Page 37 of Just for the Season

‘Wow, so wrong. The first three are great classics for a reason.’

‘I am not wrong,’ she says.

I raise my eyebrows and Frankie smiles, and then says, ‘Okay. Let’s try something less contentious: favourite holiday destinations and last holidays taken.’

It turns out that Frankie loves a city break, a hiking holiday, a skiing holiday, a snorkelling holiday, anything active, as long as she doesn’t have to carry anything because she hates carrying stuff.

‘Yeah, so I spend a lot of time carrying stuff on holiday,’ I tell her as I park outside the restaurant. ‘Comes with the territory of single parenting. And I have to say I don’t mind it, as long as it’s one bag. One nicely packed rucksack. I cannot stand lots of different bags. And I agree, I hate beach or pool holidays where you’re expected to sit around all day. I mean, I haven’t actually been on one since before Ruby was born but I do remember on a lads’ holiday when I was young thinking there are better holidays than getting off your face every night and lying around all day recovering from your hangover on repeat.’

‘It sounds like we could very happily go on a fake holiday together. Something active, with you carrying all my stuff in a large, perfectly packed rucksack. Where was your last holiday?’

We get out of the car and carry on our conversation as we go inside the restaurant and are seated at our table.

‘We went glamping in Wales with some friends for the August bank holiday. Lots of hiking, lots of big games of rounders, a big barbecue, paddling in the freezing cold sea, a lot of fun. What about you?’ As soon as I ask the question, I worry that she’s going to get upset if her last holiday was with her ex. I wonder again why he split up with her. For anyone who – unlike me – is in the market for a relationship, surely she’d be great to be with. Although, of course, I hardly know her. For all I know she might be axe-murdering material. Hard to imagine, though.

‘Yeah, my last holiday was with Ellie and Jack. We did a city break to Paris.’ She pauses and then says, ‘I was supposed to be going with Rick the Dick, but at the last minute he said he had to go on a golfing weekend with clients, but that I was welcome to go anyway and take a friend, so Ellie and Jack came. Rick had booked a suite in a very nice hotel – everything he does is OTT – and Jack had a sofa bed in the sitting room, so it worked perfectly. And we had a fab weekend.’

I nod, wanting to say sorry again about her shit-sounding ex, but not sure whether I should.

In the end, I do say, ‘Sorry about Rick. And cool, now we’re sorted if anyone asks either of us where the other one last went on holiday or whether the other likes Star Wars.’

Frankie laughs. ‘Yeah, maybe we aren’t doing this right.’

We take a few minutes off from the prep to study the menu.

‘Do you prefer to share or order just for yourself?’ she asks.

‘The thing is,’ I say, ‘my top favourite meal is lamb with peanuts and mango.’

‘Good memory,’ she says.

‘Thank you. Yep, let’s share, if you’d like to? Happy to avoid anything you don’t eat.’

Menu decisions made, we place our orders.

‘Any other drinks?’ the waiter asks us when we ask for tap water.

‘Well,’ I say, ‘I’m thinking we should drink something celebratory.’ I feel bad for Frankie: moving into a new home is a big deal, and she’s stuck for the evening with me, a near-complete stranger.

‘Although you’re driving and I’m currently not up for more than one drink in your presence for obvious reasons.’

I laugh. ‘What about mocktails?’

‘Actually, that sounds good.’

We both go for their special – called a Thai Shirley Temple – and then Frankie says, ‘Okay. Questions again. What’s your all-time favourite drink?’

‘Just a nice cold bottle of lager,’ I say, no hesitation. ‘Yours?’

‘Apple juice but also champagne.’

‘Both good choices. When’s your birthday?’

‘Good question,’ she approves. ‘Possibly the first useful one. Twelfth of June. You?’

‘Eighteenth of December.’

‘Very close to Christmas. Do you have a middle name?’