Jack scratched the back of his neck. ‘I was thinking maybe it would be just you and me?’ He shrugged. ‘But, yeah, ask the others too. It’ll be fun. The more the merrier, right?’
George’s eyes widened, and she felt herself flush again. ‘You and me? Not the others?’
‘Yeah.’ Jack shrugged, still scratching the back of his neck. ‘If that’s what you want?’
‘Oh.’ She swallowed, which was difficult as her mouth was incredibly dry all of a sudden. ‘Yes. That sounds nice.’ If Jack noticed the nervous squeak to her voice, he didn’t show it.
‘Great.’ Jack’s shoulders relaxed as he smiled at George. ‘How about tonight? I know it’s short notice, but I know how busy you’ll be over the next few days and now I’ve finally asked, I don’t want to wait.’
How long had he been gearing up to ask? George was curious, but not enough to probe. Instead, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case she gave another Minnie Mouse performance.
Frankie offered to babysit when George called in a panic about her date with Jack. Her social life had taken a severe nose-dive since becoming a mum and she didn’t have a clue what to wear. In the end, she’d given herself a stern talking to. She would be herself. Wear what was comfortable. And strangely enough, once she took the pressure off the evening, she started to relax. She was spending the evening with a friend, to celebrate the future success of her business.
‘I won’t be too late,’ George said after dropping Thomas off at Frankie’s. ‘It is a school night, after all.’ She giggled uproariously, as though it was the funniest thing in the world, which clearly meant she was more nervous than she’d thought. She needed another stern talking to.
‘Have fun.’ Frankie winked at George, which made her feel nervous all over again. Nobody winked at you like that under the circumstances unless they were suggesting something other than a friendly chat was about to occur. George had managed to work herself up into a bit of a tizzy by the time she stepped into the pub, but Jack soon put her at ease, simply by being himself. There was no flirting. No ‘accidental’ brushing of hands. They chatted, about anything and everything, including George’s business. But most of all, they made each other laugh with stories about the funny things their kids had said and done.
‘We haven’t had a toast, have we?’ Jack asked suddenly as George wiped away tears of mirth after a particularly amusing story. They were sitting in the beer garden at the back of the Red Lion, making the most of the warm evening, but everyone else had wandered back inside as the sun had started to dip.
‘I’m not sure there’s anything to toast just yet – we haven’t launched the business. It could tank for all we know.’ George was joking, but the possibility made her stomach churn.
‘It won’t.’ Jack shook his head, absolutely certain. ‘It’ll be brilliant and the three of you will be Clifton-on-Sea’s answer to Alan Sugar.’
‘Jack.’ George pointed a finger at Jack across the table and adopted a deep voice. ‘You’re fired.’
Perhaps she should lay off the wine.
She pushed her glass away gently.
‘Seriously though, you’ve put a lot of work into this venture, and I know it’s going to be a success.’ Jack lifted his pint glass. ‘To Little Seaside Picnics.’
George lifted her glass (she couldn’t get tipsy through osmosis, so it was fine). ‘To Little Seaside Picnics.’ She clinked her glass against Jack’s before automatically taking a sip.
Whoops, too late.
She drained the rest. It would have been a shame not to.
Jack insisted on walking George home, and they took a shortcut through the park, making a dash for the gate as the warden was about to lock up for the night. They were still giggling and out of breath when they knocked on Frankie’s door.
‘It sounds like you had fun,’ she said, and there was that wink again. ‘Thomas has been brilliant, haven’t you?’ She ruffled the boy’s hair as he squeezed past her legs so he could throw his arms around George.
‘Thanks for having him.’ George kissed Frankie on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘When I’ll want all the details,’ Frankie whispered as she pulled George into a hug. She released George and waved to Jack and Thomas, who were already backing up towards the gate. George caught them up and they walked the short distance to the flat. Thomas headed straight inside, leaving George and Jack on the doorstep.
‘Thanks for this evening. It’s been fun.’
