The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green (21 page)

Their to-do list was daunting: Something Risky, Dressing Up, Erotica, Talking Dirty, Orgasms, Sex Toys and Bondage.

But Frankie was sure her sex education would mean she would be unafraid when she got her chance to sleep with Jason.

How lucky she was to have a counsellor for a teacher! Not only was she starting to feel more equipped between the sheets, but in her head too. And Floyd said he was getting something out of it too; it was a distraction from Sasha, who he was missing very much, even more so because she'd gone AWOL this past week with no phone calls, emails or messages.

It was strange to think she hadn't had actual sex with Floyd yet. In fact, and she wasn't entirely sure why, everything they'd done so far had felt more intimate than what she remembered the physical act of sex to involve. But then, there had been times when she had slept with Jason when she hadn't really felt in the mood, out of a sense of what a wife's duty was. Perhaps it was because it was all new, not just the topics they covered, but Floyd himself.

Looking back to the spanking, she saw how sex could've followed on quite naturally. During that lesson, she and Floyd had ended up kissing – she still felt a rush of something when she thought about it. But then he'd put a stop to it, explaining it was unprofessional and he'd apologized profusely for ‘unplanned snoggage'.

‘These things happen,' Frankie had said, to soothe him, but she had felt less inhibited around him then. Yes, she was glad to have kissed him. Really glad because he'd been an amazing snog, actually, not that she liked to dwell on the deep, slow seduction of his lips. It had been different to pashing with Jason. They didn't tend to snog much; she supposed it was because they had been together for so long, and it had had less of an important role in their love-making as the years passed.

At Em's door, she knocked and waited for her friend. She was grateful Floyd wasn't in tonight; Wednesday was football night.

It'd be too weird to be in the same room as both Em and Floyd – once the lessons were over she would be able to pack away the secret forever and forget about it. It still felt wrong withholding information from Em, but Frankie didn't want to upset her; if she knew, it would only make things awkward. And it would mean the premature end of this arrangement, just as she was getting somewhere.

‘Ready for your mum-to-be pampering evening, Em?' Frankie chirped when she stepped inside her flat. Em looked relaxed for the first time in her pregnancy; she was rosy-cheeked and her edges seemed rounded.

‘I think so! I don't really do girly stuff, do I?' Em laughed, letting her in.

‘Being pregnant is probably the ultimate in girly, I'm afraid,' Frankie said. And my, how she was blooming! Frankie still found it unfathomable that Em was pregnant when she was definitely ‘the one least likely to' of the three of them. Her own broodiness had gone – it felt so far from being a possibility in her world now. Em's circumstances weren't ideal, but she seemed to have overcome that mental block. All credit to her, Frankie thought, taking in her friend's glow.

In the lounge, Letty had done a beautiful job warming up Em's functional and sparse living space. Where the surfaces were usually free from papers and cups and wrappers, Letty had arranged lighted candles, fluffy towels and scented oils. The curtains remained open, because it was dark and brooding enough outside thanks to an approaching summer storm, and it gave the room an elemental feeling.

‘Does it say “spa” enough to you?' Letty asked from the sofa, where she lay with slices of cucumber on her eyes. She spoke through ventriloquist's teeth because she'd already applied a face mask of avocado, coconut oil, peanut butter and an egg white which she declared ‘bogging!'.

‘The room looks perfect!' Frankie said, setting up her table of nail varnishes and hair products.

‘What are you going to do to me?' Em asked nervously, sitting formally on the armchair she never let Floyd use because she was frightened he'd drop food all over it.

‘I'll do a head, neck and shoulder massage, Letty will do nails and then we're going to eat cake. All right with you?'

‘Not really, apart from the cake bit,' Em said, with a grimace. ‘You know I don't like people touching me.'

Letty and Frankie swapped eye-rolls, pointing out she was going to have to get used to it with all that poking and prodding she was going to get at the birth. Then they got to work.

