by Rosie Ruston
‘I am, but —’
‘Sorted!’ Alice cried, clapping her hands and planting a kiss on his cheek.
‘Alice, I can’t. KOT needs me, and anyway, gigs aren’t my thing,’ Ned replied.
‘Well, in that case, maybe I’m not your thing either,’ Alice muttered, her face like thunder. ‘Cause if there’s anything worse than a guy who’s boring, it’s one who doesn’t mean what he says.’
Ned stared at her for a moment and then turned away. ‘Frankie, are you coming?’ he said, not meeting her gaze. ‘I’ve only got half an hour so if you want to drive . . .’
‘I’m ready.’ She moved to the door, which was still blocked by a now slightly petulant-looking Alice.
‘You’ll make him see sense, won’t you, Frankie?’ she pleaded. ‘This sounds like such an great idea – we can’t let him ruin it.’
‘So leave Ned alone and get your brother to join in instead,’ Frankie replied tartly. ‘I’m sure he’d love it. He’s into all that stage stuff.’
‘No use if he doesn’t play anything,’ James muttered sulkily.
‘But he does,’ Alice replied. ‘Sax pretty badly and keyboard really well.’
‘Well, why didn’t you say?’ Jon cried. ‘Where is he? Get him here right now!’
‘Frankie, that’s an amazing idea!’ Mia burst out. ‘Alice, text him – he’d be so up for it. And hey, Charlie Maddox plays guitar, right? So we’re sorted!’ She turned to Ned. ‘Henry and Charlie know how to have fun – you should take lessons.’
Too late, Frankie realised what she had done. After what she’d seen at the party, Mia and Henry were probably best kept apart. ‘Surely Nick’ll want to get involved?’ she suggested hastily.
‘Nick? He doesn’t play anything. And have you heard him sing? Sounds like a cat in deep distress!’ Mia giggled. ‘But you’re right – when he hears about this, he’s sure to want to be in on it. And he’ll sulk if there’s nothing for him to do.’
‘I do need a stooge, a kind of fall guy for the stand-up routine,’ Jon said. ‘Someone who doesn’t mind standing there, being the butt of the jokes and looking an idiot.’
‘Perfect.’ Mia nodded. ‘That is so totally Nick.’
That’s not exactly the remark of an adoring fiancée, Frankie thought as she followed Ned through the hall and out onto the drive.
‘You don’t think she meant it, do you? About me not being her thing? Frankie, are you listening?’
‘I’m trying to get across this roundabout,’ Frankie replied through clenched teeth.
‘Sorry. You’re doing really well. Only I can’t back out of helping with the charity promotion now, and even if I could, I’m not into all this street dance, rapping stuff. Do you think I’m being a bore? I don’t want her to hate me but —’
‘NED!’ Frankie yelled. ‘Will you just shut up for a minute while I try to concentrate?’
‘Sorry,’ Ned mumbled. ‘Hey, you’re in the wrong lane.’
‘Oh, what a surprise,’ she retorted. ‘Like, nothing was distracting me, was it?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop saying sorry!’ she snapped, flipping the indicator on and edging into the inside lane. ‘Can we go somewhere quieter? I need to practise parallel parking.’
They drove in silence for a few minutes. ‘I just don’t know what to do,’ Ned sighed, as Frankie began gingerly reversing into a space between a mud-covered four by four and a gleaming Fiat Punto. ‘If I don’t join in, Alice’ll hate me, and if I do, I’ll be letting the KOT team down and I’ll hate myself.’
Frankie put her foot on the brake, threw the gear into neutral and turned off the engine. She turned to face Ned. ‘If Alice is going to hate you just because you are doing something for someone else, then she’s not worth worrying about.’
Ned chewed his lip. ‘I know she sounded off, but underneath she’s not like that,’ he protested. ‘You mustn’t think badly of her. She’s been through some tough times and I’d have thought that you of all people would understand that.’ The critical tone in his voice cut her to the core.
‘I do, but the work you do with KOT means a lot to you – why can’t she see that?’
