by Fern Britton
‘That’s good.’ She smiled at him. ‘Pity, though: you look very dashing with a patch.’
She gave him a wink and started up the engine. ‘Trevay here we come!’
Although the day was sunny, there was a cool breeze as the 2CV, its soft-top rolled down and its engine chugging away like a sewing-machine motor, carried them into Trevay. Holidaymakers were strolling along the streets, oblivious to traffic, stopping and starting as they wished, licking ice creams and window-shopping. The main car park was full, but Francis directed her to a sneaky space – one of the few not covered in double yellow lines – behind the main street. They were lucky. It was empty.
Belinda was delighted. ‘Frankie, you clever man!’ And she leaned over and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. Gathering up a couple of his jute bags from the back seat, she said, ‘Right – where’s this fish market?’
Ambling arm in arm with Belinda as they made their way to the fish market was a revelation to Francis. Pru had never taken his arm; on the one occasion he had taken hers, she had shrugged him off. Belinda’s arm was comforting in its fleshiness. Her chubby wrists and tanned fingers made him feel powerful and … well, male. As they walked he found himself smiling at strangers and enjoying the sound of Belinda’s inconsequential but amusing chatter. Her golden curls kept blowing across her face and on to her lips. He didn’t hear much of what she said. He didn’t need to. He felt happy. Naughty, but happy.
Together they chose six lobsters, which the fishmonger packed into a polystyrene cool box.
At the trendy food market next door they got asparagus, new potatoes, lemons and – for home-made mayonnaise – eggs and good olive oil.
‘Look at those raspberries! My favourite!’ cooed Belinda.
‘Do you like Eton Mess?’ asked Francis, carried away by her foodie enthusiasm.
‘Who doesn’t?’ She smiled at him, twinkling her blue eyes.
‘Right. I’ll make meringues with the egg whites left over from the mayonnaise.’
‘Are you inviting me to supper, Francis Meake?’
Francis took a grip on his destiny. ‘Yes, I am. You and Emily. Come and have dinner with the family. Pru would love to have you share it with us.’ He was less sure about the last part, but this new shot of courage in his veins kept him from buckling.
Once they’d paid for everything, they returned to the car, which was sitting in the shade of the narrow street.
‘I’ll put all this in the boot – there’s no danger of it spoiling, here in the cool – and then we can go and have some lunch,’ twinkled Belinda.
There was a small café across the road that served huge bowls of moules marinières and chips. Francis couldn’t remember ever having such a relaxed lunch with a woman. The way Belinda chatted, laughed, enjoyed her food and drank her glass of perfectly chilled wine was fun.
‘… So, my husband walked out eighteen months ago and moved in with Steve. I had no idea whatsoever that he was gay. It’s always the wife who finds out last, isn’t it? Anyway, Steve is a lovely guy and Brett’s happy. We’re all good friends now. Emily is pretty cool about it, as she gets to go clothes shopping with a dad who really likes fashion.’ She leaned across and dipped a hunk of her French bread into Francis’s white wine and garlic sauce. ‘I do get a bit lonely, though. I don’t want to be single for ever … Still, there’s always tomorrow, right?’ She laughed and wiped her lips on her napkin. ‘How about you? Are you and Pru happy?’
Francis coughed as he took a gulp of wine. ‘Yes, yes. Very happy. Well, as happy as two people who’ve been married for almost eighteen years can be.’
‘She looks a bit of a ball-breaker to me,’ said Belinda with candour.
Francis was horrified. ‘No, no. She’s strong and kind and a good wife and mother. We look after each other.’
‘Hmm.’ Belinda gazed deep into his eyes until he looked down at his wine glass. ‘I notice you didn’t mention the word love.’
‘Well, of course. That goes without saying.’
‘So, say it.’
‘What?’
‘That you love your wife.’
‘I … I love my wife.’
‘Good. When was the last time you told her?’
‘Good lord. I mean, after all those years together, one doesn’t need to.’
‘Yes, you do. When was the last time she told you she loved you?’ Belinda fixed her blue eyes on him. ‘If she loved you, she’d tell you every day.’
Francis was getting very uncomfortable, ‘Well, we’re all different, aren’t we.’ He beckoned the waitress. ‘I think we’d better get going.’
