Page 68 of Washed Up

…In that moment, it all went blurry

…My heart, about to burst

…Your green eyes shining

…The wind swirls around us but all I can see is you

…And I cannot wait to see you again…

Was there even a chance that bloody Dylan had actually written her a bloody song?

New and improved Frankie didn’t have the first clue how to react.

She awoke the next morning still clutching her phone.

Jake who?

There wasn’t much time to think it all through, though, as she’d awoken not to the familiar washing of the waves on the shore but something much closer to home. The sound of an almighty kerfuffle was coming from downstairs.

One guess: Bobby.

Sure enough, she stumbled down the stairs in her pyjamas to find her brother in an olive-green jumper and green combat trousers, sitting at their kitchen table while Lily frantically buzzed around the room making – or at least attempting to make – the biggest and most chaotic cooked breakfast Frankie had ever seen. Her father was sitting at the head of the table, with coffee and orange juice – where had they even got orange juice from? wondered Frankie, as there had been none the day before – reading the paper but still with that proud, happy smile on his face.

‘Is “army” your whole personality now?’ said Frankie, indicating his clothes, which looked suspiciously similar to a uniform. ‘Don’t you ever give it a rest? Wear a nice pair of board shorts or some platform heels just for the giggles?’

Bobby laughed. ‘I guess it might be. Don’t you like it?’

Frankie waved a hand down herself. ‘I prefer the mismatched pyjama look.’

‘So I see.’

‘How did it go with Sally last night?’ she said, pulling up a chair and helping herself to coffee. She’d decided to ignore Lily, knowing better than to intervene when her totally undomesticated mother was attempting to cook.

‘Ooh yes, how did it go, darling?’ said Lily, cursing as she smashed another egg she was attempting to break gently into the pan.

Brian shifted anxiously. ‘Do you need any help, darling?’ he said, but Frankie shook her head.

‘You have to let her do it, Dad.’ She giggled. ‘She needs to learn.’

‘Frankie, honestly,’ said Lily but she was smiling, too, as she merrily broke two more eggs on the worktop and cheerfully slid the remains straight into the bin.

‘You’re in a good mood today, sis,’ said Bobby, raising his eyebrows at her. ‘Perhaps I should be asking about your evening instead.’

Her face flushed, and she stared down at the table.

Brian laughed. ‘Your sister’s in love with a famous musician, hasn’t she told you?’

Bobby blinked. ‘What?’

Brian piped up, as Frankie’s face grew even warmer. ‘Didn’t she tell you? That singer from the Misdemeanours was here for a bit. Hey, he left on a helicopter, too. Maybe you two can be best mates.’

Bobby was still blinking at them as if they had all lost their minds. ‘Have you all gone mad? Do you mean Dylan Wright? What the effin hell would Dylan Wright be doing on Herm? Are you sure it wasn’t just someone who looks like him?’

Frankie put her head in her hands. ‘It was him, all right,’ she mumbled. ‘His mates put him on the ferry for a laugh. Found him in Heron Cottage the next morning. Thought he was dead at first.’

‘And then… what? He hung out with you all for a bit, did he?’ Bobby’s face was a picture of incredulity.

Frankie nodded, enjoying his discomfiture a little too much. ‘Kind of, yes. A storm blew in and he couldn’t get back. So he hung out with us in the pub for a bit, as you so eloquently put it, and he even helped out when Dad decided to try and get himself nearly killed.’