Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Frankie avoided Jake for as long as she could, but two days later, there he was as she came out of Kingfisher cottage on a warm sunny morning.
Leaning on the gatepost, arms crossed. Looking quite delicious, actually, it had to be said.
With still no word from Dylan, she was starting to think she’d imagined the whole song thing.
And Jake was looking like a pretty good back-up option all round.
She studied him, tried to get a handle on any feelings that might be lurking about inside her, but all she could think was that he looked damn fine in the morning sunshine.
Was that enough to sustain… whatever this was?
‘Hey, you,’ he said, seemingly unbothered that she was just standing there, staring at him.
‘Good morning,’ she said, pulling the door to behind her.
He pushed off the gatepost with one foot and walked towards her. ‘How have you been?’
She tucked a few strands of curly hair behind her ear. ‘Good. You?’
He ignored the question, reached down and picked up a picnic basket that had been sitting by the gate.
‘Shell Beach?’ he said, waving said basket in front of her.
‘You made a picnic?’ she said, unable to keep the smile off her face.
‘I might have.’ He smiled. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I’m working.’
He shrugged. ‘You are entitled to a lunch break, you know. I know you work for your slavedriver parents but still.’
Frankie giggled. ‘It’s only 11am.’
More shrugging. ‘So, it’s an early lunch. Brunch. Whatever the kids are calling it these days.’
She smiled. Why the hell not? ‘Fine. Let’s go.’
‘Good.’
A smile played on her lips as they ambled along towards the crossroads in companionable silence, turning without discussion towards Belvoir Bay to pick up the coast road. As the cove came into view before them, Frankie drew in a breath. ‘I always did love Belvoir,’ she said, biting her lip.
It was looking particularly beautiful today.
The sun was sparkling off a calm sea, the sand was golden and soft, summer meadow flowers were bursting into bloom on either side of the path and there was little sound save the calling of a buzzard overhead, the chirruping of the warblers in the hedgerows.
‘Belvoir it is,’ said Jake without hesitation, leading her down the steep slope past the café to the sandy beach, waving to Betty as they passed.
She waved back gaily with a little ‘yoo-hoo, you two’, as if it was perfectly normal to see Jake and Frankie together.
Which it was, thought Frankie, but somehow today felt different.
The beach was deserted, for once. It was a Saturday morning, changeover day, but Belvoir was a popular spot with visitors and locals alike. The next ferry was due in the next hour, and would no doubt bring a cacophony of noise, but for now, they were alone.
Jake produced a soft tartan blanket and laid it in a prime spot at the top of the beach.
Belvoir, unlike Shell Beach, was much more enclosed, protected from the elements, and the sun was hot on their faces as they sat down next to each other and stared out to sea towards Sark, Herm’s larger island neighbour.
‘Aren’t you working today?’ said Frankie after a few moments.
‘Later,’ said Jake. ‘When the tide goes out, I need to get back.’
Frankie studied the water line. Guernsey and Herm had one of the largest tidal ranges in the world, and she knew the beach would change dramatically over the next couple of hours, uncovering delightful rock pools all along the sides of the cove.
But for now, the crystal blue water lapped softly only metres away from where they sat, the sound instantly calming to Frankie’s ears despite being all too aware of the man sitting beside her.
What was this, exactly? A date? It sure seemed like a date.
‘How’s work been going?’ she said, although she knew the answer. The success or otherwise of the oyster farm on Fisherman’s Beach was a constant source of conversation for the locals.
‘Good. It’s going to be a good year, I think.’
‘Great.’
Jake reached behind him and produced a bottle of Prosecco. ‘Look, I didn’t bring you here to talk about the fishing stocks.’
‘You didn’t?’ said Frankie as innocently as she could.
‘No. Of course not. I wanted to talk to you about something and… Well, I’ve been working up to it.’
‘Working up to what exactly?’
Jake turned his body towards her, his eyes studying her face, dropping to her lips, her own body heating under his gaze. ‘Frankie, I’ll be honest with you, I just can’t stop thinking about that kiss.’
Frankie dropped her eyes. ‘Me neither,’ she mumbled, although it wasn’t strictly true. ‘But I thought you said I needed to sort myself out, you know. Decide what I want and all that.’
Jake smiled. ‘You do. You definitely do.’
Recognition dawned. ‘So you thought you’d show me what I could have?’
‘Now you’re catching on,’ he said, popping the cork with a quick twist of his hands.
‘Clever,’ she said. ‘But risky.’
‘Risky?’
‘Yes. I don’t want to alarm you, but it entirely rests on the quality of the picnic.’
Jake snorted. ‘Then I have nothing to worry about.’
Frankie frowned at him, confused.
‘Oh I’m not being cocky, trust me.’
‘Betty made it, didn’t she?’ said Frankie, laughing.
He grinned. ‘Damn straight. I make terrible sandwiches.’
‘Thank God. Please tell me you got crab.’
‘I got crab. Dig in.’
And like a magician he reached into the basket with a flourish, producing two of the fattest crab sandwiches Frankie had ever seen.
