Frankie’s jaw set. She refused to feel anything other than justification over those enquiries. If her mum refused to move closer to her children, she had to make sure she was looking after herself somehow.
‘You ask her that stuff?’ Isaac’s brow furrowed, which only made Frankie’s jaw set harder. ‘How often?’
She shrugged. ‘A few times a week.’
Christina gave a hoot. ‘Every day. Sometimes twice if she’s feeling particularly nosy.’
‘I am not being nosy. I’m looking out for you. Making sure you’re safe.’
‘Of course I’m safe.’ Christina gave a dismissive wave of her hand, while the furrows of Isaac’s brow deepened. ‘I’ve told you a million times: my blood pressure is fine now. My doctor isn’t worried at all, although…’ She held up a finger, pre-empting Frankie’s next argument. ‘She’s still monitoring me regularly.’
Frankie made a grunt of mild approval and sank down in her chair. She still worried about her mum. Still felt out of control with her living so far away. She’d lived with Bradley and she couldn’t keep him safe, so what use was she miles and miles away?
‘Anyway, have you phoned that chap yet?’ Christina asked. ‘The one you had dinner with?’
Frankie glared at her brother. She’d had to tell him about her dinner with Alex as she needed her brother to babysit, but that didn’t mean he could blab about it to everyone. She was thankful he hadn’t let slip that she’d left twenty minutes into the date to race to her mother’s hospital bedside, however, otherwise she would have been on the end of a major ticking off for caring.
‘What?’ Isaac held his hands up. ‘You didn’t say it was a secret.’
‘It isn’t, but that doesn’t mean you can broadcast it.’
‘You’re avoiding the question.’ Christina quirked an eyebrow. ‘Have you called him or not? Because it isn’t like the old days, you know. You don’t have to wait for him to get in touch.’
‘I know that.’ Frankie drew her knees up towards her body and rested her cheek on them. ‘But no, I haven’t phoned him.’
Christina gave another tut. ‘So you can badger me with phone calls like some sort of rabid PPI cold caller, but you can’t spare one phone call for a man who took you out for dinner?’
Frankie gasped, her head snapping up so she could glower at her mum. ‘Rabid PPI cold caller? Well, excuse me for caring.’
‘I know you care, without a barrage of phone calls asking me if I’ve eaten my five-a-day.’
Isaac sniggered and earned himself a glower from Frankie too.
‘You’re avoiding the question again,’ Christina said in a sing-song voice. ‘Why haven’t you called him?’
Frankie shrugged and tugged the sleeves of her T-shirt over her hands so just the tips of her fingers were poking out. ‘The time isn’t right.’
Christina made a pfft sound. ‘For what? Fun? A bit of romance? You’re as bad as this one.’ She waved a finger at Isaac. ‘Kayla’s moved on by the looks of things, so why can’t you?’
‘Kayla ended things with me, remember? Of course she’s going to get over the relationship and move on before I do.’
‘She ended the relationship because you wouldn’t commit, not because she didn’t love you.’
Frankie couldn’t help the small smile from forming as her brother squirmed beside her.
‘I did commit to Kayla. We had a joint mortgage – it doesn’t get any more serious than that.’
‘Not according to Kayla.’ The smile became a full on grin as Frankie twisted the knife. ‘She wanted it all – marriage, babies, the lot.’ She shouldn’t take so much pleasure from her brother’s misfortune, but it made such a change for Isaac to be on the receiving end of their mum’s scrutiny for a change.
‘I never said I wouldn’t sign up for all that. But we’d only just moved to a new town, to new jobs, bought the house…’
The smile vanished from Frankie’s face. Isaac and Kayla had been together for almost a decade when she’d ended their relationship. Expecting a proposal after the upheaval of starting a new life in a new town for Isaac’s job – plus some not-so-subtle hints over the past few months – Kayla had been livid when she’d received a bottle of her favourite perfume for Christmas instead of an engagement ring. She’d packed her bags and returned to her parents’ house before the Queen’s speech.
