Don't Want To Miss A Thing

by Mansell, Jill

  ‘In you, Dad!’ Lois grinned at his look of dismay.

  ‘Surely not.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure she is. She was giving me the third degree earlier, asking all sorts of questions about you and your romantic history.’ Wryly she added, ‘So that didn’t take long. But you should have heard her and seen the way she was looking at me when I talked about you. She was desperate for details.’

  ‘Oh God,’ sighed Stefan. ‘I wondered if there was something a bit weird going on when she turned up at the caravan to see me. But I didn’t realise it was that.’

  ‘Well, why would you? You’re only a man.’ Lois, who adored her father, was familiar with the shortcomings of the opposite sex; you didn’t run a pub for as long as she had without learning how hopeless they had the capacity to be.

  ‘Are you sure you’re right?’

  ‘Dad, I’m always right. Frankie’s husband left her. She’s on her own and frantic to feel whole again. And wanted. And . . . attractive. She needs another man in her life to replace Joe and it looks like you’re the one she’s set her sights on.’

  ‘Well, this is awkward.’ Stefan looked worried. ‘I mean, she’s a perfectly nice woman but I just don’t . . . there isn’t any . . .’

  ‘I know, Dad. That’s why I’m warning you,’ Lois said sympathetically. ‘Do you want me to say something to her? Kind of let her down gently, let her know you aren’t interested?’

  ‘No, no, don’t.’ Evidently mortified at the prospect, Stefan said, ‘Please don’t do that. I’ll just make sure I stay well out of her way.’

  Chapter 38

  Molly had never been so glad to see someone. Keeping an eye out for Vince, she’d watched as Stefan slipped away from the party, then saw Vince’s well-polished car pull up outside the café. Ten minutes ago, Amanda had said, ‘So I hear you’ve got yourself a boyfriend? That’s fantastic!’ In the manner of a competitive mother being over-delighted that her toddler has managed to do its first ever poo in the toilet.

  Molly nodded. ‘Yes, his name’s Vince.’

  ‘I know, I’ve been hearing all about him from Dex. And is he nice?’

  ‘Really nice.’

  ‘Well, that’s great! I can’t wait to meet him. Dex was telling me it’s been quite a while since your last boyfriend.’

  It had been a year ago exactly, in fact. The last twelve months had been something of a sexual desert. The only person she’d shared a bed with was Dex, and that had lasted all of ten minutes.

  Molly wondered if he’d told Amanda about that, the infamous over-confident, drunken fumble?

  Actually, probably best not to mention it.

  Meanwhile, Amanda was waiting for a reply.

  ‘Yes.’ Another nod of agreement. ‘It’s been some time.’ Thanks for reminding me.

  ‘Well, if you need anything in the contraception department, just give the surgery a call and book an appointment.’ Amanda surveyed her with the confident air of a woman entirely in control of her own contraceptive requirements. ‘We’ll soon have you fixed up!’

  Anyway, Vince was here now, looking thrillingly handsome in a dark blue linen suit and pale green shirt, pausing beside the car for a moment to take out a handkerchief and wipe away a smudge of something on the gleaming paintwork.

  ‘Is that him?’ Joining her, Frankie whistled and said, ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know.’ Molly experienced a rush of pride; he was a physically perfect specimen. It felt a bit weird to be thinking about it, but she probably should get some contraception sorted out.

  Not through Amanda though, brrr.

  Having greeted Vince and led him through to the garden, she introduced him to the other guests along the way. Finally they reached Dex and Amanda. Vince shook Dex’s hand and said, ‘Good to see you again.’

  Dex said easily, ‘You too.’

  ‘And I’m Amanda. Hello!’ Having greeted him, Amanda linked her arm proprietorially through Dex’s. Eyes sparkling, she turned to Molly. ‘I have to say, well done.’

  Right in front of everyone, as if to signal her amazement that Molly could have landed such a prize. OK, please don’t start talking about contraceptives again.

  Molly blurted out, ‘Actually, we only came back to say hello and goodbye. We’re heading off now.’ They’d seen and admired him, that was enough.

  ‘We don’t have to,’ said Vince. ‘The table’s booked for eight so we don’t need to leave before seven twenty.’ He paused to consider. ‘Maybe seven fifteen to be on the safe side.’

