by Freya North
She had no idea what he meant specifically, but memory served her well enough not to ask for the facts behind the metaphors. His eyes were boring into her. What does he want now? More wine? More food? He already has a bed for the bloody night.
‘So – the kids were telling me you have a boyfriend.’
‘Yes – I do.’
‘Scott.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So – where is this Scott? Is he coming here tonight? Do you live together?’
‘No.’
‘Will I meet him?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Come on Frankie – it’s been years.’
‘He lives in Canada.’
‘Canada? Couldn’t you find someone a bit closer to home?’
Frankie wasn’t sure whether Miles was being sweet or tart.
‘Miles don’t matter,’ she said and she thought, never a truer word spoken.
He nodded and chewed thoughtfully. Then he was still and gazed at her intently. ‘I’m happy for you,’ he said. ‘I hope it works out. You and the Mountie.’
‘He’s a musician.’
‘Nice. Is there any more?’
Dolloping the last of the casserole onto his plate, she felt her heart and conscience twist and tighten like a rope twining fast. Miles’s presence in her home was like the ants in the kitchen when they’d first arrived. Horribly annoying and making her skin crawl, despite their insignificance. But God she needed Miles now more than at any other time she’d known him.
‘Here you go,’ she said, putting the food in front of him. ‘There’s ice cream for pud. Cornish vanilla.’
‘You know how to treat a man,’ he said. He looked at her quizzically. ‘You’re looking good, Frankie.’ His voice suddenly softer, considered. ‘You’re looking – lovely.’
He reached over and very gently touched a lock of her hair. She thought she saw his eyes fill. ‘I –’ Miles paused. ‘I’m proud of you. All of this – all you’ve done.’ For a moment, there was stillness as he contemplated her home. Then he forked up the last of the food, scraped up the juices onto his knife and licked it clean. He looked at her again. ‘You look – almost beautiful. I’ve never seen you look like that.’
Almost beautiful. Was that a compliment or an insult? Classic Miles. She let it bounce off her and roll away between the floorboards.
‘Being in love suits you,’ he said, with thoughtfulness again. ‘I’ve never seen you like this. Not in all the time I’ve known you.’
Miles walked Sam to the bus stop the next morning. He joined Frankie and Annabel on the school run and walked his daughter to the playground while Frankie stayed in the car.
‘Have you a driving licence?’ she asked him when he was back. He was rifling through the glove compartment. She had no idea why.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Current?’ she said. ‘Valid? Legal?’
He laughed. ‘Yes, Frankie, yes.’
‘Good,’ she said.
They were still in the school car park.
‘I wanted to ask you something.’ She turned in her seat and looked at him straight. A face she knew well and yet strangely not at all.
‘Shoot!’
‘I’d like to go to Canada – to see Scott. I’d like to go soon – soon as I can.’ This is a good idea, she chanted to herself as a reminder. ‘I wanted to ask you if you’d stay – at my home – and look after the children?’
For Miles, it was so left field it took some time to reach him. When it did, it was like a ball he hadn’t expected to be within a hope of catching. ‘Really? Seriously? Me?’
‘Yes,’ said Frankie. ‘You.’
‘Frankie.’ She thought he was going to cry. ‘Thank you so much. Thank you.’
She nodded. She started the engine and drove off.
‘Just for while I’m gone, you understand,’ she said in the tone of voice she used with the children when she was serious about something. ‘Once I’m back, I want you to fuck off somewhere else.’
She let it hang then she glanced at Miles. He was sitting there, gazing at her like a small boy.
It was only when Miles drove her to King’s Lynn that it truly struck Frankie what she was about to do.
‘Go,’ said Miles because her nerves were palpable and he’d never liked the extremes of other people’s emotions, especially not Frankie’s. ‘It’s only a week,’ he said. ‘The kids’ll be fine. You go – and just enjoy yourself. With your – bloke.’ It struck him as just slightly weird to be encouraging and facilitating his ex-wife’s new relationship. Their lives had been so separate he hadn’t really given hers much thought at all over recent years. These last few days, however, seeing her operate in her home, watching how she interacted with the children, hearing how she chatted to her friends and her lover, Miles felt a little in awe of her and, as much as it was possible in his case, reflective too.