Betty’s sandwiches were famous on the island, the perfect ratio of thick-cut soft white bread to real Guernsey butter, filled with the most delicious freshly made crab mayonnaise.
She took a bite of the pillowy soft sandwich and closed her eyes. ‘Delicious,’ she said.
‘Definitely,’ said Jake, in a voice that made her open them again. He was watching her eat. It was a little unnerving.
‘I meant the sandwich,’ she said, trying to make light of it.
Jake nodded. ‘Oh yes, me too,’ he said, but his green eyes were intense.
‘That’s okay, then.’
They ate in silence, Frankie suddenly self-conscious.
This was ridiculous. It was Jake. She’d known him for years but in this moment, he was like a stranger.
Had she really kissed him like that? It seemed a lifetime ago in some ways, but she would never forget the way her body had tingled at his touch.
Jake cleared his throat as if searching for something to say.
Frankie filled the silence in the end, with her go-to Belvoir Bay fact. ‘Did you know that a young boy was drowned here in the 1500s with his schoolteacher?’
Jake blinked.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, ploughing on. ‘A strange choice of subject matter for a picnic, maybe.’
‘Not at all, I always love to talk about death on a date.’
Frankie laughed. ‘Good. We’ll get along fine then.’ A date.
‘Do go on,’ said Jake.
‘It was a lad called Walter St John. He was only about twelve. He and his friends came down for a swim with their teacher and both the teacher and Walter drowned.’
‘That’s terrible.’
‘I know. He was royalty maybe, or at least, from a noble family, I guess that’s probably the only reason it got recorded.
The really sad thing is that they were staying at Castle Cornet and had only come over to Herm for a day or two.
Walter had stayed up all night the night before because he was so excited to come to Herm with his father. Isn’t that tragic?’
Jake was frowning out to sea. ‘Here? How could anyone drown here? It’s like the safest beach ever.’
‘That’s the weird thing about it,’ said Frankie, warming to her subject.
‘All the witnesses said they got swept out by the tide and caught up in seaweed, but there’s no way that could have happened here, it’s super shallow and clear.
The most likely theory is that the bay and the coastline have changed since then. ’
‘Changed how?’
Frankie pointed out to sea where a rock called Caquorobert stood proudly out of the water. ‘If that’s where the water used to come up, that might explain it, it’s much deeper there. Lots of seaweed and rocks, we’ve kayaked around it a few times.’
‘Makes sense. How awful.’
‘It really is.’
‘Any other horrifying stories you want to share with me about this beautiful island?’
She considered that for a long moment. ‘No. That’s it for now I think.’
‘Right then.’
They were silent for a long while after that, Frankie cursing herself for her choice of anecdote. Why had she decided to tell him that? Why did she always feel the need to fill the silence? Especially with a horror story.
‘I think you’ve given me PTSD with that,’ said Jake, after a time.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t control my mouth sometimes.’
‘Nothing wrong with your mouth,’ he replied, then hastily cleared his throat. ‘I mean, ahem, it’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘I did kill the conversation though, didn’t I?’
‘You did a bit. But don’t worry,’ said Jake, putting one finger in the air. ‘I have cake.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ said Frankie with relief.
Jake handed her a thick chocolate éclair filled with cream and she ate it without a word.
‘Anyway,’ he said when she’d finished. ‘A quick lie down, I think, then I need to get back. I’m meant to be helping at the harbour.’ He lay back on the blanket, hands behind his head.
After a beat of uncertainty, Frankie followed suit, and they lay side by side staring at the fluffy clouds, the bluest of blue skies over their heads, with Frankie desperately trying to think of something else to say that didn’t involve death or drowning. Why was it so hard?
‘How’s your brother getting on with Sally?’ said Jake eventually.
‘Erm. Well, I haven’t seen either of them much so I’m guessing it’s going well.’
‘Good on him,’ said Jake, then, as if remembering the company he was in, he added, ‘Sorry, I mean, good for them.’
Frankie sighed. ‘I just don’t know what she’s going to do when he’s gone again. I’m amazed he’s stuck out the army for this long, to be honest; he’s not exactly a sticker.’
‘Maybe she’ll change him. Maybe he already has.’
‘Doubtful,’ said Frankie.
Their hands were almost touching as they laid there next to each other on the blanket, and Frankie wondered whether she should make the first move.
She wiggled her fingers a little, testing how far she’d need to move, seeing whether he reacted to her touch.
Their hands brushed lightly and Frankie expected to feel a little frisson, but…
nothing. Was this sexual tension between them or just ennui?
Was she turned on or just bored? Just as Jake clearly had the same idea, moving his hand to take her fingers between his own, a shadow stretched across them both as someone approached.
‘This looks cosy,’ said a deep voice.
Frankie shielded her eyes, heart already thumping in her chest. It couldn’t be. It really couldn’t be, but somehow it was.
‘Dylan?’ she said, more of a squeal than a coherent sound.
‘Hello, Frankie,’ said Dylan.