Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
After thirty minutes, Frankie stood up. Her face was burning but she walked as calmly as she could past crowded tables, murmurings all around her as the diners casually tried not to look at her, through to the lobby, paid the bill with Sally and set off for home.
Sally’s face had been all scrunched up with pain and pity for her, but she couldn’t face discussing it.
And after all, it was no big deal, right?
He’d taken a phone call and he’d had to leave.
And maybe it was some kind of emergency and if it was, she’d feel terrible for making any kind of fuss.
All she could do was leave with a modicum of dignity – okay, none, not a shred of dignity whatsoever – and wait to hear from him.
It was a small island. She’d definitely hear from him soon.
There was absolutely no reason to trudge back to the Manor, but trudge she did.
There was absolutely no reason to feel like crying, but she did.
The following morning, of course, after a few hours’ sleep, everything felt a bit better as it so often does.
Especially when she flipped over her phone to see a text message from Dylan.
Bleary-eyed, she sat up and pulled the covers up to her chin.
Condensation dripped down the windows, obscuring the extraordinary view.
The Manor House was always cold in the mornings no matter the temperature outside.
It was one of its many quirks. She shivered as she peered at her phone in the semi-darkness.
Dylan: I feel awful. I never meant for you to leave but Johnny was going on and on at me and I couldn’t get away. Please forgive me, Island Girl.
Frankie bit her lip. How to reply? Be mad or be nice?
Frankie: Island Girl?
Instantly he was typing a reply. When the three dots appeared *Dylan is typing* warmth spread through her. Or was it relief? Had he been waiting for her? That was a nice feeling.
Dylan: It’s just something I’m trying out. Like it?
Frankie: It needs some work, I think
Dylan: Fine. We can work on it tonight at dinner.
Frankie: (Toes curling)
Aren’t you meant to be writing?
Dylan: Indulge me. I owe you dessert.
Frankie: Fine.
Frankie: Oh.
Dylan: Oh?
Frankie: No.
Dylan: No?
Frankie: Buggeration. It’s Bobby’s last night tonight, I’d better be here. Sorry.
Dylan: Friday?
Frankie: Fine.
Dylan: Great. Friday it is. And sorry.
Frankie: No problem.
No kisses from either of them. But still, if he wanted a rematch, she wasn’t about to argue. She swallowed down hard on the red flags jostling around for attention in her brain. This was Dylan Wright. So what if he walked away from the table to take a call, then never came back? So what, indeed.
She hauled herself out of bed and set about her day’s work, willing it to be Friday already. Sadly, she still had Thursday to get through. Sadly, she still had saying goodbye to her brother to get through, and that was not going to be pretty.
That night, her family were all sitting by the fire in the house when the lights went out.
‘Dad?’ said Frankie into the darkness.
‘Just give it a minute,’ said Brian.
Power cuts were not rare on Herm. In fact, until the power station had been upgraded, it had been almost a weekly occurrence.
Plans were afoot for a new biofuel station that would mean they were completely self-sufficient, but for the moment the whole island relied on diesel shipped over on the ferry from Guernsey.
And, sometimes, on someone hitting it with a spanner when it wouldn’t play ball.
Bobby laughed. ‘Thanks for arranging a power cut on my last night on Herm. It wouldn’t be the same otherwise.’
Sally giggled from her position curled up on the sofa beside him. She was a permanent fixture in the Manor House these days. Frankie wondered for the hundredth time how she was going to cope when Bobby left.
‘Things have got much better, lately,’ said Frankie, a little defensively. ‘It hardly ever happens.’
‘Sure.’
‘Maybe something came loose in the storm,’ said Brian. ‘Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about?’
‘Sort of,’ said Lily.
‘How long are we going to give it, Dad?’ said Bobby just as a loud knock came at the door.
Lily was there first, grabbing a storm lantern on her way through the kitchen. Her dulcet tones drifted through to the lounge. ‘Dylan, how lovely. Don’t worry at all. Come on in and cuddle up with us.’
Something flipped in Frankie’s stomach. It was him. He was here.
