Chapter 23
FRANKIE
Marcus, my fake boyfriend, is holding me in his arms and whisking me round the dance floor and, honestly, I’ve never, ever in my life enjoyed a dance as much as this. Not a single real boyfriend I’ve ever had has made me feel so tingly and joyful and almost deliriously happy.
His hands are large and firm and warm on my waist and back, and everywhere they touch me I just want to wriggle into him, for more.
He’s the perfect height. And the perfect width.
He leads me perfectly when leading is required (I didn’t even really know I could waltz but apparently I can when I’m with Marcus; Gran and Roderick have chosen a playlist with a lot of classic songs and tunes on it, and are encouraging everyone to go for a bit of ballroom dancing), and he makes me almost choke with laughter when there’s a ‘modern music interlude’ as Gran refers to it.
I feel fizzy with happiness about the fact that Marcus only has eyes for me as we dance, and in turn I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
It’s wonderful, it’s amazing, it’s fantastic. I don’t want the night to end.
It does, though, eventually, at 2 a.m.
Gran and Roderick – who must have the constitution of oxen because this is a big night by anyone’s standards, including people a fifth of their age, like Jack – join us for the last dance, another ballad, also unrecognisable because it’s from decades past. Couples sway in each other’s arms; those not coupled up sway in groups.
Marcus holds me close against his chest, and I lean into him, wanting to cling and cling. My arms are round his neck and he has one hand against the small of my back and the other holding my upper back, and I really, really wish that we could kiss. Just once.
That isn’t appropriate, though, obviously. We are fake. I know that.
As the music ends, Marcus continues to hold me close, until voices around us pierce our bubble and we both draw back slightly.
Ned Rossiter, a Milbury inhabitant who is loudly teetotal, often when others are having a very nice time with a couple of drinks at the pub, comes into his own and tells Gran and Roderick that he’ll drive them home.
And Marcus tells me that he’ll walk me home.
I could, obviously, walk with Simon, given that we live in the same place. And I love Simon. But right now, I don’t want my night with Marcus to end.
‘Are you…?’ Simon has obviously had a similar thought; he’s popped up beside us.
‘I’m happy to walk Frankie home,’ Marcus says. Like I need to be walked home through crime-free Milbury.
I don’t quibble, though; instead, I murmur, ‘Thank you.’
‘Careful,’ says Simon in my ear, before leaving.
‘Where did you put your shoes?’ Marcus asks.
‘Oh yes.’ I’d forgotten about them. I took them off hours ago.
I retrieve them from the radiator shelf where I left them; they feel nice and toasty when I put them on. Marcus holds his arm out for me as has become his wont; I take it, and off we go.
Given that a lot of the people in the village have been at the party, the few streets of Milbury are remarkably busy for any time of day, let alone two thirty in the morning.
My heels are a lot less comfortable than they were at the beginning of the evening, so I can’t walk particularly quickly, and I also have no inclination to because I’d much rather hang back with Marcus than join everyone else.
We dawdle along at the rear as people disperse into their homes and up different lanes.
We continue along the High Street from the church and then, when we reach the café, I say, as I always do when Marcus and I have been out, ‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’
And Marcus, as he always does, says, ‘I’d better, for appearances.’
This time, I’m having trouble remembering that this is just for appearances, because it doesn’t feel right for a night like this not to end in a kiss at the very least. So much so that I fumble the keys in the lock and can barely get inside the café.
It takes me about five attempts, but finally we’re in, and through the room and out the back and going up the stairs.
‘Night,’ calls Simon as we go past his front door.
‘Night,’ I say.
‘Goodnight,’ Marcus says.
‘Be wise,’ Simon says.
I really, really want to tell him to shut up, but instead I say, ‘Ha.’
Marcus says nothing.
When we get to the door to my flat, I’m all thumbs again as I try to undo the lock, conscious the whole time of Marcus standing politely behind me.
Normally in this kind of situation he’d be joking about my sudden key-related incompetence, but he’s saying absolutely nothing, which is very unnerving and really not helping my fingers to work better.
Eventually, though I manage it.
‘Success!’ I say.
‘Well done!’ Marcus replies.
And then we stand there, just inside the door, and I begin to feel a little miserable. After that amazing evening are we now just going to sit and drink coffee and make excruciatingly polite conversation for fifteen minutes to keep the local busybodies happy and then just say a formal goodnight?