‘That’s not fair,’ he replied. ‘I mean, imagine you’re Alice – just for a minute. You have to admit, you’d be trying to persuade me to do the gig, wouldn’t you?’
Frankie took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘But if you – well, I mean if you were, kind of, maybe keen on me, then you would?’
The irony of the question made Frankie’s cheeks flush and she had to turn to look out of the car window.
‘Well?’ Ned persisted. ‘You would, wouldn’t you?’
She turned to face him, making herself meet his gaze.
‘Ned.’ She sighed. ‘What part of the word “No” don’t you get?’
‘James, wait!’
Ned had just dropped Frankie off at the front of the house and was turning the car round to dash off to help prepare the KOT stand when James and Jon came out of the house and headed for Jon’s motorbike.
‘Can’t stop,’ James called back. ‘Things to do.’
Ned jumped out of the car and ran over to them as Jon fired up the bike.
‘No wait! Look, ever since you got back you’ve been acting weird; up one minute, down the next and as prickly as hell. So tell me, what really went on in Mexico?’ Ned demanded. ‘I get the feeling you’re hiding something.’
Frankie edged nearer, struggling to catch his words above the noise of the Harley Davidson.
‘Dad wanted me to learn stuff out there, right?’ she heard James shout, climbing onto the back of the bike. ‘Well, I did. I learnt a lot – and that I don’t ever want to have anything to do with him or his lousy business, ever!’
‘But you’re happy to spend the money he makes,’ Ned snapped back. ‘Happy to have him clear your debts.’
James stared at his brother, his jaw working. ‘I was, once upon a time,’ he said. ‘But not any more. I swear to you, Ned, I don’t want a single penny of his money. Ever again. Not now I know what goes into making it.’
And with that, he climbed back onto the bike, slapped Jon on the shoulder and they roared off down the drive.
‘Trust James,’ Ned muttered to Frankie. ‘He sees how hard Dad has to work and decides he can’t hack it.’
Frankie stared at him. Was that really what James meant? It didn’t seem to be enough of a reason for the vehemence in his words.
‘I guess you’re right,’ she replied. But deep down, she wasn’t at all sure.
CHAPTER 7
‘A young woman, pretty, lively . . .
was enough to catch any man’s heart.’
(Jane Austen, Mansfield Park)
‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GETTING IN SUCH A TIZZ about,’ Lulu remarked the following day, as she and Frankie walked through the village on the way to play tennis. ‘So Ned’s changed his mind – big deal!’
‘She’s just twisting him round her little finger,’ Frankie replied. ‘It makes me sick.’
‘Sure it does,’ Lulu agreed. ‘Sick because you didn’t have the courage to make a play for him yourself. Just forget him – you’re wasting your time.’
Frankie said nothing, largely because she had a horrible feeling that her friend was right. Earlier that morning, she had bumped into Ned, guitar case slung over his shoulder, heading for the old playroom.
‘What’s with the guitar?’ she had asked abruptly.
‘I’ve decided to do it,’ he had replied. ‘I mean, it’s only fair when you think about it.’
‘Do what?’ she had demanded, although she had a pretty good idea.
‘Play for this band,’ he had replied.
‘But you said —’
‘I know what I said,’ he had snapped, ‘but Alice made me see I was being a killjoy. The band have worked hard and maybe this is the break James needs – he could certainly do with cheering up.’
He sounded, thought Frankie, as if he was snatching at straws, finding any reason to do what Alice wanted.
‘And like Alice says, family should come first.’
Alice says, Alice says, Frankie had chanted silently in her head.
‘So what about the charity?’ she had asked. ‘You can’t just turn your back on them.’
‘I was stupid,’ he’d replied. ‘Alice made me see that too. The festival’s on for three days – there will be plenty of time for me to help out.’ He had paused. ‘And actually, she came up with a brilliant idea.’
‘What?’
‘You could cover my Saturday morning slot – well, and Friday teatime come to that. Like Alice says, that will free me up for the final rehearsals and it’s not like you’d miss out watching us because we’re not on till five in the afternoon.’ He had smiled nervously. ‘So – will you?’
