Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
And there he was. Dylan Wright. The Dylan Wright.
Not some chancer or a shipwrecked nobody, as it turned out, but an actual bona fide rock musician.
Right here on Herm as if he’d never been away.
Leaning on the fingerpost sign at the T junction near Belvoir, already grinning that grin as she made her way towards him as casually as she could.
Everything had been perfect in the house.
She’d felt confident, sexy even. Now he was standing there in person, though, she felt mumsy and awkward in the dress and more and more like a country bumpkin.
I preferred it when I didn’t know he was famous, she thought as she tried not to slip and slide down the last bit of the path towards him in her posh(est) flip-flops with fancy silver buckles.
Still, Dylan didn’t seem to think she was mumsy or awkward, thank God. He let out a low whistle as she approached that set her skin tingling.
He was wearing the same jeans but he’d changed into a dark blue shirt the exact shade of his eyes. It was a good look. He also had a package under his arm.
‘I popped in to see Charlie and bought fish and chips for us,’ he said, waving them at her. ‘I hope that’s okay.’
‘Ooh,’ said Frankie. It was all she could manage. Being this close to him seemed to have rendered her speechless.
‘I know it’s not a patch on a picnic,’ said Dylan with a sly smile.
‘This is turning into quite the day,’ replied Frankie carefully.
Dylan snorted. ‘That’s for damn sure.’
‘Shall we go?’ Frankie was already leading the way towards Shell Beach, sending up silent prayers that they wouldn’t bump into Jake, or her mother, or any one of the sixty plus islanders for that matter.
As they got to the first corner on the cliff path, Frankie put a hand briefly on Dylan’s arm. He turned to her, curious. ‘Wait for it,’ she said, willing her cheeks not to redden under his gaze.
‘What?’ he said, bemused.
‘Just trust me. You go first.’
She stepped aside and let Dylan turn the corner ahead of her. From his reaction, she knew the exact moment he’d seen it. He let out a high-pitched whistle, then a ‘Woah’.
‘Yup,’ said Frankie, coming up next to him.
Side by side, they admired the view. The first glimpse of Shell Beach from the coastal path was something extraordinary, and with the sun low in the sky, the perfect rectangle of white sandy beach stretching across as if it was reaching out into the ocean itself, with the swathe of dunes behind, it was nothing short of breathtaking.
A scene from the Caribbean, not a tiny corner of the United Kingdom.
She’d been seeing it since she was a toddler, but it never failed to make Frankie smile.
‘That is Shell Beach,’ said Frankie.
Dylan blew out a slow breath. ‘It’s incredible,’ he said. Frankie’s heart swelled with pride. Anyone who could appreciate the beauty of Herm was fine by her but hearing Dylan’s reaction made her a teensy bit giddy.
They walked along the path a bit further, the view getting more and more beautiful as they approached, the path underfoot growing thick with sand.
Wildflowers in purples, pinks and whites waved in the light breeze and butterflies hovered between them in the late afternoon sun, which was still warm on their backs as they walked.
‘So,’ said Frankie, as they rounded the next corner.
‘So?’
‘You’re back.’
‘I am.’
‘Are you going to tell me why?’ Frankie’s voice had gone a bit strange and squeaky and she tried to cover it with a cough.
‘You okay?’ he said, frowning.
‘Yeah, just a touch of hay fever,’ she improvised quickly.
‘Ah cool. Um, yeah, so about that,’ said Dylan, his voice trailing off as they stepped onto the beach, the sand soft and yielding beneath their feet, and stood for a moment, looking at the sea.
‘You were saying?’ prompted Frankie.
‘Shall we eat first?’ said Dylan, indicating the rows of benches outside the little café, which were thankfully empty.
‘Sure,’ said Frankie, grateful that the café owner, Albert, had decided not to take his break out the front as he so often did. He was worse than Betty for the gossip.
After a few minutes they were munching happily on the now lukewarm fish and chips – at least, Dylan was; Frankie’s appetite had all but disappeared – and staring out to sea.
Finally, Frankie got up the courage to tap his arm with one finger. ‘You were about to tell me what you’re doing here?’
Dylan slowly licked the salt from his fingers. Frankie tried not to stare. ‘It’s…’
‘Yes?’
‘What am I doing here?’ he said with a lazy smile.
‘Let’s have a think, shall we? Could it be because it’s a beautiful island and I thought it would be a great place for a rest?
