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The Hollows(55)

Author:Mark Edwards

The three of them walked away and I noticed that David and Connie were flanking him like he was a celebrity. What exactly were they up to?

The water lapped gently around the boat. Frankie had brought a book with her and she opened it and read for a while. I knew how annoying it was when someone tried to talk to you when you were reading so I didn’t interrupt. I gazed towards the shore, where there was a lot of industry happening. Of course, tonight was the big barbecue event. Greg had sold us tickets earlier in the week.

Frankie closed her book and smiled at me. She looked so grown-up. I felt a pang, realising we only had a few days left together.

‘Are you going to come to England for Christmas?’ I asked. I’d been meaning to broach this subject all week. I was going to have to find some money to pay for her airfare, but was sure I’d manage it somehow.

‘I don’t know. Mum was talking about going to Aspen.’

‘Aspen! How is she going to afford that?’

‘Bill,’ Frankie said. ‘The guy she’s gone away with this week.’

‘Your mum has a new boyfriend?’

‘He’s hardly a boy. He’s, like, a proper boomer. Not a Gen Xer like you. He’s got totally grey hair. Mum’s friend Karen said he’s a silver fox.’

Why did I feel so wounded by this? We had divorced three years ago. I no longer had any feelings for Sarah.

‘Is it serious?’ I asked. ‘Where did she meet him? Are they going to move in together? What do you know about him?’

‘Whoa, Dad, relax. Mum says it’s just a fling.’

‘But she’s going skiing with him at Christmas? And taking you?’

‘I don’t want to go. I want to come to England.’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ I said. I was sure Sarah would be fine with it. I didn’t think she’d want a teenager cramping her style when she was on the slopes with her ‘silver fox’。

I realised, then, it wasn’t myself I was worried about. It was Frankie. Would she get on with this Bill guy? Would he try to replace me? He was obviously wealthy. And he was here. In America.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘I know it must be weird.’

‘Huh? I’m fine.’

‘Especially as you don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘Rub it in, why don’t you?’

She laughed. ‘Hey, what about that woman from last night? She seemed nice. It makes me want to throw up saying this, but I think she’s into you.’

‘Really? What makes you say that?’

‘Don’t know. Just a vibe.’

‘You’re so grown-up sometimes.’

I began rowing us slowly back to the dock.

‘Have you thought about moving to America? Then we could see each other all the time. You could move here, to Maine. I bet you could sell your flat in London and buy a huge house in Penance. Then you and Nikki could be a couple and you could write a memoir about all the pop stars you’ve met.’

I laughed. ‘That’s not going to happen, Frankie.’

‘Why not?’

‘Firstly, I think Nikki would be shocked to hear you making plans about her life and this great love affair she’s about to have. Secondly, it would be hard for me to get a visa right now.’

‘Oh yeah. Shame you’re not still married to an American.’

Her smile came and slipped away quickly.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I know how hard it must be for you.’

‘It’s better than it was.’

I couldn’t tell if she was on the verge of tears. I felt a little like crying myself. I missed her so much. Was dreading getting on the plane home. Going back to my empty flat. Only seeing the digitised version of my daughter. Next time I saw her she would practically be an adult.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘In a few years, you’ll graduate high school and you’ll be able to come back to the UK. Maybe you can go to university in England. I’d love it if that happened.’

‘But Mum’s talking about me applying for Harvard or Yale.’

‘What about Oxford or Cambridge?’

She put her palm against her forehead. ‘Dad, this is making my brain hurt. Can we not talk about it right now?’

‘Of course. Sorry.’

We lapsed into silence, just the gentle sound of the lake lapping against the sides of the boat. I clenched my jaw, trying not to let the tears come. Frankie looked like she was fighting her emotions too.

Then she chuckled.

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