Page 76 of Just for the Season

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I spend the rest of the day in a bit of a daze, due to my newly realised feelings for Frankie, the aftermath of a night of truly glorious sex and a real lack of sleep.

I want to see her again as soon as possible. I’m missing her today, I reflect, as Ruby and Sam exchange slight sneers when they see the gravyless roast chicken, boiled potatoes and steamed carrots and broccoli that I’ve produced for dinner, and not just because she’s a much better cook than I am.

‘Kids,’ I say as they both heave big sighs as they sit down. ‘Yes, this is a little bit dry because I did forget to buy more gravy granules, but, you know, it’s good, healthy food.’

‘What about ketchup or mayo?’ asks Sam.

‘You know you don’t have to use granules to make gravy,’ Ruby says.

‘Yes, but you know that I’ve tried that before and it was a disaster.’ I do occasionally try to cook more ambitious food, but it never ends well, and the kids are not slow to tell me when the food is inedible.

‘When’s Frankie cooking her next meal for us?’ Ruby asks. ‘Rose was so fooled by your fake relationship. You have to carry on pretending, because otherwise she’d be upset. And the cool thing about this is we’re going to keep getting loads of good food cooked by Frankie.’

She’s right. We do need to keep on seeing each other regularly or Rose – and Roderick – would hear about it and would be upset. We do not want to be upsetting elderly newlyweds. They should just be enjoying themselves. And seeing Frankie regularly has become a very great pleasure, so I feel very fortunate.

As soon as dinner’s done, and Ruby and Sam are both doing the homework due tomorrow that they swore blind they’d done at the beginning of the weekend, I text Frankie to ask if she’d like to do cinema/dinner/a walk/play tennis/anything at all during the week. And then I think of something else:

OR would you like to have a tour of a wasabi farm by any chance? In addition to all of the above.

I struggle not to finish my message with an I love you; I think that’s best said in person for the first time. And obviously maybe I won’t actually say it. I have the kids to think about. Although they do seem to really like Frankie, really properly gel with her every time they see her. And, as I said to her about her mother, most people are not like Astrid. I don’t think Frankie is like that. I think she’d be a great stepmother to Ruby and Sam. If we ever get that far. I think that maybe we could – if she wanted to – get together for real. It seems like the kids would be okay with that. I mean, they do really like her.

And, now I think about it more rationally, I don’t think she’d be insensitive enough to enter into any kind of real, official relationship with me without thinking carefully about what effect it would have on the kids. She isn’t Astrid. She’s wonderful, kind, big-hearted Frankie. I think that if she committed to me she’d really commit and would not just suddenly go back to London.

Frankie must have had her phone right next to her because she replies while all my to-say-or-not-to-say thoughts about I love you are still swirling around in my head:

Of COURSE I want a wasabi tour. It’s the only thing that will make me forgive you for not being a spy… Also, can I bring another meal over for you and the kids? What did you eat this evening?

I reply immediately:

We would love another meal (the kids got really annoyed by the dryness of our roast chicken this evening) but only if you stay and eat it with us. Also, I really need to take you out for dinner to thank you for all the cooking.

We go backwards and forwards about what we’re going to do until, basically, we have most of our week mapped out. Frankie’s bringing dinner tomorrow evening and eating with us. On Tuesday she’s coming over during the day and I’m showing her the farm (and really looking forward to being alone with her). On Wednesday we’ll be going to her potluck supper and Cluedo evening. On Thursday we’re going to go for a quick walk in the evening. On Friday I’m taking her out for dinner. On Saturday she’s cooking for the kids and me again and eating with us.

It feels as though we’ve raised our fake-relationship status to unofficially dating for real, and I just want to smile and smile.

* * *

I’m like a kid on Christmas morning when it comes to Monday dinner; I’m checking the time every five minutes wondering why it’s taking so long for 6 p.m. to come around, and when Frankie finally arrives I feel myself smiling with every fibre of my body.

Today she’s wearing jeans and a cream, fluffy jumper, and has her hair up in a big pile on top of her head held by a pink velvet scrunchie. (I’m pretty good on hair accessories; Ruby’s always had long hair and for years I used to do it for her.)

‘You look amazing,’ I tell Frankie. I really have to struggle not to welcome her with a kiss on the lips, but Ruby and Sam are behind me and I think they’d be surprised.

‘Thank you.’ She twinkles at me and oh my God I love her so much.

She hands me the big, foil-wrapped dish she’s carrying and bends down to take her shoes off.

‘What are we eating this evening?’ Sam asks.

‘Moussaka made with lentils instead of lamb,’ Frankie says. ‘I’m loving cooking all these family dishes.’

‘We’re loving eating them,’ we tell her in unison.

The moussaka is delicious, as all her food is. And she is as always great with the kids. We have a lovely evening together, all four of us, marred only by the fact that there is clearly no opportunity for Frankie and me to get remotely physically intimate.

It’s brilliant, though, to see her getting on so well with Ruby and Sam.