  OK, he’d been a little bit like this the other evening; being punctual was evidently important to him. Molly said, ‘Yes, but I want to go home first, get changed and freshen up.’ Oh God, cringe, had she really just said that? She’d never used the words freshen up before in her life.

  ‘Ah, didn’t realise.’ Vince checked his watch, mentally recalculating the timings. ‘In that case, let’s go.’

  Amanda raised a groomed eyebrow as if discreetly reminding her not to get carried away and have wild sex without protection. Then she broke into a wide smile. ‘Have a great evening. And listen, we’re practically neighbours now. We should get together!’ She turned to Dex. ‘Why don’t we invite them over for supper next weekend?’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’ Dex, as easygoing as ever, went along with it. ‘Why not? I’m getting pretty good at cheese on toast.’

  This was his new culinary masterpiece. Molly said, ‘Only because I taught you to add Worcester Sauce.’

  ‘Wash your mouths out, you two.’ Amanda affected horror. ‘I’ll be in charge of the food and it isn’t going to be anything like that. Trust me, I’m an excellent cook.’

  ‘Really?’ Dex looked impressed.

  ‘Absolutely.’ Her smile was both playful and provocative. ‘Just another of my many talents.’

  Bleurgh, definitely time to go.

  ‘You don’t need to do this,’ said Frankie when she saw Henry at the sink with his shirtsleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in suds, washing all the glasses that hadn’t been able to fit into the dishwasher.

  ‘Not a problem.’ He dismissed her protest with a shrug. ‘I enjoy it.’

  It was eight o’clock; the party was finally over, the band packed up and gone now, the last few guests drifting away.

  ‘Always nice to see a man getting domesticated.’ Frankie picked up a clean tea towel and began polishing the glasses dry. ‘Are you staying down here tonight?’

  Amused, Henry nodded through the window at Dex and Amanda.

  ‘With the lovebirds, you mean? I’ll hang around for the next couple of hours, then I think I’d better head home, give them some privacy. It’s been a good day though. I’ve enjoyed it.’

  ‘Me too. Whoops.’ A wet glass slipped from Frankie’s grasp and toppled sideways on the edge of the drainer. Demonstrating lightning reflexes, Henry caught it before it could hit the floor.

  ‘Here you go.’ He handed it back to her.

  ‘Well held.’ She smiled; he was so obviously a sportsman.

  ‘Mum? I’m off now.’ Bursting into the kitchen, Amber gave her a hug. ‘I’m staying over at Nicole’s tonight, be back tomorrow afternoon.’

  For the first time, Frankie experienced a wobble of doubt. She’d always trusted Amber implicitly. ‘What are you going to be doing?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much, just injecting hard drugs into my veins and knocking back bottles of neat gin. That’s a joke, by the way,’ Amber said patiently. ‘What we’re actually going to be doing is making salted caramel popcorn and watching girly DVDs. And I need to be home by lunchtime tomorrow because I want to do tons of revision and at least two practice papers. But if Dad asks, whatever you do, don’t tell him that. And don’t panic either, because you definitely don’t have to worry about me. OK, Mummy?’

  ‘Now you’re making fun of me.’ Frankie secretly loved it when Amber teased her like that. She relaxed and hugged her in return. ‘OK, darling, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a lovely time.’

>   ‘I will. Bye!’ Amber waved to them both and danced out of the door.

  ‘Your daughter’s a credit to you,’ Henry said when she’d gone.

  Frankie glowed. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So what are your plans for this evening?’

  ‘Mine? Feet up, cup of tea, telly on . . . then I’ll probably doze off and manage to spill tea all over the sofa.’ She pulled a face. ‘I live a very rock ’n’ roll lifestyle.’

  Henry rinsed another glass and said suddenly, ‘Because if you felt like going out for a drink or something to eat, we could do that . . . I mean, if you wanted to, I’d be up for it . . .’

  Frankie looked at him in amazement. Crikey, had she just been asked out on a date?

  ‘Oh well, that’s really nice of you, but . . . gosh.’ Panic, panic. ‘Look, thanks, but I’m not ready for any kind of . . . you know, thingy.’ Which sounded completely ridiculous and pathetic but the words were tumbling out of their own accord, an instinctive reaction not even pausing to involve her brain.

