18
They hugged, MURMURING NONSENSE AS they easedback into their friendship. Frankie had been a redhead when Miriam last saw her, now she was implausibly blonde. When she shrugged off her leather jacket, Miriam noted its torn lining. ‘You look very… rock ’n roll,’ she said.
Frankie tugged at a clump of hair. ‘A DIY job. Big mistake.’
She found a vase for Frankie’s offering of flowers. ‘Tea? Coffee? Have you eaten? I could make you a sandwich.’
‘Coffee sounds good.’
Frankie settled on a chair and glanced around the kitchen. ‘This is nice. You always had a good eye.’
‘It was wall-to-wall beige when I moved in,’ Miriam said. ‘It sucked the energy out of me although Bing didn’t seem to mind it.’
‘So he’s still “Bing”?’
‘Only to me.’
‘You’re kidding.’
Miriam shrugged. ‘That’s the way he wants it.’
‘Surely your parents…?’
‘When I told Mum we were back together she recalled “the boy with a funny nickname” but that’s as far as it went. Dad treats him like a recent acquaintance. It suits them not to remember.’
‘Well, I’ll do my best but I can’t guarantee anything.’ Frankie flashed her eyes. ‘Is Paul still devastatingly handsome?’
Miriam nodded towards the pin-up board and the recent photograph of the pair of them sitting together in Naomi’s garden. Frankie took down the photo and studied it. ‘Blimey. He’s worn well. So have you. Look at your beautiful hair. You make a good-looking couple. Is he still sports mad? Oh, God, please tell me he doesn’t play golf?’
‘He swims a couple of times a week, and plays the odd game of badminton, but no golf.’
‘Look,’ Frankie said, ‘about Sam’s funeral. I still feel terrible. I should have been there but to put it bluntly, I was a bit of a mess. The last thing you needed was some screwed-up friend showing up.’
‘I knew there must be a good reason for your no show,’ Miriam said. ‘To be honest, I was barely there myself.’
Puffing out her cheeks, Frankie exhaled noisily. ‘Wow. That’s a weight off. I wish everyone were as forgiving. I still find it hard to credit. Sam came across as Mister Sensible. Captain Cautious.’
‘He did, didn’t he? I’ve been over and over it and the conclusion I’ve reached is when you’ve been married as long as we were, you see what you expect to see. Or rather what it’s convenient to see.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that. He certainly turned out to be a conniving, cowardly bastard, that’s for sure. He lured you away from Bing and then he sold you down the river.’
‘It wasn’t quite like that.’ Miriam stood up. ‘Come on. Let me show you where everything is.’
After they’d finished the tour, she told Frankie about her job at the bookshop, and how Naomi and David were talking again, flicking through photos on her iPad to prove how Rosa and Max had grown. How beautiful they were.
‘Your brother?’ Frankie said.
‘Nothing’s changed. Your brothers?’
‘Who knows?’
Miriam made a second pot of coffee. ‘Last time we had a proper chat you were working for a letting agency.’
‘I was. And I learned a lot. Mainly not to mix work and pleasure.’ Frankie raised her cup. ‘You wouldn’t have something to pep this up?’
Before Bing returned it would be prudent to establish what had prompted Frankie’s visit and digging out a bottle of cooking brandy, she added a splash to her friend’s coffee. ‘So what are you doing now?’
‘Not a lot. I won’t bore you, but it boils down to job, skills, savings, hope – none of which I have.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I swore I’d never get bogged down in that dreary stuff. So I guess you’re right. We see what it suits us to see, and, ridiculous as it sounds, I never saw myself growing old.’
‘Oh, come on. Sixty-one isn’t old.’
‘My mother only made it to fifty-one.’
Frankie poured another splash of brandy into her cup and downed its contents. ‘What happens when I meet Mum in heaven and she’s younger than me? How’s that going to work?’ She frowned. ‘I’ve forgotten. Does your lot believe in heaven?’
‘In principle. Do you?’
‘Some days I do, and other days I… What was the name of our scripture teacher? Permed hair. Glasses on a chain.’
Miriam smiled. ‘My lot were excused scripture.’
‘You were lucky. You are lucky. You will be lucky. See. I still remember my tenses.’
‘You’ll stay?’ Miriam said, noting how the level of brandy had dropped, picturing a wrecked car and screaming sirens.
‘Tempting but I’m not sure Bing – sorry, Paul – would be too thrilled.’
