Page 29 of The Perfect Gift

‘Rejected again!’

She leaned into his side and laughed. ‘I’m sure your ego will cope.’

They reached the point in the road where things started to open up and houses gave way to public spaces. The harbour curved to their right, the shadows of boats bobbing on the dark water like ghosts of themselves. The red and green lights marking the harbour entrance glowed in the dark. Frankie found herself wondering what it would’ve been like to grow up with the water a part and parcel of life. She glanced up at Ed. ‘Did you always want to do something that involved the sea?’

He nodded. ‘Mum and Dad taught us to swim almost before we could walk. And we were out on the boat with Dad and Pa every weekend the weather was fit. I was always the first one in the water and the last one out. Mum used to joke that she’d given birth to a fish rather than a little boy.’ There was a tenderness to his tone, the memory clearly a fond one. He smiled down at her. ‘What about you?’

She shook her head. ‘Swimming lessons at school, but that was about it. I didn’t see the ocean until after I left home and went on a package holiday to Spain with some friends from drama school.’

Their gentle stroll had brought them to the roundabout at the top of Harbour Road, the lights of the businesses that faced the sea shining in welcome. Traffic picked up and there were people around, some hurrying home, a few heading in the direction of the steamy windows of the fish and chip shop. The smell of fried food made her stomach rumble loud enough for her to place an embarrassed hand over it.

With a laugh, Ed changed direction and led her across the road. ‘Come on, let me treat you to dinner.’

She should refuse. Under her hat, her hair was lank and sweaty after wearing a wig all day and her tracksuit was definitely designed for comfort, not style. Between that and the make-up… She hesitated outside the door. ‘I look a mess.’

Ed frowned down at her. ‘It’s the local chippy, not a five-star restaurant. No one’s going to look twice at you.’

It was exactly the reality check she needed. ‘Do they have mushy peas?’

Ed pulled a disgusted face. ‘I’m sure they do, though why anyone would eat something so vile is beyond me.’

He pushed open the door and a cloud of steam redolent with the smell of frying food enveloped them. Frankie’s stomach rumbled again and she giggled and hid herself behind Ed’s body to avoid any glances that might be directed towards them. An old-fashioned display board hung on the wall above the glass-fronted heated counter units. White plastic letters had been pressed into the black board, spelling out the regular choices. Fluorescent signs in yellow and green and blue were stuck to the walls and the front of the counter, detailing special offers.

It reminded her so much of the chip shop at the end of the street where her mum used to get them a Friday-night treat. Cod for her, a battered sausage for Frankie and a large chips and a pot of mushy peas to share between them. A wave of sadness swept through her, stealing most of her appetite.

‘What are you going to have, then?’ When she didn’t answer, Ed nudged her shoulder gently. ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

She ignored his second question and focused on the first. ‘I’d like a battered sausage and a small chips, please.’

‘And mushy peas,’ Ed added with a shudder. He moved along the counter and placed their order then led her over to the wide windowsill where they perched with the other waiting customers. Within seconds of them sitting down, Ed had been drawn into conversation with the man next to him.

Still trying to process the onrush of old memories, Frankie pulled out her phone and scrolled through one of her news apps. The headlines passed before her eyes, her thumb rolling over the screen on autopilot. When the server called Ed’s name a couple of minutes later, she couldn’t have told anyone who asked a single thing about any of the stories she’d glanced through.

Ed clutched the bag with their dinner in one hand and used the other to hold the door open for her. ‘You know the best place to eat fish and chips?’ he asked with a grin after the door closed behind them.

‘In my pyjamas, curled up on the sofa with a very large glass of wine?’

He laughed. ‘Okay, do you know the second-best place to eat them, then?’ He nodded towards the low wall that ran along the seafront.

‘Are you kidding?’

Ed checked the road then began to cross, holding the bag containing their food high. ‘Trust me!’

Frankie followed him and plonked herself down on the wall. ‘I’ve got to tell you that if this is your idea of showing a lady a good time then your technique needs some refining.’

Ed paused in the act of rummaging in the bag and grinned up at her. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re cute when you’re grumpy?’

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop her lips from twitching. ‘Shut up and give me my chips.’

They were quiet for a moment as they both unwrapped their food. The sweet-sour smell of vinegar-soaked chips filled her nostrils and she lifted the paper parcel closer to draw the scent deeper. ‘God, I can’t remember the last time I had something this bad for me.’ She rested the food on her knees and grabbed a fat chip from the top of the pile and stuffed it in her mouth. ‘So good.’

‘I guess you have to watch what you eat while you’re filming,’ Ed observed as he broke a corner off his piece of fish.

She nodded. ‘And not just because the camera is hideously unforgiving.’ She paused to munch down another chip. ‘They fit our costumes at the beginning of the shoot and the last thing I want to do is give the wardrobe team extra work letting out seams.’ She shrugged. ‘Or taking them in, either.’

She’d made that mistake early on in her career until the director had taken her to one side and shown her the continuity problems she was causing because she’d skipped too many meals and the weight loss had started to show. ‘One of the most important parts of my job is making sure I take good care of myself. My agent hooked me up with a nutritionist and we put together a plan before each shoot.’ She took a bite of the sausage and grease dripped down her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and laughed. ‘I seem to have forgotten my table manners.’

‘But we’re not sitting at a table so it doesn’t matter.’ Ed’s smile softened. ‘Is that why your mood changed in the chippy? Were you feeling guilty about eating something that’s bad for you?’