Page 23 of Just for the Season

I send an immediate reply:

Dear Rose, Thank you so much for your very kind invitation. The children and I would have loved to have joined you but unfortunately Sam and I have a previous commitment: we’re going for a pub lunch with the parents and boys in his Sunday football team. Thank you again and best wishes, Marcus

I wonder whether Frankie knows that her grandmother invited me. Maybe I should tell Ellie so that she can let her know. No, there’s no need, surely. Rose will mention it. And Frankie will know that she’s going to have to get creative with her excuses and her speedy fizzling out, as she called it, of our fake relationship.

Our pub lunch is great, and when we pick Ruby up from Miranda and Rob’s, she tells us she’s had an amazing time with Libby. She could walk home – it’s under twenty minutes – but she has a serious case of teenage lethargy when it comes to any form of exercise other than netball and tennis, and, if I’m honest, I love car journeys with her, even short ones, because sitting side by side in the two front seats staring straight forward out of a windscreen seems to be the time we communicate best.

We have a nice, remarkably friendly conversation in the car, and when we get inside the house, I reflect that Ruby’s birthday weekend seems to have gone very well, far better than I would have predicted.

Sam switches the TV on as soon as we get inside, and I’m about to remonstrate with him – the battle against screens is both an arduous one and a losing one, but I can’t give up – when Ruby says, ‘Last night with Frankie was crazy. You have a fake girlfriend. Libby and I have been talking about it.’

‘I don’t actually have a fake girlfriend,’ I correct her. ‘It was for one evening only.’

I’m not surprised that Ruby and Libby talked about it afterwards – I’ve never introduced a single partner to Ruby and Sam since their mum left, so me having even a fake girlfriend would have been huge news to them – but I’m quite surprised, and a little terrified, that Ruby wants to share her thoughts on the topic with me.

‘Yes, that’s one of the things we talked about,’ Ruby says.

Oh God. I really don’t want to hear my fourteen-year-old daughter’s ruminations on my completely and utterly fake relationship.

‘We feel really sorry for Frankie,’ Ruby continues.

‘So do I.’ I’m feeling on safer ground. Anyone with a heart would feel sorry for Frankie right now.

‘Good. Because we think you’re going to have to continue with the fake-relationship thing for a while.’

I nod. ‘Frankie’s going to continue with it for a while, but I don’t need to be involved. She’s going to make excuses for me, and then fizzle me out.’

‘We think that will make Rose really sad. Libby’s mum said she’s been really ill and she’s got heart problems and she’s nearly eighty-five and we don’t want to upset her.’ Ruby’s looking at me with big eyes, like she does when she’s going to ask for something I do not want to give her.

I often give in when I shouldn’t. On this occasion, though, I will not be giving in; she’s clearly going to suggest that I do a bit more in-person fake-boyfriending, and the answer is absolutely non-negotiable.

‘Yeah, no,’ I say. ‘I get that. We don’t want to make Rose sad. But the thing is, Frankie’s relationship has ended. And she does not in fact have a new partner. So at some point Rose will have to accept that Frankie is single again. And of course being single is great. No-one needs a partner.’ I certainly don’t, whether they be real or fake. I have a fantastic thing going with Ruby and Sam (give or take the odd completely out-of-my-depth difficult conversation with Ruby), and after everything they’ve been through (or more specifically not been through) with their mother, I don’t want to upset the apple cart by introducing another woman into their lives who might or might not stay around.

‘The thing is.’ Ruby’s still doing her big eyes. She lowers her voice. ‘We don’t think Rose has much time left.’

I choke. ‘We?’

‘Miranda and Libby.’

‘How do they know?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ruby waves her hand like she’s brushing away actual details. ‘She’s old. She’s been ill.’

‘I hadn’t heard that.’ I’m horrified. If Ruby’s right, it makes even more sense that Frankie wouldn’t want to upset her. But we can’t fake being in a relationship together. That would be insane. It was ridiculous enough for one evening.

‘Think about it,’ Ruby advises me, like I wouldn’t now be going over this in my mind.

My phone buzzes and we both instinctively look towards it.

Ruby pounces on it before I can get to it.

‘Rose is messaging you.’ She has no concept of me being allowed privacy in my private life. Probably because I don’t have a private life. Which is a good thing.

I hold my hand out and raise an eyebrow, and, miraculously, Ruby actually gives me the phone. Although she is still peering over my shoulder.

Rose’s message reads:

Dear Marcus, A further idea has occurred to me. Perhaps you and the children might like to join us for afternoon tea after your pub lunch? We would all very much like to see you if you’re free in the next half hour?