The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green (34 page)

‘Not the most romantic of proposals there… I dunno, babes.' She shut her eyes and held her head. This wasn't a tea or coffee, brown or red sauce dilemma. This was bloody massive.

‘It's a great life out there, beaut. The sunshine, the sea, the barbies. We'd have a pool and Sydney would be our doorstep. You haven't lived unless you've had a barramundi fillet at Doyles On The Beach.'

‘I can go to Barry Island for fish and chips, you know.' She needed a lot more persuading than a naff postcard from
Neighbours
.

‘Yeah but can you see the Opera House and the harbour from there? I think not. Then there's the surf. Manly is the place. And the food – there's pan-fusion-everything. Sydney is where every culture meets – you could have anything you can dream of. Vietnamese, Lebanese, Chinese, Japanese, American, Indian, Spanish.' He was holding her in his arms now, begging her to picture it.

‘What about chicken curry half-and-half? I'd miss that Welsh delicacy of rice and chips from Dorothy's. There is no better takeaway after a night on the pop.' She couldn't take it in.

‘I'm being serious,' he said, cuddling her. ‘Stop making jokes.'

‘I can't help it. It's what I do.' Even though she found comfort in him, she also felt the wrench of everything she'd leave behind. ‘The hills, I'd miss the green.' The Valleys where she'd grown up, the parks of Cardiff and the countryside.

‘There are mountains a day trip away, you know. There's the Botanical Gardens too, right in the centre. We've got cockatoos, galahs, kookaburras, flying foxes, lizards, yabbies'—'

‘SNAKES! Scary poisonous ones and big bitey spiders.'

‘Yeah, but they don't like Pommies. You taste too bitter.'

They shared a laugh, collapsing onto the bed on their backs.

But she was troubled by the wonder of where she would fit in. ‘What if you're only asking me along because you'd feel too guilty to go off without me after everything that's happened?'

‘Look, I won't lie to you,' he sighed. ‘Eddy comes first. I won't live thousands of miles away from him. End of. I have to be there to see him grow up.' She got this, a million times over. ‘It's hard to say that to you when I love you so much. But I'd be miserable without you. We can make this work.'

‘I've no money, you know that...'

‘I told you. I'd look after you.'

‘I just don't know,' she said, snuggling into him, hiding from the decision.

‘What's stopping you?' he said, smoothing her hair.

‘My friends. Cups of tea with Em, drinking sessions with Frankie, our pampering evenings, they would all end.'

‘Haven't you said their lives are changing?'

This was true – Em was going to be a mum, and in all likelihood Frankie would end up back with Jason. Where did that leave her? Single and a spare part.

‘They can visit, you can FaceTime and you'll make new mates.'

Damn him, Lance was setting out a very persuasive stall.

‘I don't want to be trailing you around, depending on you. Like, I've made a promise to myself, that I was going to start being more assertive for myself, starting with my spending. Address my feelings of worthlessness. But how can I be independent when I'd be so dependent on you?'

‘You'd make your own life out there. You'd have a head start too being with an Aussie, you know, you wouldn't be an ex-pat. And one day we might have a baby and that's a social life of its own.'

Letty's heart leapt at his projection into the future, their future. Then it crashed when she thought of what she'd do all day. ‘But what about work? I'm just a PA.'

‘There's college. You can get this qualification you're after. You'd get away from that creep Ross too. Imagine telling him to stuff his job – you're off Down Under.'

‘But I'd be running away.'

‘Nope, you'd be free.'

But no matter what Lance said, no matter how amazing it sounded, she'd be going because of him not because she was doing it off her own back. Playing third fiddle to Eddy, Helen and Lance.

She was facing an ultimatum. He would go whatever.

Taking control, that's what she'd promised she'd do, could that happen if she followed him? Could she make it her own?

It was her choice to make: stay here and then what? Or make a go of it and start a whole new adventure?

It all depended on one thing, she knew as their entwined bodies moved towards sleep, and that was whether their relationship was strong enough.

Dad is bright this morning, Frankie thought as she watched him pacing a spot of carpet while he took a quick call on his ancient brick of a cordless phone in the lounge. Even though she'd only just arrived, he seemed less creaky and more lively, as if he was taking a role in life rather than watching from his armchair. It must be having her round, she thought, feeling guilty that she hadn't been over sooner.

