March 5th, 1991
At home, England
Frankie’s in the house! I picked her up from the train station and we haven’t stopped talking (or drinking) since!
When I came out of the bathroom, I heard Frankie on the phone. I knew it hadn’t rung so I held back to allow her some privacy but before going into my room, I heard her say; “So, what time is it in Antigua?” followed by, “Oh yeah, she’ll be back in a minute.”
“Who is that?” I demanded, dashing down the stairs.
“William,” she mouthed, her signature mischievous grin more than evident.
“Give me the phone!” I said, quickly grabbing it out of her hand. “Hello?”
“Sounds like you guys are partying!”
“Ehm, yes, ah, yes we are,” I stuttered, slapping my hand in Frankie’s direction.
“Frankie sounds awesome!”
“Uh-huh,” I replied, avoiding her gleeful gaze. “She’s something else, that’s for sure. Anyway, we’re in the middle of something so I’ll let you go but I’ll catch up with you soon, ok, byeeeee.”
Before William had a chance to respond, I hung up and glared at Frankie.
“Sorry,” she smiled, clearly not meaning it.
“How did you get William’s number?”
“It’s right there, silly.” She pointed to the slip of paper next to the phone.
“But what, I mean…why?”
“I just wanted to ask him if he loves you.” She looked so innocent I almost believed she was.
“What did he say?”
“He said he fell in love with you the first time he saw you.”
For some ridiculous reason, I felt the flush rise in my cheeks.
“Awww,” she purred. “Looks like you wuv him too.”
“Frankie, I hardly even know him! He met me under false pretenses! And we’ve talked plenty since I spilled the beans after Christmas about my true identity, but I still don’t know him.”
“But don’t you see,” she pleaded. “None of that matters.”
She looked so hopeful, I didn’t have the heart to tell her it matters to me.