Page 59 of Washed Up

It was Sally’s turn to blush. ‘Oh I am, believe me. That man is fine with a capital Fuh. But he’s also married.’

‘Never stopped you before.’

Sally had famously slept with a married tourist the year before last and Frankie delighted in reminding her at every opportunity. The fallout had not been pretty.

‘That’s a low blow,’ said Sally. ‘He’s married and he has a gorgeous daughter and no, even that wouldn’t normally stop me but…’

‘But what?’

Sally dipped another chip, a naughty look on her face.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve been there done that?’ said Frankie, incredulous.

‘What? Oh no, not yet. The logistics make it a bit of a challenge.’

‘Say you’ve got a fever like a Victorian lady. Swoon in front of him or something. He’ll have to do a house call. Maybe he’ll even carry you to the hotel.’

‘Calm down. You’re only saying that because practically all you do is fantasise about Dylan carrying you to the hotel.’

‘I do not,’ said Frankie indignantly, even though she did.

‘Dr Mac and I will have our time. For now, it’s Jake who needs to watch his back.’

Sally gave another naughty grin and Frankie nearly blurted out what Jake had told her in the pub on Friday, then it struck her. She didn’t want Jake, did she? No, she definitely probably maybe didn’t want Jake, she wanted Dylan, and if that was the case then didn’t poor Jake deserve to be happy? What right did she have to keep them apart? And if Sally knew what Jake had told her, there was no way she’d pursue it. She could be stopping both of them finding happiness.

No, she resolved. The only answer was to keep her mouth shut. Jake would soon get over it. It was only a crush, after all. And maybe her Dylan crush would pass quickly, too, and they could all get on with their lives.

Chance would be a fine thing, thought Frankie grimly, taking a swig of wine. The movies had been right all along. This love stuff was complicated and painful and not much fun. Or had she just been watching the wrong films? She was hauled sharply out of this reverie when her mother appeared at their table, an urgent look on her face. Without so much as a by your leave, Lily drew up a chair and took a long drink from Frankie’s glass.

‘Hey,’ said Frankie.

‘Sorry, but it’s much needed.’ Lily didn’t look remotely sorry. She did look quite stressed, though. Frankie’s heart started thumping.

‘What’s going on? Is it Dad?’ Panic rose in her throat and she glanced at Sally, whose face looked more like a Victorian orphan than normal, her eyes wide.

Lily waved a hand. ‘No, darling. Your dad’s fine.’

Frankie examined her mother’s face. ‘What is it, then? Something’s up so don’t tell me it isn’t.’

‘Everything’s okay. Well, not okay, exactly. Not really.’

‘What are you going on about?’ said Frankie.

‘It’s your brother,’ said Lily, and at her words all the blood drained from Frankie’s body.

‘What?’ she said.

‘What?’ said Sally.

‘You heard me,’ said Lily. ‘We’ve had a letter. After all this time.’

At those few words, Frankie’s world shifted sideways.

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.