The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green (37 page)

As she'd made them cups of tea, she'd watched them working away outside. There were no public displays of affection, they were both too traditional for that: if a stranger had seen them, they'd have assumed they were just two blokes in the shorts they reserved for mucky jobs. But whenever they went over to inspect each other's work, one would rest a hand on a shoulder and they would share a tender look or say something which made the other smile. Seeing her dad's happiness out in the open was the most beautiful thing. He was loved by a good man and he loved him back.

Over a brew, she'd asked him, them, what they thought of her having her own salon. Dad had immediately offered to invest some money but she wanted to do this herself. His DIY skills would be more than enough.

‘Don't go calling it Scissor Sisters,' Gareth had said, making her laugh, ‘or people might get the wrong idea!'

Frankie giggled now amongst the cobwebs, remembering how she'd had to explain to Dad it was lesbian slang.

Yes, this felt right: not just location, career or price-wise. This was about doing something for herself. Floyd sprang to mind: he'd approve, she thought. His physical touch had faded, but his words and positivity remained like a pair of wings, ready to lift her when she needed a boost.

Floyd and her had been a lovely thing but it was never destined to be A Thing: it wasn't as if she could ever compete with Sasha. Not that that was what it was about. Definitely not. She had Jason, or at least she might have him. And actually she was okay with that: she needed a break from all of that. It was enough now to do something for herself.

Just then, the door tinkled – she'd get that changed, she thought, it was a bit too ye olde village shoppe.

‘Jase!' she said as he walked in with his overalls opened to his waist, revealing his ripe-as-a-plum chest. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I've found you! I've been looking for you everywhere!' he said, giving her a kiss on the lips. It was the most natural thing in the world, Frankie thought, as she breathed in salt which hung in his curls.

‘You're in your dirties. Are you back with the boys?'

‘Yes,' he beamed. ‘Happy days are here again!'

He looked just like the man she remembered before his doubts surfaced – happy, relaxed and buoyant. And, wow, she realized, it made her heady with the thought he could be hers again.

‘Why didn't you ring?' she said, shaking her hair at him as she crossed her eyes. She held up her phone, which she'd been using to take photos and record measurements.

‘I wanted to surprise you!' he said, his brown eyes as warm as hot chocolate. ‘Your dad said you were here. Looking at this place to rent. Get you!'

‘Yep, it might not look much now but when I've finished with it…' she sighed, holding out her arms as if this was her territory already.

‘If you need any scaffolding for a paint job outside, then I might know someone…'

Frankie laughed, feeling twice the person in his presence because he looked as excited as she was. Not to mention hot and earthy and— But what was he doing here? They'd messaged since Saturday, keeping it light, knowing their common ground was no longer established and mature, but raked over and sown with seeds. Heavy footsteps would irrevocably damage any chance they had of making it together again.

‘So…' she said, prompting him to throw some light on his visit.

‘Yeah, so…' he coughed then span around leaving trails in the dusty floor. ‘Well, I wanted to know how your diary was fixed?'

‘Sorry?'

‘Your diary. What you've got on.' His smile was wide and deep and so very inviting. And his tone was playful. Amused and curious, she went in for a paddle. He had understood how fragile this all was, and he was meandering around until it felt safe to ask her out.

‘Let me think… busy tonight, washing my hair tomorrow, might be free at the weekend…' she said, coyly.

‘How about next week?' he said.

‘Might be okay,' she said, now up to her calves, getting closer to him, ready to say yes to dinner or the cinema or anything.

‘Next month?' He was moving towards her too, blinking slowly, heavily, which always sucked her in.

‘Possibly,' she said, wading up to her waist, wondering if he was going to suggest a holiday.

‘How about six months' time? Then…' Jason's face was no longer flirtatious but serious and intense.

‘Yes?' she asked, treading water, wanting to know what he had planned.

‘Nine months after that?' He began nodding at her slowly and pulled her into his embrace, as if he was her life raft.

