her incredibly attractive and unless she doesn’t feel the same way or has a lot more willpower than I think I’m going to have, I’d like to carry the method acting to an extreme.
I know I’ve already decided that would be a bad idea, but right now I’m struggling to remember exactly why.
‘You and Ellie did a great job finishing off the decorations,’ I say, because my brain doesn’t seem to be working well enough for interesting chat.
‘Thank you again.’
It’s weird. Usually we have so much to talk about.
Right now, it’s like we have almost nothing to say to each other.
But I really, really don’t want to stop this non-conversation.
I’m loving it. Everything about it. The holding of Frankie’s hands, the almost-touching of our chests, the air of flirtatiousness surrounding us, the subtext of our near-non-conversation, which I’m not sure I fully understand but which I’m very much delighting in.
‘Sooo,’ Frankie says after we’ve been standing there saying nothing, just holding hands and looking at each other, for really quite a long time. ‘Um, how often do you wear a tux?’ Like she’s trying to snap us out of whatever we’ve been in for the past few minutes.
‘Not that often,’ I say, proud of myself for rising to the occasion and managing to begin to converse normally. ‘The last time must have been about six months ago.’
‘That’s weird for a spy. I feel like James Bond is in dinner suits a lot.’
I nod. ‘Yeah. Maybe I should have been a spy.’
‘Well, the dinner suit does suit you, so if you genuinely aren’t a spy, you’ve really missed a trick.’
‘Yeah, I’m not so sure. I don’t know how comfortable it would be wearing one all the time. Having to wrangle with bow ties every day. You know.’
Frankie takes one hand out of mine for a second and reaches up and adjusts my tie.
‘Method acting,’ she says, while I try to ignore how it felt when her fingers brushed my neck.
I can’t help it. I release her other hand and slide my arms around her waist.
‘Method acting,’ I say.