Don't Want To Miss A Thing (33 page)

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 Frankie 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?’

‘Or you could stay and watch,’ Vince suggested. ‘Then I can explain everything, take you through it step by step and teach you how to do it yourself.’

Frankie’s neighbour Eric, in his eighties now, had been struggling recently to exercise his old Labrador so the villagers were helping him out. This evening it was Frankie’s turn to take Bamber for a walk.

It also gave her the opportunity to address something else that needed sorting out.

Along the way, she passed Molly and Vince outside Molly’s cottage.

‘You look like one of those scene-of-crime forensics experts,’ she told Vince.

Molly said, ‘He’s showing me how to treat the rust on my car.’

‘Gosh.’ This was startling news.

Vince, kneeling beside the wing on the driver’s side, looked up and said, ‘And how about you? Do you take proper care of your car?’

Frankie hesitated. ‘Umm, I put it through a car wash the other week.’

‘And did you wax it afterwards?’

She shook her head. ‘Well . . . no.’ Why was Molly giving her that look behind Vince’s back?

‘You see, you really should. It’s important,’ said Vince. ‘If Molly had looked after her car, it wouldn’t be in the state it’s in now. Prevention’s better than cure.’

‘Right. Wow, I’ll do it in future, definitely.’ OK,
now
she knew why Molly had been giving her that faintly desperate look; it was a signal to get away, escape while she still could.

Luckily she had a dog to walk and misconceptions to straighten out. Leaving the village, Frankie and Bamber made their way down to the riverside path. Dragonflies were dancing over the surface of the water, iridescent flashes of colour catching the sun as they darted this way and that. As she followed the bend in the river, the caravan came into view and there was Stefan, occupying his usual position on the top step.

When he saw her, would he disappear inside the caravan?

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Less than twenty seconds later he did as she’d fully expected him to. Just as he’d discreetly altered course and veered away when she’d approached the village shop the other morning as he’d been leaving it. And just as he’d taken to walking in the other direction around the green so as to avoid passing her house.

Frankie smiled briefly. Poor man, he must be terrified; did he think she might be about to launch herself at him and declare passionate undying love?

Reaching the caravan, she tapped on the door and called, ‘Hi, Stefan, can I have a quick word?’

He opened the door with visible trepidation. ‘Hello . . .’

‘OK, no need to look so worried. Just listen.’ She was going to get it all out in one go. ‘Lois was wrong, I don’t have a crush on you, I don’t even secretly fancy you a tiny bit. If I
did
, there’s no way in the world I’d be able to stand here and talk about it like this. So you can stop panicking, OK? Just relax. You don’t have to try and avoid me, because I’m not chasing after you. Lois doesn’t often make mistakes, but this time she did.’

Silence.

At last Stefan said slowly, ‘Well, you’re right about not being able to say it if it wasn’t true.’

See? This was the lesson she’d learned from Henry. ‘I know. It stands to reason. If I liked you, I’d be blushing and stammering.’ Frankie shrugged and spread her hands. ‘And look at me! I’m not!’

‘OK, I believe you. Well,’ he exhaled, ‘that’s a relief. No offence.’

‘None taken. Also, you’re way too old for me. No offence,’ she added with a grin.

‘That’s exactly what I told Lois!’ All the tension had gone from his face now. From behind him came the sound of a whistling kettle coming to the boil ‘Look,’ said Stefan, ‘I’m just making a pot of tea. Would you like some?’

‘Great.’ Glancing down to check on Bamber, Frankie saw he’d curled up and fallen asleep at her feet.

‘All the excitement’s been too much for the old boy.’ With a compassionate smile, Stefan said, ‘Leave him there, he’ll be fine. Come along inside.’

The interior of the caravan was immaculate, a miracle of space-saving organisation and a mixture of modern and traditional. The
floor was polished wood strewn with handmade rugs. The solid fuel stove gleamed. The seating was covered in crimson plush velvet, there were curtains and cushions in rich jewel colours and paintings hung on the walls. There was also a bathroom, a bedroom, a well-stocked bookcase and a small area containing a workbench and box of carpentry tools.