Frankie Taylor couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat and he certainly didn’t want to look at his wife over the breakfast table this morning. So much of him wanted to think that what Lorna had seen was an innocent mistake.
Gypsy had presumed he’d been watching the poker game but he’d been waiting for her to go out. He’d been on to her after he’d read the ambiguous text on her phone which simply read, ‘Eight thirty tonight.’
The moment she’d gone, he’d sent Lorna to follow her and she’d sped off like a whippet dog with a rocket up its arse.
He was confused. He knew he couldn’t ever be with her again if she was seeing somebody else but at the same time he felt like Gypsy belonged to him.
Bottom line though was he loved her. Loved her with all his heart and wanted to give her a chance. A chance to come clean and explain what Lorna had seen was just a mistake. A chance to tell him there was no need for his heart to feel like someone was using it as a football. So he’d spoken to her as they lay in bed and instead of hearing what he was hoping for, it’d just made things worse. The lies had spilled out of her mouth.
‘When I was watching the poker Gypsy, where were you? I said to meself, my wife wouldn’t go out without telling me, my wife wouldn’t sneak about behind me back. Not Gypsy.’
Frankie’s eyes had bored into her and Gypsy had swallowed hard. ‘Oh, nowhere. I didn’t want to disturb you. I saw we’d run out of milk, so I popped to the shop. Sorry Frank, next time I’ll say.’
She was lying. Staring right at him and lying. Lying her bleeding tits off.
‘We had milk though.’
‘Yeah, but not soya milk.’
‘Soya? When did you start to drink that crap?’
‘Oh I haven’t really, it was just something I saw in a magazine and I thought I’d try it …’
She’d trailed off and then he’d smiled at her but it’d been a tight smile, the sort of smile his mother gave him when she hadn’t wanted to admit she’d been shagging yet another faceless stranger.
Frankie sighed, staring down at his plate and deciding to probe his sister before Gypsy came down for breakfast. Desperate to find answers he could deal with.
‘Are you sure it was her?’
‘Bleeding hell, Frank, you saw the photos yourself.’
‘Yeah but I was thinking, it was hard to see her face properly. It could’ve been someone else; maybe she did just pop to the shop after all.’
Lorna snorted as she tucked into her fifth piece of bacon. ‘If you want to turn a blind eye to it Frank that’s down to you, but I wouldn’t stand for it – who knows how long it’s been going on for or how many others there’s been?’
‘Alright, Lorn. Christ, drive over a man when he’s been knocked over won’t you?’
‘I’m sorry, Frank. I’m just looking out for you.’
‘I know you are, and thank God I’ve got you, Lorn.’
They stopped talking as Gypsy came into the breakfast room. She smiled at Frankie and cut her eye at Lorna. Gypsy watched her husband push the eggs and bacon around his plate. It was unlike him not to eat his breakfast and even more unlike him not to talk. The one thing, apart from sex, Frankie loved to do was talk. And when he didn’t, there was usually something very wrong.
Gypsy had wondered if the incident with Max Donaldson had shaken him up more than he cared to admit. Her husband was a proud man and there was no way Frankie would ever admit he’d had a fright; there was more likelihood of him going on Question Time than him talk about his emotions.
She took a sip of her cappuccino and caught Lorna watching. Again she cut her eye at her and her sister-in-law smirked back. Gypsy had given up speaking to Frankie about Lorna; he’d refused to listen and seemed more determined to dig his heels in about it these last couple of days, oblivious to the fact that Lorna was trouble.
The woman seemed to be so welded into the family they’d need a frigging pneumatic drill to get her out. She was clearly up to something but Gypsy didn’t know what.
‘Are you busy today, Gypsy? I wondered if you wanted some company?’
Lorna’s suggestion had Gypsy spitting her coffee out all over Johnny who was leaning over her to reach for some more sausages. She stared at her sister-in-law before answering her in a monotone.
‘I’m not sure yet, Lorn, but whatever it is I’ll be fine for company, thanks all the same.’
‘I don’t get you, Gyps. There’s me sister reaching out to you and all you do is throw a wet rag back in her face.’
Gypsy looked at her husband incredulously. As a couple they’d never shamed or aired their dirty laundry in public, always waited until they were in private to let rip and sort their differences out. However, here was Frankie, knowing how she felt about his sister, embarrassing her and making Lorna smirk with delight again.
Gypsy was furious and spoke through gritted teeth, making sure Frankie knew exactly what she thought about his tactless comment.
‘It ain’t no rag, Frank. All I’m saying is, I’m fine on me own.’
‘Well what I’m seeing is you not making an effort. Lorna here is doing everything she can do to be nice.’
Open-mouthed, Gypsy looked at her husband, only for Lorna to pipe up first.
‘Leave it, Frankie, if she don’t want to spend any time with me that’s fine. I’ll just sit in my room.’
Gypsy turned on Lorna, amazed at the cheek of the woman and feeling upset at being backed into a corner by both her and Frankie. ‘Firstly, sweetheart, it ain’t your room. Secondly, don’t play the martyr; I can see exactly what you’re doing.’
Lorna spoke in a slippery tone. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gypsy.’
‘Stop the flipping game playing. You’re more clued-up than Hercule Poirot.’
Frankie threw his plate across the newly decorated breakfast room, sending his sunny-side-up eggs, sunny-side-down. They splattered all over the floor, with the Wedgewood plate following a second later. ‘This is my house and I’ll frigging say whose room it is. Lorna’s our guest, bleeding hell she’s family, so she’ll stay as long as she likes. If you don’t like it Gypsy; tough. Because there’s fuck all you can do.’
Frankie got up from the table and nodded for Johnny to follow him, who was more than happy to do so.
This was better than she could’ve imagined. Lorna held the letter in her hands and let out a loud laugh. She heard the sound of her laughter echoing round the hallway and relished every moment of it. She’d opened Gypsy’s letters, as she had been doing the past couple of days. There’d been nothing in them apart from drivel from shops and boutiques inviting Gypsy to see their latest collections.
When she’d opened the nondescript envelope she’d glanced over it quickly, expecting much of the same, but as she took in the words she’d had to reread it again, in case what she was seeing was a mistake. But there was no mistake. As the enormity of the situation sunk in, it felt to Lorna like she’d just won the lottery. She may as well wave goodbye to Gypsy now; get her bags and wish her bon bleeding voyage.
‘What have you got there?’
Gypsy’s voice cut through her laughter.
‘Nothing. Just my rubbish.’
Gypsy’s eyes narrowed. It looked like Lorna was up to something; the problem was though, Lorna always looked like she was up to something.
‘Whatever, Lorn, I’m popping out to get a paper.’
‘Well make