It was perhaps time for a change in topic. Especially as it was bound to boomerang back to Frankie any minute now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
George
The picnic club had transformed into business meetings that now met in Katie’s kitchen as they refined their business model and put together a business plan. High up on the agenda had been choosing a name for their business.
‘How about No Pack Picnics?’ George had suggested, but Katie screwed up her nose.
‘It sounds like a tongue twister.’ She tapped her pen on the notebook in front of her. ‘All Packed Up?’
George shook her head. ‘Sounds like a removal company. I think we have to have “picnic” in there somewhere.’
Frankie consulted her own list of suggestions. ‘The Picnic People?’
‘The Picnickers?’ Katie suggested, which made them all giggle.
‘I don’t think having the word knickers in there is the way to go.’ Frankie ran a finger down her list. ‘We need something professional-sounding, with a definite food-based name so people know what they’re getting from the start. No random, quirky names like The Orange Donkeys.’ Her finger paused at one of the names she’d scribbled down while brainstorming. ‘What about The Little Seaside Picnic Company? It says what we do, and it sounds quaint. And local. People like that kind of thing.’
George’s head tilted to one side as she considered Frankie’s suggestion. ‘I like it, but it’s a bit of a mouthful. Couldn’t we simplify it a bit?’ Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘How about Little Seaside Picnics?’
‘Yes!’ Frankie made George jump with her enthusiasm. ‘Perfect!’
Katie nodded. ‘I love it.’
With a name for their business, they could really get the ball rolling. George registered her kitchen with the Environmental Health Department while Katie made sure they were registered as a business.
‘Before we do anything else, I think we need to set out exactly what our aim is,’ Frankie said as they met up around Katie’s kitchen table again. ‘Are we just going to cater for parties and outdoor events? Or are we going to sell individual picnics? I’ve been looking into the models already out there and there are some companies who deliver bespoke picnics within a certain area. For example, someone would order a picnic through our website, requesting that it’s delivered by the south cliffs at half past twelve.’
George tapped her pen against her chin. ‘I like that idea, but I’m not sure a bespoke picnic would be viable while we’re starting out so small. Perhaps a set package would work best until we grow.’
‘We could have a couple of packages to start with,’ Katie said. ‘A family package full of your traditional picnic fare, plus a selection of more indulgent, romantic items for couples.’
They bounced ideas back and forth over several cups of tea and coffee until they had a clear idea of their business model. They would provide a picnic delivery service within Clifton-on-Sea, with four options to choose from – the family picnic, the couple’s picnic, with a vegetarian option for both – as well as a more bespoke catering service for parties and events.
‘We’ve been sort of ignoring the elephant in the room,’ George said as they packed up their things as the school run time approached. ‘How are we going to pay for all this? I’ve been putting away a bit of money since I took on extra shifts at work, but it’s peanuts compared to what we’ll need.’
Frankie sank back down onto her seat. ‘I have some savings, but it won’t be enough either.’
‘My savings have already taken a severe battering.’ Katie placed the cup she’d been washing on the
draining board. ‘I’m probably going to end up selling my parents’ house though, but I won’t get any money from that for a while.’
‘You’re definitely selling?’ George asked, and Katie shrugged.
‘If Rob gets his way I’ll have to.’ She grabbed a towel and dried her hands roughly. ‘But even if I do, the money won’t be available for ages.’
‘And it won’t be fair if you put up all the money anyway,’ George said. ‘We’ll have to find another way.’
‘We could apply for a business loan?’ Frankie suggested. ‘We’ll need to put together a business plan and everything first.’
‘Let’s make a start on that next time.’ George picked up her tote bag and hooked it onto her shoulder. ‘I really must dash – Thomas will be coming out of school soon.’
‘Are we acting prematurely on this?’ George asked as they sat around Katie’s kitchen table again. ‘What if we don’t get the loan?’
Having an idea for a business was one thing, financing it was another and as none of them had the available funds needed, they’d applied for a loan from the bank.