‘Tea or coffee?’ I ask miserably.
‘Frankie…’ Marcus reaches a hand out in my direction, and I find myself moving closer to him, like I did earlier, at the party.
And then, suddenly, I don’t know how, I’m in his arms again, and this time it isn’t for show because there’s no-one here.
He’s holding me like he did at the party, but kind of harder, so that we’re very close together. I have my hands on his shoulders and am looking up at him. The expression in his eyes is so intense that I can hardly breathe.
‘Frankie…’ he repeats.
And then he lowers his head and kisses me, and I feel as though this is what I’ve been waiting for forever, like this kiss is the one thing that my whole life has been aiming for until now.
It’s tender but urgent. It’s soft but hard. It’s all-consuming but I’m still able to think that I love this. And it feels completely right and not at all inappropriate but also so unbelievably naughty.
We kiss for a long time. Just kissing. Exploring, enjoying, loving. Loving… something.
Eventually, one of us – I’m not sure who – moves back a little.
I unwind my hands from where they’ve been buried in Marcus’s gorgeously thick hair, and he relaxes his hold on me, and then he steps away and holds his hand out, and I take it, just like I’ve been doing all evening, and then he leads me over to the sofa, sits down and pulls me onto his lap.
We start kissing again, and then Marcus begins to kiss along my jaw, down, into my neck, and then he traces along the neckline of my dress.
I’m almost juddering with anticipation now, wanting so much more.
Suddenly, as his thumbs caress me through my dress, I reach and pull his shirt out of his trousers.
He lifts his head and looks a question at me, and I smile. And then – suddenly more confident than I’ve ever felt in my life before – I slide off his lap and unzip my dress. He stands as it falls to the floor, and then I take his hand and lead him into my bedroom.
* * *
On Sunday morning I wake slowly, feeling unbelievably relaxed, contented, safe.
As I reach full consciousness, I realise that I’m in my bed, wrapped in Marcus’s arms, sharing a pillow with him.
I wriggle a little, and with one finger he moves my hair away from my face, before kissing me very tenderly on my cheek.
And in that moment, I know.
Well, I already knew. But I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge it, even just to myself.
But now I’m thinking it.
I love him.
Of course I do. He’s kind. He’s funny. We gel. Like, we can talk for hours. He’s very interesting. And he’s also very interested, which is lovely and flattering. Also, he is so sexy. Just gorgeous.
Something niggles at me and I rewind. Interesting. He’s interesting. I’m sure he isn’t a spy, but what is he?
‘What’s your secret?’ I ask, as he kisses me again.
‘Frankie! Did you only sleep with me to find that out?’ He keeps on kissing me and I move against him and he groans.
‘Of course,’ I say. I turn in his arms to face him. ‘The government sent me.’
‘Ha,’ he says. ‘Wasabi.’
‘What?’ I sit bolt upright. ‘Are you a spy? Is that a code word?’
Marcus laughs and puts his hands behind his head to prop himself up a little.
‘I grow wasabi,’ he says.
‘So… not a spy, just the holder of a very mundane secret?’ I clarify. ‘Or do MI5 use sentences as passwords?’
‘Wasabi is one of the most expensive crops in the world. And only a very small number of commercial farmers in Europe grow it. It has to be a heavily guarded secret to prevent theft, and I have to have a lot of security.’ He smiles at me and I lie back down and snuggle against him.
‘Genuinely, it’s quite an interesting market.
I enjoy it. Sorry I’m not a spy, though. ’
‘Yeah, being a spy probably isn’t as cool as it sounds.’
‘Probably a lot of deskwork nowadays,’ Marcus agrees.
‘Yeah.’
‘So, just to be clear, you are hugely honoured that I’ve told you my boring secret.’ He hugs me closer again and then kisses me.
We kiss for a while, naturally, until Marcus suddenly says, ‘Bugger. I have to go. Got to take Sam to a football match. I got distracted.’ He kisses me on the forehead, before hopping out of bed and walking round the room looking for his clothes.
‘I’ll shower when I get home. Clean clothes.
’ He pauses for a moment, mid doing his trousers up, and says, ‘What was your career secret?’
I do in all fairness have to tell him now. And, actually, I’m very happy to. I feel completely safe with Marcus, like he’ll never laugh at me or disrespect me in any way.
‘I’m just completing a novel,’ I tell him. ‘As in I’ve written it. No-one in the entire world has read it except me. I’m thinking about sending it to agents and publishers. But, obviously, letting anyone else see it feels like a huge step.’