He spent the journey back to Atlantic House in deep thought. Belinda, beside him, chattered away as if blissfully unaware that he wasn’t listening.
She had awoken something in him that he’d managed to suppress for a very long time. Years. He thought the world of Pru, but what did she think of him? Was he just faithful old Francis, chief cook and bottle washer? Where was the passion? He felt the vibrant heat emanating from this buxom and attractive woman by his side and realised how much he missed the physical joy of love-making. Could he take Belinda as a lover in the way Greg had taken Janie? The thought thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.
‘So, shall I come over at about six thirty? I’ll bring a couple of jugs of Pimm’s.’
He forced his mind back to the present.
‘Yes. That would be lovely.’
Belinda helped him out of the car and then helped carry the bags to the front door of Atlantic House.
‘I’ll take them to the kitchen for you, shall I?’
‘That’s very kind, but just leave them on the step. I can manage from here,’ he said. He pushed the heavy oak door open. The hall was cool and smelled of lavender polish. His ears strained to hear Pru. He didn’t want her to catch him like this, in Belinda’s company and smelling of wine.
‘OK.’ Belinda straightened up and kissed his cheek for the second time that day. ‘Thank you for a lovely morning and for lunch. Any time you need a driver, you know where I am.’
‘Thank you.’
‘See you at six thirty.’
‘Six thirty. Yes.’
‘And, Francis …’
‘Yes?’
‘Those things we talked about over lunch? I don’t mean to stick my nose in, but you are a lovely man and deserve to be appreciated.’
‘Oh well, erm, I’ll see you later …’
Francis watched as she manoeuvred the 2CV back on to the drive of Dairy Cottage, then he quietly closed the front door and carried the bags to the kitchen. While the kettle was boiling for the calming cup of camomile tea he so badly needed, he fished in his pocket for a piece of extra-minty chewing gum.
16
Francis unpacked the shopping and put the lobsters in the salad compartment of the fridge to quieten them down. Then he made a large pot of tea and went out into the hall. ‘Anyone for tea?’ he shouted up the stairs. ‘It’s in the kitchen. Come and get it.’
Greg came out of the rumpus room looking sly. ‘Hello, old man. How did lunch go with B?’ he whispered.
Francis, not liking this subterfuge, said, ‘Fine. How was your phone call?’
Greg rolled his eyes in rapture as an answer.
‘Did Pru wonder where I was at lunchtime?’ asked Francis.
‘No. I told her the truth. Belinda had taken you shopping for supper.’
‘Why did you tell her that?’ Francis hissed.
‘The truth is always best.’ Greg looked up as Connie and Pru descended the stairs. ‘Hello, girls. Golly, you look as if you could do with a cuppa.’
Connie pushed her fringe out of her eyes with the back of her rubber-gloved hand. ‘Pru and I have finished upstairs. The last lot of clean curtains are up. How did your phone call go with Janie?’
Francis looked sharply at Greg, who seemed completely relaxed.
‘All fine. She wanted to run a few things past me and there were plenty of thin
gs I needed her to do for me.’
Connie gave him a hug. Over the top of her head, Greg gave Francis a wink as he mouthed, ‘The truth, see.’
Pru walked through the middle of them all, clanging her bucket and mop. ‘Good of Belinda to take you to the shops, Francis. Did you get everything we need?’
‘Yes. Sorry I wasn’t here to prepare lunch.’
‘No problem. Greg did pretty well as a one-armed sandwich maker. Cheese and pickle.’
Greg winked at Francis again. ‘See, old man. Nothing to it.’
Francis relaxed. ‘Well done on completing the spring clean, girls. I see you’ve managed to get a tarpaulin on the hole in the roof.’
‘Yes,’ said Pru. ‘The weather forecast is looking a bit iffy, so I had to ask Merlin to do that. I’ll find a proper roofer tomorrow.’
They moved into the kitchen and helped themselves to tea and slices of shop-bought Madeira cake.
Dorothy appeared at the back door with Henry’s iPad in her hand. ‘How do I turn this on?’
Connie laughed. ‘Mummy, I showed you the other day.’
‘No you didn’t. I would remember if you had.’
‘I did. But, anyway, if it’s to find a chandelier cleaner, I think you’ll find we don’t need one. Come into the hall and look.’
