‘Hey, Paul!’ She kept her voice bright and casual as she left him a message. ‘Just here to meet you for a coffee. Can you call me back? It’s Frankie,’ she added, just in case, and then, ‘Just redial the last number you called, okay? I’m checking where to come and find you.’
She made her way through the centre, trying to keep the rising panic at bay as she phoned him again and again and he still refused to answer. Should she call Linda? But she’d just be worrying her, and he was probably hanging about somewhere in a food court or a cafe and all would be perfectly fine and she would have stressed her out for nothing. Especially considering Linda had told her about that dream the other day.
But another voice at the back of her head was arguing. Because what if this was a bigger deal than she’d first thought? What if she’d got it wrong and he hadn’t actually fallen back on old habits and come here? What if he’d got on a bus or train or something and he was somewhere else altogether? And now he wasn’t answering his phone. What if he’d got himself into some serious trouble? Started an argument with someone who didn’t understand his condition? What if he wasn’t indoors? What if he was actually outside somewhere? It was hot today. Paul wasn’t an old man, but he was older, and if he got himself lost and he didn’t have any water and he was in that searing sun somewhere . . .
‘Frankie!’
She spun around on the spot and all at once her heart jammed against her ribs. It was Paul, striding towards her, a look of surprise on his face to see her. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked as he came to a stop in front of her. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be at your kids’ sports day or something like that?’
Frankie was too relieved to feel frustrated with him.
* * *
She was sitting up in bed that night, her laptop on her knees, checking through the schedule for next Monday. She wanted to have it done now so she didn’t have to work over the weekend. She’d made it back to the carnival in time to be tasked with the job of packing up the marshalling table. Chelsea had hurried over to her while she was folding down the legs of the table.
‘I noticed you couldn’t hang around today so I grabbed great photos of your kids for you,’ she’d told her cheerily, while the mum who’d tried to get her off the phone when Paul had called kept throwing her dirty looks.
Hayley and Coby hadn’t forgiven her all night. She was grateful they were both in bed and fast asleep before Dom had come home, so she hadn’t been ‘dobbed in’ for missing out on half the carnival. She knew if they’d said something, all she would have had to do was tell Dom she’d been called in to work – but she was feeling more and more guilty about keeping Paul’s secret from her husband. She really needed to tell him. She needed to stop lying.
She was sick of looking at work stuff. She switched across to Facebook again and started scrolling through some MOP posts when she came across one that had her choking with laughter.
Hello ladies, I have decided to share a story with you to lighten your day . . . however, be warned, this story draws a fine line between making you laugh and making you puke. It’s not for the weak-stomached and it’s not to be read while eating. Prepare yourselves. Strap in. I’m about to admit to you the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me . . .
STOP NOW IF EATING!
So, I was unwell with a bit of a stomach bug for a few days. A few days of being trapped at home, close to the bathroom. On the third day, I was starting to feel better. No more running to the toilet, stomach not gurgling so much. I started cleaning the house, getting back on top of things. I took a shower. I got out of the shower and dried myself, wrapped my hair in my towel and walked naked to my room. On the way into my room, I paused. I felt the growing need to fart. No need to worry! I’m better now! It’s just the sweet release of some gentle gas. Nothing to write home about. I released. I felt something more than gas. Something liquid. I looked down in horror and there it was on the floor. It had splashed up onto my feet. I stood frozen. Miss Six approached down the hall, asking me a question. ‘DON’T COME DOWN HERE!!’ I shrieked at her. She stopped, looked at me in confusion. ‘MUMMY’S NOT WELL!! MUMMY’S NOT WELL AT ALL! STAY AWAY!’ She backed away from me. I still stood frozen. What was I going to do? It was ON MY FEET! But there was nothing for it, I had to get to the toilet, it wasn’t over. I made the dash on tiptoes, all the while shouting at the children, ‘STAY DOWN THAT END OF THE HOUSE. DO NOT COME DOWN HERE!’ I finished in the toilet as quick as my disgusting body would allow me. I cleaned my feet. I raced back down the hall, trying to avoid my previous footsteps – ready to clean up the horror that awaited me. I stared at the floor. It was gone. Completely gone. I gaped stupidly, but where . . . but how? And then I saw him. The dog. The dog had cleaned it up for me. ‘OH MY GOD YOU DISGUSTING CREATURE!! HOW COULD YOU EAT THAT?’ The dog stared back at me, unperturbed. He sauntered over, paused and licked the doorframe. ‘IT’S ON THE DOORFRAME? OH GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! GET OUT!! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!’
I spent the rest of the day re-cleaning the house, re-showering myself and disinfecting everything. I ran to the toilet any time there was even the hint of a fart.
And that my friends, is my finest hour.
P.S. the dog was fine.
By the time Frankie finished reading she was crying with laughter. That had to be the most horrendous story she’d ever read. She had to share this with the girls on NOP, they’d love it. She took a screengrab of the story, blotted out the fact that it was a MOP post and then logged in and shared the image.
People started commenting on it almost immediately.
OMG where did you get this story? That is priceless!
That is the most revolting thing I’ve ever heard. Why am I not surprised it was a mother who decided to share that story with the world via the internet?
