‘Where’s your car? I didn’t hear it.’
‘I didn’t know if you’d want it outside your house. I parked it in the lane behind the church.’ He hesitated then added, ‘I didn’t know if it was too late to go out. But we still can if you want.’
‘Well, it is a bit late.’ She could feel herself nodding in agreement, a weird kind of nod like one of those toys with springs in their necks. ‘Probably easier to stay here. I have wine. Or, you know, coffee.’ Was offering wine implying that she expected him to stay stay? Oh Lord, this was a minefield.
But a thrilling one.
‘I don’t mind,’ said Henry. ‘Either. You decide.’
His eyes were mesmerising. Frankie took another wine glass down from the glass-fronted cupboard, then switched the coffee machine on. ‘I tell you what, I’ll do both. Then it’s up to you.’
As she made the coffee and filled the glass with wine, she’d never been so aware of someone standing behind her. What was he thinking? Did her bum look big? Could he tell how she was feeling right now?
‘So Amber’s out for the night?’ Henry broke the silence.
‘Yes.’ He already knew that.
‘And you’re not expecting any other visitors this evening? Oh God.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘That’s the kind of thing a murderer would say. Sorry, sorry. I’m not a murderer.’
‘Good.’ Frankie smiled. ‘And no, no other visitors. Are you nervous?’
Henry nodded. ‘Very. You?’
‘Oh yes. Here, take these.’ She passed him his drinks and led the way through to the living room. ‘Actually, put them down. Is it OK if I just do something?’
Because the sooner it happened, the sooner they could get the awkwardness out of the way. Frankie, her heart going into overdrive, waited until he’d placed the glass and the cup on the coffee table. Then she went straight over to him, wrapped her arms round his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.
Wow, wow, look at me, look what I’m doing.
Also, even more wow, this is fantastic.
The doorbell rang and they froze. Oh, for crying out loud.
So much for no other visitors.
‘I don’t know who it is,’ Frankie whispered. ‘But I can’t not answer it.’
‘What shall I do?’
‘Stay here. It’s fine, I’ll get rid of them.’
She closed the living-room door behind her and crossed the hallway. Who on earth could be ringing the doorbell at this time in the evening?’
‘Hi,’ said Lois. ‘Sorry, did I startle you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’
Chapter 40
Lois, of all people. Henry’s biggest and most ardent fan.
‘I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Gave me a fright.’ Frankie patted her palpitating chest; at least that much was true. ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s Addy’s bracelet, she left it here this afternoon. Turquoise and silver beads on elastic, only worth a couple of quid but you know what girls are like. She begged me to come over and get it back.’
‘I haven’t seen it anywhere.’ Frankie shook her head; Addy was adorable but she certainly picked her moments.
‘It’s OK, she told me where it is. She was worried Young Bert might make a grab for it so she took it off and brought it into the house. It’s in the little silver dish on top of your mantelpiece.’
‘Oh right. Well, wait here and I’ll go and fetch it!’ Frankie held out her hands like a traffic cop to indicate that Lois shouldn’t move, and backed towards the living room. ‘I’ll just get it for you now!’
But Lois, apparently oblivious to body language, was following her. Oh no, she wasn’t going to be happy when she saw—
No one. No one at all. The room was empty. Just the one cup of coffee on the table and no sign of Henry anywhere. Jesus, where had he gone? Was he secretly Derren Brown?
‘Here it is.’ Frankie scooped up the bracelet and practically threw it at Lois. ‘Safe and sound. There you go!’
‘Thanks.’ Lois paused and surveyed her thoughtfully. Why?
‘Right! Busy at the pub tonight? Well, it’s Saturday so of course you’re busy!’ She was attempting to herd Lois out of the room but Lois wasn’t moving.
‘OK, I don’t want to make you feel in any way awkward, but there’s just something I need to say while I’m here. Dad isn’t really interested in . . . you know.’
Baffled, Frankie said, ‘He isn’t interested in what?’
A deep breath, then Lois said sympathetically, ‘Well, you.’
