Page 30 of Just for the Season

We smile at each other and then I say, ‘Okay, so, we need to act like a non-PDA kind of couple at all times in the presence of anyone who might notice anything amiss with our relationship and report that to the grapevine.’

‘Exactly. Thank you so so so much. I cannot describe how much I owe you.’ She does a half-smile, which is very cute. Her ex-boyfriend must have been made of stone not to react to that.

We both move towards the door, and then, as we go back outside, she says, ‘Did you come in for a carrot cake by any chance?’

I glance towards the woman in the corner, who is watching us again, in a remarkably focused fashion, and then return my gaze to Frankie and say, ‘Well, obviously I came in to see you.’

She bats her eyelids at me and says, ‘Aww, so sweet. A lovely middle-of-the-day surprise.’

‘Yeah. And, also, Ruby has girlfriends coming over later and wants me to make a lasagne and buy one of Simon’s chocolate cakes.’

‘Chocolate cake coming up.’ Frankie turns round and reaches for a flat-packed cake box. Which is the first time I register, as in think about it, that she seems to be working in here.

‘Are you…?’ I begin, and then realise that as her devoted boyfriend I would probably know what she was up to. I lean closer and ask very quietly, ‘You’re helping Simon out today?’

‘Working here as my actual job for a while,’ she murmurs. ‘And going to be living upstairs.’ Then she raises her voice back to normal pitch. ‘So chocolate cake.’

‘Is Simon not around at all today?’ I check.

‘Nope.’ She lowers her voice again. ‘He’s trying to work full-time on his new interior design business.’

‘Dammit.’

‘Would you like me to pass a message on?’ She carefully slides the cake into the middle of the box and begins to build the sides.

‘I just wanted him to help me with a lasagne issue.’

She raises an eyebrow.

I lower my voice again, just as the door opens and two women pushing buggies enter.

‘My cooking repertoire is fairly limited and the lasagne that Ruby likes is usually made by my housekeeper, but she’s on holiday at the moment and I was wondering if I could pay Simon anything he liked to either make one for me or get me one from one of his suppliers.’

‘I’ll happily make one for you,’ Frankie says, morphing into an angel before my eyes. ‘I massively owe you and it would make me feel a lot better if you’d let me help. Also, as you can see, I’m not exactly run off my feet in here.’

‘Are you sure? Do you have the ingredients?’

‘Well as it happens I was going to make a spag bol this evening for Ellie and Jack, and Jack’s a big dairy fan, so they always have a lot of milk and cheese in, and I’m sure Ellie will have lasagne sheets.’ She pauses for a moment, head tilted to one side. ‘I’m just thinking about timings. I’m closing here at five today, then obviously clearing up. I can then make it as soon as I get back and drive it round to you for you to put in the oven?’

‘Are you sure that isn’t going beyond the call of duty?’ I ask.

Frankie stares at me for a second and then leans over the counter, giving me a momentary view of her cleavage that I really should not enjoy as much as I do.

‘Marcus.’ She lowers her voice again. ‘Fake relationship versus making a lasagne? I could make you a hundred lasagnes and it wouldn’t be as big a favour.’ She has a point, although it would be rude for me to agree out loud.

‘Plus,’ she continues, lowering her voice again, ‘it’s really boring doing nothing all day at work. There are various points during the day where quite a few people come in at once and sometimes there’s even a queue – as we both know from the carrot cake day – but there are also a lot of times where I’m doing nothing but thumb-twiddle. I mean, you’d really be doing me a favour. Giving me something to do.’

‘Put it like that,’ I say, ‘and you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll have to accept your offer.’

‘You will.’ She nods, smiling like she’s just won an enormous victory, which makes me laugh.

I take out my phone. ‘We should exchange numbers so we can plan the lasagne handover. And then I should pay for the cake and let you get on with serving these new customers—’ I gesture at the women who just came in with their babies ‘—so that we don’t ruin Simon’s business.’

And just like that, my lasagne problem is solved.

Frankie sends me a running commentary through the afternoon on lasagne progress:

Just in case you’re worried I might forget… just texting to say I HAVEN’T forgotten…