‘Maybe we could do it again some time?’ Jack looked down at the doorstep as he scuffed his shoe against it. George had never seen him looking nervous before, but it was quite sweet.
‘I’d like that.’
‘Great.’ Jack looked up again, a shy smile on his face. ‘I’ll let you get inside. Goodnight, George.’ He leaned towards her, and George expected him to kiss her on the cheek, as she’d kissed Frankie on the cheek just a few minutes earlier. A friendly, goodbye kiss. So she was surprised when she found Jack’s lips on hers, shocked when all those old feelings she’d thought she’d lost a long time ago rushed to the surface. It was a brief kiss – definitely no tongue – but it put a smile on George’s face as she headed inside to start the bedtime routine.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Katie
She crept towards the doormat, fingers slowly unfurling as she stooped, and then, as though somebody had pressed the fast forward button on her life, she snatched the envelope and shoved it roughly into the pocket of her dressing gown.
‘Mu-um.’ She closed her eyes as she heard Elliot calling from upstairs. ‘I’ve got no clean school socks.’
He had plenty of dirty socks. All of them strewn across his bedroom floor. How many times had Katie asked him to gather them up and put them in the washing basket?
‘You’ll have to wear regular socks then, just this once.’
‘I can’t.’ Elliot appeared at the top of the stairs, still in the boxers and T-shirt he’d slept in. ‘Mr Burlington flipped when Jayden turned up in a pair of black socks instead of grey yesterday. He’s been on a proper power trip lately.’
Katie held back a sigh. What difference did it make whether a pair of socks was grey, black or sodding neon pink? The kids were taking their exams – as long as their poor brains hadn’t exploded due to the sheer amount of pressure heaped onto them, what did it matter?
‘You’ll have to wear a pair of Lizzie’s then.’
Elliot’s face screwed up. ‘Er, no way. I’m not going to school in a pair of girl’s socks.’
‘Nobody will be able to tell under your trousers.’
‘My mates will. They’ll rip the piss out of me.’ Elliot thumped his arms across his chest and shook his head. ‘I’m not doing it.’
‘He really isn’t.’ Lizzie joined her brother at the top of the stairs. ‘He isn’t putting his fat, ugly feet in my socks. I’d have to burn them afterwards.’
Katie closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, hoping for a burst of strength. She didn’t have the headspace to deal with this right now. The launch party was hurtling towards them at a terrifying rate, Jo was coming round to do a valuation on the house that afternoon (and wasn’t impressed at being messed around), and Katie was pretty sure the envelope in her pocket contained her decree absolute.
‘What else do you expect me to do? I can’t wash and dry your socks in…’ She checked the time. Bugger. They were running late, again. ‘Ten minutes. You.’ She pointed at Lizzie. ‘Go and grab a pair of your socks. No.’ She shook her head as Lizzie opened her mouth, whine at the ready. ‘I don’t want to hear it, Lizzie. It’s happening. You.’ She pointed at Elliot. ‘Get dressed. Quickly. And then bring your dirty washing down.’ The kids stomped off to their respective rooms as Katie started to march up the stairs. She dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of black trousers and a blouse she’d miraculously ironed the evening before.
‘If you tell anybody about this…’ She heard Elliot’s low, threa
tening voice as she stepped out of the bedroom. The flash of a smirk before Lizzie tore down the stairs told them she was going to blab to everyone they knew about the socks situation.
‘Maybe this will be a lesson for you,’ Katie said, though she clocked the lack of washing in Elliot’s arms as he trudged down the stairs, so maybe not.
The morning passed quickly (she was sure her mornings would start to drag around the same time the shine of having her own work domain diminished), and she returned home to have a last-minute blitz of the house before the estate agent arrived. She’d practically begged Elliot to tidy his bedroom, but it was still the same pigsty as usual, so she had to make do with opening the window as wide as it would go, scooping up all the washing and dirty mugs, and running a hoover over the bits of carpet poking through the remaining detritus. Lizzie’s bedroom was in a reasonable state and only required the use of the hoover, and her own was fine apart from her pyjamas and dressing gown strewn across the bed. She folded the pyjamas and shoved them under her pillow and was about to hang the dressing gown on the hook on the back of the door when she remembered the envelope still sitting in the pocket. She pulled it out now, sitting down on the bed before sliding her finger underneath the flap.