‘Tosh. He’d love to see you. Let’s get your things.’
The last time Frankie visited, she was driving a sporty, red number. Today it was a Jazz, bodywork scuffed, nearside mirror held in place with gaffer tape. The back seat had been levelled to accommodate a hodgepodge of holdalls, boxes and bin bags. A suitcase occupied the front seat, belted in like a dumpy passenger.
Frankie was right. Yesterday, when Miriam had mentioned inviting her to spend a night or two, Bing had been dead set against it. The more they discussed it, the more entrenched he became until finally he’d stomped out of the house. Miriam left it half-an-hour before ringing him only to discover his mobile was in the living room, on the arm of the chair. Time went on and she grew anxious. He’d gone out without a jacket and his keys were in the bowl on the hall table. She set about the ironing pile. When that was done, phone in hand, she watched the ten o’clock news followed by a documentary on… something or another. He’d returned after midnight, cold and contrite, bearing chocolates and a bunch of flowers from the all-night garage. They’d kissed and he’d apologised for behaving like a child, but it had shaken them both and done nothing to resolve the issue.
Frankie manhandled her suitcase onto the pavement. Miriam anticipated a joke or at very least a reference to the contents of the car, but nothing was said as if it were normal to travel with all one’s possessions. Frankie insisted on hauling the cumbersome case upstairs unaided and, in the doing, took a chunk of paint off the newel post.
Miriam opened the door to the spare bedroom. ‘You’re in here.’
‘Bliss,’ Frankie flopped onto the bed. ‘I didn’t realise how knackered I was.’
‘Where have you driven from? I forgot to ask.’
‘Hastings.’
Miriam had assumed London or Bristol, or some other big city. ‘Hastings? I don’t think I’ve been there.’
‘You’ve not missed much.’
Miriam left her to ‘freshen up’. She’d bought fillet steaks for supper which she planned to serve with jacket potatoes and salad. Fruit and cheese to follow. She took everything out of the fridge and dug out a decent bottle of red wine from the stash under the stairs. Bing should be home around seven-thirty and they’d eat at eight. Checking her phone, she found a text from her father. They’d been to visit a National Trust property close to where they were staying and were now putting their feet up before their evening meal. Good to think someone was having a stress-free time.
She waited ten minutes then went to the bottom of the stairs and called, ‘Got everything you need?’ There was no reply, no sound of activity. ‘Frankie?’
The bedroom door was ajar and she tiptoed in. Frankie was lying on her back on the bed, out for the count. Her mouth was open and she was breathing noisily. She’d unbuttoned her jeans and her leopard-print top had ridden up revealing a yellowing bruise a few centimetres above her waistline. There was a similar mark on her forearm. A fall? A bump in the car? There were endless innocent explanations. Frankie mumbled and rolled onto her side. A shaft of evening sunlight hit the wall above the bed head. Miriam closed the curtains and draped a blanket over her sleeping friend.
She was rinsing salad leaves when she heard the clunk of a car door and, standing a little back from the window, she watched Bing take his bag off the back seat, lock the car and walk up the path. This reunion repeated itself most days but nevertheless her heart leapt as it had on that snowy day when he’d come to claim her.
He hung his head like a contrite schoolboy. ‘I’m an idiot, aren’t I?’
‘You are,’ she said offering her lips to be kissed.
He pointed to the jacket slung on the back of the chair. ‘She turned up then?’
‘Yes. She’s upstairs. Asleep.’
He nodded. ‘Same old Frankie?’
‘Not really.’ She described the bruises. ‘She looks defeated. I’ve asked her to stay. That’s okay, isn’t it?’
‘Of course,’ he said, and she loved him for his acceptance.
While he changed, she cooked the steaks, setting Frankie’s to one side. They ate in the kitchen, discussing whether to shop around for a better deal on house insurance and marvelling at her father’s mastery of technology. Frankie might have been their delinquent daughter, banished to her room until she came to her senses.
She was stacking the dishwasher when Frankie came down wearing her dressing gown on top of her clothes. ‘How long did I sleep?’
‘Four hours.’
‘Really?’ She yawned and shivered. ‘Sorry. I’ve buggered up your evening.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Miriam pointed to the remaining food. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thanks. Maybe later. Where’s Bing? Paul. I’m going to get this wrong.’
‘I’m sure “Bing” will be fine. After all, you knew him before I did. He’s watching the news. We’ll be off to bed soon. Surgery starts at eight, and I need to leave before nine.’