These make-over sessions – usually at Frankie's because with Dad being a bloke, he'd kept out of the way and left them to it – had been a constant since the threesome had met; only their problems and worries had changed. In the early days, they'd shrieked about boys while they'd tested each other's Rimmel lipsticks, tried out different hairstyles and practised French kissing on the backs of their hands. As they became women, they'd discuss men and work over waxing strips and eyebrow plucking.

Now they were each going through something different, yet they were still there for each other.

Letty was, in her words, ‘farting rainbows', she was that happy with Lance. She was having a rough time of it at work, but she'd pledged to sort out her creep of a boss. Em was coping with the prospect of motherhood and Frankie was discovering things about herself that she'd never known she was capable of.

And it hadn't gone unnoticed.

‘You look better than you have in ages,' Em said, licking the last bits of chocolate ginger cake off her fingers as Frankie trimmed her red bob, which was glossy and full from her pregnancy.

‘Yeah, I feel it,' Frankie said, truthfully.

‘Must be that sex teacher!' Letty sang.

‘Oh, please, I've just got over morning sickness. Please don't make me feel sick all over again,' Em said.

‘It's going well. I won't go into details, for Em's sake, but it's helping.'

‘Are you ever going to tell us who he is? Your teacher?' Letty pleaded.

Em held up her hands. ‘I don't want to know.'

Not on your nelly, she was about to say when a crack of lightning accompanied a rumble of thunder. The front door slammed and all three of them jumped. The hall echoed with what sounded like the clip-clop of heels.

Em murmured: ‘Floyd.'

‘Sounds like he's got stilettos on! The reprobate!' Letty whispered.

Frankie froze at the thought that perhaps he'd brought someone home with him. She had a desperate urge to hide or leave.

‘Take your studs off! They'll mark the floor!' Em shouted.

‘Football was bastard cancelled,' came his voice.

Exhaling slowly, Frankie relaxed and scolded herself for jumping to conclusions.

Em leaned forward conspiratorially and told them he was in a funny mood: Sasha had rung the other night, very late because she'd forgotten the time difference, to announce she was coming home. Frankie's heart pounded. She knew Sasha would be coming back at some point; Floyd had always been open about it.

Sasha had only asked if she could stay when she got back, here in her house, Em said.

Drawing a sharp breath in sympathy, Letty asked: ‘Never! What did you say about that?'

‘What could I say? He pays rent and he's allowed to have guests. I'm not running some old-fashioned B&B! But the strange thing is, Floyd isn't exactly jumping for joy,' Em divulged.

Frankie took some deep breaths; it was the shock, that was all. She had something at stake with Floyd, something good and she wasn't ready to give it up. There were six lessons still to go and if Sasha suddenly appeared, it would all have to stop. And of course Floyd would run straight back to her, Frankie thought feeling more than a pang of sadness, he'd only been helping her and it wasn't as if he was going to turn down regular sex with his girlfriend.

‘Maybe he's just nervous,' Letty said, through a mouthful of lemon drizzle cake. ‘He hasn't seen her for ages and he's probably built her up to be even more amazing than she is. Although I'm not sure how much more perfect she could be.'

The door handle rattled as Floyd barged in wearing a neon pink football kit. His entrance sparked off a series of crazy feelings in Frankie. Her tummy flipping, she wanted to laugh out loud at the sight of him. Next, she begged for the ground to swallow her up so she didn't have to fight the deep blush which was rising from her collarbone as she remembered how intimate they'd been.

‘How's my favourite sister?' Floyd said, before icing up when he saw she had company. ‘Jesus, what's that green stuff on your face?'

Letty poked her tongue out. ‘You don't look too hot yourself!' she said, taking in his bright shirt, shorts and knee-high socks

‘I'm very comfortable in cerise, actually,' he said.

Frankie was willing Floyd not to look at her. But when he didn't, she found herself thinking ‘at least say hello'.

‘I play for a gay side. The captain is a mate, his brother runs a gay bar which sponsors us. I'm the equal opportunities player, you know, their one token straight person. And I happen to think the kit brings out the colour of my eyes.'

‘Why was it cancelled?' Em said.

