Page 59 of Christmas in Mistletoe
Ruby winced: it would sting more than she could let on if Fran didn’t make it. “I understand. Anyway, I better get back. I left Mum on my till.”
“I gotta run, too. Delilah’s just come back in the office after speaking to the band. Give my love to everyone and I can’t wait to see you at the weekend.”
Ruby pocketed her phone, then stared into space, before dropping onto the sofa. She’d known what she was getting into with Fran. She had a big job that she cared about, and it had always been in London. That hadn’t changed. Plus, someone who cared about their job was a good quality in a person. However, if Fran didn’t make it back, Ruby couldn’t deny she’d be gutted. What’s more, since this had been Fran’s idea in the first place, Ruby would also be a little hurt and disappointed. She wanted to sing for the farm, but she also wanted to do it for Fran. For them. It mattered.
Why would Fran say she could make it, help Ruby to organise it, and then not turn up? It wouldn’t make any sense. If that happened, it would tell Ruby that Fran was still entrenched in the corporate world, putting her job first: above friends and family.
Ruby blew out a breath. She was catastrophising. Whatever happened, this gig was going ahead. With luck, Fran would be there. She’d promised to do everything she could to do so.
Fran hadn’t bailed on her yet.
Ruby should give her a chance.
Even if she was meeting up with her ex for dinner.
Chapter 24
Fran stoodin front of a poster of Fast Forward. In it, their posture was loose and their confidence shone. What’s more, every performance they’d done, they’d smashed it. Getting them to believe they were doing a great job was the trick. Fran tapped her phone to get the latest charts. They were still number three. They were never going to beat Skinny YouTube Boy and his novelty song about wheelbarrows, but Cupboard Boy was there for the taking.
Fran wanted to do it for young women everywhere. To show them they could compete with the boys and achieve their dreams. From being somewhat dismissive of the group at first, Fran was now willing them to succeed. Plus, she’d never had a hand in a Christmas hit. That would be a novel achievement.
A loud cheer from the other team across the office caught her attention. They were unwrapping their Secret Santa gifts. A bottle of wine was held aloft, followed by some pink, fur-covered handcuffs, and a tin of biscuits. Quite the combo. Fran pondered the order of use. Post-handcuff biscuits or post-handcuff wine? She’d plump for both.
The biscuits took Fran right back to Ruby. To their ill-fated car journey, the start of the thaw in their relationship. It was only just over two weeks ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. That contraband biscuit had tasted delicious, one of the few things Fran ate that day. But it wasn’t as delicious as what had happened since. Getting to know Ruby and then sleeping with her on Monday. Today was Thursday. Fran could just picture Ruby selling trees in the barn, a blur of people and activity.
Did she have any more messages from Ruby? Nothing since last night, when Ruby had messaged saying Eric wasn’t well and they’d had to postpone their rehearsal until today. Ruby was fretting that she wasn’t going to be as prepared for Saturday as she should be.
Fran wasn’t worried: she’d seen Ruby perform. Ruby had the pedigree, the experience, and Mistletoe was the perfect stepping stone. Fran was sure once Ruby took the leap, she wouldn’t stop there. Ruby was stronger than she gave herself credit for. Fran hoped the same could be said for Fast Forward in the months and years to come.
She sat and dialled home. It was a daily practice since leaving Mistletoe, one that thrilled and bemused her parents. “We’re only in our 60s, not heading towards death anytime soon,” Dad had told her.
“Hello, daughter dear.” Pop breathed out and groaned, which told Fran he’d hobbled to a chair for her call.
“How’s your leg?”
“Still attached,” he replied.
“I hope you’re sitting down when you’re in your studio.” When he was fit, Pop loved to stride about while creating.
“For the most part. Don’t worry, your Dad makes sure of that. How are things going with your girl group?”
“Pretty good, I hope. They might even make number one.”
“That would be incredible,” Pop replied. “Ruby was here this morning, checking on us. She’s dropping in her chicken and pasta bake later. She said to ask you for the secret ingredients that make it delicious. Do you know them?”
A warmth washed through Fran at how thoughtful Ruby was. “Parmesan and cream. Gird your loins and don’t take your cholesterol level the next day.”
“My mouth’s watering already.” Pop paused. “By the way, is everything okay with you two?”
Fran sat up. “I think so. I hope so. Why?” The hairs on her arm stood to attention.
“Because I saw some photos of you and Delilah online today and Ruby looked a little glum when she came around at lunchtime. I didn’t say anything, but if I were her, I’d be put out.”
Fran winced. She hadn’t seen the photos. Even though they’d gone to a small, back-street bistro, it was always a risk they ran. “Shit. I did warn her I was going out with Delilah, but I’ll drop her a message. We just went out for dinner to catch up. But I promise I was home by ten.”
“It’s not me you need to tell. A little reassurance never hurt anyone.” Pop said something off the phone to Dad, then came back. “Are you still going to make it on Saturday? That would put a smile on Ruby’s face, and onto ours. We’re used to having you around. It feels wrong you’re not here.”
That made Fran smile, too. “Unless something goes drastically wrong, I’ll be there. But I don’t want to commit totally and make promises I can’t keep.”
