Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It was nearly time for dinner and still, Frankie had heard nothing from Dylan.
Frankie had been helping out in the hotel anyway that afternoon, definitely to help her friend through the day, and definitely not so she’d have a way to save face if Dylan didn’t show for their pseudo-date or whatever it was.
She could hardly blame him if he didn’t.
He must be in a lot of pain. She cursed herself for not having guessed something was going on the moment he turned up.
Clearly, she didn’t know him as well as she had thought.
Clearly, Sally had been right all along when she said you couldn’t fall in love in just one day.
And yet, even the memory of those few stolen minutes alone in the dark with him at the Manor gave her goosebumps.
There was definitely something between them.
Something chemical, something undeniable.
She was sure of it. Most of the time, she was sure of it.
Was it enough to sustain something real?
That was the question. Was there even a possibility of that right now?
Was she a selfish cow for even thinking there might be?
‘Penny for them?’ said Sally, coming up to the reception desk to relieve Frankie, who jumped at her voice. ‘Also, your date is here.’
‘What?’ said Frankie, stupidly. She had indeed been lost in her thoughts.
‘I said, Dylan’s here. He’s in the restaurant,’ said Sally, smiling for what may have been the first time that day, from what Frankie had seen.
‘Oh. Oh.’ Her heart was suddenly racing.
‘Yup. Get going.’
Frankie leapt out of her seat, then checked herself. ‘Wait. Sal, how are you doing?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said her friend, though her eyes went glassy. ‘I’m okay.’
‘We’ll talk…’ said Frankie.
‘…later,’ said Sally. ‘When you’re not busy,’ she added with a smirk.
‘I’m so sorry. I can cancel if you need company,’ said Frankie, though her entire being was begging her not to say yes.
Sally snorted. ‘Ask you to cancel a date with Dylan Wright? Are you kidding?’
Frankie let out a breath. ‘Fine. But this is not a date. It’s just dinner. Just to be clear.’
Another snort from Sally. ‘Sure, it is.’
As Frankie made her way into the restaurant, she wasn’t sure herself. Dylan had maintained radio silence all day, but then perhaps he was dealing with the press, or just working things through. She had tried so hard not to disturb him, it had been painful.
And now there he was, sitting in a seat by the window, watching her as she approached.
God, he looked good. His dark hair was mussier than usual, and that little worry line in his forehead was definitely more pronounced, but his smile as she walked towards him, that was a smile that could melt glass.
A pang of self-consciousness shot through her, and smoothed down her green skater dress, borrowed in yet another fit of panic from Sally.
It was a little tight to say the least, a little more revealing than her usual attire, but Dylan seemed to approve.
Still, if this was going to be a regular occurrence, and oh how she hoped it would be, she desperately needed to go shopping.
‘Hi,’ he said as she approached the table.
Her stupid face had betrayed her already, lighting up into a beaming smile the second she’d set eyes on him, which now seemed to be fixed in place despite her efforts to control it.
‘You look amazing,’ he said quietly.
Her cheeks were already burning as she slipped into the seat opposite him, trying to ignore the whispers and stares from the other diners. Dylan seemed oblivious. He was used to it, she supposed. And he hadn’t taken his eyes from her face the whole time.
‘You okay there?’ he said as she settled back into her chair.
‘Yup. Uh-huh, mmm,’ she managed, her face on fire.
‘Glad we got that straight.’ He laughed.
She played with her cutlery. ‘Sorry. It’s just good to see you.’
‘Well, that’s rather lovely to hear. Are you going to look at me at any point or…?’
‘In a minute,’ she said, still looking down at the table. ‘I was worried about you,’ she squeaked out after a second or two.
‘Ah,’ said Dylan. ‘Yes.’ He put a hand on hers. The elderly couple on the next table had been openly staring at Dylan through this whole exchange and the move of his hand nearly sent them apoplectic. To Dylan’s credit, he continued to ignore them.
Meanwhile his touch was sending a buzz of little thrills down Frankie’s spine. She shifted in her seat.
‘How’s Sally?’ he said. ‘And your mum? Must have been a tough goodbye.’
‘It was, but they’re doing okay, I think. It was weirdly good to see him.’
‘He’s all right, your brother.’
‘Well let’s not get carried away,’ said Frankie.
‘Sorry,’ said Dylan, chuckling.
‘You just left,’ she said, lifting her eyes to his for the first time.
Dylan’s face fell. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘I was worried about you,’ she said again, lamely.
It was his turn to play with his cutlery. ‘I felt bad. I should have told you about the band from the start. I’m so sorry.’
She tutted. ‘It’s not that. I don’t mind that you didn’t tell me.’ Did she? ‘At least, I understand, anyway.’