Miriam had told Frankie about her job, yet the puzzled look on her face showed it had failed to register. ‘The bookshop? I knock off at one. We could have lunch at The Angel. Unless you have other plans.’
‘No. No plans.’
Miriam nodded towards the living room. ‘Why don’t you go and say hi? I’ll finish up here.’
She pottered around, allowing her lover and her best friend ten minutes to negotiate their first encounter in over forty years.
The sun had come out and it was warm enough to take their lunch into the hotel garden. Frankie, wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans, looked tired but less shambolic than she had yesterday. She’d toned down her make-up too.
‘Any reservations about moving in together so soon?’ Frankie said. ‘I suppose you’re used to the idea of marriage.’
‘None at all. And we’re not married.’
‘But you will be.’
‘Mmmm. Bing’s keen but I sometimes think it’d be best to leave things as they are. His children wouldn’t have to worry that some wicked stepmother was after their inheritance. And I know deep down my parents would prefer me not to marry “out”, even if they haven’t put it into words.’
‘“My parents.” “Bing’s children.”’ Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘Where are you in all this?’
‘Precisely where I want to be.’ She took a cocktail stick and stabbed an olive. ‘Where are you heading next? You said you were “passing through”.’
‘Did I?’
‘Look. It’s obvious something’s come unstuck. D’you want talk about it?’
‘Not really. It’s the usual pathetically predictable story. Bob owns the agency where I work. Correction – worked. We’d been having a “thing”, pretty much since I started there. In fact he asked me to marry him. He’s not the most exciting man in the world, but it might have worked. I was on the point of accepting when his son showed up. Dominic’s a real charmer. Sex on legs, to be honest. So when he came on to me…’ Frankie covered her face with her hands. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Mim.’
‘Go on.’
‘Naturally my job went down the pan. Everything was good for a few weeks then Dom started leaving his phone where he knew I’d see it. He was getting these suggestive messages from a girl called Chloe and—’
‘You listened to his messages?’
‘Oh, come on. Don’t you check Bing’s phone?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Well you should. Anyway, it was obvious he wanted me to find out. He never fancied me, I can see that now. He was using me to get at his dad. Some stupid feud. I confronted him and, well, it got out of hand.’ She grimaced. ‘I don’t have much luck do I?’
When they were shunting their trays along the food counter, she’d hustled Frankie past the alcohol instead picking up a large bottle of Evian. Now Frankie’s eyes wandered to the next table where four young women were sipping white wine and, without saying anything, Miriam went to the bar and returned with two glasses of Prosecco.
‘Thanks,’ Frankie said and they chinked glasses.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Oh, God.’
‘You’ve had a lot of boyfriends – men – lovers – whatever you care to call them. Was there ever anyone you thought you might spend the rest of your life with? You don’t have to answer.’
‘You mean a soul mate?’ Frankie hooked the air with her fingers.
‘If you like.’
‘As a matter of fact, there was.’ She took a swig from her glass. ‘His name was Andrew. Andrew Latham. He was a librarian, would you believe? We met on a bus, in Brighton. I seem to have spent half my life in Brighton. The bus broke down and it was raining, and we were heading in the same direction so we shared a taxi. He told me that getting in a taxi with a total stranger was reckless. That I shouldn’t do things like that. But he never felt like a stranger.’
‘What was different about Andrew Latham?’
‘He wasn’t sexy, for a start. Or even good-looking. He didn’t care what he looked like – and neither did I. He had this wonderful calm about him, as though he’d found the answer.’
‘Was he religious?’
‘Well, he believed in me if that counts as religion.’
‘Married?’
‘No. And he never had been which was strange because he was lovely. Gentle. Kind. Funny. Considerate in bed. He taught me that simply lying still next to someone can be satisfying. I can’t tell you how redemptive that was. I wish you could have met him. Sometimes I think I invented him.’
Frankie reached for Miriam’s wine and drank it down. ‘I expect you’re waiting for me to tell you I ballsed it up. I didn’t. Some cunt in a transit van ploughed into him when he was cycling to work. I heard the police sirens from the flat. You never imagine it’s going to be your tragedy, do you?’ She glanced around. ‘D’you think they’d notice if I had a quick fag?’
‘I’m sure they would. Let’s find a bike shed for you to skulk behind.’