‘You sure?’ she asked him.
He tapped her knee. ‘Yes.’
‘I mean – sure about everything?’
‘Yes!’
But still she sat there.
‘You don’t want to miss the train, Frankie,’ he cautioned.
‘I know – that’s why I told you it was half an hour earlier than it is.’
He nodded. ‘You don’t trust me do you?’
Frankie looked up to see him pull his beseeching expression over his face like a mask. ‘Not really,’ she said. He looked immediately crestfallen. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just – you know.’
‘Let the past go – feel the now, embrace the future,’ he said.
Frankie snorted and giggled.
‘I know,’ Miles acquiesced, ‘I sound like a tosser. But I just want you to know that it’s all going to be good – at home. Over there in Canada. So – off you go. Bring me back some maple syrup or something. And just call whenever you want. The world’s no longer that big.’
There was an authoritative but gentle cadence to Miles’s voice, which Frankie had never heard. Maybe he had grown up, maybe he did now think beyond just himself. She took a deep breath.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK. But—’
‘No need for buts,’ said Miles and he leant across and kissed her cheek.
She phoned her sister from the train but hung up before Peta answered and phoned Ruth instead.
‘On the train,’ she told her as if she was walking the plank.
‘Bloody well done so far. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.’ All those texts, those panicked calls and emergency cups of tea and an extra Alexander session crammed into the last three days.
‘Am I doing the right thing?’
‘Frankie,’ said Ruth with friendly chide.
‘It just seems suddenly terribly indulgent – spending all this money on a flight, leaving the kids – I’m genuinely stressing that I’m going to get walloped by something awful happening. Bad karma, or something.’
‘Oh – of course! You mean like the plane crashing? Or your house burning down?’
‘Yes.’
‘Scott being a pig?’
‘No – not that.’
‘Being eaten by a bear?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Are you crying?’
‘Almost.’
‘You know you’re being daft? The worst thing and the most likely calamity will be your dumbfuck ex forgetting to take the kids to school. But you’ve given Sam my number. And I’ll pass by yours, accidentally-on-purpose, twice daily if you like.’
‘It just doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would, when the notion of going to see Scott seemed a dream away.’
‘It will feel better – once you’re up in the air. We’re guilty as women, as mothers, of demoting our needs, belittling our dreams, turning away from our wishes. Frankie, when you’re with your chappie – you need to just let go and truly be there.’
Peta phoned Frankie who had just arrived at Heathrow. She’d seen the missed call. They hadn’t spoke
n since Frankie hung up on her and four days was a long time for them.
‘Hi,’ said Frankie.
‘Hello,’ said Peta. ‘Where are you?’
‘Heathrow,’ came the small voice.
Peta composed herself quickly. She’d done it, her little sister had done it. Oddly, she no longer felt any annoyance at all, just immense pride. ‘Have you checked in?’
‘No.’
‘Are you crying?’
‘Almost.’
‘Check in, Frankie. Check in and phone me when you’ve gone through passports.’
Peta looked at their mother who was over for lunch. ‘You know Frankie is flying to Canada?’
‘Frankie?’ The notion to Margaret was preposterous.
‘Today – right now. Did you not know?’
‘I did not.’
‘To see Scott.’ Peta let it hang as she loaded her mother’s plate with chicken salad. ‘You knew about Scott, though?’ She knew her mother did not.
‘Scott?’ Margaret said it as though the name itself was unfathomable.
‘Frankie’s – boyfriend.’
‘You can’t have a boyfriend at Frankie’s age. It sounds ridiculous.’
Peta paused. ‘He’s more than a boyfriend,’ she said. ‘He’s the love of her life.’
