Page 22 of Just for the Season

‘Glad to be of service,’ he says.

I decide that saying nothing is for the best, and just smile and snuggle into the jacket. I’m surrounded again by Marcus’s lovely masculine scent, and reflect miserably that this is probably the last time for a long time that I’ll be anywhere close to an attractive man, before remembering that that is a good thing, because clearly being in a relationship is not for me. My mother abandoned me. My fiancé effectively abandoned me. I’ll be much better off on my own.

We walk in silence. It’s a very clear night, one of those ones at the beginning of autumn that make you remember about frosts, so I’m happy not talking and instead marvelling at all the stars in the sky, plus I really don’t think I have any words that will improve the situation I’ve landed us in.

When we reach the end of the little lane that leads up to Ellie’s cottage, I say, ‘Goodnight and thank you very much and also sorry for making you be my fake boyfriend for the evening.’ I begin to remove the jacket.

‘No, no, I’m coming all the way to the door, otherwise I’ll just worry that you’re in a ditch or something.’

‘I can’t imagine anything bad happening to me between here and Ellie’s. I’m thirty-five years old. I can totally look after myself.’

Marcus mutters something under his breath, which sounds a lot like, ‘Carrot cake, unbelievably drunk, fake boyfriend,’ before saying at normal volume, ‘Of course. But I might as well come anyway.’

He doesn’t look like he’s going to give up, so I just say, ‘Thank you,’ and pull the jacket back round myself.

When we finally get to the cottage, he lifts his hand just as I start thanking him again.

‘Honestly,’ he says, ‘it sounds like you’ve had a really bad time recently. This evening was completely understandable.’

‘Even the fake boyfriend thing?’

‘I mean… sort of. In a panicked moment. While really drunk.’

‘Sorry.’ I hand him his jacket.

‘Seriously. It’s fine. Anyway. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight. Thank you.’

For a moment, as I close the door behind me, I’m almost sorry that Marcus has gone. And then I remember that we are in no way friends, and that my life is basically a disaster.

I slump into a chair at the kitchen table and then haul myself to my feet again. I love Ellie very much and I know she loves me too, but I think we’d both be a lot better off if I just went to bed now. We went over the whole no-Rick, no-job, no-home situation yet again today, while Jack very kindly unpacked all my stuff into Ellie’s spare room, before the three of us went for a long walk in the afternoon, and I don’t think Ellie needs to hear any more misery from me. I think after the week I’ve just done of wound-licking and sleeping and walking and watching reality TV, plus obviously eating a lot of cake (Simon has brought regular cake deliveries while having the sensitivity not to intrude and ask me any questions; he’s very good at waiting for people to confide in him) it’s time for me to draw a line under everything and make a plan about what I’m going to do next.

I really wish I hadn’t added a fake boyfriend announcement into my list of life disasters big and small. I need to send Marcus an apology and a nice bottle of wine (if I can actually bear to even buy alcohol; maybe I’ll get him something else actually), and then I’ll make lots of excuses to Gran over the next few weeks before fizzling out our fake relationship, and then there’ll be no further need for me to have the embarrassment of speaking to Marcus again.

8

MARCUS

I’m up early on Sunday morning to get a run in before I go and pick up Sam from Miranda and Rob’s to take him to his club football match. Ruby won’t be awake until later, and she has plans to hang out with Libby for a couple of hours.

Leaving our house, I turn in the opposite direction from Ellie’s because I don’t want to risk bumping into Frankie. I can’t imagine she’d like to see me any time soon, and I also have no desire to see her.

She’s clearly gone through a nightmare break-up very recently, and she was also clearly extremely drunk last night. Plus she obviously cares hugely about her grandmother and doesn’t want her to worry about her. So – weirdly – I do actually understand why she went down the insane route of pretending that she had a boyfriend, and I’m guessing she said it was me because I was the first man her eyes lit on. She’s really just lucky that I’m single, or her grandmother would have realised she was lying and presumably been really upset. Irrespective, though, of whether or not she had good reason, your average person would be feeling a little embarrassed in this morning’s cold light of day. She obviously won’t want to see me.

And from my side, there was something… odd… about last night, interacting with Frankie. Something… I don’t want to repeat. Too uncomfortable.

So, yep, I’m literally running away from her.

Today it’s early autumn at its best, dry and sunny, a scattering of leaves underfoot, and I like running (it always clears my head), and then I enjoy Sam’s football match, so it’s a great morning.

Just as the game ends, my phone pings, and I immediately pull it out of my pocket; since Ruby first started going places independently, I always check messages when she isn’t with me, just in case. I see that I have, oddly, received a message from Rose, Frankie’s grandmother:

Good morning, Marcus. I got your number from the village WhatsApp group. If you’re free, I’d love you, Ruby and Sam to come for lunch here with Frankie today so that I can get to know you all better. If you’re able to come, I’d love to welcome you at about one. Best wishes, Rose Winters

Oh. Oh dear. Frankie has woven an over-tangled web.

Obviously we aren’t going to go.