Page 100 of Washed Up

‘What’s huge?’ said Lily, sticking her head round the door.

Perfect timing as always.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

By the next morning, Frankie had googled everything there was to google and had read every article on the band’s split. Which was a pointless exercise as they were all essentially the same, just with varying degrees of salaciousness attached.

They were all super clear on one thing, though. No one knew where Dylan was.

And although Frankie had a lot of questions to ask him, had a lot of confusion swirling around in her mind, she was sure about something. They weren’t going to find him. Not on her watch. Not until he wanted to be found.

She’d texted him when she went to bed.

Frankie: I’m so sorry Dylan.

*no response*

Frankie: I don’t know what’s gone on but you’re safe here.

*no response*

Frankie: This is the place.

Dylan:

By morning, he still hadn’t said anything else but there was the heart. There were blue ticks and there was the heart. Thank God for the blue ticks and the heart. He’d seen it, at least. He knew she was thinking of him. Her heart twisted at the thought of what he’d been through. What he must have felt, to see the band finish like that. How desperate, and perhaps even lonely, he must have been to seek solace on an island full of near-strangers. That desperate need to escape.

Frankie tried not to wonder what had gone on. Tried not to speculate, tempting as it was. For the first time in her life, though, deep down in places better left unexamined, part of her wished she’d kept up with the celebrity gossip, just a little more than she had.

She’d see him soon. She’d find out in time. She’d help him, however she could, no matter what. That much she already knew.

But first, there was the small matter of waving her brother off on the ferry. Frankie sighed and hauled herself out of bed, tiptoed through to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and brushed her teeth, all the while thinking about Dylan. She knew she probably should be sparing a thought for Bobby right now, for Sally, how must she be feeling? But the pull to run down to Dylan’s cottage was so strong, she had to physically force her feet to walk in the other direction.

They walked down the hill slowly as a family, though it was honestly more like a funeral procession. Her mother and Sally were on either side of Bobby, one on each arm, both wailing like banshees all the way, with Bobby looking ever so slightly smug between them.

Frankie and her dad walked behind them, hands folded in front of them. ‘The pallbearers,’ Brian had joked, though his face was serious. Sad.

‘You okay, Dad?’

He sighed. ‘Yeah. I suppose we’ll have to get used to this, with his job and all. It’s just…’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s almost harder this time around. At least we know he’s okay and all that, but I’ve liked having him here, you know?’

‘I do know.’ Frankie nodded, surprising herself. ‘Even I’ll miss him a bit,’ she added, with a grin.

Her father gave her a nudge. ‘Your big brother, eh? What will you do without him?’

‘I’ll cope.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? I’m not sure how Sally will cope though,’ she added, watching her friend. They hadn’t had much time to talk, Frankie not wanting to steal any of the precious time she had with Bobby, but still, she would have liked the chance to find out how Sally was feeling. They had been sweethearts, all those years ago, so when Bobby came back everyone had expected a few fireworks. Maybe a little crush, a little bit of that unrequited love that Dylan was so fond of, on one side or the other. Most likely Sally; she specialised in unrequited love, after all. But no one, least of all Frankie, had expected them to reconnect in the way they had.

When they arrived at the harbour steps, there was a little gathering to see him off, watching the Trident ferry approaching across the sea. Five of them: Charlie, Michael, Betty, Albert and… Jake.

Frankie’s heart gave a little stutter at the sight of Jake. He was standing a little way off from the others, his hat in his hands, not dressed in his waders for once but a pair of dark jeans and a striped Breton T-shirt, looking surprisingly stylish, she had to admit.

All the well-wishers cheered, jostling to give Bobby a pat on the back as he approached. He and Sally made their way down to the front like celebrities, smiling and nodding to everyone, before they reached the end of the harbour, where they stood, murmuring to each other.

Her mum and dad did their best to entertain the little send-off committee, while Frankie hung back, desperate to have some kind of communication with Jake.