Busy Woman Seeks Wife (36 page)

E
lla finished her Rice Krispies, then washed up her bowl and spoon. She paused and listened. Still no sound from Frankie’s
bedroom. He’d disappeared in there when they got back from the launch and by the time Ella had gotten home again, after returning
the equipment to Mike and taking him out for lunch to thank him, and then going out to supper with him after a delicious afternoon
in bed so he could thank her for taking him out for lunch, Frankie was fast asleep in his room. She’d found the cold remains
of a pizza, which she polished off, an empty bottle of red wine lay on its side next to the sofa and his glass stood unwashed
on the draining board. It was all looking very bad. Worst of all,
The Deer Hunter
was in the DVD player. When he put a heart-tugger like that on things were serious. Ella had shrugged sadly as she’d cleared
up after him.

Should she sneak out quietly and leave him be, or wake him with a cup of tea? The phone rang. She answered quickly, to give
him a chance to sleep it off, and a voice she recognized sounded in her ear. “I need to speak to Frankie, please. Urgently.
Is he there?”

“Oh hi, Marina. It’s his sister, Ella. Er—he’s not available at the moment, I’m afraid. Can I get him to call you back?”

Ella could hear loud tutting. “Well, can I get him on his mobile? I’ve got to get back to them as soon as possible, you see.”

“Hang on. Who? What are you talking about?”

“Darling, I’m the agent, not you. Just get him to call me back straightaway, will you?”

“Oh hang on,” Ella bluffed. “I think I hear him coming back in. Hold on a moment, can you?” She laid the phone down gently
and crashed into Frankie’s room. God! It smelled like student digs. “Frankie!” She shook him urgently by the shoulder. “Frankie!
Wake up, you old wino! That agent of yours is on the phone. She says it’s urgent. Come on, Frankie!”

He rolled out of bed and onto the floor, squinting at her with bloodshot eyes. “Wha’? Wha’sa? Eugh! If you’re winding me up
I’m gonna wring your neck. Hand me the phone.” He cleared his throat with difficulty and she ran to the kitchen to get him
a glass of fresh water. He nodded his thanks, then took the phone. “Marina. Whassup? Yeah, it is me—honest. Oh, just a virus,
I think.” He took a long swig of water. Ella hovered by the door, watching him cautiously. He suddenly looked awake. “Yes?
Yes? Yes? NO! You’re kidding! I thought… Well, yes, absolutely. Of course! When do rehearsals start? You bet! Yes, I
can come in later. Well, what can I say? That’s terrific news. Thank you very much. I will. I will. Bye!”

Ella looked questioningly at him, not daring to ask, when he leaped to his feet, grabbed her hands and started jumping around,
still dressed in yesterday’s underpants and socks. “I’ve got it! I’ve got the part! I’m gonna be Joel. We’re starting rehearsals
in three weeks! How bloody fantabydoozy is that. Eh?”

Ella laughed and laughed as they cavorted around the room. “You clever old thing. I knew you’d make it! I just knew it. Oh,
Frankie, I’m so proud of you. I didn’t think anything could be as exciting as that launch, but this is even better.”

Frankie paced the kitchen, muttering, “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it” and clapping his hands together, then doing
a funny goal-scoring jig. Ella fully expected him to pull his T-shirt over his head any minute.

“Right!” Ella grabbed the kettle and started to fill it. “Today you are a star, and must be treated in the manner to which
you’ll probably become accustomed. I’ll make the tea. I’ll even make your toast. And I’ll even spread it all nicely for you.
Are you going to call the Bean?”

Frankie stopped pacing and frowned. He rubbed his unshaven chin for a moment. “Yeah, ’course I will, when I’ve had my tea.
And the boys. And Saff too, of course.” He paused for a moment. “Gosh, this is what I’ve always dreamed of. And now I’ve got
it. I’ve done it, Ella.” He smiled at her. “Funny, isn’t it? I thought… well, never mind.”

Something wasn’t quite right, but Ella couldn’t put a finger on what exactly. She looked at him anxiously. This didn’t look
like a man who’d just achieved his lifelong ambition. She placed a mug of tea in front of him. “And will you tell Alex?” she
asked gently.

“What do you mean? Oh! I need this.” He took a long swallow and sighed with contentment.

“Are you going to call and tell her?”

“Yeah, probably. Well, maybe not. She may not even know I was going up for it, so it’d be a bit pointless. Maybe Saff will
say something to her.”

“Frankie…”

He took the plate of toast and marmalade from her hands and looked her straight in the eye. “Not now, Ells. Just drop it,
would you?”

A
lex held the painting up over the fireplace. Yes, it would look good there. The bright slashes of color looked even more dramatic
against the plain walls. It was just what the room needed. A bit of life. As the phone rang, she leaned it back up against
the sofa.

“Hi, it’s Saff. Whatcha doing?”

Alex smiled. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’m trying to hang a painting.”

“What? A new one? A real one?”

“Yes, a real one. Actually, I’ve just done something a bit reckless…” And she told Saff how she’d passed the gallery
on her way home, something she’d done hundreds of times before. “But it just caught my eye, Saff, and before I knew it, there
it was wrapped in brown paper and under my arm, and my credit card is two hundred quid lighter. I must be turning into my
mother.”

Saff giggled. “You could do worse. Good on ya! You deserve a reward for yesterday.” There was a shriek of children from down
the phone. “Anyway, can’t talk long—Oscar is off to tennis—but I wondered if you wanted to come over for lunch on Sunday.
Nothing special. Just us. We might eat in the garden?”

Alex felt a surge of love towards her friend. “I can’t imagine anything nicer. See you then. I’ll bring the booze as usual.”

