Busy Woman Seeks Wife (5 page)

There was an awkward pause and Frankie interjected cautiously, “I make great brownies.”

Alex’s shoulders dropped. “Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s carry on with the interview but only for legal reasons. I’m not comfortable
with this. A man I don’t know in my house every day? I don’t think so. And what would Mum make of it?” She scanned the table.
“Er, Saff, have you got the list of questions? How far did you get?”

With a completely unrepentant smile on her face, Saffron took her seat. “Sorry—couldn’t find it. I might have left it at home.
I made some notes, though.”

Alex rubbed her temples and closed her eyes for a moment. She had surprisingly long dark lashes and, although her mouth was
quite wide, her lips were pressed tightly together as though she had a headache. She looked exhausted, and for a moment Frankie
felt quite sorry for her. It must be a tough life being a professional ballbreaker, and he wondered what “her world” was.

“Right.” Alex opened her eyes smartly.

“You look like you could murder a drink.” Saff patted her shoulder. “Is there a bottle open?”

For the first time Alex smiled and the transformation was astonishing. Her eyes softened and her cheeks dimpled. Now that
was something she ought to do more often. “Would you like one?” She turned to look at him and he flicked his eyes guiltily
away.

“No thanks. I haven’t finished my coffee.”

She didn’t ask twice, reached for her bag, branded with the famous Zencorp logo, and took out a leather folder with the same
branding. Either she was a big fan or
this
was her world. That would explain the sporty image. “Let’s get on with it then. Can you cook? Have you had a recent background
check? Do you have references?”

The questions rattled at him like machine-gun fire, each one designed to leave him in no doubt as to the nature of what would
be expected of him. Alex glanced up at him occasionally as he tried to formulate his answers. He started to feel uncomfortable,
but soldiered on, the size of the phone bill at the front of his mind. Yes, he could cook—he’d worked in restaurants for several
years and had even gotten a basic food hygiene certificate after doing a stint in a sandwich shop in the city. Yes, he’d had
a recent background check because he’d done theater for schools. Yes, he had references—he handed them over.

“Do you have experience of looking after an elderly person?” she asked suddenly. Frankie looked around, surprised. What had
this got to do with it?

“Not exactly,” he faltered. “But I was a porter at St Thomas’ Hospital before college.”

Saffron brought a glass of wine for Alex and one for herself, and gave him a sympathetic wink as she set them on the table.
On and on the interview went and he knew his answers were good but he couldn’t help thinking she was just going through the
motions.

“I might as well explain the situation,” she said eventually. “I work very long hours. I’m often away. And now my mother has
had a fall and can’t look after herself for a while. She’s broken her elbow, apparently, and it’s in a cast. She can get around,
but she needs someone to keep an eye on her. I need someone to—well, to do the things for me that a wife would do for her
husband.” Saffron giggled and took a sip of her wine, and Frankie was astonished to see Alex blush a little, but she talked
on quickly. “I have a very demanding job and I can’t give her the time she needs… she deserves at the moment.” There
was a pause and Alex looked down. “I don’t even have time to shop for food. That doesn’t really matter when it’s just me,
but my mother will need three meals a day. I’m not sure she’s been eating properly.” She paused. “And she’s very demanding.”

“Oh.” This explained it all.

Saffron laughed again, her cheeks a little flushed. “Don’t worry, she’s lovely. You’ll absolutely love her. She was an actress
herself once.”

Alex shot her a sharp look. This wasn’t the done deal Saffron seemed to think it should be. “Apart from that, it would be
a question of keeping the place clean and tidy. Putting the odd load of washing on. Being in for deliveries. Picking up my
dry cleaning. That kind of thing. It would only be temporary, of course. Just until my mother is well enough to go home. Could
you manage all that?”

Frankie nodded, trying to appear more confident than he felt. He had to make some ground here. “Absolutely. Sounds right up
my street. And I could start as soon as you like. I don’t have anything penciled in for the next few weeks at all.”

Alex nodded and smiled cynically. “Yes, of course. You’re an actor, after all.” There was a long pause and she tapped her
pen on the table. “You are quite well qualified, I suppose.” She shrugged eventually. Had he won her over? She stood up abruptly.
“Well, thanks for coming.” She extended her hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

E
lla woke up. She rubbed her eyes with her fists and quickly wiped the drool from her chin, blinking rapidly. The lights were
on and everyone seemed to have left. Everyone, that is, apart from Chris, the cinema manager, who was standing right in front
of her, arms folded. Oh bloody hell.

“Oh! Erm, I was just… my contact lens. I was trying to—It’s gone funny again. You have to close your eyes to make it
… erm… all right again.”

Chris sighed deeply and shook his head. “Nice try, Ella. Nice try. But the film ended… let me see”—he consulted his watch
theatrically—“thirteen minutes ago. I’ve been standing here for the last five, and both you and I know you don’t wear contact
lenses. Don’t you remember telling me that time how genetically inferior people with bad eyesight were, and about how Marie
Stopes wouldn’t let her son marry a shortsighted girl? And since you told me you were descended from Marie Stopes, you couldn’t
betray your family traditions?”

She struggled to her feet from the upholstered comfort of the back row and laughed quickly. “Oh, I didn’t mean any of that.
You know I didn’t. It was just a joke.”

“Hmmm. I seem to remember you were in deadly earnest at the time. It was the excuse you gave for not going out with me, after
all.”

Ella coughed piteously to try to cover up her laugh. “Oh that! I’d forgotten that. Oh, Chris, I don’t know what’s wrong with
me. I think I’m coming down with something. My head’s just splitting. Would you mind if I went home for a bit and maybe came
back later if I feel a bit better?”

