Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Frankie’s brother was called Bobby and, just like Lord Voldemort, no one ever dared speak his name.
On the island, to the locals, it was as though Bobby had never existed.
But to Frankie, he was always there, lingering in the back of her mind.
Teasing her like he always used to, putting ice down her back, letting the donkeys out in the middle of the night – not that they needed any assistance in causing havoc – sneaking spiders and snails and other nasties into her bedroom when she was asleep.
All those things that annoying older brothers did to their little sisters.
Until they left home unexpectedly, that is.
He’d been trouble, of course he had. The only trouble Betty, as the island’s part-time police officer, had ever had to deal with.
Bobby was the only resident in recent memory who had ever spent time in the world’s smallest jail; the tiny domed structure in the garden of the Herm Island Hotel, which was only big enough for one occupant.
Rarely, if ever, in use except for the odd drunken fisherman, Bobby had actually spent more than one night in it when Betty simply didn’t know what else to do with him. He had claimed to enjoy it, too.
And, of course, there was the fact that he was Sally’s ex.
Fair enough, they’d only been fifteen at the time, but to this day she had always claimed he was the love of her life, even when he was nicking stuff from the gift shop or sneaking behind the bar to steal the alcohol.
The day he left, she’d sat on the harbour wall staring across the water, tears rolling down her cheeks, until the sun sank beneath the horizon.
And that was exactly the problem. No matter how much trouble he caused. No matter how much heartache, how much pain, how much infuriation, the island was a poorer, smaller, quieter place without Bobby on it.
‘What does Herm’s naughtiest former resident have to say for himself?’ said Frankie, trying to keep her voice light. She couldn’t resist a quick glance at Sally, whose pale face was even paler now, practically Snow White levels of white, and her eyes were even wider.
‘That’s just it,’ said Lily. ‘He wants to come home.’
Sally made a little strangled noise in her throat, but it was Frankie who spoke first. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘Where the hell has he even been?’
Frankie knew the answer to her own question, to a point.
One measly scrappy letter had arrived, six months after he’d left, telling them he’d joined the army.
Somehow – somehow – with little more than the shirt on his back, Bobby had managed to enlist at the Army Foundation College in Yorkshire, presumably faking parental permissions in the process, though that would have been easy for him.
There’d been a few sporadic letters since, often brief, not saying a lot, which was partly for security reasons presumably, or at least that was the excuse he gave.
They didn’t even know for sure that he was still in the army.
Whether he’d actually lasted. Somehow, Frankie highly doubted it.
Lily clasped her hands on the table, her lips thin. ‘He’s coming over on the ferry on Wednesday. He’ll be here by twelve noon, or so he says.’
Sally let out another little moan.
‘You okay, Sal?’ said Frankie, putting a hand on her back.
Sally shook her head. ‘Bobby? Here?’ Her voice was low. She actually looked like she might faint.
‘Sounds like it.’
Lily smiled. A rare sight these days. ‘Your dad’s beside himself. He’s saying we need to have a little party, he’s so excited.’
‘And you? How do you feel?’
Her mother ran her hands through her dark curls; hazel eyes silvered with tears.
‘I don’t know, to tell you the truth. Is that an awful thing to say?
I know he’s my son. Of course I want to see him.
I can’t wait to see him. I’m going to hug him and never let him go. But whether I think I want a party…’
‘I think that’s understandable,’ said Frankie.
Lily sighed. ‘It’s been twelve years. Twelve years of worry. Twelve years since he’s been back. I cried when I got this letter, I couldn’t help it.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Frankie, although she didn’t.
Not truthfully. The pain for her had always been more about Bobby’s absence than his presence.
It was about what he’d left behind, the damage he’d done when he left, the broken pieces of their lives that she’d had to pick up and attempt to piece back together when Brian and Lily just weren’t strong enough.
For her mum and dad, though, it was totally and utterly devastating. There was no other word for it.
Lily exhaled. ‘I just can’t wait to give him a really big hug. Did I mention that?’
‘Me too,’ said Frankie. Did she? Is that how she felt?
Part of her was excited to see him, of course, but deep down she was also jealous.
Jealous seemed to be her default condition, these days.
If not jealous, then at least a little envious that he’d got away, that he’d been able to be that selfish when her own conscience had never let her do it.
And he’d gone first, of course he had. It wouldn’t have occurred to him for even one moment that once he’d left the island, she never could.
She could never have hurt her parents like that, not again.
And there it was. There was that other, secret part of her that was simply furious with him for harming her parents so badly. For abandoning them.
