Page 124 of Washed Up

‘I want you,’ he said, simply. Then he turned, eyes sweeping across the beach. ‘I want this place.’

She exhaled slowly. ‘So it’s all about the island?’

He shook his head. ‘Not all about the island, no–’

But she cut him off, heart flip flopping in her chest. ‘It’s okay if it is. You wouldn’t be the first to fall in love with Herm. But you can’t simply come and live here, I’m afraid. They wouldn’t let you. You have to have a job or,’ she hesitated, ‘a family here.’

His eyes sparkled as he turned back to her. ‘Well firstly, this is definitely not only about Herm.’

‘It’s not?’ Was she still breathing? It was hard to tell.

‘No. Surely you know that? My heart is full of you, remember?’

She gave a little gasp, which she attempted to cover with a cough. ‘That song. It was…?’

‘It was about you, yes. I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. When I saw you with Jake, I thought I’d made a terrible mistake, that’s why I made out that it wasn’t finished and all that. But yes, I wrote that for you. It might even win an award. My first and last, I suspect.’

‘But it’s about… me?’ she said. ‘The Dylan Wright wrote me a song?’

‘Yes,’ he said, a flush of colour on his cheeks.

‘You wrote a song about us?’

He smiled. ‘I like that word.’

‘What word?’

‘Us.’

‘Oh.’ Frankie giggled. She liked it, too.

‘But I never want to stop making music. You inspire me, Frankie,’ said Dylan, taking her hand. ‘And I’ve had a kind of idea.’

Those eyes. Dear God. Whatever he was about to say, she already knew the answer would be yes.

‘Picture this,’ he went on. ‘A creative retreat, right here on Herm. Musicians, authors, artists, they come here to find the stillness, to find the inspiration that I’ve found here. We could find an old building, or build something if they’ll let us. Hell, we could even just put up some yurts, build a campfire, whatever. I know they would come; people would love it. It would be controlled, expensive enough to keep the numbers low, nothing too intrusive. But think of the work that could be made here, the stories we’d have to tell. People would love it.’

Frankie stared and stared, her thoughts racing. This was not what she was expecting. Not at all.

‘We could run it together, that’s what I was thinking,’ he said. ‘If you wanted.’

Still, her brain whizzed and whirred.

‘Please say something,’ said Dylan after a moment or two of silence.

‘I love it,’ she breathed. ‘I would love to do that with you…’

‘What’s wrong?’ he said, that little wrinkle on his forehead appearing instantly.

What is wrong? Get it together, Frankie. This is incredible. ‘I think it’s amazing, and it would definitely work. It’s… I don’t know, I guess I was kind of hoping I could, or we, we could travel. See the world. A bit. Mum and Dad will be fine now, they’ve sort of rekindled things, I think. And I guess I was kind of hoping we could get away. If you’ll take me with you.’

Dylan dropped his head, disappointed. Almost defeated. She could virtually see the cogs whirring in his mind.

‘Sorry,’ she went on. ‘I know that doesn’t exactly tie in with what you just said and yours sounds like an incredible idea. Perhaps,’ and this came out with a bitter laugh, ‘you stay here and I’ll go.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s me being selfish. I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry. Of course we could get away together. That makes sense. It would be so good.’ He didn’t sound convinced.

She put a hand on his arm. ‘Not at all. It’s an amazing idea. You definitely should do the retreat thing.’ He winced at the word ‘you’ and her heart twisted. What a mess.