Page 24 of Just for the Season

‘We have to go,’ Ruby says decisively.

‘We do not.’ I’m equally decisive.

‘What excuse would you make?’ Ruby asks.

‘I could say anything. Not back from the pub yet; you have homework to do; we’re going somewhere else for afternoon tea. The list is endless.’

‘The list is empty. She could have seen your car drive past. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing in this village. And the homework thing is so lame. It sounds like an excuse. Like you don’t want to go. And if we don’t go, she’ll worry that you aren’t very interested in Frankie any more.’

I stand and gape at her, trying to think of another – better – excuse. There must be loads.

‘Regular Sunday afternoon game of squash?’ I suggest.

‘But someone will know that isn’t true. Telling lies is a very bad idea unless you know you won’t get found out.’

I frown. ‘I don’t think that’s the main reason for not telling them.’

‘Dad. You can do the good, moral parenting thing another time. Right now we need to go.’ She turns towards Sam and hollers, ‘Sam, we’re all going out. There’ll probably be cake.’ Then she turns back to me. ‘You should text Rose and tell her we’re going.’

‘No,’ I say.

* * *

Within under fifteen minutes, the three of us are ringing Rose’s doorbell.

The door’s opened by Frankie.

‘Oh,’ she squeaks when she sees us.

‘Hello.’ Ruby beams at her. ‘Your grandmother very kindly invited the three of us for afternoon tea.’

‘Oh,’ repeats Frankie. ‘She didn’t mention that.’

‘Maybe she didn’t want to disappoint you if we couldn’t make it,’ Ruby says. ‘Or maybe she likes surprising people.’

‘Oh,’ Frankie says a third time. ‘Well… come in.’

I let Ruby and Sam go ahead of me and then whisper to Frankie, ‘Ruby thought this would be a good idea. She doesn’t want to upset your grandmother by me fake-dumping you too quickly.’

‘Right,’ says Frankie a little faintly. ‘Well… great. And thank you. But there really was absolutely no need.’

‘Put the kettle on again, Frankie,’ calls Rose from somewhere inside. ‘Take Marcus into the kitchen with you to help. Ruby and Sam, why don’t you join Ellie, Jack and me in here. I’ll send Jack to show you the way.’

Ruby and Sam disappear with Jack, and Frankie leads me into a large, farmhouse-style kitchen.

‘Glorious view,’ I say, indicating the windows, through which I see a beautiful, shrub-filled garden against the backdrop of Milbury Bay and an amazing view of the white sand beach curving around the headland, the trees and bushes on which are now turning stunning autumn colours.

Frankie nods, without even looking at it, before saying in a low voice, ‘I am so, so sorry. I have no idea what came over me last night.’

‘Can’t have been anything to do with drinking your bodyweight in champagne.’

Frankie achieves the remarkable feat of still looking extremely beautiful while screwing up her face in gargoyle fashion.

‘Yes, obviously. I just wanted to tell you that I don’t usually go round saying things like that. I mean, never. I don’t. I wouldn’t. And basically, as I said, I’m really, really sorry for dragging you into this, and you really, really didn’t have to come. Please do make any excuse you can think of next time – should there be one. Or, if that doesn’t work, I’ll tell Gran sooner rather than later that we’ve split up. Fake split up, I mean.’

She pauses, and then says, ‘Without wishing in any way to sound critical, in that obviously this is all entirely my fault, how did you not in fact come up with an excuse for this afternoon?’

I laugh; she sounds genuinely disapproving, which is so unreasonable it’s funny, given that this is indeed all her fault and there should be no onus on me to be finding excuses.