Frankie spluttered and covered her mouth. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Look, it’s all right, no need to be embarrassed. After you’d asked me all those questions about Dad, I figured out why you were wanting to know. So I’m just telling you now, it’s not a situation that would ever . . . happen. But don’t worry, this is just between us. I won’t breathe a word to another living soul.’
When she’d shown Lois out of the house, Frankie closed and double-locked the front door after her.
Back in the living room she said, ‘Lois has gone. Where are you?’
‘Well, I’m not hiding up the chimney,’ Henry replied. ‘I’m not Santa.’
Her stomach jittering, Frankie drew back the French window’s full-length curtains. There he was, standing behind them with a full wine glass in each hand.
She’d known he was there, obviously. There hadn’t been anywhere else to hide.
Henry solemnly raised his right hand and downed the contents of the glass in one.
Frankie took the other and did the same.
‘So this business about her father . . .’ she began. ‘I don’t have a crush on Lois’s dad.’
He nodded. ‘And you’re telling the truth, because if you weren’t you’d be all “Um . . . er . . . look, um . . .” and getting in a flap about it.’
She grinned because he was so right. ‘How can you know that?’
‘It’s how I’d be.’ Henry shrugged his massive shoulders and said simply, ‘We’re the same.’
And he was right; beneath their wildly differing exteriors, they were. This time Frankie experienced the electrifying swoooosh of attraction without physical contact . . . which had the effect of making her yearn for that contact all the more.
But at the same time she knew she had to be honest.
‘OK, I need to say something. What I told you before still stands; my husband humiliated me and I’m only just starting to get used to being single again. There’s no way I’m ready for any kind of relationship. God, listen to me,’ she half-laughed at her own presumption. ‘As if that’s going to bother you. But anyway, I’m just saying, there wouldn’t be any . . . involvement.’ Her cheeks were on fire now. ‘I can’t believe I’m even saying this. Sorry.’ He lived in London, for heaven’s sake. They’d met for the first time this afternoon. Whatever had possessed her to think he’d be even remotely interested in an actual relationship?
Henry was shaking his head, doubtless finding it hilarious that she should be ordering him not to get any romantic ideas about a frumpy older woman whose husband had cheated on her for years.
Finally, somehow managing to keep a straight face, he said, ‘It’s fine. Come here.’
And Frankie did.
OK, this was embarrassing. Molly, whose body was apparently playing some kind of childish trick on her, was trying so hard not to yawn she was in danger of actually dislocating her jaw.
‘How are the carrots?’ Vince indicated the vegetables on her plate. Was that so she knew which ones he meant?
‘Great. Brilliant.’ Oh no, she’d managed to suppress the last yawn and now another one was building up. This was awful, she’d already done it twice; they just kept happening, completely beyond her control.
‘Everything OK?’ He looked concerned as she tried to subtly cover her mouth.
Poor Vince, what must he be thinking? Molly nodded brightly and said, ‘Fine!’
But it was no good, the yawns were
still in her, waiting to come out. Hurriedly finishing her meal while Vince talked about the meeting he’d had yesterday with a new client, Molly then pushed back her chair and said cheerily, ‘Back in a bit!’
In the otherwise empty ladies’ loo, which was plush and spacious, she did three enormous yawns in a row. But were they properly out of her system? It didn’t feel as if they were. Right, yawns happened when your body was in need of more oxygen. It therefore stood to reason that exercise was what she needed to sort herself out. When athletes were running races in the Olympics, did they stop for a yawn halfway round the track? No, they did not. And seeing as there was no one else in here . . .
Molly had been jogging furiously on the spot for a couple of minutes when her phone rang.
Oops, please don’t let it be Vince calling from the dining room to ask where she’d got to. Relieved to see Dex’s name flashing up instead, she answered without thinking things through.
‘Yes?’ Oh dear, properly out of breath.
‘Molly?’
‘What?’
‘Am I interrupting something . . . important?’
‘No.’
‘You’re panting,’ said Dex.
