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Thank God for internet shopping. I’ll get Will to pick up prawn crackers and ketchup later on his way to the Chippy. The delivery could take up to 5 days so unfortunately it’s no gym until next week- I mean, I could do some exercise before then but I’m reluctant to do anything that strenuous without the correct clothing. So that’s two pairs of leggings at £4.25 each, two sports bras at £3.75 each and three sports tops at £3.50 each. Major bargain! If I can sneak a peek into Will’s wardrobe when he goes out to the shop later I might find a few hoodies I could lend for me to just throw over the top. I noticed he was wearing his new Adidas one last night as I watched him shove a half-full pack of Percy Pigs in the pocket (and I know they’re still in there because he hung it back up before bed, and there was no sign of any sweet strawberry snacks in the naughty and nice nook this morning). I’ll fish them out later too.
I wonder would it be wrong to order a fish with fried rice and chow mien later? Only as wrong as sushi I guess- fish and rice, only this fish comes enveloped in a beautifully crispy batter, like they’re delivering your dinner all gorgeously gift-wrapped!
My phone buzzes quite suddenly on top of the biscuit tin- the lack of biscuits inside leaving it a vibrating , echoing drum. I close my laptop over, nearly trapping the biscuit remains- two hobnobs and a custard cream which I’d placed on the keyboard like a little snack tray- and save the tin from its attack to find it wasn’t just Will after my Chippy order for him to pick up after work, but my cousin Francine-
“Oh hello, rando!”
We haven’t spoken since the 2016 Summer Barbecue, and even then it was more of a forced conversation in line for another hotdog (or veggie burger, in Francine’s case) from Uncle Jeff. Poor man. Aunty Enid had it in for him that day, every time he took a bite out of his burger it was “do you know what’s in that burger?” and “God knows what they put in those things.” And every so often throughout the afternoon I’d hear his irate response “Bloody beef! It’s just bloody beef!” from the barbecue area- talk about hen pecked!
We’ve never really clicked, Francine and me. She was always into different things than I was when we were growing up; she liked dolls and prams and all things pink and delicate, whilst I was into play dough, making blanket dens and colouring the front drive with chalk.
I mean, no one was in the best of Summery moods that family barbecue day, it was pretty cold and wet. Mum and Dad battled with the gazebo for a good three quarters of an hour while Auntie Mel only made it worse switching between ‘helping’ and then directing from underneath the barely standing thing when the rain got heavier. Mum got all confused and puffed up when Auntie Mel started shouting what Mum thought was gazebo-related direction, but was actually a hot drinks order towards the kitchen window. She kept flapping her arms about trying to get the attention of Francine (or ‘Franine’, as she’s wrongly called her own niece since the day she visited her at the hospital, so Mum and Auntie Enid say) as she could see her filling up the kettle inside.
I don’t know why no one’s ever corrected her, although surely she hears other family members call her Francine when we meet up (as rarely as that may be). Anyway it’s too far along now... imagine, “by the way, it’s nothing big, but just for future reference Auntie Mel, Francine is called Fran-CINE not Franine.”
We ended up under the gazebo for about ten minutes before deciding it wasn’t too comfortable for all the family to be standing shoulder to shoulder on one patch of grass. Francine tripped over the leg of Dad’s camping chair that he insisted on squeezing under the gazebo, knocking into my arm at just the moment I was squirting ketchup onto my hot dog, which incidentally ended up down my jumper (the ketchup incident I was referring to earlier) so I went in to change. Soon after everyone followed.
Safe to say Will isn’t Francine’s biggest fan.
To be honest, I think there’s more to it than the ketchup, because that isn’t really enough fuel for hate towards someone, but whenever I ask he insists that’s it. I’m not convinced but I have no other ideas so I am forced to believe the salmon jumper meant more to him than he initially let on. ‘Grannie Frannie’ he calls her. Obviously not to her face- well, we haven’t seen her face since for him to say it to if he wanted! I have a funny feeling that’s about to change.
‘Hi Bobbi, it’s Francine, long time no see! Hope you’re well. I thought it might sound rude to just ask you out right but Mum told me to just text (you know Mum!) So, would you mind if I came and stayed with you and William...’
I’ve never called him William. Where’s she got William from? It’s just Will!
...‘for a few weeks or so? I’m being transferred to Hartley for 6 months...’
6 MONTHS! Oh no. No no no no no. NO! Nada.
...‘you’re the only one I know living in Hartley. Thanks, Francine X’
Thank you cuz. I know EXACTLY how this is going to pan out. First, it’ll be “only a couple of weeks”, which will quite easily slip into “just til the end of the month”, which will only drag out further and quickly become “another week or so”. And then there’ll be Mum and Auntie Enid nattering away over the phone about “oh how wonderful, marvelous, just superb!” it is that their two girls are living under the same roof. Oh and more unexpected visits from Auntie Enid left right and center! Before you know it, six months will have gone by and Grannie Frannie will be calling this house home!
‘Hi Francine, sure you can stay with us, that’s no problem! When will you be arriving? Bobbi X’
What else was I to say?! More importantly what the heck is Will going to say?! I’ll have to approach it carefully, like eating a custard slice cream cake. I hear the key in the door and I jump slightly...he’s home. Hey, he didn’t ask me what I wanted from the Chippy before he came home and I hadn’t made up my mind about whether to get fried rice, chow mien or fish and chips, or which combination of those.
“Hey Ripple, missed you today.”
“Hey, thought you said you were going to call me about what to get from the Chippy?”
Will leans in for a kiss and I stand and receive one from him; to be honest I can’t help wondering what he’s got me for tea in the semi-see-through bag he’s holding, just slightly too far away for me to sniff out what’s in there.
“I know, I didn’t get a minute today to even think about it, so I just guessed when I got there.”
Great. I’m starving and he’s took a guess! Such a risk.
“You could’ve phoned when you pulled up outside the Chippy.” I say under my seething breath.
He’s opening the bag and I can see three containers and something wrapped up in paper.
“What did you get then?” I ask, impatiently, before my tummy screams even more so.
“Thought you’d probably be alright with some fried rice and chow mien, and incase you weren’t sure which you wanted I got a fish and chips too.”
This is why he’s my husband. Risk worth taking. God, I love fish.
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