The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Forty-Eight
Frankie
THEN
Ever since the disaster on my eighteenth birthday, I’ve never been one for celebrating dates. Though considering I met Walter, my way out of Gledhill, on the same night I guess it hadn’t been all bad.
He’s been on my mind today. It’s our anniversary and as I stare at a sleeping Luna, her eyelashes fanning shadows across her baby-soft cheeks, her lips pursed like a rosebud, I’m filled with gratitude. Andre is away for work and I’ve been reminiscing, thinking about the past, mulling over what I’ve been through to get to this point: a happy mother and wife who counts her blessings every day.
On impulse, I pick up my cell and call Walter. Predictably, he answers on the fourth ring as always, or like he’s been expecting my call.
“Francesca. How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Can’t complain.”
Patient Walter never whines about anything. He’s content, making the most of every day, and bears no grudges despite how I once tipped his world upside down. He sounds genuinely happy to hear from me. We make it a point never to ask about each other’s spouses. I never ask about Julia—who he reunited with not long after our divorce—and he never questions me about Andre. It’s better this way. We were always honest with each other and feigning interest in each other’s partners isn’t our way.
I’m unsure whether to tell him about Luna or not. He’s not a fool and once he learns of her age, he’ll put two and two together. Not that it matters. Andre is her father and Walter will never have any involvement in her life.
“Something’s wrong,” he says, a statement not a question, and I smile at how well this man knows me.
“Not really, but I do have some news. Wonderful news, in fact.” I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I have a daughter. Luna.”
“Congratulations, Francesca, that’s wonderful.” He sounds genuinely happy and I lower my guard, when he asks, “How old is she?”
I’m tempted to lie for a moment but what would be the point? I’ve got nothing to hide.
“Two months.”
I almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as he does the math. But he won’t ask me. Walter is an upstanding man, a throwback to days when men were honorable and did everything they could to protect their women.
“She’s the spitting image of Andre,” I add, to fill the growing silence between us. “I love her to bits. She’s my world.”
“Uh-huh.”
We lapse into silence again and I regret calling him, when he says, “I’m setting up a trust fund for her.”
My blood chills. I don’t want his money. How on earth will I explain it to Andre?
“Your husband doesn’t need to know. It will be an account at my bank, held in trust until she’s eighteen.”
“Walt, you don’t have to do this. She’s not—”
“I don’t care if she’s mine or not. She’s yours and that’s enough for me. I care about you, Francesca. I know I was never enough for you but we did our best to make it work. I will always love you and keep the promise I made on our wedding day to protect you.”
Tears clog my throat and I swallow. Only Walter could say something so heartfelt and genuine and mean it, making me feel warm and fuzzy after all this time.
“You’re a sweet guy and always have been.”
“I try.”
He’s back to his bashful best and I smile, pushing the cell against my ear. I’m not in love with Walter and haven’t been for a long time, but he comforts me in a way Andre never can. Andre is vibrant and spontaneous and I love him for it, but there’s a reason I was drawn to Walter in the first place and that dependability is a quality that hasn’t waned over the years.
“Francesca?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s make this an annual thing. You calling me on our anniversary.”
“You really are a sentimental fool,” I say as if brushing off the idea, but I’m smiling and I like the thought of us doing a brief catch-up once a year.
“I am but I think you already knew that.” The warmth in his voice makes my smile widen.
“Okay. Then I guess I’ll speak to you in a year?”
“You will.” He pauses, and I think he’s about to put down the phone, before he adds, “But if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up, knowing I won’t do that. I’m okay with a once a year call for old times’ sake but I have no intention of turning to him for anything ever again.
Look what happened the last time I did that.