‘I’m not.’
‘Yes you are. Like a dog. Are you sure you and Vince aren’t . . .?’
‘Quite sure, thanks very much. I was just laughing.’
‘Laughing at what?’ The doubt in his voice signalled she’d made the right decision; admitting she’d been jogging in order to combat a fit of the Unstoppable Yawns would have been more than Dex could resist.
‘It’s just Vince telling me funny stories . . . we’ve been having such a brilliant time.’ Molly did a little ha-ha chuckle as she said it, as if the memory of all the funny stories was in danger of setting her off again, tipping her over the edge into full-blown hysteria.
‘Right.’ Dex paused. ‘Well, that’s excellent.’
See? Even now he was doing it, sounding ever so slightly surprised. Her breathing restored to normal, Molly said, ‘Why are you calling me, Dex?’
‘Amanda wants to fix a date for dinner next week. She needs to organise her work diary, schedule cover at the health centre. So how about Wednesday evening?’
‘No, sorry, can’t manage Wednesday.’ She could, but why should Amanda be the only one important enough to have schedules that needed scheduling?
‘Friday, then?’
‘Hang on, let me ask Vince. I know he’s pretty busy this week.’
At least the yawns had stopped. Covering the phone, Molly returned to the restaurant where Vince was waiting. ‘Hey, Dex and Amanda want to fix a date for dinner. How about next Friday?’
‘Great.’ Vince nodded. ‘Where have you been?’ he added jovially. ‘I thought maybe you’d squeezed out of the bathroom window and run off!’
Praying Dex hadn’t overheard that bit, Molly unclamped her hand from the phone and said into it, ‘Friday’s fine for us.’
‘Perfect.’ Dex sounded amused. ‘Can I ask you something?’
She stayed cool. ‘Ask away.’
‘Were you out of breath because you were busy squeezing through the bathroom window?’
He was a nightmare. With ears like a bat. Molly said, ‘Bye, Dex,’ and hung up.
Chapter 41
Wow. Just . . . wow.
Anyone looking at her now might think she was sleeping but beneath the closed eyelids Frankie’s brain had never been more awake.
Tonight she’d had the first ever one-night stand of her life, for no other reason than that it had been a way of getting her own back on Joe. Even though he’d probably never find out.
OK, so it hadn’t just been for that reason. The pyrotechnics of physical attraction had been there too, spiralling out of nowhere and catching her by surprise. After almost twenty years of marriage, it had been a while. And instead of being all coy and sensible and insisting that nothing could possibly happen until they knew each other better, she’d deliberately ignored her prim and proper other self, cast caution to the wind and just gone ahead and fallen into bed with someone she’d only met a few hours ago.
They’d had sex, imagine that!
She’d got naked – completely naked, oh my! – and slept with a physically beautiful man who had actually wanted to sleep with her.
And she didn’t even know his surname.
Her prim and proper self was shocked at such impulsive and wanton behaviour. She would also have wanted the sex to be disappointing, in order to teach her a lesson.
Oh, but that was the thing, it hadn’t been disappointing. Quite the opposite in fact. It had been amazing, spectacular, possibly the most fantastic sex of her life.
Frankie’s eyes stayed closed but she felt the beaming smile spread unstoppably across her face. Did that make her a shameless, loose-moralled trollop?
It did?
Yay!
And now it was five thirty in the morning, already sunny outside, and Henry was stealthily easing himself out of his side of the bed. Suddenly, what had seemed so wild and wonderful last night began to feel less so.
‘Are you creeping out on me?’ Frankie turned her head and smiled to show she was joking. Kind of.
‘Hi. No.’ He shook his head. ‘Just thinking it might be an idea to leave early so I’m not spotted. You told me last night this was a one-off. I don’t want you panicking, feeling trapped, wondering how on earth you’re going to get rid of me. And I have a squash game booked for nine o’clock,’ Henry added. ‘So I do need to get back.’