For trapping her on the island.
For leaving her behind.
If she was honest with herself, Frankie knew that’s when her mother had changed.
She had shut down, the grief overwhelming her.
That’s when she’d started drinking, that was true, but she’d also began to shut them all out.
She started flirting with the guests; made space between her and Brian.
As if she blamed him for the loss of their son, when Frankie knew with every part of her being that it was entirely Bobby’s fault.
He’d been a wrong’un, right from the start.
Nature vs nurture was all well and good in a biology textbook, but with the most beautiful place on earth to grow up in, with a loving family around him, with no cares in the world to weigh him down, it had to be in his nature.
And no amount of nurturing could have pulled that boy back from the brink.
‘What the hell am I going to wear?’ was all Sally could say.
On Wednesday morning, they gathered on the harbour.
Lily and Brian, Frankie and Sally, plus a few of the islanders who’d somehow got wind of the news but were just pretending they wanted to help.
Jake was nowhere to be seen, thankfully.
Frankie wasn’t sure she wanted him to see Sally and Bobby’s reunion, if that’s what it was going to be.
Wasn’t sure if she wanted to see him, full stop. Not yet. Not like this.
When the little Trident ferry hoved into view across the waves, Sally gripped Frankie’s arm as if her life depended on it.
Her friend was looking pale but lovely. Like a model, Frankie had always thought.
Whereas Frankie was softer and more rounded, Sally was all angles, sharp cheekbones, narrow waist, and today, with a vest top under her best pair of dungaree shorts, she was showing off just enough of her equally pale skin, her blue eyes wide, her short hair framing her face perfectly.
Right this second, she also looked a little bit like she might vomit.
Frankie put a hand on hers and squeezed.
Her dad was hopping from foot to foot on the far end of the harbour, his body practically humming with excitement.
He may have had something to do with the small crowd that had gathered, now she thought about it.
In fact, he’d been in the pub the night before, telling everyone who would listen that his son was coming home.
Not a trace of anger. That was her father all over. Complete and immediate forgiveness.
Frankie’s mother was more guarded, arms crossed, chewing her lip, but as the ferry approached the harbour steps and she caught sight of Bobby, standing on the deck in a polo neck shirt and black combat trousers, waving furiously, she let out a little squeal and ran, actually ran, jumping on to the boat before it even docked.
Her dad was close on her heels and from the bank, the little group watched as Brian and Lily threw their arms around their son and collapsed in tears.
Frankie wondered if she should have gone with them, but her feet were frozen in place, stuck to the harbour, hovering in indecision. Sally, beside her, had gone very still.
As well she might.
Bobby was taller, so much taller, and handsome, too.
His former brown curls had been tamed into a short buzz cut and he was lean and wiry as if he’d grown into himself while he’d been away.
He was a man now, that much was true. And as he stepped off the ferry his eyes were fixed on Sally as if she was a drink of water in a desert.
‘Fraaaaaaaankie…’ was what he said first, though, the skin around his hazel eyes crinkling deeply at the sight of his sister.
She moved towards him, her feet like dead weights, and as they met, he pulled her into a hug before she had time to think.
He smelled different. Much less teenage boy, thank God.
She breathed in his aftershave, the smell of the sea, the overall sense of cleanness, and squeezed him back.
‘I missed you,’ she managed as the sob swelled in her throat.
‘Me too,’ said Bobby, although he was already moving out of her embrace, his eyes back on Sally who hadn’t budged from her spot at the top of the harbour.
‘You total git,’ Sally screamed at him, and Bobby’s steps faltered as if he’d been shot. Her eyes were full of tears and then she was running, launching at him full pelt down the harbour, leaping into his arms as he caught her and pulled her close.
They hugged for so long that the others began to wonder if they should leave them alone.
‘God it’s good to see you,’ said Bobby eventually, his voice husky.
‘Wish I could say the same,’ said Sally, dropping out of his arms onto the harbour then running her hands through her hair. Her mouth twisted into a grin. ‘Not really, it’s bloody great to see you, too.’
‘Does that mean I’m forgiven for not writing more?’ said Bobby to her but already turning his body a little, as if he was speaking to them all.
‘That remains to be seen,’ said Frankie, but she was drowned out by her mum, dad and Sally all speaking at once.
‘Of course, of course you are,’ was the general gist, and there was much back slapping and more hugs and Frankie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
What was that Bible story about the prodigal son?
She wouldn’t have been remotely surprised if their dad wasn’t about to produce a fatted calf, he was that bloody excited.