She waved a little shyly as he came into the dimly lit room, the light from the fire casting odd shadows across their faces.
The others made vague noises of welcome, and pointedly tried not to look at Frankie as she smiled inwardly at them all trying to keep their cool with Dylan in the room.
Or maybe it was just her that was screaming internally.
‘I thought it was only Heron that was out,’ he said, gingerly making his way over to where Frankie was sitting on the small sofa in the corner, clambering past furniture and swearing quietly as he bumped his toe on the coffee table.
‘I spent ages trying to find the fuse box.’ He gave Frankie a sheepish smile as he sat down beside her, and her stomach did another little flip.
‘Nope. Sorry,’ said her father. ‘It’s probably only our quadrant. It doesn’t happen often–’
‘You keep saying that.’ Her mother tutted through the gloom, her lantern bobbing about next to her. ‘Dylan, darling, would you like something to drink? Tea? Oh shoot, I can’t make tea. Champagne?’
‘It is my last night,’ said Bobby.
‘Don’t encourage her,’ said Frankie, forcing herself to laugh despite how close Dylan was to her.
‘Champagne it is,’ said Lily.
‘Good with me,’ said Dylan.
‘Great to see you again, lad. Saved my life, this man,’ Brian said with a flourish of his hand.
‘That’s a bit dramatic, if I may say so,’ Dylan said with a low laugh, ‘but I’m glad to see you’re okay. How are you feeling?’
‘Right as rain. Right as rain,’ said Brian. ‘Doc says I need to rest but who’s got time for that?’
‘Well exactly, Mr Jacks,’ said Dylan.
‘Just Brian is fine,’ said Brian.
‘What’s all this Mr Jacks, anyway?’ said Frankie, her voice wobbling a little as his hand brushed hers in the dark. Her heart began to thump.
‘Mr Jacks was my father,’ said Brian, laughing. ‘In fact, scratch that. My grandfather.’
‘Just being polite,’ said Dylan, grinning back at him.
‘I think it’s lovely,’ said Lily, coming back into the room.
‘You would,’ said Brian good-naturedly.
‘It’s not coming back on, Dad,’ said Bobby.
‘I know. We’d best go investigate.’
‘Want us to come?’ said Frankie, then blushed at the ‘us’ that had slipped out without her thinking about it. She wasn’t sure if she imagined Dylan moving a fraction closer as she said it.
‘Nah, you’re okay. You two stay here,’ said her father, and his eyes slipped to Dylan for a second. He smirked and Frankie’s face heated instantly. ‘Bobby, son, I might need you, though.’
‘Well, I’m coming if he’s coming,’ said Sally. ‘It is my last night with you, Bobs. Plus, the genny and I are on excellent terms, if we did need to fire her up.’
‘Now I can’t just sit here,’ said Dylan, but he seemed quite comfortable.
Even Lily was pulling her wellies on.
‘We should really help. Even your mum’s going, look,’ he hissed to Frankie.
Her mum piped up, as if she’d heard him.
‘I need to check on our guests. Frankie, if you want a job, can you and Dylan head down to Fisherman’s?
All the cottages should have enough torches and candles but there’s a family down there, I don’t know, they might need some games or something.
Just, you know, reassure them, will you? ’
‘Sure thing,’ said Frankie, a little disappointed they had to leave their cosy nook by the fire.
‘Now, please,’ said Lily as she left, the door banging behind her.
‘We’re coming,’ said Frankie. But neither Dylan nor Frankie gave any sign of moving. Lingering, that was the word. Frankie was definitely lingering, anyhow.
Her dad, Bobby and Sally went next, Sally sending suggestive glances Frankie’s way, which fortunately no one could see because of the darkness. But Frankie knew they were there.
‘Then there were two,’ said Dylan, his voice low and very close to her ear.
Frankie shifted on the sofa, so conscious he was right beside her.
How was she supposed to remain mad at him in these conditions?
His face was even more handsome than usual in the firelight, all soft planes, with that mouth of his, that crooked smile she couldn’t take her eyes off.
He seemed to have the same idea, his eyes dropping to hers as she turned towards him.