I’m glad she shared it, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. This thing needs to go viral! I’m going to share it on another page, I know some other people who could use a good laugh.
Oh no. Frankie hadn’t thought about the possibility that NOP members might want to share it somewhere else. There was a rule within MOP that you were never supposed to screengrab anyone’s posts. But she’d hidden the name at the top of the post, so no one would know who it belonged to, and there’d be no way for anyone to figure out Frankie had been the one to steal it in the first place. She started to feel a bit guilty. Perhaps she shouldn’t have shared it so readily.
Dom appeared in the doorway and Frankie snapped her laptop shut. She didn’t want him to glance at the screen and see anything about NOP. She wasn’t sure how he’d react if he knew about her secret online identity, but she doubted he’d be too pleased that she was pretending their children didn’t exist. It would be difficult to explain why being Viv gave her so much pleasure without it seeming like she didn’t enjoy being a mum. Of course she loved being a mum. She just also liked taking this chance to escape that role.
His eyes narrowed and she realised she’d been a bit too obvious in her attempt to hide what she’d been doing. She smiled widely at him. Too much teeth! Tone it down! ‘Coming to bed?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, long day,’ he said. He headed into their ensuite and Frankie reopened her laptop, logged out of her secret Facebook account and then closed it again and placed it by the bed.
‘Hey, Frankie,’ Dom called from the ensuite, ‘is this price on your shampoo in here for real?’
‘What do you mean?’ she called back.
He stuck his head out from the bathroom, holding up her shampoo bottle in one hand and conditioner in the other. ‘The price stickers,’ he said. ‘Are these seriously thirty-five bucks a pop?’
‘Yeah, I guess, if that’s what they say on them.’
‘Jeez, they saw you coming,’ he said.
‘They’re the ones I always buy,’ she replied. ‘My hair’s a nightmare without the proper salon stuff.’
He huffed and disappeared into the bat
hroom again and Frankie felt a hint of irritation. Why was he suddenly questioning her hair products?
After a few minutes, he returned and climbed into bed next to her. ‘Coby was telling me tonight he’s joining the school rugby team,’ he said as he shuffled down under the covers. ‘How much is that going to cost?’
Frankie propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. ‘Dom,’ she said, ‘what’s with all the money questions lately? First I get in trouble for using the wrong credit card, now you’re at me about my shampoo. What’s the issue?’
‘No issue,’ he said shortly, ‘I’m just trying to keep an eye on things. I’m the one who deals with all the bills around here, you know.’
‘Yeah, because you like dealing with finance. It’s your thing.’
‘Okay, so that’s what I’m doing. Dealing with the finances, that’s all.’
‘Well, there’s no extra cost for the rugby team. It’s an in-school activity and he wears his normal sports uniform, so you can stop worrying about it. Just be happy the kid is finally interested in a team sport.’
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s great,’ Dom said distractedly, turning over to face the other way and switch off his lamp. ‘I’m just making sure we’re still on track for your dream house,’ he added. ‘Night.’
Frankie put her head on the pillow and lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling. Your dream house, she repeated to herself. I thought it was supposed to be our dream house.
CHAPTER 28
Frankie should have known it was too good to be true.
But the thing is, Paul was completely lucid when he materialised from his office on Thursday morning, looking so pleased with himself, practically bouncing on his toes. He clapped Frankie on the shoulder and asked her to take a quick walk outside with him.
‘I’m feeling the need for a bit of fresh air.’
‘Sure thing. Fresh air sounds great.’
It had been almost a full week since the incident that had pulled her away from the sports carnival, and he’d actually been really good all week. Barely any strange comments or vague looks. Well, apart from his funny turn on Tuesday – the day he was supposed to go looking at fidget spinners with Poppy. Even if he hadn’t said a few odd things that morning, she still would have accompanied the two of them to the shops to keep an eye on him. But in the end, she thought it best to leave him safe in his office, chatting away on the phone with Linda, and she’d taken his place with Poppy.
That shopping trip had been interesting. Walking alongside Poppy and thinking to herself, I know you. I know the real you. You’ve complained to me about your parents not understanding your life choices. I’ve encouraged you when you were out trying to pick up. The two of us are friends, and you have no idea.
Sometimes hearing Poppy and Annalise’s side of the story through NOP made Frankie feel more empathetic towards the two of them, made her want to forgive them for the nasty things they’d said about her. Other times she’d catch them looking at her with utter disgust, and she’d remember that Poppy had tried to out her to Linda for an affair that wasn’t happening, and she’d stop feeling so forgiving.
But when they’d run into Poppy’s ex and his new partner and baby, Frankie saw Poppy’s anguish and she couldn’t help herself. She had to stand up for her.
Now, Frankie and Paul walked down from the office, crossed the road and headed into Watt Park. Once they were in the park, they meandered along, quietly at first, and Frankie wondered as they walked what Paul was thinking, whether he was confused, if he was wondering where they were or what they were doing out there. Or if he was still with her. But then he spoke and it turned out he was fully lucid.