Dylan’s eyes widened. ‘You do?’
‘Of course. But you could have told me about the split. We wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have judged you or anything.’
Dylan sat back in his chair, his fingertips still brushing hers. ‘It wasn’t that.’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘No, not at all. I trust you completely.’ A little jolt of warmth tumbled through her at his words. ‘I hadn’t processed it all myself, that’s all. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. It’s been… unbelievably hard. Painful.’
Andy the waiter sidled up discreetly and placed two menus into their hands. He seemed to sense the mood and hovered at the edge of their vision.
‘A bottle of the Pinot Grigio, please,’ said Frankie without taking her eyes off Dylan.
‘Thanks, man,’ added Dylan.
‘Yes, thanks, Andy,’ said Frankie.
Their eyes stayed locked for a long moment. Dylan was the first to break it and Frankie felt the absence of those deep navy eyes, longing for him to look back at her. But he was staring at the menu now, a frown on his face.
‘You were saying?’ she said gently.
‘Yes. Sorry. I’m just conscious of…’ He indicated around the room. She stared for a second, before she realised what he meant. Listening ears.
‘You’re right. Sorry, not the best place. Let’s talk about something else.’
‘Great. Thanks.’
They ordered steaks. It felt like a steak kind of night.
While they waited, they stared out of the windows to the sea. The sun was setting behind the island, leaving pink and purple hues across the calm water, soft blues and greens tipped with white. Dark seabirds flew across, low to the water, little more than streamlined shapes.
‘It seems impossible to believe that storm ever happened,’ he said, suddenly.
‘When you came, you mean? I know. They don’t happen often but because we’re right out here, when they come it’s usually pretty fun.’
He took a sip of wine, shaking his head at her. ‘What’s even harder to believe is that this is where you grew up.’
Frankie stared at him, trying to discern his tone. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Just that. You’re so…?’
‘What?’
‘Normal. You’d think you’d all end up like cultists or something, living out here. Or that’s what I would have thought before I got dumped on that ferry.’
Frankie smiled back. ‘That’s what you thought for a while after you got here, too, admit it. Or at least, that we were a bunch of hermits. If that’s not a contradiction in terms.’
The food arrived at that moment and Dylan smiled at her as Andy put down their plates with a little flourish and retreated.
‘You are a bunch of hermits,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The Herm-its! That can be your band name!’
She laughed a little too loudly and several of the nearby guests cast disapproving looks their way. ‘Why have I never thought of that before? Herm-its. Maybe that’s where the name came from.’
‘It’s pretty good. Or should it be Herm-ites? Hmmm, Herm-its is better, I think. I bet there’s not even a collective noun for them, too much of a contradiction.’ He picked up his phone for the first time during the meal.
‘Ooh, I do love a good collective noun,’ said Frankie. ‘An aurora of polar bears. That’s my favourite.’
He laughed as he tapped out a Google search. ‘I love that you even have a favourite. A walk of snails is a pretty good one. Now there’s a contradiction.’ And then, eyes on the screen, ‘There actually is one, would you believe? An observance of hermits. That’s rather nice.’
‘That’s lovely. Even if it is a paradox.’ She folded her arms, watching him carefully. ‘I hadn’t picked you for a grammar nerd.’
‘Don’t tell anyone.’ He laughed.
‘I won’t. You have a reputation to uphold, after all.’
‘I used to,’ he said, suddenly serious.
They both fell silent as the food arrived, and as they were munching their steak and chips, the mood shifted as they contemplated the weight of those words.
‘Sorry,’ said Frankie.
‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.’ He looked at her so intently then, she thought she might combust.
‘I’m still sorry,’ she managed.
‘Appreciate it,’ he said.
As they finished their meal, a thought struck Frankie and she blurted it out before she could hesitate.
‘Tomorrow,’ she said, ‘it’s Saturday and I’m owed a day off.
I know you need to write, but do you fancy coming for a puffin walk with me?
You haven’t been to Herm properly until you’ve done the coast walk. ’
‘I don’t,’ said Dylan.
Frankie’s heart sank. ‘Oh, don’t worry, sorry, it was just a thought. Probably a daft one.’
He chuckled, low and soft. ‘No, I mean, I don’t need to write.’
‘What?’
‘I said I needed to write so I could have some space. Not from you,’ he added, hastily, ‘but so I didn’t need to explain being a hermit.’
‘Ha.’
‘But I’m not writing. I can’t write right now. It’s too painful. The words won’t come.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Her heart twisted.
‘The last song I wrote…’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, I’ve mainly been staring at the walls these past few days. So I’d love to come on a puffin walk. Whatever the hell that is.’
‘You’ll see,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level. ‘I’ll come pick you up at 9am sharp. Before all the tourists arrive.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’