And there it was. Confirmation that her marriage was officially dead and buried. She was no longer married. No longer legally tied to Rob. She waited for the morose feeling to hit. For the nausea to settle in her stomach like a dead weight, but the decree absolute didn’t have quite the impact she was expecting. Yes, she was sad that her marriage had failed, that her family was fractured, and she didn’t think she could ever forgive Rob for the way he’d betrayed her trust, but the anger was no longer boiling inside, the resentment and jealousy no longer making her fingers curl in on themselves as she thought about Rob and his happy new family.
Could it be that she’d finally come to accept that she and Rob would never get back together? That she could have a life without him?
She looked down at her hand, fingers splayed. She still wore the wedding band Rob had placed on her finger all those years ago, when they’d had their whole lives ahead of them, before Elliot and Lizzie, before the house on the seafront, before Anya. Pushing her thumb against the band, she wiggled it loose and slipped it away, holding it in the palm of her right hand. There was a knot of sadness in her stomach as she looked down at her naked finger, the indent of her life with Rob still evident in the pale band of flesh, but she no longer felt that bleak greyness or the all-consuming fury. It was time to move on, emotionally as well as symbolically.
She would keep the ring in her jewellery box for now, until she decided what to do with it; give it back to Rob, pawn it, throw it out to sea from the top of the cliffs? For now, being off her finger was enough. She was no longer Rob’s wife and removing the ring was an acceptance of that fact. She should celebrate this small victory with her friends. Raise a toast. To leaving the past where it belonged. To fresh starts. And to finding a brand new happily ever after.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Frankie
George’s plan for Frankie and Alex wasn’t solely for the couple’s benefit; it was definitely a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ kind of set up as the romantic picnic she and Katie arranged for the following evening was their final chance to have a practice run before the launch on Saturday. With George repaying the favour of babysitting, Frankie and Alex drove down to Chapel Cove, a tiny strip of sand away from the bustle of the town. They were posing as clients, with Katie waiting at the secluded beach to lead them down to the romantic picnic she’d set out for them. Little Seaside Picnics’ signature red gingham blanket lay at the centre, surrounded by lanterns crafted from tin cans, with heart shapes punched out in small, glowing holes, providing soft light against the early evening sky. The blanket was filled with delicious food, with mini bagels filled with roast beef and mustard, seafood skewers, filo pastry tartlets, potato salad, homemade sausage rolls, and lemon drizzle cupcakes. A bottle of sparkling flavoured water sat cooling in a bucket of ice.
‘This looks amazing,’ Alex said as they approached their picnic. ‘You’re definitely going to be a hit.’
Frankie felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. ‘I hope so. It’s too late to back out now, anyway. We’re sort of committed.’
Katie edged away quietly as the pair sat down on the blanket. Alex poured the drinks while Frankie took in the beautiful setting. The cove was so remote, the only sounds she could hear was the gentle crash of waves. The sun was low, casting a peachy glow along the horizon while their little section of the cove was cast in shadow, the sand dark beneath them. But with the flickering hearts surrounding them with light, they couldn’t have picked a more romantic spot.
‘Thank you.’ Frankie took the proffered drink from Alex and took a sip. The bubbles fizzed on her tongue but she would be keeping a clear head tonight.
‘Thank you for bringing me here.’ Alex looked around them as he poured a drink for himself. ‘It’s so peaceful here.’
‘We certainly won’t be disturbed by troublesome dogs.’
Alex smiled and raised his glass. ‘I’ll drink to that. And I’m so sorry about Jake. That was possibly the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.’