Connie got up and escorted Dorothy into the hall. The afternoon sun was slanting through the mullioned windows either side of the front door and glinting on the glass drops. The hall was lit with the refracted sparkles of light.
‘Oh, darling!’ Dorothy clasped her hands in front of her chest. ‘You’ve beaten me to it! Doesn’t it look wonderful? Who did you get to do it so quickly?’
Connie smiled. ‘A marvellous company: Johnson and Johnson. They have all the specialist gear. I’ve some left over, if you want it.’
‘Ooh, yes please, darling.’
‘They’re in the kitchen.’
On the kitchen table lay the packet of wet wipes. Connie handed them to her mother. ‘Here you go.’
*
At six thirty, Belinda came round with a large jug of Pimm’s and Emily. Henry and Dorothy were strolling over from The Bungalow at the same time.
Dorothy smiled a welcome and said, ‘Pimm’s! My favourite. Good evening, Belinda. Hello, Emily.’ The women greeted each other with kisses and Henry followed suit.
He spoke to Emily. ‘Now, young lady, have you any idea how an iPad works?’
‘Yes, of course. I haven’t got one, but I’ve used my friend’s.’
‘Ah. Could you help me with it? My daughter, Connie, tried but she’s not much better than me and she gets so impatient. Would you give me a lesson or two?’
‘Of course!’ Emily smiled.
‘Thank you. Oh, I say, look at the firepit and the table. Doesn’t that look nice. Would you sit next to me?’
The entire family were gathering round the table and Henry chose his seat at the head with Emily to his left. ‘We can watch the sunset from here. We might even see the green flash.’
She turned and stared at him. ‘Do you believe in the green flash? I mean, does it exist?’
‘Oh yes. Cornwall is full of myth and legend, but the green flash is real enough. It’s a trick of the light that sometimes happens at sunset. We might be lucky tonight.’
Francis staggered out of the kitchen and on to the terrace with an enormous bowl of cooked lobsters.
‘Frankie, why didn’t you call me. I’ll help you with that.’
Belinda was up on her feet and following Francis back to the kitchen. Pru, who was stoking the firepit, looked at Jeremy. ‘Jem, go and help your father … and you, Abi.’
The kitchen was steamy from the enormous pan of water in which the lobsters had been cooked. Francis was busy pouring his mayonnaise into a sauce boat. A small drip landed on the worktop. Belinda and he both reached for it with their tasting fingers.
‘Great minds, eh!’ laughed Belinda. She dipped her finger in and licked it lasciviously, rolling her eyes in ecstasy at the same time. ‘You are the King of Sauce, Frankie.’ Her cleavage jiggled as she laughed again at her own joke.
Abi and Jem arrived in time to witness Francis and Belinda with arms looped round each other’s shoulders, shaking with mirth.
‘Hey, Dad,’ said Jem, ‘I haven’t seen you laugh like this for ages.’
‘Yeah, unc. It, like, suits you,’ agreed Abi.
Belinda let Francis go and flicked her tea towel at Abi and Jem. The kids started laughing and a chase ensued round the kitchen table. As soon as Belinda got round to the sink, she dipped her hand in the sudsy water and began flicking them all with bubbles. Abi and Jem retaliated by picking at a bunch of grapes and chucking them at Belinda and Francis.
Pru, hearing the laughter from the garden, came to see what the joke was. They were having such a good time with their playfight, no one noticed her. Standing at the French windows, however, Pru noticed the way Francis seemed so relaxed in Belinda’s company. A tremor of fear and – jealousy? – blew into her heart. She coughed loudly and walked in. ‘Hi, guys. Having fun?’
The noise stopped and they all stood awkwardly.
‘You sort of had to be there,’ said Jem. ‘Belinda’s been splashing us.’
Pru looked at Belinda. And said flatly ‘Well, that does sound hilarious. Any chance of supper?’
Between them they loaded the garden dining table with dishes of buttery new potatoes, asparagus, salad and mayonnaise.
‘Tuck in, everyone,’ said Francis. And they did.
