Never Can Say Goodbye (27 page)

‘Really?’

‘Nah. Not really. Not this year. I’m already sorted for Christmas, actually. And anyway –’ he yawned ‘– working for a living
is turning me into an “early to bed, early to rise” bore. I was up at three this morning to go to the flower market to pick
up a new consignment of Christmas roses. And they’ve gone like hot cakes. I’ll have to get more tomorrow.’

‘Three o’clock! You must be wiped out. We could have rescheduled tonight if you’re too tired.’

‘I’m running on adrenaline, and if I hadn’t got the table tonight we’d have had to wait until well into January, and I don’t
want to do that. They’re booked for weeks and this was a cancellation. Anyway, if I fall asleep in my uber healthy and nutritious
soup you can drive me home, can’t you?’

‘Drive this?’ Frankie snorted. ‘I doubt it. I’ve never driven anything bigger than a Mini in my life. And is this a BMW?’

‘You’re really not a petrol-head, are you?’ Dexter said kindly. ‘It’s a Mercedes.’

‘Well, whatever, it’s massive and powerful and scary.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Dexter said as they left the last signs of habitation behind them and plunged into the dark, bleak, windswept
Berkshire countryside. ‘And practically the only thing I have left of my previous life.’

Frankie said nothing. She wanted to know, but she didn’t want to pry. Not yet.

‘Now –’ Dexter glanced at his satnav ‘– I’ve been told that maybe we’ll need radar to find this place, so you can navigate
if we get lost. Apparently we have to turn off on the Fiddlesticks
road, then past the turning to Lovers Knot and carry straight on, ignoring all other turnings. We have to find a road called
Cattle Drovers Passage and it’s at the end of there.’

‘Easy-peasy.’ Frankie chuckled. ‘And it’s certainly out of the way. Did you know it was owned by the people who won
Dewberrys’ Dinners
last year?’

‘Brian told me this morning. I didn’t see the show. I had other things going on at the time, but I do know about it. I’m impressed.’

‘As impressed as Cherish is with Brian?’

‘What? I mean, I know they’re friends – and an odd couple they make – but are you suggesting that there’s something more?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything at all – Ooh, wasn’t that the Lovers Knot turning? Were we supposed to ignore that or turn down
it?’

‘Some navigator you are.’ Dexter laughed. ‘We’re dead on track. So go on – about Cherish and Brian.’

‘There isn’t anything to go on about, really. But Cherish is positively blooming and never stops talking. And Brian gives
her lifts to and from work even though he has to go out of his way to do it. And she always beats me out to you with the coffee
since Brian started helping you out.’

‘Do you mean she fancies
Brian
?’ Dexter sighed. ‘Is that why she’s become the deliverer of my morning coffee? And I was under the illusion that, just when
I need defrosting with scalding caffeine delivered by a gorgeous lady in a short dress and long boots, and all I get is mumsy
Cherish in all-over beige, it’s because she’s madly in love with me.’

Frankie chuckled. ‘Get over yourself. Not every female in the world fancies you, you know.’

‘Don’t they?’

‘No.’

‘Damn.’ Dexter slowed down and peered through the wind-screen. ‘I’ll have to work on my technique. It’s nice if Cherish and
Brian have formed a friendship, I guess. Two lonely people. Two lonely very nice people at that.’

‘They are,’ Frankie agreed. ‘Brian had great hopes of his romance with Rita, I know, and was very hurt after it ended. And
Cherish just seems to have been used by everyone she’s ever known. But I don’t expect it’ll develop into the romance of the
decade, do you?’

‘Probably not. And maybe they wouldn’t want it to, anyway. Maybe they’ll be more than happy to settle for friendship and companionship,
and good for them. Maybe they won’t. Maybe they are right for one another, and then again, maybe they’re not. Who knows? But
in my experience, falling in love with the wrong person causes an awful lot of problems. Right, any idea where we are?’

Frankie, soaking up yet another snippet of information about Dexter’s past, stared vaguely through the windscreen, and then
shook her head. ‘It’s so dark out there and I haven’t seen any signs or road names or anything. Still, we haven’t turned off
anywhere, so we must be on the right route. Oh, look, there are lights over there, and the tail lights of cars up ahead. So
maybe that’s it?’

It was.

After negotiating the narrow and winding Cattle Drovers Passage, they drove along a well-lit gravelled track, which ran beside
a beautiful old farmhouse, and eventually pulled into a spacious and well-filled car park.