‘Clifford Rogers speaking. Oh hello, ye-es, yes…' He winked at her with a creased hazel eye as he spoke. ‘…no… a bit later.' He pulled a funny face to make Frankie laugh. ‘Okay, ta ta, bye for now.' He examined his immaculate fingernails as he ended the conversation. Despite his DIY projects, Dad always had lovely clean hands. ‘Sorry about that,' he said, turning to her. ‘Right then. Tea? Coffee? Fairy juice?'

‘Whatever you're having. Who was that then?' she said, perching on the worn sofa that had been around for as long as she could remember.

‘Gareth. We'll be having a pint later. Tuesday night is Legion night.'

Frankie's smile hid her sadness that he hadn't been talking to a lady friend. But she had suspected as much. That was why last night she'd asked if she could pop in for a couple of hours in between clients – to encourage him to try online dating. He had been stuck in the past for too long. Like the old her, he resisted change – the evidence was all around her; from the furniture and the shelves lined with crafts she'd made at school to the hideous orange clock above the fireplace dating back to 1983 when Mum discovered Habitat. But he had to move on from mourning, and she was in the right place to support him.

‘I've got you some new trousers,' she said, jiggling an M&S bag at him.

‘Oh, God, they're not those skinny what-nots are they?' he said, holding his once-dark now greying short back and sides in alarm. ‘I'd be worried they'd cut off my circulation.'

‘No! They're just trousers. A bit more up to date, though.'

‘And what's wrong with how I dress?' he said, crossing his strong and capable arms in mock offence. ‘I'll have you know these utility shorts and this T-shirt are new. Ish.'

‘You always look nice, Dad, I didn't mean that. I just think you could try something a bit different. Something subtle, but it will make you look younger, more trendy.'

‘I'm fifty-bloody-eight, love!' Then when he saw her face had dropped, he promised her he'd try them on. But not now with an audience. He wasn't one of those supermodels, you know, he added as he led them along the dark corridor into the light of his new kitchen, which he'd finally got round to finishing.

‘It's only because I think you hide a bit,' she said, to his back and bald spot. ‘It's like you've given up on things. Fifty-eight isn't old – you've still time to meet some— Wow! This is amazing!'

She stopped to take it in: the terracotta-tiled back wall had been replaced by French doors which were pulled open all the way and led straight onto the sunny patio. On the right was a black two-seater sofa facing a wall-mounted flat-screen TV on the left. The grey floor tiles contained sprinkles of quartz which twinkled in the light. A wooden-topped island floated in the middle of a brand new country-style set of white units and there was even a vase of tulips on the side.

‘Given up, have I, love?' Dad said, smiling from the sink where he filled the kettle.

‘Dad,' she gasped, ‘when you said a bit of an update I didn't think you meant this! How did you get it done so quick? I was only here…' She stopped when she remembered she hadn't dropped by for at least a week. ‘I'm so sorry, I've been caught up with stuff,' she said, explaining.

‘Oh, I had some help. And listen, you've got a life and I'm glad you're busy. What do you think then? Look, I even kept a space for Judy. And there's underfloor heating to keep her old bones warm.'

Judy, who was lying on her back with her bent paws hanging in half on top of her chest, opened an eye and wagged her tail half-heartedly.

‘Don't get up, old girl,' he said to the dog, ‘her arthritis is getting worse, Frankie, I'm not sure she'll be around much longer.'

‘Oh don't say that,' Frankie implored, then before she had time to think, her greatest fear spilled out, ‘You'll be all alone.'

Dad shook his head at her. ‘Now look, I'm very happy, don't you start with all that.'

‘I've been thinking, Dad,' Frankie said, seizing the moment.

‘Dangerous,' Dad said, opening and closing cupboards because he couldn't find the teabags.

‘Internet dating. There are loads of sites for older people, divorced people like you with kids and…'

He laughed and announced there was no need for her to feel sorry for him. Honestly, he added, which meant he didn't want to hear any more.

Frankie sighed but having said her bit she respected his right to shut her up. If she went on, he would be even less receptive next time she mentioned it. She had to go softly-softly with Dad.

‘Why don't you tell me about your stuff, love?' Dad said.

