by Rosie Ruston
Thomas nodded. ‘For all your unfortunate start in life, and the sad example of your own parents, you’ve got more respect for me than certain members of my own family.’ He had sighed wearily and took her hand. ‘You’re very precious to me, Francesca. Very precious indeed.’
Frankie didn’t know what to say, but of one thing she was certain. Something had happened that Thomas wasn’t admitting to. Just as James had come back from Mexico somehow different to when he went, so Thomas seemed anxious, edgy and world weary – things she would never have associated with him in the past. He hadn’t even seemed that bothered by Mia’s behaviour, which would normally have caused him to hit the roof. She realised that whatever was on his mind, it had to be something pretty big.
‘Shall I make some tea?’ she offered.
‘No, you go to bed, Frankie. And you, Ned. I need to be alone.’
To Frankie’s surprise, when she went into the kitchen the following morning, she found Mia sitting at the breakfast table, pale-faced and with black lines under her eyes.
‘I thought you’d still be in bed,’ she remarked, opening a cupboard and taking out a packet of muesli. ‘Want some?’
Mia groaned. ‘I shall never eat or drink again. The whole evening was one huge disaster.’ She eyed Frankie nervously. ‘About last night. You haven’t said anything to . . .’
‘To Nick, the guy who adores you? No, I haven’t,’ she said. ‘But if you’ve changed your mind about things, if you don’t want him any more, you owe it to him to come clean.’
‘I haven’t! At least I don’t think I have. I was drunk, and Henry came on to me. End of.’
Frankie bit her tongue. It wasn’t the version that Henry had given. ‘So are you going to steer clear of him? He’s trouble.’
Mia nodded. ‘Nick and I are off to Barbados with his family soon, anyway,’ she said. ‘And guess what? Nick’s grandparents have invited Jemma to come along too. Their other granddaughter, Nick’s cousin, will be there and they reckon Jemma will be company for her.’
‘Wow! Lucky her.’
‘And when we get back, Nick and I will be going to Brighton to seriously flat hunt.’
It occurred to Frankie that Mia sounded as if she were merely reeling off a list of rather boring diary dates. There was none of her usual bragging banter, and her eyes weren’t smiling.
‘Cool,’ Frankie said encouragingly. ‘You’re so lucky getting a place of your own so soon.’
‘Yeah.’ Mia yawned. ‘I guess. Except . . .’
‘Except what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Mia sighed. ‘Nick and me – we’ve been together since we were fourteen, and everyone expected us to get married one day. I did, I really wanted to. But now . . .’
‘You’re having second thoughts?’
‘I don’t know. Some days when I’m with him it seems so right and then on others, after I’ve been with . . . well, other times it just seems like it’s all a sham.’ She nibbled on a hangnail. ‘At least even Nick agrees we shouldn’t get married till we’ve both finished uni,’ she said. ‘So for now I might as well just go with the flow.’
It didn’t sound to Frankie like the most romantic of suggestions.
‘Francesca! Can you come here for a moment?’
Frankie was crossing the hall on her way to meet Poppy and Lulu and watch The Saltshakers’ lunchtime gig when her uncle called her. He beckoned her into his study and closed the door behind them.
‘About William’s visit,’ he began.
‘It is still OK?’ she asked anxiously. He looked drawn and tense.
‘Of course.’ Thomas nodded. ‘I was just thinking – we didn’t celebrate your eighteenth in a big way because you were revising flat out for your A2s. It seems unfair; after all, the others all had big parties. So I thought we should celebrate it properly while William’s here. Throw a party for all your friends.’
Frankie bit her lip and looked at the floor. ‘But parties cost a lot of money,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said.
She suddenly had an idea. ‘Well, would it be rude – I mean, would you mind if . . .’
‘Come on, dear, spit it out!’
‘Could I have the money instead? Because uni is going to be so expensive and if I had a bit of money I wouldn’t need such a big loan.’
Her uncle frowned. ‘What do you mean, a loan? I pay for the others and I’ll do exactly the same for you.’
‘Really? Oh, thank you,’ she cried. ‘I can’t tell you what that means to me – I was really worried . . .’