‘Wow.’ Frankie blinked at Hideaway Home restaurant. It was a huge and traditionally converted barn, softly illuminated by
dozens of strategically placed lights. ‘It looks fabulous.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ Dexter switched off the engine. ‘And I’m starving. I could eat a horse.’

‘Horse,’ Frankie said with a chuckle as she unfastened her seat belt, ‘is definitely not on this particular menu.’

They hurried through the bitter, blustery, ice-dark night into the glorious golden warmth.

Inside, Hideaway Home glowed with discreet lighting, rumbled with conversation and laughter, and smelled divine. A towering
Christmas tree stood in one corner of the entrance, covered in hundreds of pinprick white lights, and carols played softly
over the sound system.

Frankie looked around her, delighted that they’d just let the massive converted barn speak for itself. There were no deliberately
placed ploughshares or cartwheels or other kitsch farming implements to accentuate its barn-ness. Instead, the original slatted
wooden walls had been lovingly restored and towered dizzily upwards to where the ancient thick, knotted beams criss-crossed
the ceiling, supporting the tile-and-slate roof. The decor was pale and natural, with scrubbed wooden tables, comfy farmhouse
kitchen chairs, heavy polished cutlery and fat cream candles.

Perfection.

‘Good evening, I’m Poll, and I’m delighted to welcome you to Hideaway Home,’ a tall woman with amazing cheekbones, and wearing
a long flowing frock, lots of beads, and with her hair tied back with matching ribbons, said and smiled at them. ‘Can I have
your name, please?’

‘Valentine. A table for two.’

‘Ah yes.’ Poll checked her clipboard. ‘Lovely. Follow me, please.’

‘I know her!’ Frankie hissed as they made their way through
the dozens of well-spaced tables, amused to notice yet again that almost every woman in the restaurant had stopped eating
to stare at Dexter. ‘Well, no, I don’t, but I recognise her from the television show. Oh, how brilliant – it’s like celeb
spotting! And look at that open-fronted kitchen – you can actually watch them cooking – that’s brave.’

‘It is.’ Dexter smiled at Poll as she showed them to their table and handed them the menus. ‘Thank you.’

‘Here’s the wine list –’ Poll beamed ‘– and tonight’s menu. All our food is fresh and locally grown. Take your time to choose.
Would you like some breads while you make up your mind?’

‘Yes, please.’ Frankie nodded enthusiastically as they shed their coats. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Good.’ Poll laughed. ‘I can guarantee you won’t be by the time you leave. I’ll get my husband Billy to bring you a selection
of his home-made bread straight away. And what would you like to drink?’

‘White wine spritzer for me, please, as I’m driving. Frankie?’

‘The same, please.’

‘Shall I bring you a bottle of our house white and some soda? Then you can top up as you go?’

‘That’d be great, thanks.’

‘Lovely. I’ll get them for you. Enjoy your evening.’

‘Wow,’ Frankie said again as Poll swept away, and she looked around. ‘Everyone’s food looks fabulous, and the smells are incredible
… and oh, look, there’s the boy chef that Lilly fancied – Ash? He’s even hotter in real life. I can’t wait to tell her he’s
actually cooking tonight. Oh, and the pretty girl – can’t remember her name … Ellie? Ella? – she’s cooking, too. Now –’ she
screwed up her eyes ‘– we just need to spot Poll’s
husband Billy, the one who made all the bread and things – Ah! There he is! Just coming over with a basket. Blimey – this
is soooo cool.’

Dexter laughed. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it. And that’s before we even eat anything.’

Beaming her thanks at Billy, then at Poll with the wine and soda and ice to make their spritzers, and groaning with delight
at the scent of warm bread and the little pats of golden butter, Frankie wanted to clap her hands with total happiness.

‘Right,’ Dexter mumbled round a mouthful of home-made granary bread, ‘now what to choose … No, seriously, what to choose?
Have you looked at the menu?’

Frankie, relishing the exquisite delight of a hot cheese-topped roll, nodded. ‘I’ll never be able to make up my mind. So much
lovely, lovely food.’

Eventually, having chosen their starters and mains and placed their order, Frankie leaned back in her chair and looked at
Dexter. He was such good company, and so beautiful. She was delighted simply to be with him, and yes, OK, delighted that other
women were staring at them and being
jealous
. Not that they had any need, of course, but they weren’t to know that, were they?

