Page 6 of Washed Up

‘No ferries,’ said Charlie, coming back to the bar.

Dylan stared at him. ‘This is a wind-up, right? They’ve put you up to this, haven’t they? How much are they paying you? Come on, whatever they’re paying you, I’ll match it. Or… I would if I had my wallet.’ He began patting at his jeans again and Frankie looked to the ceiling. ‘They haven’t even left me my wallet,’ he muttered under his breath.

Charlie blinked. ‘No wind-up. Sorry. No ferries.’

‘That’s not possible,’ said Dylan, shaking his head. ‘Can you check again?’

‘Sorry. The last one left not half an hour ago but they won’t be coming back until this has died down.’ Charlie smiled again, wider this time. ‘There’s worse places to be stuck for a couple of days though, eh?’

‘A couple of days?’ said Dylan, his face pale.

Frankie tutted. ‘Which is very much not the point, Charlie, and you know it. What the heck am I going to do with him?’

‘Do with who?’ came a voice from the doorway. Ducking under the low beam, dressed head to toe in a long, dark green waterproof, was the last person Frankie wanted to see just then. The woman discarded her coat at the door, revealing jeans and a low-cut top, and shook her glossy black curls out from under her waterproof hat. As she sashayed her way across the room, Frankie tried not to roll her eyes.

‘Lovely day for it,’ she managed as her mother got closer.

‘Hi, darling,’ said her mother, Lily, her eyes never leaving Dylan’s.

‘Well, hello there, ma’am,’ said Dylan in a mock-American accent.

Frankie threw him a look. Not him as well. Everyone always fancied her mother.

‘Well now, Frankie. Where did you find this one?’ said Lily, putting on her best purr.

Frankie ignored her. ‘Lily, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is… my mother.’

They shook hands, Dylan breaking eye contact first. He gave a little cough, as if uncomfortable, perhaps because her mother’s eyes were on his still-bare torso, and crossed his arms.

‘I found him in Heron,’ said Frankie, attempting a distraction. It worked, her mum turned to look at her for the first time.

‘Heron?’ said Lily, not understanding.

‘Sorry,’ said Dylan, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I needed somewhere to sleep.’

Lily smiled her best seductive smile as she realised what he meant. ‘Oh, don’t you worry. That’s fine, of course. You can sleep wherever you like.’

Frankie gritted her teeth. ‘For God’s sake, Lily. Focus. He was in the bed. In our cottage. I was meant to be getting it ready for the Banks’s, remember? They always come this week.’

Lily indicated the window. Outside, the rain was now coming straight down in sheets and they could hear the wind howling around the pub. ‘I don’t think that’ll be a problem today. Dylan, stay as long as you need to.’

Frankie’s jaw dropped. ‘Lily, I’m not sure–’

‘That’s kind of you, Lily,’ said Dylan, his voice smooth as silk. ‘But there’s no need for that. I’ll be on my way as soon as I can find another way off the island.’

Frankie shook her head just as Charlie let out a little laugh.

‘What?’ said Dylan, looking between them.

‘There is no other way off the island. Not in this.’ Charlie pointed out of the window again as if any of them needed reminding about the weather.

‘There has to be,’ said Dylan. ‘I can’t tell you how much I need to not be here right now.’

‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ said Frankie, Dylan’s tone making her defensive again.

‘You can always stay in the hotel,’ Charlie put in, perhaps sensing Frankie’s discomfort. ‘They’ll have loads of rooms available.’

Frankie nodded. ‘That makes more sense. You won’t have to go far and you’ll be nearer the ferry for when it does come back.’ The nearer the better, is what she didn’t say.