  ‘Sure, sure, no problem. Fair enough. Forget I said anything.’ It was comforting to realise Henry was as eager to put it behind him as she was, an erroneous blip to be deleted as fast as possible.

  ‘Thanks.’ Frankie shot him a grateful smile. ‘And look, it’s not you. It’s definitely me.’

  ‘And I shouldn’t have asked.’ His embarrassed-but-relieved expression gave her the first inkling that he was far shyer than he appeared.

  Who’d have thought it was possible for someone so outwardly imposing to lack confidence?

  One of the last remaining guests came into the kitchen at that moment and asked Henry, whom he’d earlier been tapping for free financial advice, if he could take his contact details. Henry dried his hands, opened up his wallet and gave him a business card. When the man had thanked him and left, Henry fumblingly pulled out another card and murmured, ‘Just in case you ever need . . . or want to ask anything . . . I’ll just leave one, shall I? You can always throw it in the bin as soon as I’m gone.’

  Their hands brushed as Frankie took the business card and she experienced a tiny, just detectable swoosh of adrenalin.

  ‘Of course I won’t throw it in the bin,’ said Frankie.

  Henry didn’t speak, just looked at her with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. The swoosh happened again, ten times harder.

  Frankie looked away, winded. Blimey, where had that come from?

  Chapter 39

  Dex and Amanda had urged him to stay longer but Henry knew perfectly well only Dex had meant it; it was obvious Amanda wanted him all to herself. As soon as Delphi had been settled down in her cot, leaving him the lone gooseberry in the house, he’d made his excuses and left.

  It was eight fifteen and the sun was now sinking lower in the sky behind him as Henry accelerated on to the slip road and joined the eastbound carriageway of the M4. Well, talk about an eventful day. As he’d been on his way down to Briarwood earlier, he’d heard a positive-thinking expert on the radio declaring that people just needed to instigate events if they wanted to change their lives for the better. ‘Never regret the things you’ve done,’ the Positive Thinker had forcefully announced, ‘only the things you didn’t do.’

  Which had sounded bloody terrifying, frankly, but the quote had stayed with Henry, dancing around inside his head and repeating itself, like an annoying song stuck on replay.

  So what had he done? Decided to take the risk, make the leap, act on impulse and see if the saying was true.

  Which meant he’d met Frankie, spoken to her, and discovered she more than lived up to his expectations.

  He’d then gone on to clumsily ask her out.

  And been briskly rejected.

  Even then, though, he’d kept the faith – the ridiculous, ludicrous faith – and had followed up with an even clumsier move, forcing a business card upon her when it was so painfully apparent she wasn’t interested.

  What a muppet. God, what must she have been thinking while he was floundering around, making a fool of himself like the dorkiest teenager? His hands gripping the steering wheel, Henry tortured himself with the memory of all the stupid things he’d said and done, and how tactfully and sweetly Frankie had handled his unwanted advances.

  And it was all his own fault.

  So much for taking the advice of so-called experts on the radio.

  He wouldn’t be making that mistake again in a hurry.

  Silence. Silence. And yet more silence.

  Frankie, draped across the sofa, switched on the TV and flicked through a few channels. Turning it off again, she looked at her cup of tea. It had gone cold and scummy.

  How was it that some evenings whizzed by, while others crawled along like a constipated snail? And had any evening ever passed as slowly as this one? Frankie exhaled with frustration; she was here in an empty house, feeling more lonely than she could remember feeling before. Amber was away. Molly was off out somewhere with Vince. Joe was in Tetbury with Christina. On a boredom scale of one to ten, this was a twenty. God, and the hours were stretching endlessly ahead . . . she wished now that she’d taken Henry up on his offer.

  As usual, she’d managed to say no when she should have said yes.

  And it was too late now to change her mind.

  Wasn’t it?

  OK, don’t even think it. Of course it’s too late. Frankie rose from the sofa, went into the kitchen and took a bottle of wine from the fridge.

  Twenty minutes later, the thought was still buzzing around inside her brain.

  What if it wasn’t too late?

  What if it wasn’t?