She smiled at him. ‘Thank you so much for suggesting this. This is the best night ever.’

‘You’re welcome. You deserve it. You’ve been working flat out from the minute I met you. I can’t believe you even have time
for a social life.’

‘I don’t much any more,’ Frankie admitted. ‘Well, certainly not since I took over Rita’s shop. But that’s not a problem, honestly.
And I’d hate to admit it to Lilly, but I’m getting too old for all-night clubbing and far too many cocktails. I enjoy my
nights out – or in – with my girlfriends and I also like my solo nights in with the telly or a good book.’

‘But you never go out? With anyone?’

‘You mean anyone male? Well, I’m out with you, aren’t I?’ Frankie wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Stop ferreting. You said before
you knew why I was single. Well, you were right. Once bitten – very, very badly mauled, actually – and never again.’

Their first course arrived then: goat’s cheese and onion pastries accompanied by herby red onion marmalade and a huge portion
of Hideaway Home’s farmhouse salad.

‘Dear me.’ Frankie looked at her heaped plate in astonishment. ‘I know I said I was hungry, but perhaps I should have gone
straight to the main. I’ll never eat all this.’

‘Course you will,’ Dexter said, unfolding his napkin. ‘And anything you leave just pass over this way. It looks and smells
amazing. So, go on, then. This mauling – who and when?’

Frankie groaned greedily over her first delicious mouthful of goat’s cheese, and shook her head. ‘You don’t want to hear about
it.’

‘I do if you want to talk about it. I want to know what makes you you. If it’s still painful, then, of course, I understand
that you won’t want to tell me, but if it helps.’

Frankie shrugged. ‘Oh, I’m over it – well,
him
. It’s been three years. But I can’t forget how it practically wrecked my life. I was truly devastated. Humiliated. I lost
everything. Home, job, self-respect … ’

‘That was some mauling.’

‘Yep. And it’s made me afraid to ever trust anyone again.’ Dexter met her eyes across the table. ‘Ah, trust, or the lack of
it. I can relate to that only too well.’

‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘Oh, yes. But this is your therapy session, not mine.’

Frankie sighed. He was never going to tell her anything about his past, was he? So should she really be about to tell him
all about hers? Hmmm, tricky one.

The starters were being quickly devoured. Frankie thought she had never tasted anything quite so divine.

She looked at him across the table. ‘OK, if you’re sure you want to hear this, but don’t say you weren’t warned – just stop
me if you start to nod off.’

‘The snoring will do that.’

Frankie laughed. ‘Right, are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin … ’

‘My gran used to say things like that.’ Dexter smiled at her. ‘I like it. It’s cosy. Like
Jackanory
.’

‘I can assure you that this,’ Frankie said quickly, ‘is
nothing
like
Jackanory
. OK, when I left school I wanted to do fashion retailing. So I joined Masons’ – they’re the big department store in Winterbrook
– as a trainee. They’re an old-fashioned family firm, and they set up really good training courses, with college day release.
I loved it. I was good at it, too – not bragging, but I was. Anyway, after a couple of years I thought I’d use what I’d learned
at Masons’ in other outlets, so I left and moved away and became a fashion buyer at another even bigger store in Reading,
then manageress of an exclusive one-off boutique in Newbury, then four years ago I heard they were looking for a manager for
the ladieswear department at Masons’.’

‘Where you’d started?’ Dexter was spooning herby marmalade onto his pastry. ‘Fine. I’m not bored yet.’

‘I applied and got the job and rented a flat in Winterbrook. Masons’ had moved on quite a bit since my early days, and had
expanded hugely and added various really fashionable departments with one-offs from up-and-coming designers as well as the
chains, and I loved running them all. Then I met Joseph.’

‘The mauler?’

Frankie nodded.

‘Would you like me to kill him for you?’ Dexter scooped up salad.

‘Not now, thank you.’ Frankie laughed. ‘Sorry, this must sound really tedious to you.’

‘Not at all. Just don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’

‘I’ve never told anyone all of it. Not even my parents.’ Frankie swallowed the last mouthful of pastry and looked in surprise
at her empty plate. ‘Crikey, I’ve eaten it all.’

‘So you have,’ Dexter said miserably. ‘Sod it.’

She laughed. ‘I promise I won’t eat all my main. Oh, thank you.’ She smiled at the young pretty waitress who was removing
their plates.

The young pretty waitress smiled back at her, but clearly only had eyes for Dexter.