The tall, bespectacled man went through a pantomime of considering her suggestion, then replied in tones dripping with irony.
“Let’s see now. Would I mind if you went home? No, I don’t have a problem with that bit at all. The sooner the better, I think.
Would I mind if you maybe came back later? Mmm, well that’s the bit I’m not totally happy with.”

“What?!” Ella’s symptoms were pushed aside by her outrage and she pulled herself up to her full five foot three. “Are you
trying to tell me that you’re giving me the sack? Who do you think you are?”

Chris stepped back, looking faintly bored, and started to usher Ella out in front of him. “I think I’m the manager of this
cinema, and running it is quite hard enough without you falling asleep in eight out of the last ten screenings you were supposed
to be supervising, eating popcorn like it’s going out of style, and telling that Japanese student that
Citizen Kane
was Michael Caine’s first movie. I want you out of here now. And don’t bother coming back.”

They were halfway down the stairs now, squeezing past the queue of families waiting for the next showing. Chris addressed
the punters. “Sorry everyone,” he announced smoothly. “There’s going to be a bit of a delay before the next showing. This
young lady, an ex-employee, thought catching up on her beauty sleep was more important than vacuuming up before you, our patrons,
came in for the next film.”

At first Ella cringed before the disapproving stares and tuts that followed her down to the foyer, then she came around and
rallied. “Hang on a minute.” She turned and prodded Chris in the chest. “You can’t speak to me like that. I’m not having this.”

Chris stopped in his tracks, taken aback by her sudden recovery. She cleared her throat and addressed the crowd. “I’d like
to make an announcement, too. All right, so I
was
asleep in the film. So what? Lots of people sleep during films. I know, because I’ve seen you at it. Yes, and snoring too.
Once you’ve got your kids penned in, you all have a nap, don’t you?” Shamefaced nodding and agreement from the adults. “And
why do you fall asleep? Same reason I do. Because the films are rubbish! And this one you’re about to see is no exception.”

Chris stared about wildly and flapped his hands at Ella, trying to make her stop, but she had her audience now, some of them
laughing in agreement.

“And another thing. The popcorn. Have you ever wondered why the popcorn is so expensive? Have you?”

She had everyone’s attention now. “Go on—why?” a voice came from the queue. Chris clapped his hands to his face in dismay.

“Because they think of a price and then quadruple it. Really, they do. I heard them discussing it one day. Y’know, ounce for
ounce, the popcorn here is more expensive than beluga caviar. And that’s very expensive.”

“It’s not true,” Chris wailed ineffectually. “Really, it’s not…”

She turned to face Chris and went on in crystal clear tones. “And while I’m in the mood for exposing the truth, I may not
wear contact lenses, but I’ve got nothing against people who do—or glasses, come to that. Nothing at all. In fact, my brother
wears lenses and he’s one of my favorite people in the whole world. That stuff about Marie Stopes was just made up. I was
trying not to hurt your feelings. I wish I hadn’t bothered now. You see, everyone…” Chris tried to manhandle Ella down
to the foyer but she kept on—and on. “You see, Chris here asked me out and I really didn’t want to go. Well, can you blame
me? I mean, look at the way he’s behaving now. That’s hardly likely to win a girl’s heart, is it? But I didn’t want to hurt
his feelings, so I made up an excuse and…” They were almost out the door now, but the people in the queue were laughing,
jockeying for a view of the tiny, still-shouting girl and the tall, furiously blushing man whose glasses were now halfway
down his face.

Out on the pavement at last, Chris scowled at her. “Don’t you ever even think of coming here again. Not even to see a film.
You’re banned, understand? You can do your sleeping somewhere else. And don’t come crawling to me for a reference because
it’ll give me the greatest pleasure to make sure everyone in the world knows what a lazy, lying, conniving little good-for-nothing
you are. Now get out of here—go on!”

Ella brushed herself down and squared her shoulders, a little cheered to hear the boos that greeted Chris on his return to
the cinema, before setting off through the afternoon sunshine back to the flat. What did she care? It was a crap job anyway.

By the time she got back home, Ella’s mood had dropped. She let herself in cautiously, wondering if Frankie was there. She
didn’t fancy having to explain that she’d lost yet another job, and he’d be bound to guess if she turned up at this time of
the day. Fortunately, there was no sign of him although he’d not been gone long, to judge from the evidence. Ella cut herself
a large slice of the still-warm fruit loaf and, scorning a plate, cupped her spare hand beneath to catch the crumbs before
ambling over to have a lie-down on the sofa.

She sighed. It wasn’t even as if Frankie would be cross when she told him. He’d just look sort of disappointed, the way he
did when he didn’t get a part he’d auditioned for. And worried too. That was what she really hated—when Frankie looked worried.
She knew they were short of cash. She knew she shouldn’t have run up such a big phone bill. She knew she should really get
a sensible job, but she hadn’t heard back from the radio station and there just wasn’t anything else out there that seemed
even vaguely bearable, let alone interesting.

Maybe she’d call one of her old college friends—although most of them had jobs that kept them busy during the day. She noticed
the message light blinking on the phone. She balanced the cake carefully on the arm of the sofa, brushed at the crumbs she’d
managed to sprinkle over the seat and stabbed at the play button. Just one message for Frankie. Ella listened carefully to
the husky, well-modulated voice and the rather curt, detached message. She pressed the button and listened again. And again.

A smile began to form on her pale little face, and she paced around the room, thinking fast. She stopped to scribble a few
notes to herself, then licked her lips, picked up the phone, and dialed 1471 to find out the caller’s number.