The irony of that thought wasn’t lost on Herbert when one of his dress-up fetishes pinged into his head. What a waste. On the positive side, if there was such a thing in a situation like this, he’d have a nice cushy place to end his days. As for revenge, he’d play it by ear once he was out.
The clock was ticking, in fact Herbert pictured a huge pendulum swinging to and fro, and the sand in an egg timer flowing far too fast. However long he had left, Herbert vowed to unleash his inner demon, let it have one more rampage. He could hear it calling from within and it was only fair. After all, it had never let him down, a constant secret companion for all these years.
He’d actually planned to live a quiet life once he got out but now things had changed. There were those who deserved it so why not? Maybe this was his destiny, and once he was gone the legacy of Herbert Dunne… no, the legend of Herbert Dunne would live on, his name spoken far and wide.
Nodding, as if in a private conversation, he smiled to himself, not caring if the chaplain saw and wondered why. Herbert was going to make a grand plan for one last hurrah and if he was going out, then it would be with a bang, a great big fucking gang bang.
4
Frankie was waiting in the beer garden for Jed to bring their drinks while summoning courage to have ‘the talk’ with him. Yes, she might have been reading too much into it, but Frankie sensed he was keen so it was only fair. Not just that, she liked him a lot, which was unfortunate or ironic, cruel even, probably all of them.
It was their second date, which she’d agreed to immediately, owing to the really lovely time she’d had at the Italian restaurant the previous Saturday. He’d been great company, very funny, definitely intelligent but not in a studious way. Rather he was switched on and knowledgeable. He seemed interested in her job, so much so that he’d checked out the books she’d edited, and then told the waiter when he brought their main course, pointing out the covers on Amazon. Yes, she’d blushed like crazy and the poor guy did his best to look impressed while sprinkling parmesan on her carbonara, but it made her feel special and that didn’t happen often.
Jed didn’t get drunk: he ordered Coke because he was driving her home. It was the small details like that which made her relax. As they chatted, the anxiety she normally felt watching men knock back bottle after bottle of beer, receded. Later, when they pulled up outside her apartment he wasn’t the least bit smarmy or pushy, in fact, he came over a bit shy. And he took it well when she didn’t invite him in for a brew, thanked him politely for a fab evening, then accepted his offer of waiting until she was safe inside before driving off. That had stuck in her mind. It was kind, chivalrous too, especially as he could have taken the huff that a leg-over wasn’t on the cards and he’d wasted his money.
Frankie chastised herself for generalising. But suspicion and self-preservation was ingrained in her where men were concerned and as much as it threatened to ruin her life and spoil her fun, it was how it was, and she had to deal with it. So when he texted later to thank her for a great evening, then asked her if she was free on Monday afternoon when he had a day off, Frankie said yes immediately.
What a bloody stupid thing to do because this, whatever it was, couldn’t go anywhere. She should’ve left it as a ‘thank-you’ meal and drawn a line under it. There was something about him though… Could he be different? It wasn’t just his looks, groomed hair that had a natural wave, cut short at the back and sides but stuck up and out and in all directions when he’d turned up at Mrs Devilchild’s first thing in the morning. Or his midnight shadow beard that had a tinge of red. He said it was his Irish genes, from his mum’s side apparently. It was his easy-going nature and open smile that attracted her, and those deep brown eyes that looked like they meant what he said. Jed put her at ease and she liked it.
Frankie reminded herself that a long-distance relationship was doomed and she wasn’t a silly kid having a holiday romance, promising to write every day forever and ever. She was thirty-two, emigrating to France and wasn’t coming back, not if she could help it.
Movement caught her eye and she batted away the flutter inside when she saw Jed making his way over, a pint of lager in one hand, glass of wine in the other and two bags of crisps dangling from his fingers. Jed placed the drinks on the table, took a seat opposite and opened the great crisp debate.
‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I took a punt with cheese and onion or smoky bacon.’
Frankie raised an eyebrow. ‘Go on then, bet you the next round of drinks you can’t guess. Close your eyes. Oi, stop peeping and I’ll pick one.’
Jed did as he was told and Frankie grabbed the bag of smoky bacon. ‘Which one?’
‘Cheese and Onion.’ Jed opened his eyes to be whacked on the forehead by Frankie’s choice.
‘Loser. But I’ll still get the next round, I was only kidding.’ Frankie opened her crisps and took in the scene as Jed sipped his drink.
They’d driven to Marple Bridge and a country pub by the river. The beer garden was deserted apart from a chap reading the paper, accompanied by his dog that was fast asleep under the table. By the sloping banks were fishermen, undisturbed on a sunny Monday afternoon and two walkers, strolling along the narrow pathway.
‘It’s lovely here. Do you come a lot?’
Jed nodded. ‘Yep, it’s one of my favourite places. I do a bit of angling when I can so I’ve fished this stretch of the river a few times… and now you think I’m a big nerd. It’s okay, everyone does.’
Frankie stopped mid-sip to protest. ‘No I don’t, because my dad loves fishing but he prefers the sea. We had some brilliant holidays when I was a kid, camping beside the lochs in Scotland, so there.’
The next few minutes were taken up with Jed telling her all about his favourite spots and wanting to know exactly where in Scotland they’d stayed. While they chatted, Frankie floated on a sea of calm before her heart dipped, sinking below the surface, cold water splashing her face and bringing her back to reality.
Perhaps sensing a change in her mood, Jed asked if there was anything wrong. ‘Come on, I can tell something’s up. I saw your face drop when I asked if you fancied coming with me sometime. What was it, the bit about the maggots and green wellies? Or am I coming on too strong? I am, aren’t I?’
Frankie felt awful and knew the only way to make him feel better was to tell the truth. But Jed was into her and sod it, the feeling was mutual. That’s why it was best to stop messing about and be honest. ‘Right, cards on the table. And there’s not really an easy way to say this so I’ll explain what’s going on in my life and then you can ask whatever you want, okay?’
The frown on Jed’s face told Frankie he was expecting bad news, like she was married or gay, or married and gay, and he was barking up the wrong tree.
‘Look, Jed, I like you a lot otherwise I wouldn’t have even gone for a meal with you but this, whatever it is, can’t go anywhere because next month I’m going to France, to live, forever, and I probably won’t be coming back.’
Jed shifted in his seat but his shoulders relaxed slightly which to Frankie indicated he was relieved that her imaginary spouse hadn’t materialised.
When he spoke it was more of a statement than anything else. ‘Oh, right, I see.’
The thing was he didn’t, not really, and for some reason Frankie wanted him to understand why she was going, so he wouldn’t be offended after paying for garlic mushrooms, spaghetti carbonara and three scoops of strawberry ice cream. Even now Frankie was wary. Kindness could be a trick; happiness was something she had to repay; disappointment was a red flag and making someone angry was to be avoided at all cost.
‘No, you don’t, not really.’ Frankie heard her voice and it sounded sharp and she hadn’t meant that at all. ‘Sorry, sorry, that came out wrong.’