Waiting, with her heart galloping, she met his eyes with expectation.

‘Frankie, I want you to marry me all over again,' he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘We can have a blessing. And we can start trying for a baby straight after.'

She laughed with a gasp; where on earth had this come from? She'd thought he was going to ask her out for dinner. But marriage? And a baby?

‘We can plan this wedding together, properly, I'll be there with you all the way, whatever you want,' he said, irresistibly. ‘I got it so wrong before – I wasn't there for you, I left all the organization to you. I was a dick. But now I want the world to know I'm sorry and I love you. It'll be the biggest, grandest day you've ever had. And then we can start again with a baby, our baby.'

Stunned, she gulped and felt first tearful then indecently delighted: she was being offered everything she'd wanted on a silver platter by her very own Prince Charming.

‘What do you say?' he asked her, moving his chest and head backwards to check she had taken it in. Then his enormous smile was shining on her.

‘I… oh, God… I can't believe…'

‘We can get you another ring, a new dress, shoes, veil, anything. We can do it in a church, or at a hotel, or anywhere. I've been looking into it, there are lots of places to do it. We can go on honeymoon again, Greece if you like, or somewhere exotic, and if we get pregnant straight away we could be parents, not this Christmas, but next!'

‘Is this really happening,' she said, feeling light-headed, ‘because I'm just… blown away!'

‘I was going to ask you in a few days, have a bit of food, go for a nice walk, get down on one knee but seeing you here, checking this place out, I needed to get in quick before you signed your life away.'

Frankie took a step backwards, away from his body. Her surroundings, which had been blinkered by Jason's aura, swooped back into view. Over his shoulder she saw an old hairy broom unemployed against the wall, and a clapped-out beauty trolley still littered with clips.

‘What?' she asked, digging the fingernails of her thumbs into her forefingers to make herself concentrate.

‘Well, this salon. Look at the state of it! It's a shithole! If you take it on then you'll be bogged down with it all, and we'll never get round to doing a blessing, and you'll be too busy to think about kids.'

A solid brush in a crusty mixing bowl sat useless on a filthy shelf.

‘It'll haemorrhage money too at first, you've no guarantee that your old clients will follow you here, and it hasn't got great parking.'

Old magazines and latex gloves littered the floor. Wires hung from the ceiling too. He was right: it was in a dreadful mess. But still she wanted it to be hers.

‘Hang on,' she said, holding up both palms, ‘you're talking as though I have to choose between you, us, and the salon. It is possible to have both.'

‘Yes, of course, but I thought you wanted a baby?'

‘I do! One day. What if I want to wait a bit? What if I want to start my salon first?' She wasn't even sure what she wanted now: she'd been so sure about the salon but now he was confusing her. Was she in fact aiming too high? She couldn't sense her gut feeling at all; she even wondered if she was denying him because he'd denied her.

‘You can do that anytime! But the stress of setting it up might harm our chances. It might take a while too to conceive…'

Frankie looked at herself in one of the cracked mirrors. Her bottom half, of slender legs and full skirt, was displaced from her stripy vested top. She couldn't even rely on her reflection anymore. ‘I need to think,' she said, covering her face, hoping the solution would be there before her when she could see again.

‘I'll look after you,' he said, smiling down at her. ‘I'll always look after you.'

The effect of his words, so sweet yet so off target, jolted her to attention. ‘I don't need looking after!' she said, throwing her hands in the air. Jason looked bewildered by her outburst.

‘But I bring in a good wage, you can stick to your mobile job until the baby's here, then you can go part-time, the grandparents will do their bit. I was thinking you could work three days a week and then they can share the childcare. Come on, we've wasted so much time, we should just crack on and have a family. It'll be the best thing that's ever happened to us.'

‘You've got it all worked out!' she said. ‘How can you have it all worked out?'

‘I understand you must be feeling like you can't trust me, and that's fine. I've had time to think and this is my way of making it up to you. I'll try my hardest to make you happy and keep you safe, Tink.'