‘We will.’ There wasn’t a hint of the uncertainty George felt in Frankie’s words. ‘Plus, we want to be able to hit the ground running as soon as we have the funds. We’re already well into spring – summer will be the optimum time for a picnic business, so we need to get going.’
George tried to trick her brain into feeling Frankie’s confidence, but it couldn’t be forced. She was sure it would come, eventually.
‘I’ve booked us onto that food hygiene course I mentioned last time.’ Although George would be responsible for the food prep, Katie and Frankie wanted to be on hand to help out when needed. George already had catering qualifications, but a refresher course would come in handy.
‘I’ve been looking at small second-hand vans for sale,’ Katie said once they’d added the course to their diaries. ‘And Jack said he’d keep an eye out too, but we can’t go ahead with that until the funds are in place.’
‘There’s loads we can be doing while we wait for the money,’ Frankie said. ‘I’ve been researching local events we can take part in. There are loads of local summer fetes coming up – the church, school, etc – plus bridal fairs. We’ll need to get our business cards and flyers printed beforehand, but that’s on my list. I’ve also been working on the logo.’ She flicked through her ring binder and pulled out a sheaf of papers, fanning them out on the table for Katie and George to look at. ‘This one’s my favourite.’ She pointed out an image of a simplified picnic basket sitting on a gingham blanket, with the words ‘Little Seaside Picnics’ curved around it.
George and Katie had a good look through the designs before agreeing with Frankie.
‘I’ve played around with colour, but I think a single colour makes a bold impact with this design.’ She pulled another sheet of paper from her binder and turned it to face the others. ‘What do you think?’
‘I prefer the red,’ George said, and Katie nodded.
‘It feels bolder.’
‘Great.’ Frankie returned the designs to her binder. ‘I’ll go ahead with the business cards and flyers and add the logo to our website and social media channels.’ Frankie had already set up a basic website and made a start on their online presence. ‘I’ve also been looking into possible partnerships with other local businesses – perhaps the local B&Bs where we could offer a ten per cent discount for their guests?’
‘Wow.’ George’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You have been busy.’
Frankie grinned. ‘I’ve loved every single minute of it.’
George placed her hands on her warm cheeks. ‘This is really going to happen, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely,’ Katie said. ‘I’ll finalise the business plan over the weekend and send it off. Then we’re all set for our meeting with the bank.’
George’s stomach churned. That was the part she was most worried about.
‘We should go out tonight for a little pre-emptive celebratory drink.’ Katie picked up the glass in front of her and drained it. ‘No offence, George, but sparkling water just doesn’t cut it for moments like these.’
Frankie laughed. ‘What moments? We haven’t even had our meeting with the bank manager yet, let alone been given the green light. Ah, I get it.’ She gave a slow nod of her head. ‘You just want an excuse to accidentally bump into Jarvis at the pub.’
‘No.’ Katie rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were bursting with sudden colour. ‘Anyway, I don’t need an excuse to see him. For whatever crazy reason, he can’t get enough of me.’
‘Why would that be crazy?’ George asked, and Katie started to make invisible doodles on the table top with her fingertip.
‘I haven’t told you guys this yet, but he’s a bit younger than me.’
Frankie and George caught each other’s eye, eyebrows rising.
‘How much younger?’ Frankie asked. ‘Are we talking a year or two or…?’
‘He’s nine years younger.’ Katie dropped her face in her hands while Frankie sighed with relief.
‘That’s nothing. I thought we’d be filling in prison visiting orders to conduct our picnic club.’
Katie peeked from behind her fingers. ‘You thought I’d sleep with a minor?’
Luckily, Frankie was saved from answering as her phone started to ring from within her bag. Shrugging apologetically but with a look of relief on her face, she excused herself to take the call.
‘You don’t think I’d do that, do you?’ Katie asked as Frankie stepped away from the table.
