Page 41 of Just for the Season

‘That was a lovely dinner,’ I say. I suck in a deep breath of the chilly air, and try to pull myself back to a non-fizzing state by focusing on our surroundings, which are lit by soft moonlight: nearly bare trees lining the pavement in front of a three-storey Georgian stone terrace, and from somewhere a woody, autumny kind of smell. That’s better; I can speak more normally now. ‘I’ll definitely have to return to this restaurant,’ I continue. ‘Amazing food.’

‘Yep. I love it.’

Marcus holds his arm out to me, and after a second’s hesitation, during which a billion nebulous thoughts and emotions race through my mind, I take it, remembering that this means nothing; we’re just practising for when we’re on show in front of Gran and others in the village.

We walk arm in arm back to his car, and brushing against his side with almost every step I take really does nothing to bring my heart rate back under control.

He opens the passenger seat door for me, and I take a deep breath as I settle in the seat.

It’s cold inside the car – now that autumn has set in properly, the evenings are chilly – and without the proximity of Marcus to keep me warm, the lower temperature has an excellent effect on me, and by the time he’s getting into the driver’s seat, I’ve recovered from my momentary weirdness.

‘That was excellent method acting,’ I say approvingly. ‘I think we’re going to do very well at Gran’s party.’

‘I agree.’ Marcus’s voice sounds a little odd, probably because of how surprisingly cold the car is. ‘We are good.’

‘Yep, and also I think we’ve learnt a lot about each other this evening.’

‘Yeah. A good job, well done.’

We lapse into silence as he switches the engine on and pulls out of our space.

The silence continues for a bit too long, and it doesn’t feel comfortable, so I say, ‘We should use our time wisely, and do more prep on the way back.’

‘Good plan.’

‘Yes. Erm.’ I search for a question and eventually come up with: ‘What do you usually have for breakfast?’

There’s a pause that lasts for a good couple of seconds, during which I think why did I ask that, because it feels far too intimate. It is the kind of thing that a couple know about each other, and it is not the kind of knowledge that you ever need to display in front of anyone else.

It feels too awkward to say that, though, so I plough on with: ‘I like berries and Greek yoghurt.’

‘You know,’ replies Marcus in musing tones, ‘I think we’re going about this the wrong way. Scrambled eggs for me if I have time, by the way. But I find it hard to imagine anyone saying, “So, Frankie and Marcus, let me quiz you on each other’s favourite colours and breakfast habits.” I think the kind of questions new couples get asked all centre around how they met and what dates they’ve been on.’

‘You clearly don’t know my grandmother well,’ I mutter darkly. ‘She could ask anything.’ I pause. ‘Broadly, though, you’re right.’

‘Yep. And I’m not sure we’ve covered those things. We know each other better now, but we don’t know our fake story.’

‘Hmm. Okay.’ I begin to tick things off on my fingers as Marcus drives us along the narrow country lanes. ‘We “met” on a walk. Already been through that. I think we need to decide when and how I first met Ruby and Sam. We’ve already been seen together with them, at Miranda’s, and everyone there will have assumed that we’d already met.’

‘What about we went for a walk with them, on one of the beaches round the cove?’

‘Nice. Okay, so now we just need to think about dates. We’ve just been out for dinner. We can say we’ve had some nights in together.’

‘This is the thing,’ Marcus says. ‘No we can’t. People really know what you’re up to in Milbury. I think we might have to do a couple of things together, or at least with Ellie and Simon, and then tell people we both have very busy schedules but have been having a great time and are looking forward to doing more stuff together.’

‘Perfect,’ I approve. ‘We could plan a holiday together for some time next year. When you have the kids covered.’

‘Good idea. Maybe they could stay with relatives for the weekend. We haven’t broached it yet with anyone because we’re still in the early planning stages, but we’re going to soon. Where shall we go?’

‘What about a city break? In a nice romantic city.’

Marcus nods. ‘Good idea. That sounds like a good, loved-up, new-couple kind of thing to do.’

‘Rome?’ I suggest as Marcus turns left into the road that leads into Milbury. ‘I’ve never been but everyone says it’s really romantic, with lots of great food but also loads to do. And it would be amazing in the spring, and I think a few months from now would be the perfect time for us to take our fake relationship to the fake next level.’

‘Rome sounds perfect. I think we should stay somewhere central and walk everywhere.’ Marcus squeezes his car into the last space on the village high street outside the café. ‘Have you – real you, not fake-relationship-you – been to Rome before?’

‘No but I’ve always wanted to go. Have you?’