‘Oh, that’s nothing.’ Frankie gave a wave of her hand. ‘Finn once dropped his pants in the middle of the supermarket and had a wee in one of the potties from the shelf while I had my back turned. Obviously, I had to buy the potty afterwards, but not before explaining the situation to a member of staff so I could empty it. I was mortified.’
‘Still, at least you have a story to tell his first girlfriend.’
‘Absolutely.’ Frankie raised her glass and Alex clinked his against it.
‘Kids are great. I bet you have loads of funny stories.’
‘Tons. There’s never a dull moment, that’s for sure.’ Frankie flipped open the hamper. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Starving.’ Alex helped to unload the hamper onto the blanket. ‘This all looks amazing. I can’t wait to tell people I was one of the first to experience the world famous Little Seaside Picnics.’
‘World famous?’ Frankie arched an eyebrow. ‘Baby steps. Let’s not bite off more than we can chew.’
‘Nonsense.’ Alex spooned potato salad onto his plate. ‘Think big. One day you’ll look back on this conversation and tell me I was right.’
‘There’s a first time for everything.’ Frankie nudged Alex with her elbow and took a bite out of a tartlet, resting her head against Alex’s shoulder while she chewed. ‘Speaking of the future, where do you think we’ll be in a year’s time?’
‘I think there’ll be at least one of these on every beach in the North West.’ Alex ran his hand over the gingham blanket. ‘And I think you’ll be mega-successful businesswomen that girls across the country will look up to. You’ll be the inspiration for an entire generation.’
‘That sounds lovely, but I wasn’t talking about the business.’ Frankie sat up straighter, placing the tartlet down on her plate and brushing the crumbs from her fingers. ‘I was talking about us. Where do you think we’ll be in a year’s time? Still friends?’
‘I hope so.’ Alex shifted his body so he was facing Frankie. ‘Don’t you?’
She shook her head, and though it was growing darker seemingly by the second, she saw Alex flinch at her reaction. She took his hand in hers, her thumb moving over the bumps and grooves of his knuckles.
‘I don’t want us to be friends in a year’s time.’ She swallowed hard, trying to push down the panic that this was going to blow up in her face. ‘I want us to be more than that. I know we said we’d take things slowly, but it’s been a couple of months now and I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you how I feel. But I haven’t until now because I’m scared. Not because it would mean the start of a new relationship, but because I’m scared you don’t feel the same way.’
There. She’d said it. It was all out in th
e open. The ball was firmly in Alex’s court.
She wished the fizz in her glass wasn’t of the water variety.
Or perhaps it was best that it was.
Was Alex ever going to respond?
‘Do you feel the same way? Or have I just made a complete idiot of myself?’
Alex nudged his plate out of the way and for a horrible moment, Frankie thought he was going to stand up and walk away, leaving her all alone on the dimly-lit beach. But he didn’t scramble to his feet. Instead, he reached his hand for her waist so he could pull her onto his lap.
‘I’ve been waiting weeks for you to say something along those lines.’
‘You have?’
Alex nodded. ‘It’s been driving me crazy, but I didn’t want to rush you and end up ruining what we already had.’
Frankie rested her forehead against Alex’s as the panic seeped away. ‘You can’t rush me, because I’m ready for this.’ And then she kissed him and she found she really had nothing to fear at all. She’d worried kissing another man would feel different to kissing Bradley. She’d worried equally that it would feel the same. But right then, in that moment, Bradley’s kisses didn’t enter her head at all. This moment was about Alex and the way he made her feel. The way she never wanted to stop feeling.
The picnic was largely ignored as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, but Frankie was sure George wouldn’t mind
Chapter Thirty-Eight
George
George’s kitchen was a hive of activity as preparations for the launch of Little Seaside Picnics were well under way. George had been up before dawn that morning – she hadn’t been able to sleep anyway due to an equal measure of fear and elation – throwing together dishes, prepping salads and baking fresh batches of cakes and biscuits. While Frankie, her brother, and Jack were down at the beach setting out blankets, tables, and bunting, George and Katie were putting the final touches to the food.
The Single Mums' Picnic Club Page 26