‘But I've eaten oysters, I've had my hair done and finally I'm good at sex.' Frankie was trying to understand herself again, find the person she had become.

‘What's that got to do with it?' he laughed, scratching his head.

‘I'm not who I was,' she said, grabbing hold of the skirt of the new her. ‘And there's something I have to know, Jason…'

‘Anything…' he said, resting his hands on her bare shoulders, grounding her.

Boldly and without embarrassment, she said: ‘Why didn't you try to satisfy me in bed the other night? Why didn't you give me the chance to work things through with you before you walked out?'

He hung his head and exhaled. ‘You can't keep punishing me for needing time out. I've said I'm sorry.'

He looked up, eyes pleading with her.

‘The sex, Jason. Answer me.'

‘Why are you so hung up on the sex? It's got nothing to do with all of this.' He began to search the ceiling for someone to throw light on it for him.

‘It's got everything to do with it. I'm not who I was. I want more. Less. Oh God, what I mean is… before, I had no idea about my own needs. I was happy to just follow you around. Our marriage, our relationship, was all about you. I had no self-worth or self-awareness or self-confidence. I never even thought about it back then, to be honest. But when you left I was lost. It's taken me this long to find out who I am, what's in here,' she said, thumping her chest. ‘I need you to see me as your equal.'

‘I do! I get it!'

She reached out and smoothed his cheek with her fingertips. ‘Perhaps we need some more time, to talk.'

‘Why? Aren't I here now?' he said, kissing her hand. ‘Communication, I've been reading about it, they say it's the most important thing in a relationship, and that's what I'm trying to do now. I know I've hurt you, let me show you I can be the husband I should've been all along. Look, Tink, we've got an opportunity here to get back together, to make a family, to grow old side by side. We can take our kids to our special beach and, who knows, maybe take our grandchildren to our special beach? Share a portion of chips, jump the waves, build sandcastles.'

Staring at him, Frankie could see the same images as Jason and it was truly beguiling. She could almost touch the baby hair of their children and feel the sand beneath her feet. There was the taste of hot vinegary chips, and the sound of squeals and the sea.

Frankie knew it was all there waiting for her: all she had to do was say yes.

‘I'll tell you what love is,' Em said, spearing patatas bravas with her fork, before inspecting her feet beneath the table. ‘Goodness, look at my ankles, they're both swollen.'

‘Love is swollen ankles?' Letty laughed through a mouthful of frittata at Viva Tapas.

‘First, Letitia, pregnant water retention is not amusing, and second, you know I didn't mean that. And yes, I get the hilarity about me telling you two about love.' Her face flushed – for the millionth time since Simon Brown and her had become an item.

‘You go for it, babes,' Letty said, holding up her sherry to Em's tap water. ‘I think it's lush.'

‘Me too,' Frankie added, joining the clink of glasses. ‘Tell us.'

‘Love isn't flowers and symphonies. It's an actual physiological process.'

‘You've lost me there, babes,' Letty said. Frankie just nodded sweetly, which Em knew meant that she thought she'd lost it.

‘We're at the mercy of our biochemistry. Lust is testosterone and oestrogen. Attraction, that's all to do with a group of neurotransmitters called monoamines. There's the high of dopamine. Then norepinephrine, otherwise known as adrenalin, and the happy feeling is serotonin. Attachment, well, that's down to oxytocin.'

‘That's romantic,' Letty laughed.

‘But it is!' Em smiled. It was as if she could actually feel the chemicals fizzing away inside of her. In the forty-eight hours that she had been with Simon Brown, everything had changed. Floyd's mess didn't both her, she had to be reminded to eat, and when Simon Brown was sleeping, she would stare in wonder at his symmetrical top and bottom lips and his precise sandy sideburns which ended at the exact middle-point of each tragus. Their tender sex, well, it made her believe in heaven. And with so much time to make up, they were already discussing baby names and living arrangements.

‘Seriously though, I thought love was all to do with the physical,' Letty said. ‘But it's not.'