“Oh please don’t!” laughed Saff. “Must dash.” And they hung up.

Alex sighed and picked up the hammer and the hook, then looked at the painting and put them down again. It was too bloody
difficult trying to hang a painting on your own.

F
riday night. Date night. Frankie smiled wryly and adjusted his collar as he stood outside the Bean’s front door. He’d phoned
straightaway to tell her about getting the part, but she hadn’t been free until now, so their celebration had been deferred.
The Bean had told him on the phone too that, after much thought, she’d decided to sell her mews house and that it was time
to move on. She fancied being nearer the park, she’d said, but to Frankie it felt like the end of an era. He’d been feeling
like this for the past few days, though. In fact, it had been a strange, anticlimactic week since his mercy dash to Istanbul
and the launch. In spite of the fantastic news about the part, he felt mopey and down, and Ella hadn’t held back from telling
him how miserable he looked. He shook his head irritably. This should be the happiest time of his life, but he just didn’t
feel right. Maybe he’d picked something up in Istanbul?

The Bean took slightly longer than usual to answer the door. Perhaps she was titivating. He smiled to himself and thought
about the evening ahead. The Bean would cheer him up. She’d been delighted when he told her the news on the phone—not surprised,
as he had been, but thoroughly delighted, and she’d said straightaway that he deserved the part and that she’d known all along
he would get it. Frankie wished he could share her confidence. To him it still felt like a fluke, or at least the hugest stroke
of luck. He’d just been in the right place at the right time. That was how it felt, anyway.

At last the Bean opened up. It had been worth the wait: she did look amazing, in narrow trousers and a kind of brocade frock
coat. She looked like a Regency dandy. “My darling boy!” she exclaimed, giving him a bracing hug. Then she stepped back and
looked him up and down, an expression of satisfaction on her face. “Don’t you look smart! I’m so delighted. Isn’t this thrilling.
Come upstairs, won’t you?”

She’d been busy. A great deal of the clutter, the stacked-up canvases and knickknacks had gone—probably forcibly removed by
Alex. Frankie felt suddenly uncomfortable again and looked around, puzzled. The table was laid for two and there was a bottle
of red wine open on the sideboard. From the kitchen, a delicious smell of food wafted. He hadn’t realized the Bean could cook.

“I thought we were going out, Bean. I’ve made reservations. Have we got our wires crossed?”

A slightly furtive look crossed her face and she glanced at her watch. “No, darling. Not at all. This is just what I had in
mind. Did you reserve somewhere? Oh dear. Perhaps you could call and cancel.”

“You’re looking very dressed up for an evening in. I’m honored. And you’ve cooked! This is so sweet of you. I thought it was
against your principles.”

Again the slightly guilty look. The Bean went over to the windows and looked along the street, then turned to him, an almost
pleading expression on her face. She seemed in a hurry to speak. “Frankie, I’m so pleased for you, and so proud. I… I
couldn’t be prouder if you were my own son, you know. And you have so much talent. So much to give. Please don’t let it go
to waste. You’re a very special young man. And if… if you think I’ve stage-managed things a bit, well, don’t be cross
with me. Because I have your interests at heart, you know. And whatever happens, please let us always be friends.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Bean? You do sound melodramatic. Have you robbed a bank?”

There was a ring on the doorbell and she hurried down the stairs to answer it. Outside, Frankie could hear a large, well-tuned
motor purring and went over to the window to look out. A white stretch limo with tinted windows was waiting outside and a
large uniformed man with dark glasses was holding the door open. Frankie ran downstairs to the front door. “What on earth’s
going on? Are we going out after all? Why didn’t you tell me?”

From inside the car, he heard a deep, languid voice. “Hey, Bean? How’s it hangin’? So this is the famous Frankie, huh?” A
short black man dressed all in black with intense mint-colored untied sneakers—ones from the launch—stepped out onto the pavement,
then leaned into the car and offered his hand to… to Bettina! Frankie looked again. The man was Dizzy Zee, the rap artist
who had turned up at the launch in Brixton and driven the press into a frenzy.

“Frrrrankie! I ’eard about what you did to ’elp the other day. The Bean says you saved the day for everyone. You are an ’ero,
no?” Bettina leaned close and kissed him fragrantly on each cheek.

Frankie was unable to speak. As Dizzy pumped his hand and slapped his back, he could only stare and try to be polite. What
the hell was going on?

Behind the limo, another car had pulled up, and the engine turned off. He peered to see who it was, and through the windscreen
he could see someone who looked suspiciously like Alex. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. He watched her emerge and he stared,
astonished. She looked as puzzled as he felt, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Clinging to her slim figure was the delicious
green Ungaro dress from her wardrobe, there were dangly gold earrings in her ears, her hair was scooped up on her head in
clips and on her surprisingly delicate feet were high strappy sandals. She looked breathtaking but stood there awkwardly,
a part of this extraordinary tableau in the mews. Beside her, the supermodel, the rap star, the ravishing, aging actress,
the opulent car and its driver all faded away, and Frankie just stared. Suddenly, everything in his life made sense.

She came up to them tentatively, frowning slightly. “Mum? What’s going on? Bettina? Dizzy? I thought you’d both left for the
south of France. And Frankie…” She trailed off.

The Bean coughed delicately. “Darling, you look beautiful. But you know, my dears, I somehow seem to have got my diary all
mixed up. I’d quite forgotten that I’d arranged to see both you, Alex dear, and Frankie tonight. And Saffron has cooked up
a delicious meal for two, which is keeping warm upstairs. Shame to waste it. And then Bettina and Dizzy are only in town tonight,
and I would so love to go out with them so… I was thinking…”