The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green by Laura Kemp Page A

so dull,’ he said, with a smile on his lips, ‘why have you written “The sex education of Frankie Green” on your wall?’
    She gasped – she’d forgotten to rub it off. Everyone must have seen it, going in and out for drinks from the fridge. ‘I think I’m going to die,’ she said, covering her face with her hands. Then she did her best to explain and quickly. It was all just a silly joke.
    â€˜Yeah, course. It is a pretty left-field self-improvement plan. And why would you need sex ed? You’re married – not a virgin.’
    Frankie grimaced then.
    â€˜Oh, bollocks. Don’t tell me you’re a virgin. Please don’t tell me you’re a virgin. Though it’s absolutely fine, I cast no judgement.’
    â€˜I might as well be,’ Frankie said, staring into the fire. She was beyond caring because nothing could ever be as embarrassing as the knowledge that people had read her sign on the chalkboard.
    â€˜What? Don’t you do it on a trapeze three times a night like everyone else?’ Floyd said with a straight face.
    Frankie sighed. His kindness was a small consolation when it was now public knowledge she was crap in bed. Losing Jason was bad enough, but now she felt exposed. She began talking then, not to Floyd but into the darkness, about her broken self-esteem, her fear of change and her angst if she ever dared to try sex again. Soothed by her out-pouring, she finished with a shrug and told Floyd, ‘So that’s that.’
    â€˜Oh, come on, don’t be sad,’ he said, lightly punching her arm. ‘You won’t always feel like this, time is a great healer. And sex is subjective, you know, there’s no industry Kitemark or qualification to say whether you’re good or bad. Although, obviously, I do have a PhD in Loving, so I’m told,’ he said, mocking himself. ‘Relationship sex can suffer if there are other things going on too, it isn’t a separate entity, it’s an indicator of loads of things. And like anything else in life, you aren’t born forever useless – you can learn.’
    â€˜Do you think?’ Frankie asked, looking up into his eyes, desperate to believe she wasn’t destined to be miserable without Jason for the rest of her days.
    â€˜Yes, of course! Maybe you do need a teacher. God, that’d be a great job!’ Floyd said, snickering at his own joke and launching into a stand-up routine. ‘Imagine that, applying for it. “Dear madam, I wish to apply for the position of lots of positions”…’ he said, clearly enjoying himself.
    â€˜Yes, thank you.’
    â€˜â€¦ “I am very experienced, with many happy clients who can provide references—”’
    â€˜Floyd—’ she said, feeling fed up now.
    â€˜â€œTestimonials include ‘what a whopper!’ and ‘very hands on’. I am very giving, offer complete confidentiality and a nice hug after—”’
    â€˜Seriously, Floyd,’ her voice warned, and she held up her hands to show she meant it.
    â€˜I am serious, Frankie,’ he said, suddenly composed.
    â€˜Sorry?’ she said, her palms frozen in mid-air.
    â€˜Well, why not? I’m a man of the world. Not Russell Brand or anything, but I know a bit and I’m, cough, careful.’
    â€˜Come again?’
    â€˜Steady on, Frankie, we haven’t even got to first base yet,’ he said, pretending to look appalled.
    Frankie couldn’t help it – she began laughing at the situation. He was actually offering to teach her! ‘You are hilarious!’ she said, slapping her thigh, thinking how stupid, how really, really stupid, this all was! He was a friend! A single friend. A trustworthy one. In the same boat as her, still in love with an ex, hoping they’d come back. A friend she got on really well with. And still sort of fancied. Her heart began galloping as it dawned on