Page 63 of Washed Up

‘Well. Sally knows better than to go near that, I’m sure. And besides, if they did get married, there’s no way he’d stay here.’

He’d take my best friend away, too, were the words beating around behind her eyes, giving her a headache. That would be typical Bobby behaviour, true enough.

Dinner was predictably excruciating. It started badly, when Sally and Bobby burst into the room fifteen minutes late, cheeks flushed, and Frankie was fairly sure it wasn’t from a stroll around the island. Part of her couldn’t wait to get Sally alone and find out, and part of her really didn’t want to know what they’d been up to.

Her mum and dad were oblivious, of course, which made it all worse. They scoffed down a huge three-course dinner, her dad flashing his credit card that never normally saw the light of day. He even ordered cheese and biscuits and dessert wine. He never ever ordered dessert wine. The modern equivalent of the fatted calf, right there. By the end of it, they were all groaning from the weight of all the food inside them. And they were all still patting Bobby’s hand, asking him endless questions, touching his arm to see if he was real and asking to see pictures of him in his uniform, which he seemed delighted to oblige.

‘Time to get back to the manor,’ said her dad eventually, patting his knees.

‘Your old room is just as you left it,’ said Lily, who had been sounding more and more mumsy throughout the course of the day.

Bobby shifted a little uncomfortably. ‘Thanks, Mum, that’s kind… but I’ve actually booked into the hotel here. I didn’t want to impose.’

Sally coughed awkwardly and reached for her wine glass as Lily’s eyes widened.

‘Impose? You’re my son. You could never impose. I want to spoil you rotten.’

Bobby had the good grace to flush slightly. ‘Still, I think I’ll stay here tonight, Mum, if that’s okay. All my stuff is here. Maybe I could come see you in the morning?’

Lily pouted. ‘You’d better.’

‘Oh, leave the lad alone,’ said their father good-naturedly. ‘He’s a man now, remember. Needs his space.’

Another eye roll moment.

‘How long are you staying, then?’ said Sally, and they all turned to look at him. Tense. Anxious. Hanging on his every breath.

Bobby shrugged. ‘I’ve got ten days’ leave. I ship out at the end of next week.’

‘Ship out. Listen to yourself. You’re in the bloody army not the navy,’ scoffed Frankie. ‘And we’re not at war.’

Bobby just smiled. ‘Fine. I’ll commando roll onto the ferry. Will that make you happy, sis?’

She smiled in spite of herself. ‘It might.’

‘Good.’

‘Good.’

Something passed between them. An understanding. She felt her heart soften towards him. She supposed it was quite good to see his stupid face again. Annoying, but good.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

After dinner, and with Sally still not leaving Bobby’s side for more than a second, Frankie, feeling a little like a spare part, made her excuses and went for a wander by herself.

Halfway up the hill out of the village she spotted a lone figure sitting on the bench that overlooked Guernsey, precisely the spot she’d been hoping to nobble herself. The view of St Peter Port in the daytime was spectacular enough, but at night, with all the lights twinkling in the darkness and reflecting on the water, it was showstopping.

‘Thought I might see you here,’ said Jake as she sat down beside him.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your, er, you.’

‘You’re not. I was just getting some air.’

‘Didn’t know you were back,’ said Frankie, conscious of his nearness in the dark.

‘Came in on the lunchtime ferry. You guys were a bit preoccupied.’

Frankie gaped at him in disbelief. ‘You were on the same ferry as–?’