Margaret chewed at her food, her jaw clicking infuriatingly. Peta thought if Frankie was here they could share exasperated glances. She was acutely aware of being her mother’s favourite. Rather than bringing her any joy, the fact had always made her fiercely protective of her younger sister.
‘You should be happy for her, you know,’ Peta said.
‘Happy that Frankie is embroiled with Canada?’
Peta had to laugh. Mum says you are embroiled with Canada – as if the entire country is a seething mass of anarchy and disease with Scott at the helm.
‘Scott,’ Peta pushed on. ‘He’s a little older than her.’ She thought about what else to tell her. ‘He’s a famous musician.’ That had fallen flat. ‘He comes over here sometimes.’ A flicker of interest. ‘The children have met him – and like him very much.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ her mother said. ‘But while Frankie is gadding about on some silly romance, who is looking after the children?’
Peta took a large sip of wine. ‘Miles.’
Her mother almost choked. ‘Miles?’
Peta took another sip, nodded. ‘He’s over for – a bit. So Frankie thought it would be good for the children. Good for her.’ She paused. ‘Good for her,’ she said again, quietly.
‘Miles?’ Her mother had fury emanating from every pore. ‘Miles – good for the children? Good for nothing! I’ve heard it all now,’ she blustered. ‘I’ve heard it all now.’
In the departures lounge, glancing around at the people who’d be on her flight, Frankie stared at the planes outside. They looked alternately far too big to be up in the air and yet way too small to make transatlantic journeys. Why is Vancouver YVR? What does that mean? Why couldn’t she work it out? She found a seat on an isolated row of five, tucked in a corner that needed a sweep. She phoned Peta again but it went through to her voicemail. She texted Ruth but knew she’d be with a client. It was five in the morning in Pemberton and if anyone knew how she must be feeling it would be Scott. Bleary with sleep, he was half-expecting the call anyway.
‘Did you make it to the airport?’ he asked before she’d said anything. ‘Have you gone through security?’ He took her silences to be affirmative. ‘Are you coming over to see me, Frankie?’
That voice.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘I’m so pleased,’ he said. ‘You sure you don’t want Aaron to fly us back here? He’s keen – it’s no trouble.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘one flight is enough. And I don’t do little planes.’
Scott looked at his watch. ‘Hey baby,’ he said and it made Frankie feel she was right next to him. ‘I get to see you in twelve hours’ time.’
She texted Peta from the plane, seat belt fastened and a prized spare seat next to her.
I’m on the plane – I don’t know what I’m doing. Fx
She sent a text to Sam
Sammy see you soon – love you, Mummy xxx
She wished she’d granted Annabel her number one wish for a mobile phone.
She sent another text to Sam
Annabella see you soon – love you Mummy xxx
She sent a text to Scott
I really am on my way. Fx
She was just about to turn off the phone when Peta’s reply came through.
You’re doing the right thing, F. Safe journey – and just be open to all that awaits … Pxxx
Frankie loved her sister very much. And then the air hostess said Madam I really must ask you to switch off your phone now. As the plane taxied to the runway, Frankie sobbed into her hands. What on earth was she doing, leaving home and all that she knew?
She half-watched movies. She skimmed her magazine and she studied the safety information. She picked at the food. She tried to doze but couldn’t. She balanced her manuscript on the tray table and, for the umpteenth time, honed and tinkered what she had written thus far. Look at us, Alice, you and me, in the sky and over the sea. She was fastidious about leaving her seat and moving around the cabin, drinking lots of water, dabbing essential oils on her pulse points and applying moisturizer regularly. Thank God for Grazia. She made sure to do a few of the exercises Ruth had taught her. Thank you Ruth.
Greenland was out of the window and it was unlike anywhere Frankie had ever seen. She hadn’t expected green but nor had she expected anything so lonely, so lunar. Was this really her world – planet earth? Resting her head against the window, fitting her body in a neat furl over the two seats, the thin blanket equally comforting in its warmth and annoying in its static, she closed her eyes.
And then they were waking her up and she couldn’t believe she’d slept.
