Page 80 of Just for the Season

I sigh and rub my damp eyes. I need to make a plan. Plans always help. I think I should go back to London soon. I need to look for a job. I can’t stay here in Milbury being separate from Marcus.

On the assumption, of course, that he is going to tell me he can’t see me any more. I mean, he obviously is. Recently we’ve been messaging each other a lot – at least once an hour – small messages like Hey and bigger ones chatting about what we’re doing or little jokes. Today… nothing.

Maybe he’s just going to air me. That is such a depressing thought after everything we’ve shared.

I totally get that if he has to choose between me and Ruby he should and will choose her. I really do get that. And I’m glad that that’s the kind of man he is. Both my parents, one after the other, when given the choice between me and romance chose romance. Marcus – ironically – has helped show me that they were wrong to abandon me. They shouldn’t have wanted to be in relationships with people who would expect them or ask them to abandon me.

If Marcus has to choose between me and his children, it is of course right for him to choose his children. He has no choice in fact. In my opinion.

But he could, surely, tell me. Extend me that courtesy.

I have a really bad headache. I need some paracetamol and some water.

And then I should eat but I don’t want to.

I’m supposed to be seeing Ellie and Miranda this evening. I’m going to have to cancel. I don’t think I can face chatting away as though everything’s fine. And I’m not ready to tell them about this. It’s too big. I need to deal with it by myself a little first.

Also, I need to know if Marcus is actually going to tell me or just leave me to work it out.

I stand up to get myself another cup of tea, and when I sit back down I see a message from him:

Could we possibly meet tomorrow to discuss something?

That’s almost a relief. It feels more respectful.

26

MARCUS

I barely sleep on Saturday night and am out of bed very early on Sunday. I’m seeing Frankie later this morning. She asked to meet as early as possible; I’m guessing she’s realised what I’m going to have to say and, like me, wants to get it out of the way. I thought it would be best to wait until the kids go out, Ruby to a netball tournament and Sam to football, so we’re meeting at ten.

I go to check on the cows; I have a dairy farm as well as my wasabi farm. The wasabi business is profitable enough to fund staff for the dairy side of things, but I do still like to be physically involved. Usually the cows are a calming presence but this morning I’m struggling to smile about anything.

Yesterday morning, Ruby asked me to break up with Frankie. It seems insane to do such a thing because a child asked me to. The thing is, though, that I’ve seen what Astrid abandoning her has done to Ruby, and I’ve also learnt, ironically from Frankie, what effect it has on people well into adulthood when they believe, rightly or wrongly, that their parents don’t love them enough to put them above others.

So I think that – however sad it might be for Frankie and me – I’m going to have to tell her that I have to take a break from seeing her until I’ve spoken further to Ruby, got her to understand that a romantic relationship will not take away from my love for my children.

* * *

We agreed to meet up the lane nearest the café; I get there a few minutes early. The least I can do is not keep Frankie waiting.

When she rounds the corner and begins the walk up towards me, I feel almost physically sick with misery. I love her. I want to be with her. She makes me happy. I want to do my best to make her happy. I hate the situation we’re in.

She’s wearing a puffa jacket over jeans and wellies. She has her hair piled up in what Ruby describes as a messy bun, and she isn’t wearing any make-up. Her eyes look a little red, like she’s tired or has been crying, or maybe both. She looks beautiful. She looks like my Frankie. Except, for the time being, we can’t be together.

‘Hi,’ I say when she’s within earshot. It sounds wrong: too light, too mundane for this situation.

‘Hi.’ She comes to a halt a couple of metres from me.

‘I’m afraid…’ I begin. ‘That is… Oh, God.’ I don’t know how to say this. I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and upset her more than I have to.

‘Shall we move somewhere where no-one’s going to overhear us?’ She doesn’t wait for agreement; she immediately climbs the stile and begins to walk fast up the hill.

She stops after a few minutes and turns and faces me, folding her arms across her chest. I walk very slowly towards her; it’s as though my legs have weights attached to them.

When I reach her, and, feeling unbelievably mournful, open my mouth to speak – why on earth did I not actually prepare anything – she leaps in and says, ‘It’s fine. I understand. I’m guessing Ruby found out about us and isn’t happy and you have to end things.’

‘I…’ I feel like the most tired person in the world. ‘Sort of. Unfortunately I can’t see you for the time being, until Ruby understands that I wouldn’t be choosing you over her.’ I want to tell Frankie my entire conversation with Ruby, verbatim, but it would feel disloyal, like I was somehow betraying my daughter’s trust. ‘I hope that she’ll understand very soon. But in the meantime, I can’t see you. My only alternative would be to continue seeing you and lie to her.’