  Next to her on the sofa, her mobile rang and she jumped a mile. Was it Henry calling to see if she’d changed her mind?

  OK, pretty unlikely, seeing as he didn’t have her number.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Joe. ‘Have you spoken to Amber?’

  Oh brilliant, this was all she needed.

  ‘Amber’s fine. She hadn’t taken any drugs, just pretended she had, because she knew you’d find out.’ It was only fair to tell him. Frankie added, ‘She’s also doing tons of work for her exams.’

  ‘And you believe that?’

  She bristled. ‘Yes I do. I’m her mum and I know when she’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Hmm. And who was the guy wearing your dressing gown?’

  Ah, so that was the other reason Joe was calling.

  ‘I told you. He’s a friend.’ Her glass was empty. She made her way back through to the kitchen for a refill.

  ‘Look, just go steady, OK?’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You know what it means. Everyone’s watching you, waiting to see what you do next. There’s no need to make a complete fool of yourself.’

  Bristling didn’t begin to describe what she was experiencing now. Frankie surveyed the icy bottle of wine in her hand; if Joe had been here, she’d have happily hit him over the head with it. ‘You mean there’s no need to make any more of a fool of myself, seeing as how my husband’s had another family tucked away for the last twenty years and I’m already the laughing stock of the whole village?’

  ‘I’m talking about dignity now. I’m trying to help you out here and you’re getting defensive,’ said Joe. ‘Which just goes to show, you know I’m right.’

  God, how she hated it when he used his ultra-reasonable voice. ‘You’re a lot of things,’ said Frankie, ‘but I’ve run out of money to put in the swear box.’

  She hung up hard and poured more wine, the neck of the bottle t-t-tinging against the rim of the glass as her hand trembled with rage.

  Have some dignity. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Sit at home on your own, don’t rock the boat and definitely don’t have any fun, was that what Joe expected her to do?

  Well, sod him. And sod that. Frankie glugged back more wine and listened to her heart flailing against her ribs. Then she crossed the kitchen and picked up the business card Henry had left on the dresser.

  S
he punched out the number and listened to it ring at the other end. This wasn’t the kind of thing she did.

  Well, maybe it was time for a change.

  Then the ringing stopped, the answering service asked her to leave a message and Frankie realised she hadn’t thought this through.

  ‘Hi, it’s me . . . um, Frankie . . . sorry, I was just wondering if you’d like to come over after all, but if you aren’t picking up your phone it probably means you’re driving . . . so you’re on your way back to London . . . OK, don’t worry, I left it too late. Never mind, bye!’

  All the out-of-the-blue bravery had poured out of her. Hanging up, Frankie let out a wail of despair and howled, ‘Oh fuck.’ Then her heart did a double thud as she glanced back at the phone and saw that she hadn’t hung up; it was still recording her message. Yelping, ‘Sorry!’ she jabbed the button again, made sure it was properly off this time, and buried her head in her hands.

  Pulling in at the motorway services, Henry listened to the message on his phone. Was this how it felt to get a call telling you you’d won the Lotto?

  He called back and heard Frankie say cautiously, ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me. Am I still OK to come over?’

  ‘Really?’ Her voice rose. ‘Of course! I didn’t realise you were still here, I thought you must be on the M4 by now.’

  How far away was he from Briarwood? If he turned round at the next junction and raced back, how long would it take? He definitely couldn’t tell her where he was.

  ‘Just wait there.’ A ridiculous smile spread across Henry’s face as he put the car back into gear. ‘I’m on my way.’

  It was nine thirty when the doorbell went.

  Her heart hammering, Frankie opened the door and said, ‘You were on the M4.’

  ‘I’m here now,’ said Henry.

  ‘This is mad.’

  ‘I know.’ He smiled slightly and nodded in agreement.

  ‘Sorry about saying fuck earlier. I thought I’d turned the phone off.’

  ‘I like it that you said fuck. Made it easier to phone you back.’ He paused. ‘And drive back.’

  Frankie exhaled. The weirdest thing was happening. Somehow their individually messed-up approaches had succeeded in balancing each other out. First Henry had made a clumsy advance, then she’d matched it. The playing field was level now, the initial layers of pretence stripped away.