‘Come on, Frankie,’ Lou cajoled. ‘He looks at you like a crazedBuffyfan would look at a pair of David Boreanaz’s used underpants.’ Ash made another disgusted noise and I snorted back my laughter.
‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘Maybe I’ll try and talk to him tomorrow.’
‘You don’t need to wait, habibi,’ Ash told me as he stood, gripping my arm to take me with him. Suddenly I was being propelled across the room.
*****
Tom had noticed the three of them huddled together in the corner when he came into the pub, and he had also watched while Frankie gave Dylan a tight hug. He knew all about their history and had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that Dylan might have finally managed to win her over. Despite the urge to vomit at the thought of Frankie with another man, it didn’t matter. After two weeks of unreturned phone calls and texts, he was done.
Or at least that’s what he was telling himself.
Now he was standing at the bar and that tosser Dylan had the gall to come up next to him, casually greet him, and order drinks as if he hadn’t just been locked in a tight embrace with Tom’s woman.
No, no, shit, not his woman, he corrected.
‘Tom.’ He heard her hesitant voice behind him, and turned. He drew in a sharp breath when he came face to face with her. The effect of seeing Frankie again this close was almost painful.
She’d reverted to her jumpers, trousers and ballet pumps for work a while ago, saying Lou’s new wardrobe made her feel uncomfortable. Tom had encouraged this: anything to cover her up and reduce the odds of him getting into a punch-up at work.
Now standing in front of him in flat shoes, no makeup, and her hair up in a ponytail, she looked impossibly young and heart-stoppingly beautiful. He felt his hands literally itch to touch her, and he had to stretch them both out, then ball them into fists to stop himself.
Ash was standing slightly behind her and to the side. He looked like he was poised to prevent her retreat, and he widened his eyes at Tom as if he was trying to communicate something.
Unfortunately Tom was angry. He was angry because for the first time in his life he had been dumped, and he was angry that prior to said dumping he had spent the most amazing night he had ever had with a woman, and then had it cruelly ripped away from him. He was also angry that Frankie had ignored and avoided him since that night. He was angry that it seemed she might have moved on. Most of all he was angry about being left feeling hollow and desolate without her. If he hadn’t been so furious he might have tried to decipher Ash’s non-verbal communication, or taken in how nervous Frankie looked; how she was twisting her hands and biting her lip.
Sadly he did not.
‘What do you want, Frankie?’ he asked curtly.
‘Um … uh, I …’
Tom took a deep breath but this did not prevent him losing his patience. ‘Look,’ he clipped, ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to earn the return of this bullshit way you pepper everything you say with, um, and uh, and mile-long pauses when you talk to me, but can I please request that if you’ve got something to say to me you just fucking say it?’
He watched her blink and take a small step back. She looked like he’d punched her, and even though he’d wanted to lash out and make her feel some of the pain she’d put him through, looking at her face he almost wished he could claw his words back.
‘Listen, mate –’ Dylan had turned from the bar towards him, his face red with anger; but Frankie stepped forward and laid her small hand on his arm, shaking her head slightly.
‘Dylan, why don’t you take the drinks to the table? I’ll be over in a sec,’ she said quietly. Tom did not like the soft way she spoke to Dylan, or her hand on his arm, and he descended again into silent rage.
‘I’m sorry for what happened, Tom,’ Frankie said, once Dylan had reluctantly shuffled off with the drinks. Ash had moved down the bar to talk to one of the other registrars, leaving them relatively alone.
‘It’s fine,’ he said casually.
‘I was wondering if maybe …’
Tom was in no mood to take any further blows to his pride. He didn’t want to hear Frankie ask him if they could be friends, and to be honest he didn’t think that after having her he could bring himself to be near her again and not touch her without wanting to pull his brain out through his ear.
‘Look,’ he said, cutting her off, ‘I’m just about to buy …’ He looked around the bar and caught sight of a drug rep that he vaguely knew. She was about as opposite in looks to Frankie as possible: blonde hair, sky-high heels, heavy makeup. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side. ‘… Natalie here a drink.’ The blonde smiled and he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d remembered her name. Frankie flicked a nervous glance over to her.
‘Oh, hi, Nat,’ she mumbled, looking uncomfortable but still managing a small smile. Tom felt his blood boil. Why did Frankie have to be so bloody nice toeveryone?He wanted her to at least muster up some sort of death stare for this woman, just to show that she actually cared; that her insides were as torn up at the thought of him with another woman as his had been when he’d seen her hugging Dylan. ‘I hope your mum’s doing better.’
Natalie moved away from Tom towards Frankie. ‘She’s so much better now, still occasional wind pains but I think it’s settling down.’
The two women formed a huddle together and he heard them discuss, at length, the progress of Natalie’s mum’s Irritable Bowel Syndrome. He looked at the ceiling in frustration as they proceeded to completely ignore him. Eventually he cleared his throat, causing them both to jump as if they’d forgotten he was even there, which only served to piss him off more.
‘How about that drink, Natalie?’ he asked smoothly, trying to get control of the situation.
‘Oh yeah, sure,’ she smiled at him.