His fingers were hovering over hers, as if he wanted to hold her hand but didn’t know how to go about it.
‘We should go,’ whispered Frankie.
‘You’re right,’ said Dylan, still looking at her mouth, showing no signs of moving.
Was he going to kiss her? In that moment it sure seemed like he was going to kiss her. Frankie’s whole body was on red alert, looking for the slightest sign that he was going to move towards her, her heart clanging so loudly she was sure he must be able to hear.
‘Is anyone here?’ came a voice from the kitchen.
It was Jake. Frankie’s blood turned to ice in her veins. There was no time to do anything but style it out.
‘Oh, it’s you two,’ said Jake, pushing into the room and peering through the darkness.
‘Hi, Jake,’ said Frankie, jumping to her feet. ‘We were just heading down to Fisherman’s.’
‘I came that way already. They’ve got light,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s only this side. I came to see if you were all okay. But I see that you are. So, I’ll go.’
Frankie took a step towards him, her heart twisting in her chest but still ever so conscious of Dylan’s leg resting against hers in the darkness.
‘Jake. Wait. I…’
What am I doing?
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,’ he said, voice like gravel. And with that, he was gone.
She sat back down. Dylan’s knee was pressed against hers again.
‘See?’ she said. ‘He’s not my hulking fisherman.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ said Dylan. ‘He definitely seems to think he is.’
‘Quite sure,’ said Frankie firmly.
‘Good. So, where were we?’
Frankie bit her lip, which only made Dylan’s gaze intensify. Frankie’s bones began dissolving into treacle and it was all she could do not to melt into him.
She swallowed. ‘He’s not my fisherman but…’
Dylan’s head moved back a fraction. ‘But…?’
‘Look, I don’t want to be unfair to Jake. I’ve known him for years. He’s a lovely guy.’
‘He always seems kind of uppity to me,’ said Dylan, giving an ironic twist of his mouth that made Frankie hit him on the arm.
‘Don’t be rude. He’s actually a really good guy and I don’t want to hurt him.’
Dylan moved closer and her breath hitched. ‘What makes you think we’re going to do anything to hurt him?’ he said, his eyes roaming over her body.
Frankie nearly lost the power of speech. ‘I’m serious,’ she squeaked out.
‘So am I.’
‘Dylan.’
He lifted his hands and moved a few inches away from her in one smooth movement. She immediately wanted him to come back. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You’re right. We need to play fair.’
‘Do you even know how to play fair?’ said Frankie, lifting an eyebrow.
Dylan did a good job of feigning offence. ‘Charming. I always play fair, I’ll have you know.’
‘Oh yeah, sure. So are you dating Lindsey Luft this week or whichever Rockington girl it is?’
To her surprise, he didn’t even flinch. ‘Been googling me, have you?’ he said smoothly.
Damn. Busted.
‘No. Not exactly. I just heard some rumours, that’s all.’
‘Out here? Sure, you did.’
‘Okay, fine. I googled you. I’m only human.’
Something flashed in his eyes, that shadow appeared again for a split second and then it was gone. He frowned. ‘When did you google me, out of interest?’
‘When? Or why?’
‘When?’
‘I don’t know. A couple of days ago, I guess. Why?’
Dylan shook his head. ‘No. Nothing.’ He smiled but it seemed a little forced. ‘Just wondered which girl it was this week.’
‘So you haven’t dated Lindsey Luft?’
‘Nooooooo. Are you kidding? She’s great, don’t get me wrong. But not my type.’
Frankie’s eyebrows nearly went through the roof. ‘Ah yes. Because talented and successful and gorgeous isn’t your type?’
Dylan caught her gaze with his own, and he lifted one hand to touch her curls. ‘I prefer brunettes,’ he said.
They looked at each other for a long moment, the shadows from the fire dancing across their faces.
Dylan’s navy-blue eyes were almost black in the firelight.
His gaze dropped to her lips again, and Frankie was just wondering how the hell she was going to resist this man any longer.
She’d tried her best, after all, surely that was enough, surely even Jake would understand… Then the lights came back on.