She had stared at him. You must think I’m mad, she’d thought. Just because you want to spend your time drooling over Alice, you expect me to cover for you. Good old Frankie, she’ll do it. She’s a soft touch. After all, Frankie hasn’t got a life. Well, you can think again, because no way —
‘Will you? Please?’ he’d said. ‘For me?’
She had taken a deep breath. It’s time, she told herself, you stopped being a doormat.
‘Of course I will,’ she had said. ‘What time do I start?’
Now, heading for the tennis-club pavilion and remembering her total lack of gutsiness, she slammed her tennis racquet against her thigh.
‘Idiot!’ she said out loud.
‘Who are you calling idiot?’ Lulu demanded.
‘Me,’ Frankie said. ‘Why am I so feeble? How come I spent ages listening to Alice going on and on at me about how Ned kissed her and how she’s never felt like this about any guy ever – and then I go and make things even easier for the two of them?’
Lulu squeezed her hand. ‘You’re in love,’ she said, ‘and they say that makes fools of all of us. I should be so lucky as to find out.’ She turned to Frankie. ‘Speaking of which, I need you to get me together with James, right? Any excuse, I don’t care. Just do it.’
Frankie sighed. James had been acting strangely ever since he got back from Mexico. One minute, he and Jon would be playing music at a zillion decibels, the next he would be storming out of the house, saying he needed space and telling everyone to get off his back. And when Jemma had shown him a piece about Thomas in the Daily Mail, James had snatched the paper from her hand and shredded the page, scattering the pieces all over the floor before stomping out of the room.
‘So will you?’ Lulu persisted.
‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea,’ Frankie replied.
‘Of course it is. It’s fate that he came back from Mexico – my stars said I would meet a man from overseas who would fall captive to my charms.’
‘He’s not from overseas,’ Frankie giggled. ‘He was only away for ten days.’
‘Stop splitting hairs,’ Lulu said. ‘A girl has to hope.’
The rain started on the Friday, just hours before the festival opened. Throughout the previous day, the roads to the three Thorntons had been clogged with traffic and when Frankie, more eager to improve her driving than to avoid Henry, had agreed to let him take her out in Tina’s car for a practice, it had taken them twenty minutes to get past the caravans and trailers edging their way along the lanes. Tents had sprung up, guy rope to guy rope, in fields and meadows and on the local playing field and, at the far end of Thornton Lacey, an area had been given over to yurts and tepees for those with a desire for luxury. The hammering and drilling that had been the background noise from dawn to dusk for the past week ceased, to be replaced by the blaring of loudspeakers directing campers, the tinny jangling of ice-cream and burger vans and the high-pitched whistle of sound systems being tested for the final time. TV East’s outside broadcast van was parked near the main stage, within sight of the Park House stables, where Alice’s horse spent most of his time kicking at the door and sending Nerys’s two dogs into paroxysms of barking.
The band had been rehearsing tirelessly and Frankie had done her best to keep out of the way, largely because she couldn’t stomach the sight of Ned strumming on the guitar while Alice gyrated in front of him and Mia danced around the keyboard, wiggling her bum at Henry and giving him what Frankie considered blatant come-ons whenever Nick wasn’t looking. Jemma was in a big sulk because it had been clear within ten minutes of the first run-through that she couldn’t dance, and when James pointed out that both Alice and Mia had strong voices and she could hardly be heard at all, she threw a strop, stormed out and told them all what they could do with their act.
‘You know what?’ she had stormed to Frankie. ‘I wouldn’t be part of their stupid act if they paid me! If Alice wasn’t around, they’d be only too pleased to have me but oh no! Just because she’s a size six and up herself, everyone’s all over her. She wouldn’t even be here twenty-four/seven if Ned didn’t have the hots for her!’
Frankie had expected her to cool down, especially when Nerys, who to everyone’s surprise seemed very excited by the whole idea of the band, told her she was being silly and that a bit of singing and dancing practice would put her right. But Jemma just told her to butt out, and shut herself in the kitchen, where she banged about with mixing bowls, until the smell of freshly baked cakes and what Frankie sincerely hoped was Jemma’s amazing caramel shortbread filled the air. Cooking was to Jemma what writing was to Frankie: the only thing that could make her feel better however bad the day.