They wandered in the direction of the river. ‘Aren’t you going to give me a lecture?’ Frankie said.
‘On?’
‘Pretty much everything.’
They found a low wall and perched on it and, while Frankie was fiddling with her lighter, a text came through on Miriam’s phone.
‘It’s Dad. “Safe home. Early night. See you tomorrow around 3pm.” Well that’s tomorrow sorted for me.’
‘I love your parents,’ Frankie said. ‘They were unbelievably kind to me when Mum was in hospital. Your mother used to feed me huge meals, as though nothing could go wrong if my belly was full.’
‘She hasn’t changed. Actually, that’s not true. They’ve become inward-looking. They’re not interested in anything that goes on beyond their road, or anyone outside the family.’
‘Neither will I if I get to be their age.’
‘I understand that, although it worries me that they’re cutting themselves off. It’s not good.’
‘What about this trip they’ve just been on?’
‘I haven’t got to the bottom of that.’
‘D’you think it’d be okay if I popped in tomorrow? I’d like to say hello before I leave town.’
‘They’d love to see you.’ They would and yet Miriam felt uneasy at the prospect of her parents and Frankie buddying up. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘Find a job. A place to live.’ She lit another cigarette. ‘I know my way around an office, and I’m good with figures. I should be able to find something. That job you had at the college, how did you find that?’
‘Word of mouth. It was only a few hours a week.’
‘I need to work full-time. Or two part-time jobs would do. ’Specially if they were cash-in-hand.’
‘No chance of making it up with Bob?’
Frankie wrinkled her nose. ‘To be honest, he’s a boring fart. And he makes this funny squeaking noise when he comes.’
They fell about giggling and they were eleven years old again.
Bing’s tight smile revealed his displeasure at seeing Frankie’s jacket on the peg.
‘She’s upstairs,’ Miriam whispered. ‘She’ll be off first thing tomorrow. Honest. I thought we might eat out to make the evening a bit special.’
Il Barocco was one of their regular haunts. The food was authentic, the wine affordable, the atmosphere homely – perfect for an evening with her oldest and dearest friends. Yet she was on pins. Trapped in their seats, there was no alternative to conversation and whichever course that took – reminiscence, catch-up or plans for the future – something problematic was sure to surface. Bing must have felt the same way and, like a couple of sheepdogs, whenever the conversation threatened to stray into hazardous territory, they herded it in another direction. But by the time coffee arrived, Frankie had drunk best part of a bottle of wine and refused to be distracted.
‘So, Dr Paul Crosby. You were married to thingy.’
‘Eloise,’ he said.
‘Eloise. That’s the one. So what went wrong? Why did you divorce?’
Miriam folded her napkin – once, twice, three times.
‘It worked for a bit and then it stopped working. I like to think fate was setting things straight. Clearing the way for Mim and me.’
‘Well it took its bloody time.’ Frankie held the upturned bottle over her glass, catching the last few drops. ‘I gather Naomi thinks you’re the dog’s doodahs – but she would, wouldn’t she? Her father turned out to be a shit and you’re a knight in shining armour. She’s had a tough time, poor kid. Not as tough as Mim, of course.’ She swivelled the bottle so that it was a gun pointing at Bing. ‘Don’t you let them down or you’ll have me to reckon with.’
Miriam loved her for making the childish threat.
Bing took Miriam’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I would never do that.’
‘Good,’ Frankie said. ‘So what do your kids – you’ve got three, so I’m told – make of the situation? Do they see Mim as a wicked stepmother, or a fairy godmother?’
‘Here.’ Miriam pushed the tiny espresso cup towards Frankie. She could tell from Bing’s expression he was wondering how much she’d confided in Frankie. ‘We’re taking it slowly,’ she said.
Bing stood up. ‘I’ll get the bill.’
When they got back, she coaxed Frankie up the stairs, promising to wake her before she left for the bookshop.
‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ she said when they were getting undressed.
‘Beats me why you bother with her,’ he said.
‘Aren’t the most enduring connections made through the gut not the brain?’
‘But somewhere along the line, reason has to kick in.’ He tossed his shirt towards the laundry basket. ‘She’s amoral and feckless. She drinks too much. She’s… tacky.’
They got into bed and Bing lay on his side, facing away from her.
‘Frankie’s been my friend for fifty years,’ she said. ‘I knew her before I knew you existed. I’m well aware you don’t like her. I’m simply asking you to accept that I do.’