‘Of course not, and neither does Frankie. She was teasing you.’ George started to gather her notebooks and pens together. ‘And there’s really nothing to worry about. Nine years is nothing.’
‘Nine years is everything. It’s almost a decade.’ Katie groaned. ‘And there’s another thing I haven’t been entirely truthful about. Or truthful at all about. Jarvis isn’t…’
‘I have to go.’ Frankie rushed back towards the table, scooping up her things and dumping them haphazardly into her bag. ‘That was the hospital.’
George leapt out of her seat so she could help Frankie to pack up. ‘Is it the twins?’
Frankie shook her head as she forced a particularly stubborn sheaf of papers into the bag before slinging it onto her shoulder. ‘It’s my mum. She fell, again. I knew I was right to worry.’ She wiped the back of her hand over her forehead, her eyes travelling wildly around the kitchen.
‘Do you need me to drive you?’ Katie offered, but Frankie shook her head. She took a deep, calming breath.
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I just need to…’ She waved her hand in the general area of the front door.
‘Of course.’ Katie moved around the table to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘I hope your mum’s okay.’
George joined them, rubbing Frankie’s arm gently. ‘Let us know if you need anything.’
A smile of gratitude flickered on Frankie’s face before she catapulted herself towards the door.
George and Thomas had a wander down to the beach instead of going straight home after school. George hadn’t heard from Frankie yet so she was worried, but watching her son galloping across the sand, arms stretched wide like an aeroplane, helped to take her mind off it. It was still early in the season, so the beach was pretty much deserted, with only a couple of dog walkers up ahead and a mum with two small children kicking in the shallows in their wellies. It wouldn’t be long before the town was heaving and the beach was filled with families emerging after a long winter and a chilly start to spring. It would be the perfect time to launch their business.
‘Do you want to build sandcastles?’ George’s fingers found the set of keys in her pocket. The beach hut was only a quick walk up the beach, where they had buckets and spades stored in the unit beneath the seating. She’d loved to build sandcastles when she was a little girl, and she’d work together with her granny to build the biggest fortresses, decorated with shells and
smooth pebbles, and surrounded by a wide moat. They’d run down to the sea to fill their buckets, scurrying back to fill the moat with the foamy water that would have disappeared by the time they arrived back with their next bucketload.
‘You can collect the shells,’ Thomas said as they headed towards the hut. ‘You always find the prettiest ones.’
George’s heart melted as she gave her son’s hand a little squeeze. ‘And you make the biggest sandcastles, so I’ll have to collect lots and lots.’
They reached the beach hut and found a nearby patch of flat sand to base their sandcastle empire. Thomas got to work on filling his bucket while George trawled the surrounding area for the prettiest shells. She’d half-filled a small bucket when she heard her name being called.
‘Jack! Hello!’ She waved as she saw him arriving with Vevie on his hip while the older children ran ahead. Leo headed straight for Thomas and they started to assemble more sandcastles together.
‘Bit blustery, isn’t it?’ Jack shifted Vevie on his hip, making sure her coat was fully zipped up.
‘The kids don’t seem to mind.’ She pointed her bucket at Thomas and Leo, who were making an enthusiastic start on the moat. Ellie hung back, watching the construction. ‘Here you go, Ellie. Why don’t you decorate the sandcastles with these shells? Make them look pretty?’
Ellie shook her head. She took a tentative step towards the boys before dropping down to the sand and helping dig the moat.
‘I think she’d rather get her hands dirty.’ Jack placed a wriggling Vevie down onto the ground.
‘Good for her.’ George knelt down on the sand and beckoned Vevie over. ‘Would you like to help me with the shells instead?’
George and Vevie got to work, placing the shells on the sandcastles (and repairing them as necessary as Vevie’s toddler movements weren’t yet gentle enough for the fragile structures) while Jack started to make the trips down to the water to fill the buckets. Once the moat was ready, they tipped the water inside before Ellie and the boys dashed to fill the buckets up again.
The Single Mums' Picnic Club Page 19