‘Well, there’s no need for that!’ Her uncle smiled. ‘And about your birthday – think it over and let me know. We’ll need to get a move on if we’re going to organise a big bash.’
‘I don’t want anything like that,’ she said firmly, ‘but thank you – I’ll think about it.’
An idea was forming in her head but this wasn’t the time to mention it.
‘I am so in love!’ Lulu sighed, as they made their way across muddy fields to the festival again. At least today the sun was shining. ‘He kissed me – twice – he is so fit.’
‘I take it you’re talking about James,’ Frankie replied. ‘Just be careful – he’s not exactly the reliable type.’
‘Honestly, Frankie, it’s no wonder you’re on your own,’ Lulu countered. ‘Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind and go for it.’ She frowned. ‘He said he’d see me around this morning. Do you think he will? I mean, he didn’t set a time or anything but then again . . .’
‘See what I mean about reliable?’ Frankie replied. ‘He’s crashed out with a hangover, I guess.’
‘You are such a dark horse, Frankie Price!’ Poppy Grant came dashing up to them, waving her phone in the air. ‘So that’s who you were going to meet last night! And just how long has this been going on?’ She thrust her phone under Frankie’s nose. ‘I suppose you were in on the secret,’ Poppy went on, glancing at Lulu.
‘In on what?’ Lulu asked, peering over Frankie’s shoulder and gasping at what she saw. ‘FRANKIE! Why didn’t you say anything?’
Frankie didn’t reply. She was staring open mouthed at the image on the screen in front of her, feeling more and more sick by the minute. It was a close up – a close up of her and Henry in full-on snogging mode. And someone had posted it on Facebook.
‘So go on, tell us everything!’ Poppy said.
‘Shut up!’ Frankie shouted, at last finding her voice. ‘Did you take this? How did it get on Facebook?’
‘Course I didn’t,’ Poppy protested. ‘I was far too tied up with my own love life to worry about taking pictures of anyone else’s.’
‘So how . . .?’
‘I dunno.’ Poppy shrugged. ‘People post all sorts on the festival Facebook page – I guess someone took it and thought it was a laugh.’
‘Who else has seen it?’ said Frankie, hot with embarrassment and humiliation.
‘How should I know?’ Poppy shrugged again. ‘Alice, of course. Charlie.’
Frankie’s heart sank. If Alice had seen it, she’d be bound to show it to Ned.
‘I don’t see what the problem is,’ Lulu said.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve still got a thing about Ned?’ Poppy said. ‘Alice has got her claws into him big time. She told me that he’s so besotted she can get him to do almost anything she wants.’
‘She said that?’ Frankie choked the words out through gritted teeth.
Poppy nodded. ‘But hey, what do you care? You’ve got Henry.’
‘I don’t care.’ She shrugged, attempting a smile. ‘Ned’s loss, not mine.’
She wondered whether the words sounded as hollow to her mates as they did to her.
She was on her way back to the house when she bumped into Alice, stomping across the field wearing a riding jacket, green wellies and a very sour expression.
‘Hi,’ Frankie murmured, steeling herself for some risqué remark about the picture. Within seconds, howe
ver, it became clear that the only thing on Alice’s mind was Alice. ‘I am so angry I could explode,’ she said. ‘I reckon Ned’s taken leave of his senses.’
Frankie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This stupid charity! They’ve brainwashed him!’ Alice practically spat out the words. ‘You know what? He’s said he can’t see me today because he’ll be with a load of snotty-nosed kids in the adventure zone. Can you believe it?’
‘Easily,’ Frankie said. ‘He’s passionate about these kids. Did you know some of them have been in care all their lives, moved from foster family to foster family; some have been abused, some have —’
‘Don’t you start!’ Alice butted in. ‘I know it’s awful of me, and it’s great that people care, but it’s the last day of the festival and I wanted to spend it with Ned.’
‘You could always go and help out with the kids,’ Frankie suggested.
‘Get real!’ Alice laughed. ‘And I’ll tell you something else about Ned – something only I know. You mustn’t let on though.’
