Chapter 25
FRANKIE
We open at nine thirty on Saturdays, so that Simon and I can both get a bit of a lie-in, and this morning I make it down to the café to open up on time by the skin of my teeth.
I’m very bleary-eyed but happy; Marcus stayed over last night and we basically spent the night having sex rather than sleeping.
It was amazing. Again. But even more amazing than before, because we’ve started saying we love each other. Sex is a lot more than just sex when the L-word is involved. It is, in fact, making love.
The sex last night was fantastic and the loving was even better.
I float on air all morning.
Ruby arrives at twelve to start work. Weirdly, Marcus doesn’t wave at me through the window when he drops her off; he just stares straight ahead.
I’m digesting that when Ruby walks over to the counter and gives me what I can only describe as a death stare. Cold, full of hatred, and, also, weirdly kind of victorious. Like she has this tilt to her chin that says I’ve won.
She spends the whole afternoon avoiding me as much as possible and when she does have to speak to me she’s so scrupulously polite her manner borders on insolent.
There can really only be one possible explanation. She has found out that my relationship with Marcus has morphed from fake to, well, I’m not sure what, but something more, and she’s extremely unhappy about it.
I consider broaching the subject a couple of times during the afternoon, but decide I absolutely shouldn’t.
Any conversations about us should be between her and Marcus.
I wish that I could reiterate to her how much her father loves her but it would obviously be beyond presumptuous to interfere in their relationship.
It’s fairly hectic in the café, leaving very little time to think; it’s all just reacting, and it’s only midway through the afternoon during a little lull when it occurs to me that I’ve probably been very, very stupid and very kind of up myself in thinking that Marcus would continue seeing me when his daughter feels like this.
And that victorious look she shot at me when she arrived should obviously have told me something.
As should the fact that he didn’t even glance at me when he dropped her off.
Marcus is clearly going to tell me that he can’t see me any more.
I look over at Ruby, her teenage-thin arms balancing a heavy tray, a look of concentration on her face as she carries it to the kitchen.
She’s wearing immaculately applied eye make-up – YouTube tutorials (or is it TikTok now) have created a generation of girls who are way more sophisticated with make-up than we were at their age – and could pass for twenty.
She isn’t twenty, though, she’s fourteen, and I’m guessing she doesn’t want to think her father will have a relationship outside being parent to her and Sam.
And I’m also guessing from both their demeanours that he probably won’t be having such a relationship. Not with me, anyway.
It’s a struggle getting through the rest of the afternoon but eventually we’ve cleared everything up – still in near-silence – and Ruby leaves. I’m hugely relieved to finally be able to go upstairs to my flat to sit at my table, stare at the wall opposite and allow tears to roll down my cheeks.
I’m so stupid. So stupid.
I can’t believe I listened to Marcus’s ‘it isn’t you, it’s her, you’re really lovable’ chat. Blatantly I’m not that lovable.
Actually, no. It isn’t about me being unlovable, it’s about him putting his kids first. I should remember that.
I sigh and rub my damp eyes. I need to make a plan. Plans always help. I think I should go back to London soon. I need to look for a job. I can’t stay here in Milbury being separate from Marcus.
On the assumption, of course, that he is going to tell me he can’t see me any more. I mean, he obviously is. Recently we’ve been messaging each other a lot – at least once an hour – small messages like Hey and bigger ones chatting about what we’re doing or little jokes. Today… nothing.
Maybe he’s just going to air me. That is such a depressing thought after everything we’ve shared.
I totally get that if he has to choose between me and Ruby he should and will choose her.
I really do get that. And I’m glad that that’s the kind of man he is.
Both my parents, one after the other, when given the choice between me and romance chose romance.
Marcus – ironically – has helped show me that they were wrong to abandon me.
They shouldn’t have wanted to be in relationships with people who would expect them or ask them to abandon me.
If Marcus has to choose between me and his children, it is of course right for him to choose his children. He has no choice in fact. In my opinion.
But he could, surely, tell me. Extend me that courtesy.
I have a really bad headache. I need some paracetamol and some water.
And then I should eat but I don’t want to.
I’m supposed to be seeing Ellie and Miranda this evening. I’m going to have to cancel. I don’t think I can face chatting away as though everything’s fine. And I’m not ready to tell them about this. It’s too big. I need to deal with it by myself a little first.
Also, I need to know if Marcus is actually going to tell me or just leave me to work it out.
I stand up to get myself another cup of tea, and when I sit back down I see a message from him:
Could we possibly meet tomorrow to discuss something?
That’s almost a relief. It feels more respectful.