Mountains like she’d never seen, stretching way beyond her field of vision. A land of mountains, striated with meanderings of snow, dimpled with lakes and divided by rivers ribboning as far as the eye could see. It all looked unfathomably different out there from anywhere she’d ever been and all that she knew. She was further than she’d been before and just twenty minutes from touching down in Scott’s homeland. Look at it out there! It’s like heaven’s tablecloth rucked up.
It was then that Frankie began to smile.
Alice, you have to see this place.
She’d presumed that Vancouver airport would be something like Heathrow; noise and queues and miles of walking under harsh lighting and scuffed floors. Instead, an unexpected but welcome calmness greeted her, blues and greens and lots of glass, carpet underfoot and extraordinary First Nations art wherever she looked. Two huge Musqueam figures carved into red cedar greeted her and soon after, with little queuing, a small bespectacled immigration officer officially welcomed her to Canada. It was as if she was expected. She didn’t even have to wait long for her suitcase. It felt to her that the airport had been cleared so that nothing should impede her exit.
It’s one in the morning. No it isn’t, it’s five in the afternoon.
Her phone was busy with incoming texts. Sam. Annabel on Sam’s phone. Ruth. Miles. And Peta. But no Scott. She liked his silence. Why send a text when he was right here, just yards away, waiting in Arrivals?
Frankie pushed her trolley, followed the signs propelled by adrenalin. She didn’t see Scott at first. From the relative emptiness of the arrivals hall, suddenly there were throngs of people in the main concourse, eddies of activity and much noise. Where are you?
I’m here, baby. I’m leaning on the railings by Joe David’s huge yellow cedar Welcome Figures. Their arms are outstretched to greet you the Clayoquot way. Here, over here Frankie. I’m the guy who can’t stop grinning. Yes, here – it’s me. Look at you! You made it. Over the oceans, the mountains and through time: here you are. My arms, tight tight around you. Your cheek against my
chest, placing my face against your head, inhaling the unmistakable fragrance of you – shampoo and perfume and something like apples and toast. Kissing you over and again. I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just murmuring some crazy old nonsense. Let the world go on around us. Amidst it all we are steady and still.
‘You’ll have to pinch me if you see me falling asleep,’ Frankie told Scott, looking up at him, reeling with exhaustion, excitement, disbelief.
‘And you have to pinch me to prove that I’m actually awake,’ he laughed.
Frankie wondered if it sounded too shallow, too repetitive to keep gazing at the landscape and saying she’d never seen anything like it. But it was true, she hadn’t. After the relative flatness of Norfolk living, where even a rolling incline in the road felt fundamentally uphill, to now see mountains of such magnitude was simply breathtaking.
‘Not in my dreams – not even in the photos you’ve shown me – did I ever think it would be this beautiful,’ she told Scott, ‘this vast.’
‘Oh it gets better,’ he said. ‘We’re now on the Sea to Sky Highway – our Route 99. It’s going to take us all the way home – around two and a half hours from here. You just say if you want to stop.’
‘I don’t know what I want – slow down so I can drink it all in or speed up so we can get there.’ Out of the window, Howe Sound reflecting the mountains that soared heavenward and serrated the sky.
‘So soon you’ll see the Stawamus Chief.’
‘Is he expecting us? Do you know him?’ Frankie looked around. ‘Is he First Nations?’
‘That,’ Scott said a little while later, ‘is the Stawamus Chief and there’s all sorts of Squamish legends about a giant two-headed sea serpent.’ She stared up at 700 towering metres of granite. ‘The views from the top, Frankie – out over Howe Sound, the mountains of Garibaldi – one day, when you come back for longer, we’ll do it. Aaron climbs the Chief in a pair of trainers. And fast.’
‘He’s Ĺíĺwat and his wife is Squamish and both are Salish First Nations.’ She wanted to make sure she had it right. ‘Their children are Tara and Johnny.’
‘They’re coming to check you out tomorrow,’ Scott told her. ‘And Jenna too. There’s a whole bunch of people waiting to meet you.’