Page 81 of Just for the Season

‘You can’t lie to her,’ Frankie says.

‘No. I can’t. She has to know that I love her infinitely and would do anything for her.’

She nods.

‘I also… I love you too.’ I’m struggling to keep my voice sounding normal. ‘Hopefully this is only for a very short time.’ What if it isn’t? What if it’s forever?

She nods again.

‘But also…’ I can’t lie to Frankie either. ‘It could be for some time. Until Ruby’s older.’

‘I’m guessing maybe several years older.’ Frankie’s voice sounds flat, like she’s feeling hopeless. As do I.

I wonder how old we’ll both be when the time comes that Ruby would definitely be okay with it. I know that Frankie wants children. She might be forty by the time Ruby and Sam are both cool with me having a partner. Into her forties, even.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘So I can’t ask you to wait for me. Obviously.’ Selfishly I do want her to wait. But, also, I don’t, because I love her and I want her to be happy.

‘No,’ she agrees.

‘I love you so much. I… I’ve never loved any woman the way I love you. If things were different…’

‘Yep.’ Her voice is clipped. I think she’s trying not to cry.

‘With regard to the fake relationship…’ It feels crass to be mentioning it now, but I’d rather talk about it in person than text later. ‘Ruby said… we don’t want to upset your grandmother…’

‘Yeah,’ she interrupts. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m going to move back to London soon. We can officially fizzle out then. And we’ll obviously be unofficially fizzling from now. Hopefully she and Roderick are too busy enjoying each other’s company to notice.’

‘Please don’t feel you have to move back to London because of me.’ This is unbearable.

‘Yeah, no, I was always going to go,’ she says. ‘This was just an interlude.’ She isn’t meeting my eye; I don’t think it’s true. ‘There are some great job opportunities coming up.’

‘Great, then,’ I say, hoping it’s the right response, but pretty sure it isn’t. ‘But, also, please don’t ever feel you have to go because of me. I mean, it should be me who moves.’

‘It shouldn’t. Ruby and Sam are happy here and you have your wasabi, and honestly I want to go back to London. I mean, I really don’t love working in the café. You know all those stories about people leaving the big city and finding true happiness working in village cafés? Yeah, they’re complete crap.’ She’s blinking, like she’s trying to hold back tears.

I hate that she feels that she has to say all that, either to make me feel better or to save face herself. She shouldn’t have to do either.

She does a great big sniff, somehow looking even more beautiful than ever as she does it, and says, ‘So let’s go.’

And then before I can speak further, she marches off down the hill ahead of me. I let her go, because she clearly doesn’t want to walk with me. She gives me a little wave when she’s over the stile – which breaks my heart – and then she whisks herself round the corner of the building.

I suspect that she might bawl her eyes out when she’s in the privacy of her own flat. I’d like to do the same. I don’t think I really thought when we started this conversation that we would be splitting up forever, more taking a break while I talk things through with Ruby, but Frankie took it that way, and she’s right: I can’t ask her to wait for me.

27

FRANKIE

I had to walk past Ruby working in the café on my way up to the flat, and I stay holed up in my kitchen until I’m sure that she will have gone home. And then I stay holed up for the rest of the day anyway because I can’t face seeing any of the people in the café. And that is quite a big disadvantage of living here, I have to say. I mean, usually it’s lovely. Little chats with friendly locals on your way out. But right now it really isn’t.

Eventually, I think I might be out of tears – for the time being at least – and I feel as though the four walls of the flat are closing in on me, so I text Ellie to see if she’s free.

No. She isn’t.

I know she’d drop everything if I told her I needed to talk, but I don’t want to be that needy.

Maybe Miranda. No. She’ll be busy with her kids’ Sunday evening homework and bedtime routine.

Simon. I’m pretty sure he’s in this evening. And he’s a very, very good friend. And would be nice to me, which is what I need right now. But, also, I don’t think I can tell him all about it without admitting that I’m going to have to leave and go back to London because I can’t deal with staying here. But he’s my boss and is providing me with my home. And so it’s awkward. Because I can’t go until I find a job but as soon as I do, I’ll be going, maybe at short notice, and therefore maybe leaving him in the lurch again.