‘Good for you. I’ve told Francesca to get out of that place till I’m blue in the face, but does she listen? Does she heck?’ Michael laughed, but Sarah noticed Fran didn’t join in.
‘And why’s that then?’
Michael laughed again. ‘Baking cakes all day is hardly the job for a woman of Francesca’s age. She’d be better off at home with me. Even when the boys were young, she insisted on going out to work. I told her there was no need. It’s a man’s job to provide for his family, and a woman’s job to care for them.’
Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She opened her mouth to reply, but Fran got there first.
‘Michael, did I tell you I had a call from Elliot yesterday?’
‘No, you didn’t. Elliot is our eldest,’ said Michael, pointing to a photograph on the mantlepiece of a young man in a cap and gown. ‘And how was he? Still lounging about on a beach somewhere?’
‘Elliot is a geologist,’ said Fran, looking at Sarah for the first time. ‘He’s over in Thailand working for a conservation charity.’
‘Wow, that sounds amazing.’
‘Amazing? Goodness me, what is the world coming to?’ Michael shook his head and took another sip of his tea.
‘And what does your youngest son do?’
‘Don’t ask,’ said Michael, scrunching up his nose like he’d just smelled something rotten.
‘David is at art college,’ said Fran.
‘In Edinburgh of all places,’ said Michael. ‘Francesca wanted to visit him, but as I told her, he’s got another thing coming if he thinks we’re going to fork out to travel all that way. Silly boy should have gone to a proper university to study a serious subject somewhere we could get to. Do you know how long it takes to get from Cornwall to Edinburgh? An entire day! Can you believe that?’
‘It sounds a long way,’ said Sarah, burning her tongue as she tried to drink her tea with haste. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m sorry, but I’d better make a move. Bob is giving me a lift home and he’ll be expecting me. Would it be possible to use your toilet before I head off?’
‘Down the corridor, first door on the left,’ said Michael.
Sarah followed his directions and headed down a dark corridor. She found the toilet, but couldn’t resist a quick peek behind the other two doors leading off the hallway. Checking behind her to make sure they didn’t catch her, she poked her head round the first door.
An enormous mahogany dining table filled the room. Around it sat six uncomfortable-looking dining chairs. Ugly embossed wallpaper enclosed the room, a tall cabinet filled with dated crockery leaning against the far wall. There was nothing inviting about the room, and Sarah felt relieved at the certainty no dinner invite would be forthcoming.
Without making a sound, she closed the dining-room door and opened a second. Sarah stared at Fran’s kitchen. Pine cupboards clustered around the small space, a narrow window looking out onto the garden. There was none of the organised chaos Sarah knew from work. Every worktop was bare, the polished sink empty. Where were all the appliances? Sarah knew Fran was particular about her workspace, but didn’t have her pegged as a neat freak.
The murmur of voices filtered down the hallway and Sarah slipped into the downstairs cloakroom. A sickly shade of mint green paint covered the walls, the toilet and sink coloured peach. Sarah sat on the toilet and looked beside her. A doll in a ruffled skirt perched beside the toilet, hiding a toilet roll. Sarah had seen nothing like it. Nothing about the house fitted with the woman she knew. Had she got Fran so wrong?
‘Thank you so much for the tea,’ said Sarah, walking back into the sitting room. ‘I’m sorry it’s been such a brief visit.’
‘You’ll have to come for longer next time,’ said Michael, standing and shaking Sarah’s hand once more.
‘I will.’
Sarah saw Fran flinch at her words. Why didn’t she want Sarah to visit her at home? Sarah thanked her hosts once again and let herself out of the house. Her head was spinning. First Kate, now Fran. How had she got everything so wrong? These people didn’t want to be her friend. Sarah fought back tears. How foolish to think she could begin again. How foolish to think she could form genuine friendships. Sarah plodded back towards town, vowing to keep herself to herself from now on. After all, why break the habit of a lifetime?
Chapter 38
Whataday.Franhad barely spoken a word since she arrived, answering Sarah’s questions with one word, refusing to meet her eye.God, thought Sarah,who knew calling on a friend was the crime of the century?Sarah glanced at Fran from the corner of her eye. Something wasn’t right, and Sarah was sure it couldn’t all be her fault.
Fran turned the radio up.Fine, if she doesn’t want to talk, I won’t talk, thought Sarah, keeping her back to her one-time friend as she scrubbed out her anger on an oil-encrusted baking tray.
A scream caused Sarah to turn. Fran stood clutching her side, a tray of muffins scattered across the floor beside the oven.
‘What happened?’ asked Sarah. Fran remained silent, her palm rubbing against her waist. ‘Fran?’
‘It’s nothing. I must have twisted the wrong way.’
Fran tried to bend down to pick up the muffins, but fell back against the work top, clutching her side.
