Page 7 of Just for the Season

‘Yeah.’ I’m beginning to feel a little guilty. Not really guilty, because snaffling a cake from under someone’s nose – having first asked very politely for it – is a nothing in the face of disappointing your daughter on her birthday. But somewhat guilty. Because maybe the woman did have good cause to want it. Although… since the person who she was buying it for was clearly just herself, her cause can’t have been as good as mine. Still…

‘Maybe you should apologise,’ Ruby says, upending our usual parent-child dynamic. ‘You stole her cake, didn’t you?’

‘Kind of. Yep.’ I don’t think now’s the time to tell Ruby that I saw the woman at Ellie’s and we had a small argument about cat-antibiotic administration. ‘If I ever see her again, I’ll apologise.’ Fortunately, I won’t.

3

FRANKIE

Ellie erupts into the kitchen when I’m about halfway through my carrot cake, and comes straight over to the table for a hug.

‘This is a lovely surprise,’ she says, just as I very suddenly dissolve into tears.

‘Frankie! What’s happened?’ She releases me for a moment to close the door behind her and kick her trainers off (and, even through the immense flood of crying and misery that’s washed over me again, I do still register the weirdness of Ellie being in trainers and Lycra, because she does not usually wear any kind of sports kit; in fact I’m surprised she owns any), before pulling a chair right next to mine and hugging me again.

‘Rick broke up with me and fired me and obviously I’ve had to move out and so I am now fiancé-less, homeless and jobless,’ I sob.

‘What? Frankie! What? Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. Tell me exactly what happened.’ Ellie stands up and goes over to the other side of the room before returning with a glass of water and a box of tissues.

I take a tissue and do a great honking blow into it, before launching into my story.

‘Rick texted me this morning and said he didn’t need me to go into work today. Which I thought was a good thing, because he was quite a strict boss and didn’t treat me differently from anyone else at work even though we were engaged and I had a lot on today and I hadn’t slept well because I’d been worrying about being so busy and it had turned into a vicious no-sleep cycle.’ I stop babbling for a second to do another huge blow into a new tissue.

‘Then what?’

‘Well. Pathetically, in hindsight, I was sitting on the apartment terrace late morning looking out over Hyde Park thinking about the gorgeous September sun and how lucky I was to get to live somewhere with such an amazing view, flicking through wedding magazines and trying to decide what colour I should choose for bridesmaids’ dresses, feeling good that I got to do that instead of going into the office. And then—’ I take another tissue and dab ineffectually at the enormous flow of tears running down my cheeks ‘—he texted me.’

I pause, because I’m gulping so much with the sobbing that I’m starting to feel sick, and Ellie pushes my glass of water towards me.

I wait until I can speak again and then continue, ‘His text said that unfortunately he didn’t think we should get married so we should split up and that he wouldn’t need me at work any more either, but he would be happy to pay me three months’ salary in redundancy and allow me to stay on at the apartment until next weekend.’

‘Oh my goodness. What? The bastard. He said all that by text? I mean, I can’t believe he said it at all. But by out-of-the-blue text is crazy.’ Ellie envelops me in a huge hug and I dissolve even further, completely soaking her with tears.

After a couple of minutes I suddenly remember an extra detail and lift my head to say, ‘And, we were supposed to be hosting a dinner party this evening for some of his friends – the designer-dressed, amazing-job ones, who all seemed to hate each other but wouldn’t dream of missing one of those evenings – and the stupid, rude fucker asked – told – me to contact them all to cancel it.’

‘And… did you?’

‘No I bloody did not.’

‘Good,’ Ellie says. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She squeezes me closer against her. ‘I have so many questions on details, but could I ask first whether you think there’s any chance of getting back with him or can I safely say deeply negative things about him?’

‘Ellie. If you don’t say extremely negative things about him, I’ll be furious. I’ll start. Rude. Arrogant. Up his own arse. Yes, good company on occasion. But far too fond of a boring, boring golf anecdote – like who cares if he got a hole in one under par on a really difficult and also obviously extremely exclusive course – and also a lot less charming once he’d got me into bed.’

‘That’s a very good start,’ she says approvingly. ‘Would you mind if I said that I did not appreciate the way he patronised me and Jack as country bumpkins?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

We continue to exchange satisfying insults about Rick, while my tears subside to hiccup and sniffle levels, until something occurs to me.

‘I genuinely slightly wonder whether he just proposed to me because I wasn’t sure about moving in and he really wanted someone trustworthy to live in his flat with him to basically house-sit because he was away so much. What do you think?’

‘Um.’

‘I want honesty,’ I command.

Ellie scrunches her face. ‘Maybe yes?’

I sniff loudly and she says, ‘I really think we need wine.’