Page 118 of Washed Up

Lily whistled. ‘Ooh, romantic. And…? How was he?’

‘Mother!’

‘Come on. Please? I need this right now. My husband’s having a heart attack.’

Frankie winced. ‘Dammit. That’s pretty much the trump card, eh? Well, my dad’s having a heart attack, so there.’

‘Checkmate,’ said her mum with a grim smile. ‘See how we make jokes.’

‘Yeah, look at us having fun, pretending we don’t smell the vomit or bleach on these chairs,’ said Frankie.

‘Living the dream,’ said Lily.

In that moment, Frankie’s heart was full of love for her mother. She couldn’t explain it, nor could she remember the last time she’d felt that way. But suddenly it was clear to her. Lily wasn’t evil or uncaring. She was funny and sweet and she’d carried pain with her for so long, it had shaped her whole personality. Bloody Bobby had a lot to answer for.

‘Mum…?’ said Frankie, impulsively.

‘What is it, Franks?’

What had she been going to say? She didn’t even know. She just wanted to say… something.

‘I like calling you Mum,’ she said.

It wasn’t much, but Lily smiled a real, genuine smile, and threw her arms around Frankie. ‘I love to hear it,’ she said into her daughter’s ear. ‘Please never stop calling me Mum.’

‘I won’t. Love you, Mum.’

‘Love you, Pickle.’

‘Am I interrupting?’ came a deep voice from the doorway.

Dylan was standing there, holding a cardboard tray of coffees in what looked like proper takeaway cups.

‘Come in, Dylan,’ said Lily, releasing Frankie from the hug at last. ‘My daughter was just telling me all about how you guys snogged in Puffin Bay.’

Dylan let out a laugh that made Frankie’s toes curl.

‘Are people still saying “snogged”?’ he said, not remotely bothered, apparently, by the comment.

‘I am,’ said Lily, eyebrows still raised.

‘Is that real coffee?’ said Frankie, leaping to her feet.

Dylan was watching her with amusement. ‘It is, indeed. Proper beans and everything.’

‘Wow. Ambassador, you’re really spoiling us,’ quipped Frankie, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She grabbed the nearest coffee and curled up on one of the chairs, the fake leather creaking beneath her.

Dylan eased himself into the chair beside her, coffee in hand, stretching out his long legs. She got a waft of his smoky aftershave and it calmed her, somehow. She could breathe more easily when he was near her. It was that simple.

‘Any news?’ he said, glancing at Lily.

She shook her head, helping herself to a cup of coffee, wrapping her hands around it like a lifeline. Which, in a way, it was. ‘Nothing yet.’

‘Sorry,’ said Dylan.

‘Don’t be. I’d rather not know, especially if it’s…’

‘Don’t, Mum,’ said Frankie quickly. ‘It’s going to be okay.’