Page 54 of Washed Up

Dylan: Shhhhh. It’s our little secret. So, what you been up to, Miss Frankie?

Frankie paused. What had she been up to? What the hell would remotely interest this man?

Frankie: Erm. What can I tell you? Not much. Except for when the donkeys escaped. You didn’t meet the donkeys, did you? Derek and Dave.

Dylan: Great names. No. There’s a lot I didn’t do on the island.

That’s for sure.

Frankie: Well, why don’t you come back sometime? It’s beautiful here in July. Just saying.

A pause before he replied. Long enough for Frankie to wonder how anyone ever did actual online dating without having a heart attack from the stress.

And then it happened.

Dylan: I’d love to.

Frankie: I’ll be here!

(Smiley face emoji because she couldn’t find the I’m having a heart attack emoji).

Dylan: It’s a date. Night, Frankie. Sleep well x

Frankie: Night x

Under the duvet, Frankie’s toes curled with delight. It’s a date, he said. There was no mistaking that. In less than six weeks he would be coming to Herm. For the first time in her life, Frankie understood what it would have felt like in Jane Austen’s day when a gentleman came to call after twenty years of doing embroidery with your mother by candlelight.

What. A. Day.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The next morning, the sun was doing its best shining, the turquoise sea was sparkling under its golden gaze and the little Trident ferry was full to bursting with day trippers and holidaymakers all desperate for a slice of Herm’s incredible natural beauty and charm. Even Betty the Belvoir Bay café owner – and incidentally also the local volunteer police officer, not that she’d had a great deal to do for as far back as Frankie could remember – had headed across the island to help with bags, with loading and unloading, with directing visitors as they came off the boat. This was despite the fact that there were really only three options for the new arrivals. Turning right for the coastal path, which took you past Puffin Bay and the two-hour walk around the island, straight across the island for Belvoir Bay past the old chapel on the way, and left, to Shell Beach and Alderney point, in the far north-east, via the shops and the pub, of course. A cohort of the more serious walkers always went right, binoculars and cameras in hand, notebooks at the ready, hoping for puffins, seals, dolphins, guillemots, kestrels, even a rare warbler or two to tick off their lists.

It was one of those delightful days in the Herm sunshine, when the time slips by unnoticed. Sally was there, Frankie caught glimpses of her throughout the day, bustling backwards and forwards, helping people to their hotel rooms, but although Frankie tried several times to catch her eye, to take her to one side for a chat, it never seemed quite the right moment. Jake was nowhere to be seen, no doubt laying low to avoid the crowds, while her mum, in usual fashion, was at the centre of it all, making a big show of greeting the new arrivals. Her dad was back where he belonged, on his little ATV bombing up and down from the harbour. Frankie even had to jump behind the bar to help Charlie a couple of times over the lunchbreak.

By the time five o’clock came, when the last ferry had left, and all the holidaymakers were where they were meant to be, Frankie was practically swaying on her feet from exhaustion. Her legs were aching. One last go, she told herself, practically hobbling now as she pottered into the hotel foyer to see if she could spot her friend.

Sally wasn’t at the reception desk, she wasn’t in the bar and although Frankie waited over twenty minutes on the saggy old sofa by the door, she still didn’t appear.

‘Looking for me?’ came a voice as Frankie dejectedly set off for home.

Sure enough, there was her friend, sitting on the low wall opposite the hotel, her summer dress wrinkled and dusty from the heat of the day. Sally gave Frankie a little wave, but stayed where she was.

Frankie hobbled over and sat down beside her. ‘I’m pooped,’ she said. ‘What a day.’

‘The hotel is completely full,’ said Sally simply. ‘That never happens.’

‘No kidding. I’ve been trying to grab you since nine this morning.’

‘Sorry,’ said Sally, but she didn’t sound sorry. She sounded, well, mad.

‘Are you okay?’ said Frankie, glancing over at her friend a little anxiously.

‘Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re avoiding me?’

‘I am not.’ Frankie raised her eyebrows at her and Sally sighed. ‘Well, okay, maybe I am a little.’