Frankie’s stomach lurched at the thought of Ned having secrets with Alice. ‘What?’
‘He’s got this crazy idea about being a social worker!’ she confided.
‘Oh that,’ Frankie said nonchalantly. ‘I’ve known about that for ages.’
‘Oh. Have you?’ For a moment Alice looked put out. ‘And I guess you said the same as me?’
‘Which was?’
‘That he’s a complete idiot to even think of doing something so . . . so dire and dead end.’
Frankie took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I told him it was a brilliant idea and that he should go for it,’ she said firmly. ‘I think everyone should do what fires them up.’
‘But social work? I mean, my God, there’s no money to be made doing that. And where’s the kudos? “I’m a social worker” is hardly going to open doors with the people that matter, is it?’
Frankie stared at her long and hard. ‘I guess,’ she said calmly, ‘that it depends what sort of people matter to you.’
She turned and began walking away, but Alice grabbed her arm. ‘Hey, I don’t want us to fall out,’ she said. ‘If Ned wants to be an idiot and waste his talents, it’s up to him. By the way, it’s great that you and Henry have got it together.’
‘We haven’t,’ Frankie said firmly.
‘Oh sure, so that photograph was just a friendly peck on the cheek . . .’ Alice laughed.
‘Your brother came on to me, I said I wasn’t interested – end of!’
‘Was that after you had snogged him senseless?’ Alice teased.
‘Believe what you like,’ Frankie said, struggling to keep her voice level. ‘I was there. You weren’t.’
And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Alice to stare after her, open mouthed.
CHAPTER 10
‘There will be little rubs
and disappointments everywhere.’
(Jane Austen, Mansfield Park)
‘JAMES, ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED IN MEXICO. WE NEED TO talk.’
It was Monday morning and Frankie was crossing the hall on her way to catch the bus into Northampton with Poppy when she heard Thomas’s voice.
‘Talk? What’s to talk about?’ she heard James say. ‘You can’t deny what you did, what you let happen.’
‘James, you have to believe me,’ her uncle replied. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Do you think I’m still some kid in kindergarten?’ James shouted. ‘You’re a businessman. You tell everyone you have your finger on the pulse. You must have known.’
‘Not all of it, not about the workforce,’ he said.
‘Not the workforce, Dad,’ James retorted. ‘The kids. Go on, say it. The kids working twelve-hour shifts for a pittance in the kind of conditions you wouldn’t keep a dog in.’
Frankie glanced at her watch. She’d have to run if she was going to catch the bus but somehow her feet seemed rooted to the spot.
‘Look, Dad. Look at these.’
‘You took photos?’ Thomas croaked.
‘Yes I did,’ James shouted, ‘because I wanted to remind myself every time I was tempted to take money from you in the future just how you came by it.’
‘James, it wasn’t my fault – the factory manager is in charge of all the hiring and firing. I just buy in the finished product.’
‘And stick a Zeppelin label or a Cheeky Cheetah logo on it and sell it at an inflated price,’ James said. ‘How ethical! Now if you don’t mind, I’m out of here.’
‘No wait,’ Thomas began. ‘I need to explain —’
‘There’s nothing more to say. I’m meeting Jon in Leicester for a jamming session,’ he replied. ‘I need to get my head straight and it won’t happen here.’
At that moment, Frankie’s phone shrilled in her bag. Grabbing it she saw Poppy’s text. Where are you? We’ll miss the bus.
She dropped the phone back in her bag, opened the front door and headed down the drive, her mind in a whirl. Was James really saying that Thomas made his money by using child labour? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t – surely. And yet it seemed James had proof. And judging by the way James had been behaving, whatever had happened was serious enough to hit him – who usually laughed everything off – really hard.
Thomas said he didn’t know about it and she believed him – to do otherwise was unthinkable.
On Wednesday evening, Tina organised an impromptu farewell supper for Mia, Nick and Jemma before they left for the Caribbean the following day, and all the family were there – with the exception of James who was staying with Jon – along with the Rushworths, the Grants and Henry and Alice. Frankie had hoped that Poppy would come but she was at a club night in Northampton with Charlie.
