Page 19 of Washed Up

Frankie laughed. ‘Yes, you. Mrs Fisher is old enough to be your gran, practically.’

‘Unlikely,’ said Jake. ‘She’s not bad for a tourist.’

‘Behave.’

As they approached the house, Frankie’s heart began to thump. Let him be okay, she prayed silently. Not only had they seen no sign of her dad, but they hadn’t heard the ATV either, and that was decidedly unusual.

The Manor House loomed on their right-hand side, foreboding under the grey clouds. It was an old building in grey stone, exact age unknown, and famously once called ‘The ugliest house in Europe’ by a novelist who had been a former tenant of the island. It had been renovated so many times by various families over the years, with extension upon extension, that it could reasonably be called handsome these days. At least, her family was incredibly fond of it. The yard out front was full of deep puddles, and as she stomped through them in her brand-new boots, a memory came to her mind of splashing through this yard as a child in her tiny pink wellies, chasing their ancient family dog Bruno about. Thinking of it made her heart clench.

‘Dad?’ she called out, her voice a little shaky. ‘Dad, are you here?’

Jake appeared from around the corner of the house, shaking his head. ‘He’s not in the garden.’

Frankie opened the front door and shouted up the stairs. ‘Dad? Are you here?’

No response. Her heart thrummed louder in her ears.

‘Where else?’ she said, turning to Jake.

‘Don’t panic,’ he said, clearly seeing it right there in her eyes.

‘Helpful, thanks,’ said Frankie.

‘I mean it. He’ll be okay.’

‘I hope so.’

CHAPTER NINE

Jake was properly holding her hand now, and the solidity of him, his enormous hand in hers, was a comfort. He led the way out of the yard, turning left along the lane towards the next cluster of holiday cottages.

As they approached, Frankie called out for her dad again, but there was no reply and, strangely, no sign of the ATV. As she turned to Jake, tears in her eyes even as her face was frozen solid, the wind howling around them, a familiar figure appeared on the horizon.

‘Dylan?’ said Frankie, needlessly, for it was he. His yellow raincoat stood out a mile in the grey landscape. She dropped Jake’s hand, a pang of guilt flashing through her, which she couldn’t quite explain.

‘Great,’ said Jake under his breath.

‘What are you doing here?’ said Frankie as Dylan got closer, his hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold wind and driving rain, which had eased but only a little.

‘Thought you could use some help,’ he said, jaw clenched, navy-blue eyes fixed on hers, strands of black hair flying in the breeze.

‘Thanks, mate,’ said Jake, ‘but I think we’ve got this.’

‘That’s really sweet of you,’ said Frankie.

Dylan shrugged. ‘Couldn’t just sit in the hotel room, could I? Not while I knew you were out here searching.’

‘A regular knight in shining armour,’ said Jake to no one in particular.

‘That’s me,’ said Dylan, still gazing at her.

Frankie dropped eye contact first. ‘Well, it’s appreciated. Come on, then,’ she said, turning to head further down the lane, her pulse pounding in her ears.

The two men followed dutifully behind, neither particularly happy to see the other, if their body language was anything to go by. Frankie thought it was best to pretend this was a perfectly normal scenario. Dylan had come to find her. He hadn’t fall in love with Sally while she was gone. He’d left his cosy warm hotel room to come help her. And that meant… whatever it meant, it was one more person to help find her dad and that was all she cared about. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Gravel crunched under their feet as they approached the next few houses, peering into outbuildings and yelling out for her father, although their every word was whipped from their mouths and carried off by the wind. Even with the panic rising in her throat, a small part of her was supremely conscious of two sets of male eyes on her rear, which was only partially and definitely not adequately covered by her new waterproof, as they walked. Fortunately, her spiral of paranoia was swiftly curtailed by a faint sound coming from the tiny chapel at the side of the road.

Frankie was already running. ‘Dad?’ she yelled as she reached the entrance.