Frankie sank into the squishy settee and took a mouthful of tea. ‘Oh, it's nothing really. Just Jason, as usual. We went out Saturday night and he stayed over,' she glanced up at him to make sure he understood her coded revelation.

He joined her and nodded. ‘Go on,' he said, showing he knew what she had implied. It was incredible how much empathy he had for a man of his age; he must just be very observant, seeing as he was single.

‘Well, I'm just really confused. He told me he had made a mistake and he hinted at wanting me back. And I thought that's what I wanted, and I do, but there's something stopping me…' Frankie couldn't quite believe what she was about to say but it was coming over her and she was helpless. ‘...There's this other guy, you see. It's not like anything has been said between us,' she said, quickly to stop Dad drawing the wrong conclusion, ‘but I feel comfortable with him, more comfortable than I do with Jason. He gets me and…'

Dad placed a hand on hers and nodded deeply, which showed the depth of his generous nature, to accept her dilemma with heart rather than scorn.

‘…and here's the thing, I'm not sure Jase does anymore. This other guy, he's engaged, and it's purely platonic but his friendship has made me see things through different eyes. It's made me question everything that I thought I knew. Not that I'd be with this guy, just that what I want and need in a partner isn't what I wanted or needed before. Oh Dad, I just don't know what to do.'

He looked long at her face as if he was thinking of a solution. He took a breath and her soul leapt that he was going to console her; she knew it was pathetic, she was a grown woman, but she needed his wise words. ‘Frankie, I'm going to tell you a story now and it might help you,' he said. His eyes changed to brown as the sun went behind a shadow. He cleared his throat and began. ‘Once upon a time, there was a man who lived a lie, only for a woman to save him. She stood by him, her husband, for years. She stayed with him so he could be with their daughter. Then she had a chance of happiness, she met a good man and moved out. She left the daughter with her husband, not because she was selfish, but because the daughter had asked to stay with her dad. She made the ultimate sacrifice.'

Frankie felt alarmed at the parallels to her own life. But this wasn't about them: Mum wasn't one for personal sacrifices.

‘Why was he living a lie?'

‘Because, Frankie, that man was gay. He knew it all along but hid it. He was so close to the girl, he was more like a Mam than her own mother. She'd always found it harder to connect, the girl would always go to him for everything – it was as if their roles were reversed. Do you understand what I'm telling you?'

‘Sort of,' she said, getting the moral of being true to oneself or at least the truth will out, which was what Phyllis had meant too. ‘But who are you talking about? It might fall into place then.'

Dad paused and put his hand on her shoulder, his eyes turning green and golden as the sun broke free. ‘Me, love, I'm talking about me and your mother and Colin. I'm gay, love.'

‘What?' she said, screwing her face up in utter disbelief. She must've misheard, surely. She waited for Dad to tell her it was a joke or that he'd got his words mixed up. But he held her stare and nodded slowly. The kitchen seemed to swivel then as the shock shook her by the head.

‘But you can't be! You play darts and you're a plumber!'

Dad gave a small smile. ‘That is true, I do and I am. But it doesn't make me straight. We're not all air stewards or Elton John, love.'

But where had the clues been? She rifled through her memories but there was nothing. No shouty signs she associated with being gay, but then, as Dad said, not everyone wore it on their sleeves. He had friends, blokes he went to football with and the boys at the working men's club. He was just one of the lads.

‘How long have you known?' she said because she needed more to accept this new version of the truth.

‘Forever, but in those days, especially here in Wales, it wasn't like it was now. There was no Pride march. You ignored it, you were at pains to fit in. I met your mam, we were great friends and we fell in love. A love of sorts anyhow, which is not to lessen it, because we still have a very strong bond and always will. We just did what we were expected to do. Got married and had kids. It was all I ever wanted. Your mother, she had terrible baby blues after you, what they call post-natal depression now. And it brought you and me even closer together. One day she found me in tears, it was such a struggle denying who I was and I told her. Yes, she flipped out, but after a bit she was marvellous. We made it work for you. Occasionally, to my shame, I couldn't take it anymore and I'd… you know. I'm not proud of it, your mother was an angel, she turned a blind eye for years. So when she met Colin, I was the one who told her to go. She deserved it.'