Slowly the sun sank lower in the sky until it was almost touching the horizon. Henry wiped his fingers clean of lobster juice and nudged Emily. ‘Keep watching the sun as it slips further down.’ Emily had never seen or noticed how quickly the sun travelled. In a few minutes there was only half of it left, then a quarter, then, at the moment it finally slipped from view, there was a definite green blink of light.
‘Oh my God! The green flash! Was that it?’
‘Yes, my dear. That was it.’
‘Wow. Cool.’
‘As you say,’ Henry chuckled, pouring her a small glass of rosé with which to celebrate. They toasted each other quietly and Belinda, watching from the other side of the table, smiled to herself.
The firepit was sending tracer sparks into the warm night air and the moon was playing peekaboo with the racing clouds.
Henry turned to Pru and raised his glass. ‘May I say, Pru, what a fine choice of husband you made all those years ago. Not only has he put up with you …’ he paused for the gratuitous laughter, ‘… he cooks like a dream. This lobster was delicious.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to Francis the chef. Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ echoed the assembled throng.
‘Uncle Francis, would you help me with the food for my birthday party?’ piped up Abi.
‘Ah!’ said Henry. ‘So the parents are letting you have the party on the beach, are they?’
‘What’s this?’ Connie, slightly tipsy, tuned in.
‘My party, Mum. My birthday’s only a week away. Jem and I have invited some people—’
‘How many people?’ Her mother tried not to slur.
‘A few friends, that’s all. For a tin of beer on the beach and some food, some music.’
‘Did I say yes to this?’ Connie tried to focus on Greg. ‘Did you say yes to this?’
Greg, in an expansive mood following his lengthy and erotic call with Janie, said, ‘What the hell, you’re only seventeen once. Yes, she can have her party. But … she’ll have to fund it herself.’
‘Oh, Daaaad.’ Abi’s face had fallen from triumph to tragedy. ‘I haven’t got any money.’
‘You have your monthly allowance.’
‘I’ve spent it.’
‘Then you’ll have to get a job.’
‘Where?’
Belinda butted in, ‘I’d be more than happy to help with the organisation. It needn’t cost a fortune.’
‘Would you?’ ask
ed Abi hopefully.
Pru leapt in, ‘Well, that would be very kind, Belinda. Thank you. Connie and I simply won’t have the time to help as we are full on with finding a roofer and watching Merlin like a hawk while he fixes the plumbing. And, of course, neither Greg nor Francis are able bodied enough to cart party things up and down the path to the beach. So, are we all agreed? Connie?’
Connie had her head flat on the table. Greg tried to wake her, but she was in a deep wine-induced sleep.
Belinda beamed. ‘I’ll be your Uncle Francis’s kitchen helper.’
A frown crept onto Pru’s brow – had she just scored an own goal, she wondered?
Abi, however, was delighted.
‘Mum’s out for the count! Good, she won’t remember that she didn’t say yes!’
‘Don’t be disrespectful to your mother. She’s exhausted with all the cleaning she’s been doing,’ said Greg, filling up his own glass.
Dorothy surveyed her unconscious daughter with a curl of her lip. ‘Doesn’t know her limit. Never did. Remember that summer, Henry? We found her in a terrible state. She’d been at your brandy.’
Henry thought for a moment, ‘That was Pru, wasn’t it?’
‘No.’ Dorothy was quite definite. ‘Connie.’ She turned to Pru: ‘What was it all about? A row over some boyfriend, as I recall.’
Pru looked into her own glass and said quietly, ‘I really don’t remember.’
‘Yes, you do,’ said Dorothy. ‘You and Connie didn’t speak to each other for months.’
‘God, yes,’ Henry breathed. ‘It was over that boy – Merlin.’
Greg sat up, suddenly attentive. ‘Merlin? He told me you two girls had had a falling out. Don’t tell me you got in a fight over that no hoper!’ Greg waved his glass at Pru. ‘Come on, spill the beans. Did he break poor old Con’s heart? Or yours?’
Pru stood up and started to collect the dirty plates. ‘It was a summer of parties and friends and Merlin was just one of the gang.’ She reached across the table. ‘Pass me your plate, Daddy.’
Registering Pru’s discomfort, Belinda leapt to her aid. ‘Gosh, look at the time! Come on, everyone, let’s get this lot tidied up so we can head off to bed. Emily, you wait here – I’m just going to give Pru a hand clearing up.’