Page 81 of Washed Up

‘Ha ha, it’s okay, I’m aware I sound like a complete tool.’

‘No, it’s not that. You don’t. It’s just weird, that’s all. Do go on.’

Dylan’s lips curled into another of those lazy smiles. ‘We had a band meeting and decided we’d all take a few weeks with our families. Some of the guys have girlfriends, and Johnny, our drummer, is married with two kids. All this is quite tough on them at the best of times.’

‘And you?’ Frankie’s voice was tight in her throat.

Dylan shook his head. ‘Me? I don’t have anyone. I’m a bit of a loner, deep down. I need time to recover when I’ve done too much peopling, does that make sense?’

She nodded, relief flooding through her. I don’t have anyone. ‘It’s never exactly been a problem for me, that. Not living here. Mind you, it can be a bit claustrophobic with the locals knowing all your business.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘But even on the busiest day, too many people is not usually a problem we have to deal with.’ He came to be alone. Frankie’s heart was thrumming in her ears, making it hard to concentrate. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.

‘Well, that’s exactly it, isn’t it? This place is perfect. Inspiration everywhere you look. We’re basically living off the first set of songs I wrote when I was eighteen. We desperately need some new material.’

‘Like the one you sent me the other day?’ she said eagerly, studying his reaction. Which was not what she expected. At all.

A shadow flashed across his face and her stomach sank. ‘Ah. That. I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t really finished. I shouldn’t have sent it; I regretted it straight away.’

‘Oh,’ said Frankie, heart sinking into her shoes.

‘Sorry,’ he said again.

‘No. No that’s fine. I thought it was beautiful actually, but you know, what do I know?’

He looked at her for a long moment. ‘I’m really glad you liked it. It… just needs a bit more work.’

‘Sure. Anyway,’ she said, as brightly as she could manage, ‘you might write some new stuff here. This is so exciting.’

‘Yeah. I need to be alone for a while. I couldn’t think of anywhere more perfect.’

‘Oh, of course.’ Frankie couldn’t help the flat tone in her voice. ‘You need to be alone, to write.’

‘Yes, exactly,’ he said, eyes shining. ‘I’m at the hotel tonight but your mum has arranged for me to have Heron Cottage again. For two weeks. Me and my notebooks and the guitar. I can’t wait to get started.’

‘My mother knew you were coming?’ said Frankie, ice threading through her veins.

He frowned, that little line on his forehead deepening. ‘Yes. She didn’t tell you?’

‘Of course she didn’t tell me. Do you think I would have been… do you think I’d… erm, I mean, do you think I’d let you move into one of our cottages without making sure it was perfect for you?’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ He smiled. ‘I already feel more relaxed.’

‘Good, that’s great,’ said Frankie faintly. ‘I hope you enjoy the stay.’

‘Shall we walk?’ said Dylan, eyes already pulling back to the sea.

‘I’d like that,’ said Frankie, trying to keep her features in some kind of order. But all she could think about was that one fatal phrase: I need to be alone for a while. Like a stab to the heart, sharp and quick and immensely painful.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Frankie managed to hold it together long enough to walk Dylan back to the hotel, though her stomach was churning the entire way.

He was here. Actually here, on Herm. He was single. He was staying for two whole weeks. He had told her mum, but not her. He’d seen her holding hands with Jake. And he wanted to be alone.

Her poor brain wasn’t sure which of those pieces of information to process first, or which was related to which. It seemed to have decided to process none at all, and was frozen into some kind of catatonic state instead. Immaculate timing.