‘Now before we eat, if I’m not very much mistaken, there’s a bit of a surprise for you all!’ Thomas glanced at his watch and then pointed the remote at the TV screen on the wall. ‘Just a moment or two and all will be revealed!’
Tina was busying herself passing round a tray of canapés (‘All organic, no additives and the bread is gluten free and made by hand by a little man in Thornton Lacey’), Nerys was regaling anyone who would listen with the ongoing saga of her boiler and the ineptitude of every workman in a twenty-mile radius, and Frankie was doing her utmost to avoid Henry and ignore the fact that Alice was perched on the arm of the sofa, her hand curled round Ned’s shoulder.
‘Here we go! Quiet everyone! Just you watch this,’ Thomas cried.
Everyone turned to face the huge plasma screen.
‘Darling, it’s just adverts,’ Tina protested. ‘We don’t want — Oh, I see!’
There was a gasp of recognition from everyone as slow-motion footage of a cheetah running across the African savannah filled the screen.
‘When a cheetah is hungry, she moves fast. Faster than any other animal on earth.’
The image switched to a redolent cheetah, licking its lips, stretched out under the shade of an acacia tree.
‘And when she’s got what she wants, she just lies back and purrs while others . . .’ The image switched to a computer-enhanced picture of various big cats prowling and roaring and looking generally fed up. ‘. . . look like losers. Cheeky, eh?’
‘Oh darling, that’s —’ Tina began.
‘Shh!’ Thomas ordered, holding up his hand.
Slowly the image of the cheetah merged into a sylphlike woman, lying on a chaise longue, stretching luxuriantly and wearing silk palazzo trousers and a blouson jacket in shades of gold and tortoiseshell.
‘Cheeky Cheetah – the label for the woman who always gets what she wants.’
As the advert ended, a ripple of oohs and aahs and ‘Well done, Thomas,’ echoed round the room.
‘Thank you, everyone. Not bad though I say so myself,’ Thomas gloated. ‘And you’ll notice that my girls are all wearing items from the collection – even Frankie. We do a petite size for little people!’
Everyone laughed while Frankie squirmed, know
ing full well that the jungle print sundress showed off her freckled shoulders and in her opinion simply highlighted the fact that her bosom didn’t exist.
‘I’m doing fashion studies,’ Alice chirruped, sidling up to Thomas. ‘If you want someone with innovative ideas about future trends, then I’m willing to be your intern.’
‘Really?’ Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘Then come and see me when you’re a little less wet behind the ears.’
The look on Alice’s face gave Frankie the urge to hug her uncle.
They all sat down to eat, just as the telephone rang.
‘Let it ring,’ Thomas said as Tina stood up to go into the hall to answer it. ‘I refuse to be interrupted while entertaining!’
This was so unlike his usual approach that Frankie wondered just what had been in the jug of Pimms served before the meal.
‘You know, it’s a shame you three will be in Barbados for this party of Frankie’s,’ Thomas said. ‘I’d forgotten about that when I suggested it, but with William coming it seems the right time to have it.’
‘Honestly, I don’t want a party,’ Frankie said hastily. ‘I mean, I did when I was a kid, when it was just games and jelly and ice cream.’ Before Mum got ill and Dad disappeared and everything fell apart, she thought. ‘But now —’
‘I went to one of those in London last Christmas,’ Mia interrupted. ‘You all dress up as cartoon characters or Disney princesses – stuff like that – and have sausage and mash and nursery food and a bouncy castle and play silly games. It can be quite a blast, actually. We ended up having jelly fights in Cornwall Gardens! You could do something like that.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mia,’ her father said. ‘She’s eighteen, not five.’
‘Actually,’ Frankie said, taking a deep breath. ‘I think that would be a great idea. Only I wouldn’t just invite my mates – I’d want to have some of the KOT kids.’
Ned shot her a smile that Frankie felt all the way to her toes.
‘KOT kids?’ queried Thomas. ‘Is this some newfangled band?’
‘No, you know, the children Ned works with. The ones he took to camp?’
Ned’s eyes flicked to Frankie’s. He beamed widely and she tried hard not to melt into a puddle.