Page 113 of Washed Up

And so it proved to be the next second when Dylan put a hand on her arm and said, ‘Where were we?’ with a cheeky grin, and again she was tempted to climb onto his lap and make him see stars.

She came to her senses, a little shocked by her own filthy brain, and smacked him on the arm. ‘Er, timing much? Plus, the tourists off the first boat will be along here any minute. We’ll just let Jake get a bit further ahead and then we’d better get going.’ She paused and sighed. ‘Poor Jake. That was so awful, I feel a bit sick.’

Dylan’s face grew serious. ‘Are you okay, Frankie?’ he said. ‘It was awful. I feel terrible for the guy.’

‘He said he wanted to chop you into pieces.’

‘I get that a lot,’ said Dylan with that crooked smile of his.

‘Yikes. Understanding more of why you want to hide on a tiny island.’

‘Now you see.’

‘Upset many husbands, boyfriends and so on, have you?’

Dylan frowned. ‘Wait, he wasn’t your boyfriend, was he? You said nothing was going on between you two.’

‘Um…’ said Frankie, her heart thundering again.

‘What?’ said Dylan.

‘No, not my boyfriend,’ she said.

‘You hesitated.’

‘I paused. That’s not the same thing.’

‘It is in my book,’ said Dylan, his eyes searching her face. ‘And come to think of it, why did he say this looks familiar, all bitter and that?’

‘Never mind. Come on, you,’ said Frankie hastily. ‘Let’s get moving.’

They walked back slowly, being overtaken every now and then by eager beaver tourists in their macs and sturdy walking sandals, enormous cameras under one arm. After a few metres, Dylan reached for her hand and a smile spread across Frankie’s face, her body responding instantly at his touch. They walked the rest of the way hand in hand wherever the path allowed, right up to Belvoir Bay.

‘Whew,’ said Dylan, letting out a long breath. The bay looked stunningly beautiful that morning, the sky a perfect blue, the sea sparkling, lapping gently against the sand. A few families were already spread out across the beach, children running into the surf and out again, squealing.

‘Coffee here or do we go on to Shell Beach?’ said Dylan. ‘Or shall we go back?’

The words were innocent enough but the way his voice went all gravelly set Frankie’s pulse racing. As she regarded him from under lowered lashes, trying to look at least a little seductive, there was a cry from the path leading from the centre of the island.

‘Frankie! There you are!’

It was Sally, running towards them as fast as she could, slipping her way down the sandy path. But it was the paleness of her face, the way her brow was knitted together, which made the blood drain from Frankie’s body.

‘What’s going on?’ she said, but somehow, she already knew.

‘It’s your dad,’ said Sally. ‘Come quickly.’

She glanced at Dylan, who gave one firm nod, and in less than a second all three of them were racing up the path towards the Manor.

Sally was so out of breath she was barely able to get any words out but on the way they somehow gleaned that Brian had been taken ill, they were waiting for Dr Mac, and it was not looking good. By the time they arrived at the house, Frankie was cursing herself for ever having left that morning, for not checking on them before she did.

When she expressed as much, both Dylan and Sally reassured her repeatedly that it wasn’t her fault but it did nothing to relieve the dread in the pit of her stomach. This was the universe getting its revenge. Heaven knew, she deserved it.

Please be okay please be okay please be okay.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Dr Mac arrived at the same time they did, his blond hair tousled from the speedboat ride over, his face windburnt. Another not-good sign. He never came by speedboat except in a grave emergency. The doctor gave Sally and Frankie a grim smile, then disappeared straight upstairs before Frankie could even get to see her dad.