‘Most of them have gone to see a Dolly Parton tribute act, I think she's called Dolly Hard-On. I did know, I just forgot. Anyway, everyone all right?' he asked the room. Em and Letty sang a joint ‘yep' while Frankie could only nod mechanically. Their eyes met and she pulled a smile which she hoped said ‘oh, hi, I'm very cool with this'.

Was she imagining things or did his eyes flicker with amusement? They were warm, as usual, but there was something else there too. Was it a secret sign acknowledging that this was indeed an awkward situation in light of their arrangement? Was it mirth at her squirming?

Breathe in, breathe out, Frankie thought, but the air was hot and she needed to get out. But first, agonizingly, she had to speak because she couldn't just dash out. ‘I'm just going to pop to the shop, for some chocolate for Em,' she said, flapping her top.

‘Ooh, great, a Cadbury's Caramel, please,' Em said.

She'd got away with it, Frankie heaved, as she escaped into the hall. She lay her back against the wall to cool down. But the reddening all over didn't stop. She was out of danger so why was she the colour of… of his flushed lips when they'd kissed?

Her answer came when he appeared by her side as she let herself out of the flat. He'd go with her, he said, to get something for his tea. Holy sheep. It was his physical presence that was making her feel hot.

‘So, what's happening with Simon?' Letty asked Em, once they were alone. She pretended to be preoccupied with the task of painting her nails bright coral, knowing this was her best chance of getting Em to talk. If she was too eager for information, Em would shut down.

‘Not much,' Em said, shaking her fringe and examining her reflection in a hand mirror. ‘Is it straight? Because I don't think it's straight. You can't see this eyebrow but you can see most of the other one.'

Letty peered hard at her friend. Fuck! Frankie had ballsed it right up, which was very odd. Normally she had a steadier pair of hands than a blinking surgeon. Em's usual style of fringe was Mary Quant but this was Mary Quirky. Although, hang on, she thought examining it intently, it was really lovely in a kooky way.

‘It's not straight, no,' she said, tilting her head, ‘But… I like it. Actually, I love it. It's edgy. Still angular, like you like it, but it looks great.'

‘Okay.'

Bloody hell, Letty would've had a screaming fit if this had happened to her but Em was satisfied. This was one of her most lovely features, she would take your word for it; there was no fishing for compliments.

‘Funnily enough, I feel a bit skew-whiff,' Em said as a flicker from the electric storm lit up the room.

‘How's that then?' Letty said, returning to her nails.

‘Simon Brown wants to move in to help with the baby.'

‘Right. And how would that work?' It was quite an offer – above and beyond his duty – Letty thought, wondering if there was anything more going on which Em hadn't picked up.

‘He'd have two weeks of paternity leave, so for that he'd be here all the time. Then a few months until I get the baby into a routine. Separate bedrooms. He'd do the cooking and washing. I'd really wanted Mum to help but she's going away just before the baby's due. Floyd will be around but I need someone who's experienced, and it seems as if Simon Brown is my only option.'

Ah. It sounded that he was just trying to honour his role as the father. Poor love, Letty said to herself, she must feel so alone. ‘Don't forget we're all here. We could all take a fortnight off in sequence so your first six weeks are covered and by then you'll have settled in.'

Topping up her glass with some fizzy water and refilling Letty's glass, Em said: ‘That's so kind. But it'll be the blind leading the blind! I'm a godmother and I love kids, but babies, well, they're completely different. At least Simon Brown has been there, done that and got the sicky T-shirt with his six-year-old daughter. What do you reckon about his plan?'

Letty wondered if Em was actually seeking some kind of validation, permission even, to take him up on it. Perhaps Em had a gut feeling to do it but didn't yet trust it.

‘Honestly? I think there'd be nothing better than you and him doing this together. It's natural to worry now about the effect it might have on you if he did move in when the baby comes. But I suspect when the time comes, you'll both be preoccupied with the baby. Besides, you get on still, you might not be together but you've got a good relationship.' She thought of Lance, who was finding it very hard not seeing Eddy every day. ‘And Simon is the father – you're going to know one another for the rest of your lives now, so you have to consider him, build bridges. And kids need their dads. Dear God, they need their dads.'