‘I really appreciate how you’ve been helping me these last few months, Frankie. I know it’s put a lot of added strain and stress on you and I haven’t liked doing that to you. But I do think I can at least make it up to you a little. Linda and I were going through the company finances together last night and we’ve earmarked an amount as a bonus for you, to show you just how much we do appreciate your help. It’ll be about fifteen percent of your salary. We can run it through with your next pay run.’
Frankie was thrilled. With Dom’s constant chatter about money these last couple of weeks, a bonus would be fantastic. And it was startlingly lovely to hear Paul sound so much like his old self.
‘Paul, you have no idea how perfect your timing is. This is fantastic, thank you so much. Fifteen percent? Are you sure? That sounds generous.’
‘Yes, I’m absolutely sure. The extra effort you’ve put in more than warrants it. And the other good news is that we’ve almost got the ownership issues all sorted out, so we’ll make an announcement soon about my condition and you won’t have to keep covering for me.’
‘Paul, that’s wonderful.’
She realised the look on his face had taken a sad turn. ‘Not that I’ll be happy to lose you as my boss,’ she added quickly, ‘I just mean, surely it will make things easier on you as well, right?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. It will.’
She never thought to ask him to put the offer in writing.
* * *
That night Frankie made sure the kids were in bed early. She cracked open one of the nicer bottles of wine and ordered dinner for her and Dom from their favourite Thai takeaway place. She was looking forward to telling him that he could stop pestering her about silly things like the cost of her shampoo. Hmm, maybe best not to open with that.
Somehow, her bright and breezy manner irritated Dom the moment he walked through the door.
‘What’s with all this?’ he asked, indicating the neatly set table. They usually ate in front of the television.
‘Thought it might be nice for a change.’
He seemed instantly suspicious, ‘Why are you being so . . .’
‘So what?’
‘So . . . cheerful?’
‘I can’t be cheerful? I have nice wine, an attractive husband, and a massaman curry from All Thai-ed Up on its way.’
‘The expensive place?’ he said, sounding irritated. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘I have news!’ she half shouted, well aware that she sounded slightly frenzied, but unable to help it. She was so desperate to rally, to stop him from ruining this great news with his new ultra-negative attitude.
Dom stared back at her. His eyes slowly widened. ‘Shit! You’re not pregnant, are you?’
Frankie glared back at him. ‘Do I look pregnant to you?’ she snapped.
‘Uh . . . no?’
She chose to let that go . . . for now. ‘No, I’m not pregnant. I’m getting a bonus from work – a big bonus!’
Dom’s brow knitted. ‘A bonus?’ he said. ‘What for? Don’t most companies do bonuses at the end of the year, at Christmas time?’
‘It’s for all my hard work,’ she said, refusing to let his suspicious tone affect her, even as a voice in the back of her head was nagging at her. What if he did get a text from Poppy that day? What if he was still wondering if she was cheating on him with Paul? She pushed the voice aside. ‘But the point is,’ she said, ‘more money means we’re one step closer to our dream home, right?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah sure, of course, babe.’ But he didn’t sound nearly as excited as she’d hoped. ‘Congratulations.’ He stepped in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. ‘It’s great news,’ he said, and she could tell he was trying his best to inject some enthusiasm in his voice but wasn’t quite pulling it off.
Frankie pulled back from him. ‘Dom, is everything okay?’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘Let me go and change. I’ll be right back.’
He headed off upstairs and Frankie was left feeling completely deflated. She’d thought this news would have made his night. She also looked down at her stomach and poked at it. She hadn’t put on any extra weight lately, had she? No, she bloody well hadn’t, Dom was just being a typical male.
* * *
‘Remind me whose idea it was to play squash?’ Frank
ie asked George from accounts as they picked out their hire racquets and headed down to join the rest of the staff.
‘Some new person in HR,’ he said. ‘Apparently, he’s right into team-building exercises. I don’t think this is going to be the last.’
It was Friday afternoon, and there was really far too much work to do to have almost the entire office down the road at the squash courts for the afternoon. Somehow the request from HR had slipped past her straight to Paul and he’d approved it without thinking through the consequences.
‘How is squash team-building?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t it all about getting on the court and thrashing your opponent?’
‘I think you can play doubles, can’t you?’
‘Jeez it’d be crowded on the court, wouldn’t it? Still, you’d think a proper team sport – like netball or soccer – would make more sense.’ She spotted Poppy and Annalise at the back of the group, although surprisingly they weren’t standing side by side, which was highly unusual. Frankie wouldn’t have minded a game of soccer with them on the opposing team. It would be nice to show them they weren’t the only ones who knew how to kick a ball.
‘Oh God,’ said George as they got closer, ‘look, Steph and Martha both have all their own gear. They’re going to take this so seriously.’
‘Excellent,’ Frankie said, ‘this is going to be a blast.’
They were split up and sent to their various courts and Frankie found herself facing Linda. So much for the team-building element – they were playing one on one.
‘How’d you get roped into coming along to this?’ Frankie asked as they made their way onto the court.
‘I dropped by the office the other day and Marcus conned me into coming along,’ Linda replied.
‘That must be the new guy who planned this whole thing. I haven’t even introduced myself to him yet.’
Those Other Women Page 23