‘Wow. What genre?’
‘Steamy romance.’
‘Wow,’ he repeats. ‘That’s a lot more interesting than wasabi.
I feel very honoured that you’ve told me.
’ He looks as if he’s going to continue speaking, hesitates, and then just puts his jacket on.
I’m pretty sure he was going to ask if he could read it.
I don’t know what the answer would be. Definitely maybe.
I wonder whether the fact that we’ve now had sex would make it more or less embarrassing for him to read the steamy parts.
‘Would you like to look round my wasabi fields?’ he asks as he puts his shoes on.
‘Yes please.’ I don’t mention the possibility (or not) of him reading the book.
‘Then I will text you to arrange a date.’ He walks over to the bed and kisses the top of my head, very gently. ‘I would like… yeah, we should maybe… Yeah, so let’s make the wasabi viewing a date.’
‘I’d like that.’
I lie in bed smiling for a long time after he’s gone.
* * *
I nod off a bit too, and it’s after midday when I remember it’s Sunday and I work Sundays but I’ve just spent the entire morning in bed. I am probably the worst employee in the world.
I shower at the speed of light and rush downstairs, only to see Ruby with Simon.
‘Afternoon,’ Simon says. ‘Not surprised you had a big lie-in; that was a great party and you did a lot of work preparing for it.’
Hooray. He’s acting completely normally; he clearly doesn’t know that Marcus stayed last night.
And then, when Ruby goes over to a table in the corner with an order, he whispers, ‘I saw Marcus sneak out. Ruby didn’t.’
I’m still wincing when Ruby returns to the counter, and Simon says, ‘Thank you so much, Ruby. You should call your dad now to let him know you’re done for the day, because you’ve reached your hours-worked limit.’
‘Does that really matter?’ Ruby asks. ‘I’m very happy to stay.’
‘We’d be very happy to have you,’ Simon says, ‘and we love working with you, but unfortunately the legislation and employee rights do matter, so I’m going to have to send you home.
But we’ll be looking forward to seeing you on Saturday morning.
And—’ he goes into the kitchen, opens the cash box that he keeps takings in and takes a twenty-pound note out ‘—here’s a bonus for coming at short notice. ’
‘Thank you!’ Ruby beams at him and I really want to hug her.
Marcus arrives in his car shortly afterwards and waves at Simon and me through the café windows as Ruby goes out. I can feel Simon looking at me and really struggle to keep a huge, huge smile off my face.
Marcus. What a night. He’s, well, perfect.
Also, his big secret is wasabi farming. And I’m not even disappointed by that.
Because he’s perfect. And I…
I love him.
And the weird, weird thing is that I think he might have proper, loving feelings for me too. Like, as he said, maybe I am lovable. Maybe my mother having no interest in seeing me is all about her and not about me.
I’ve never, ever felt like this about anyone before.
The thought of splitting up with my faux (maybe no longer faux) boyfriend Marcus causes me almost physical pain.
Previous splits, by contrast… like Rick for example…
I was humiliated, and stressed about the lack of job and home, but I wasn’t sad about losing his company.
Not having to see him any more was in fact the one good thing about the whole split.
Yes. Things are different now. Maybe I’ve just chosen the wrong people in the past.
‘Hello, hello, Earth to Frankie,’ Simon breaks into my thoughts.
‘Hello.’ I turn away from the window and move back behind the counter to where Simon is.
He looks me up and down, cocks his head to one side and says, ‘So I was listening to a podcast recently where the hosts were agreeing that it’s total crap that you can tell when someone got some last night, like how can you tell?
And I thought, yes, I totally agree. Except, just saying, only once, that it turns out that on occasion you can tell.
’ He raises his eyebrows and waggles them before letting out a very loud cackle.
I roll my eyes and try not to smirk.
Simon suddenly gets serious. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.
I worry about you. That’s why I interrupted you during the party when you and Marcus were staring at each other with heart-emoji eyes, like make him work for it so you know he wants this rather than just, you know, a quick one.
Like… obviously I was trying to get you together to start off with, but that’s when I was thinking it would just be a rebound fling for you.
If it feels like more than that from your side…
be careful. I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine, but, you know… ’
I nod. ‘Thank you.’
I think I do know what I’m doing. I think I love Marcus and I think… he might love me too.