Or perhaps it’s because it’s somewhere I won’t get hassled by fans, being so secluded and all.
Perhaps I’ve developed a disdain for the motor car and I fancied a petrol-free destination.
Or maybe,’ he paused, and Frankie held her breath.
‘Just maybe, it’s because I met a girl and I simply cannot get her out of my head. ’
Frankie let out her breath all in a rush. ‘What?’
‘You heard me,’ said Dylan.
‘I did in fact hear you,’ said Frankie as her mind stuttered to an emergency stop.
Dylan toyed with a stray packet of ketchup on the table. ‘And maybe, just maybe, I came all the way back here only to find that girl holding hands with another man and now I’m wondering if this is a terrible mistake.’
All the blood drained from Frankie’s body and she had to brace herself against the table at his words, her mouth like cotton wool, pulse hammering in her ears.
‘No. That’s not… no, I… No.’
‘No?’ said Dylan, one eyebrow raised.
‘No,’ said Frankie firmly. ‘It’s not a terrible mistake.’
‘You say that, but that hulking fisherman of yours might beg to differ.’
Frankie took a moment to try to get her thoughts in order. But before she could respond, Dylan sat back in his chair.
‘Don’t worry, Frankie. It’s okay. I’ll… sobs… I’ll get over you. I’ll move on. You’ll see. I’ll learn to love again.’
She shook her head, hastily. ‘No, it’s not… I…’
He laughed and her stomach plummeted. ‘Actually, it is. It’s fine. Really. I was only teasing you. That’s not actually why I came back.’
‘You’re…? I’m sorry? What?’ No, now was the moment all the blood drained from her body.
He shrugged. ‘I could hardly expect you to wait for me, could I? You didn’t even know if I’d come back.
A girl like you…’ He didn’t elaborate and Frankie couldn’t find the words to ask.
‘Besides…’ He gestured around him, the sky turning pink overhead, the lowering sun spreading its golden tendrils across the sea, the dune grasses waving gracefully in the warm breeze.
‘Look at this place. Even in the middle of that storm, I could see it was special. Coming back, to this. It’s paradise. I can’t believe you get to live here.’
‘Oh,’ said Frankie, a stone settling in her stomach. A stone and also nausea. ‘Yes, of course. It’s the island. It’s magic.’ She managed a weak smile.
‘I mean, that’s not all, of course.’
Frankie tried to look nonchalant. ‘It’s not?’
Dylan shook his head slowly. ‘No. Can I be really honest? It goes no further.’
‘You can tell me anything,’ said Frankie, then bit her lip. Way to play it cool.
Another of those long, languorous sighs. A glimpse of that hesitation she’d spotted earlier in the day. As if he was debating something.
Eventually he said, ‘Look, the truth is, I needed a break. A real break. This life, it’s… well, I can’t say it’s tough because that sounds ungrateful and I’m super grateful. But it’s a lot. The social media, the messages.’
‘The screaming girls,’ said Frankie with a smirk.
He laughed. ‘That bit I enjoy, mostly. But yes, it can be a bit much. And it gets to me sometimes. As soon as I saw this place…’
Frankie lifted an eyebrow.
‘Okay, fine,’ he said, laughing, ‘almost as soon as I saw this place, I knew it would be perfect for a bit of a reset. I need to write some new material. I needed some space.’
Frankie felt like she was having an out of body experience. What was happening? ‘That must be really hard to do in a hotel room surrounded by champagne bottles.’
‘It is,’ he said, with a fake sob.
‘Poor you.’
‘It’s a tough life.’
‘So how long are you staying, then?’ For the writing. ‘And don’t the others mind?’
Dylan scratched at a mark on the table. ‘They’ll be fine,’ he said, and there was a hard edge to his voice that Frankie squirrelled away to examine later. ‘We’ve had back-to-back gigs, for weeks now it feels like, and that’s not even the tour.’
‘It’s not?’
‘No. We’re meant to tour again in the autumn, UK and Europe, but before that we, uh, well, we had a couple of weeks clear in the calendar. We had a band meeting–’
Frankie snorted, then covered her face with her hand, aghast. ‘Sorry I didn’t mean to do that out loud.’
‘Oh God, you were thinking of “this one time, at band camp”. Go on admit it.’
‘It did cross my mind,’ said Frankie, giggling.
‘You’re not the first.’ Dylan laughed. ‘Told you that movie was a classic.’
Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, you were having a meeting with the band. God, this whole conversation is so surreal.’
‘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.