That was a lot of reasons, fired out at warp speed by someone evidently terrified of finding themselves faced with a one-night stand suddenly blurting, ‘I know what I said yesterday but I’ve changed my mind now – I want you to be my boyfriend pleeeease?’
‘Right. Yes.’ Not that she would have said it, but he didn’t know that. Nodding vigorously, Frankie said, ‘Definitely a good plan, leaving now. Makes sense.’
‘And don’t worry, I won’t tell Dex. No one’s going to know about this.’
‘Great. It’ll be our secret.’
‘Come here.’ Having not made it out of the bed, Henry pulled her towards him. ‘Last night was . . . great.’
‘Yes.’ He was so lovely, really lovely, but she couldn’t tell him that. They’d both wanted no-strings sex, hadn’t they? And got it. Who could ask for more?
‘I’m glad I came down to the party yesterday.’ He kissed her, after a moment’s hesitation, on the cheek.
‘I’m glad too.’ OK, awkward. Last night had been electrifying, about as intimate as it was possible to get, and now he was kissing her as if she were his ancient maiden aunt.
Well, what else could she expect? Frankie’s heart sank at the realisation that her Cinderella moment had been and gone. He’d done what he’d come back here to do. Now it was time for him to make his escape.
Henry drove away from Briarwood for the second time in under twelve hours, his brain in a whirl. Yesterday had been unbelievable. Imagine being a teenager with a crush on Beyoncé, fantasising that during her concert she might beckon him up on to the stage, dance with him, sing to him and invite him to a party afterwards.
Then imagine it all coming true.
OK, so Frankie wasn’t Beyoncé, but meeting her had meant more to him, it really had. For them to have ended up spending the night together had been beyond his wildest dreams, a million times more of a result than he could ever have hoped for.
Luckily he’d managed not to frighten her to death by telling her this. Imagine how it would have made her feel.
No, he’d just been lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. As she’d told him herself – twice – she was in no position to be interested in any kind of emotional relationship.
And that was OK, he understood that. Just as he’d known the only way to behave this morning was to keep things casual, play it ultra-cool.
Let’s face it, he’d do whatever it took, anything at all not to scare Franki
e off.
‘You’re here!’ Molly stared at Vince, standing on her doorstep on Friday evening with a navy holdall in his hand. Had the clocks gone forward without anyone telling her? ‘It’s only six o’clock. I thought we said seven.’
‘I know. I left work and came over early for a reason.’ He lifted the canvas holdall and said, ‘What was it I said to you last week about your car?’
‘No idea. Oh, hang on, you told me it was dusty.’
‘I did.’ Vince nodded. ‘And I also showed you those scratches and rust spots. Remember?’
She belatedly remembered; it hadn’t been the most riveting conversation of her life. ‘Yes.’
‘And?’ said Vince. ‘Have you done anything about them?’
‘No.’ Cars weren’t really Molly’s strong point. As long as they started and stopped when she wanted them to, that was as far as her interest extended.
‘You see? I guessed you wouldn’t have. But these things are important. They need to be done. Rust spreads like bindweed,’ said Vince.
‘Crikey. Does it?’ He was looking so handsome. And so serious.
‘Yes it does. And if those scratches on the paintwork aren’t dealt with, they’ll become rusty too.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Cars need to be looked after.’ He gestured for her to follow him down the path. ‘It’s not rocket science.’
Molly knew it wasn’t rocket science. It was just the kind of stuff that was so boring to actually do. Startled, she watched as Vince unzipped his holdall and pulled out a cellophane package containing something white. Opening the package revealed a set of coated-paper overalls which he proceeded to put on over his shirt and trousers.
‘Crikey, what’s that for?’
‘To protect my clothes.’ Having zipped it up, Vince gestured to the baggy all-in-one suit with elasticated bits at the wrists and ankles, and a hood that covered his hair. He looked like one of the scary government scientists in E.T.
‘Right.’ Molly hesitated while he took various pots and cloths and brushes out of the holdall and lined them up on the ground in a neat row. ‘Well, shall I go in and start getting ready?’
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