Page 62 of Just for the Season

‘How was it?’

‘You know.’ She smiles more. ‘Big. Smoky. Well, polluted, anyway. Seriously, you only have to have a few weeks away from London to find the Tube disgusting. Like when you blow your nose after you’ve been on it, it’s all black.’

‘Only solution: you’re going to have to stay here forever.’ I’m slightly aghast as soon as the words are out of my mouth; I was not going to ask her about things like this. ‘Or somewhere else in the country,’ I amend my words. No, that just sounded odd. I need to switch the subject a little. ‘So how was your party?’

‘Really fun. I saw a lot of old friends. Met some new people. Had a little too much Prosecco. Danced for a long time with some of my oldest girlfriends and got blisters.’

‘Sounds like the perfect evening.’ I really want to know what she meant by met some new people. What kind of meeting was that? Chatting? Or… other stuff. Like, did she hook up with someone? And is that anything to do with me? No, it is not. It really isn’t.

‘Yeah, it was great,’ she says.

‘So.’ I think we should get off the subject of London and parties and meeting people. ‘Has the café changed at all since you went away?’ I shake my head as soon as I finish the question, because, er, of course it hasn’t.

Frankie laughs. ‘Well, I was away for nearly a full thirty-six hours, during which time obviously you would imagine a lot could change, and yet… no. Still the same. And the job is the same. I’ve baked some cakes this morning. Two blueberry, lime and pistachio ones, and two parsnip, ginger and lemon ones.’

‘Parsnip?’ I query.

‘Yup. It’s good. Like carrot or courgette in a cake.’

‘But parsnip?’

‘Exactly.’

She beams at me, like please like my weird new flavour, so I find myself saying, ‘Well I think I’d better try a slice now. And I’ll take a blueberry and lime one for the kids for later. And could I get a coffee? And what sandwiches do you have?’

Frankie talks me into today’s seasonal specials: a gingerbread latte and a roasted butternut squash, cranberry and brie sandwich. I decide to stay and eat my sandwich and parsnip cake in the café. I’ll just work later this evening after the kids are in bed.

A few other customers come in and I help Frankie out while I eat my (surprisingly good) sandwich.

I approach the cake with a certain amount of trepidation. In fact, why don’t I take it away and taste one mouthful out of curiosity and then tell her it was nice.

‘I might…’ I begin.

Frankie raises a finger. ‘I literally just saw a whole idea pass through your mind. You think you’re going to hate the cake so you don’t want to taste it in front of me. In fact, you don’t want to taste it at all. But you don’t want to offend me.’

I laugh. ‘Fine. I’ll eat it here. Maybe only one mouthful though.’ A minute later, I swallow and say, ‘Okay, weirdly that was nice. Actually delicious.’

Frankie nods very smugly, and something strange shifts inside me. All I can do is smile at her, until my phone buzzes several times in quick succession with email notifications and I remember that I do have a job.

‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Work.’

‘Russian spies to catch?’

‘Exactly.’ I stand up. ‘Maybe see you tomorrow? The kids and I will definitely be here on Wednesday for potluck.’ I know that’s only two days away, but I feel like I don’t want to wait that long to see her again.

‘Tomorrow I’m having dinner with Gran, who’s been very elusive recently – she has such a good social life – but I’m here during the day or just after work.’

‘What about a walk after you finish? We need to make the most of the lighter afternoons before the clocks change?’ I can’t remember the last time I suggested going for a walk round the village with anyone. The kids would say no and… I wouldn’t ask anyone else.

‘Perfect. See you tomorrow five thirtyish? Obviously let me know if MI5 need you.’

* * *

I’m at the café the next afternoon waiting for her as she finishes. We walk round the back of the High Street and along a path to a stile that leads to a path up a hill overlooking the village and the bay.

‘How’s your day been?’ Frankie asks.

‘Good. The usual. A lot of tramping around fields and a lot of paperwork. What about yours?’