With everyone occupied, Frankie had peace and quiet to finish her story, phone her mum (always a lengthy process and something that left her feeling oddly depleted) and catch up on her reading list for uni. Not that she reckoned she’d get into her first choice; when she’d had an offer from Newcastle she’d been over the moon and when Loughborough and Bristol both made the same offers, she felt she had it made. But now she felt differently; she was sure she’d made a total hash of her A2s and would probably end up doing some dead-end job in between retakes.
She was, in short, in a pretty downbeat frame of mind, which is possibly why things happened the way they did on Friday afternoon.
‘What are you doing in here?’ Nerys demanded, bustling into the conservatory where Frankie was flicking through uni prospectuses. ‘And what’s all this mess?’ She gestured at the pile of papers beside Frankie’s laptop.
She picked up a brochure. ‘Mmm.’ She sniffed. ‘You’ll probably get up to your eyeballs in debt – the papers say that most students owe twenty thousand pounds or more.’ She eyed Frankie closely. ‘I trust you’re not getting ideas about asking your uncle to bale you out?’
‘Of course not, I —’
‘He helped James but then James is his son, and you . . . well, you must learn to stand on your own feet once you leave home,’ she declared, picking a dead leaf off the bilbergia.
‘I won’t exactly be leaving home,’ Frankie said snappily. ‘I’ll be back in the holidays just like the others.’
She smiled to herself, remembering how her uncle had teased her about Newcastle being her first choice, saying she’d come home with a Geordie accent.
‘And,’ she went on, irritated by the sour expression on Nerys’s face, ‘I’ll get holiday jobs to pay my way, unlike them.’
‘That’s all right then.’ Nerys sniffed again. ‘As long as you understand. Like I told your brother, there’s only so much charity —’
‘William? You’ve spoken to William? When? What . . .?’
‘He phoned this morning,’ Nerys said irritably, splashing water from a purple can onto an aloe vera plant. ‘He wanted to come and stay next week. Of course, I told him it was out of the question.’
‘But why? He always comes here whenever he’s got leave.’
‘Why? Your uncle is out of the country, Tina is with her friend being detoxified or whatever they call it, and I’m in charge. I can’t just go open
ing their house to all and sundry.’
‘He’s not all and sundry, he’s my brother!’ Frankie shouted. ‘What’s more, he’s your nephew.’
‘No, Frankie, he’s not,’ Nerys snapped, ‘any more than you are my niece. The sooner you get that into your head the better it will be for all concerned. I seem to have made a mistake bringing you here. You take it all for granted. Now clear up this mess – I’m going to walk the dogs.’ With that she turned heel and stomped out of the room.
Frankie snatched her phone from the table and called her brother, tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.
‘This is Wills – sorry I can’t take your call . . .’
She grabbed her laptop and Facebooked him.
Nerys told me she said no – she’s a cow. But don’t worry, it’s not up to her. I’ll tell Ned – he’ll sort her – and then we can find a cheap B and B when we visit Mum. I really want to see you. xx
Frankie got up and stood staring out of the window onto the rain-soaked garden, her stomach churning. How dare Nerys speak to her like that? ‘Stupid cow!’ She thumped her fist against her thigh and brushed tears of frustration from her cheek.
‘So this is where you’re hiding.’
She wheeled round to find Henry leaning against the doorpost, chewing gum and looking for all the world as if he owned the place.
‘What do you want?’ she muttered, turning her back to him and hastily rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m busy.’
Within a second his hands were on her shoulders, and she could feel his breath against her neck.
‘No you’re not,’ he replied. ‘You’ve been crying.’
‘So what’s it to you?’ she said, shrugging his hands away. ‘Just leave me alone, OK? I’m . . . I’m . . .’ She swallowed the words down, knowing that if she said anything more she would blub in front of him and no way was she giving him the satisfaction of seeing her like that.
‘You’re what? Gorgeous? Fascinating? Sexy?’
‘Stop making fun of me!’ Frankie snapped. ‘You think you’re so cool.’