Page 23 of Washed Up

Dylan was taking in the room, which was an admittedly impressive if somewhat draughty Georgian-style kitchen with an enormous fireplace as well as the shabby old cooking range. Brian was in one of the tattered armchairs usually reserved for Blondie, when she deigned to grace them with her presence. ‘So you’ve lived in this house ever since you arrived on the island?’ he asked them.

‘Not straight away,’ said Frankie. ‘We came over initially for a summer holiday, and my folks decided to stay. We took on the holiday lets and moved into the Manor House when I was about five. That’s what happens, mostly. People come for a holiday or for a summer job and they never leave.’

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that, love,’ piped up Brian. ‘You have to know someone. Or at least, it helps.’

‘Well, okay, yes, they knew the couple who were the tenants at the time, Charlotte and Ian. Sally’s mum and dad as it goes, although she didn’t even exist then. She’s a bit younger than me. They invited my mum and dad for a visit. That’s how it started.’

‘We just fell in love with the place,’ said Brian, then he started coughing.

‘Dad, I think you need a shower, get rid of all that dust.’

‘The poor chapel,’ was all he said in response.

‘Jake is dealing with that. We’ll fix it.’

‘It’s 900 years old, that chapel,’ said Brian to Dylan. ‘Maybe even older.’ He shook his head. ‘And we only redid the roof a few years back.’

‘We fixed it up before, we can do it again,’ said Frankie, patting his knee. ‘It’s only a statue. Now come on, you, go up and get a shower and we’ll let Mum know what’s going on. She’ll be up shortly.’ She paused. ‘Will you be okay?’

‘I can go and get her,’ said Dylan. ‘Then you can stay with your dad.’ He didn’t add just in case, but she knew what he meant.

‘I’m fine,’ said Brian.

Frankie looked at him for a long moment, before turning to Dylan. ‘Thank you. She’ll be in the pub, I’m sure. Do you know the way?’

Dylan nodded and without another word, he was gone.

‘I like that one,’ said Brian, again. ‘How long is he staying?’

‘Just till tomorrow, Dad,’ said Frankie. ‘And don’t look at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like you think I like him, too.’

‘You do though, don’t you?’ said her dad with a smirk. ‘Who wouldn’t?’

‘What on earth is that supposed to mean?’

‘Do you want me to spell it out?’

Frankie sighed. ‘Not really but I suspect you’re going to.’

‘How often does a handsome man like that rock up on Herm, eh?’

‘I don’t know, Dad, how often does a handsome man rock up on Herm?’

He laughed. ‘Did it sound like a dad joke, that?’

‘A bit.’

‘Still. The question remains. And I’ll answer it for you. Never, is the answer. So I suggest you make the most of it.’

‘Dad!’

‘What?’

‘Go and have a shower, for God’s sake. Maybe a cold one, eh?’ said Frankie. ‘I’ll shout up the stairs in a bit to make sure you’re still alive.’