‘I don’t think you should rush into anything right now. And remember, you don’t want anyone to know where you are so if you send a card, it’ll have a French postmark. But I could send one from here if it makes you feel better, on your behalf. I bet they wouldn’t know it was my handwriting, not after all this time.’ Jed sounded hopeful and this rubbed off on Frankie.
‘Would you? That’d be perfect. I’ll text you the address… Or should we wait for the funeral? Oh God, I can’t even bear thinking about that right now.’ More crying, she couldn’t make it stop.
‘Look, this is what I think you should do and it’s going to sound like tough love but it’s all I’ve got.’
‘Go on.’
‘You need to stay off the internet because as much as you’re hurting for your friend and her family there’s nothing you can do for them right now. You have to put yourself first and self-preservation is what matters most. You’ve come a long way and I’ve been so bloody proud of how you are coping over there, so please, Frankie, don’t let this set you back. When the time is right we can think of what’s best to do, you know, by way of sending something but at the moment, I think you should steer clear of the whole situation.’
Frankie was nodding as she listened and knew Jed was right. Her nerves were hanging by a thread and it wouldn’t take much to shatter her confidence and then the nightmares would make a comeback, and nothing, not even Belle and Oscar hugs, would soothe her. This was a burglary gone wrong, nothing at all to do with the Serbian or Herbert the Pervert Dunne. She was safe there, like she planned. She had to believe that.
‘Okay, I promise I won’t look. I know I’ll become obsessed with it if I start but will you promise to tell me when they catch who did it? The news said it was a bungled burglary so with a bit of luck they’ll find him soon.’
Jed answered immediately. ‘No worries, I promise if you promise. How does that sound?’
Frankie smiled. ‘It’s a deal.’
‘I wish I was there, Frankie. I’m going to worry about you all night and if Dad could manage this job by himself I’d get the next flight out. The next ten days should fly past, though.’
‘I hope they do, and that’s lovely of you, it means a lot. And honestly, I’m okay and if I get edgy – which I won’t – I’ll take a walk over to Christalle’s. It’s a mad house over there and they always make me glad to come back to the peace and quiet of this place. So chill, it’s all good.’
Frankie actually meant what she said because no way was she going to let some scumbag burglar ruin things, not like he’d ruined Scarlet’s life. It was the thought of her funny, adventurous, sporty friend that threatened to bring on another bout of tears. That would only worry Jed so she decided to bring the conversation to an end.Best foot forward. I’ve got this.
20
It wasn’t as easy as Frankie imagined. It started with the banging from upstairs that made her heart leap into her throat. Once she’d calmed herself and took the stairs slowly to investigate, she found that the window shutter had come undone. It was flapping in the early evening breeze that sometimes blew across the fields, flattening the tips of the wheat, making swirly patterns in the crops. Normally she would have welcomed it and enjoyed the spectacle from her bedroom window, glad of some respite from the heat while she ate dinner but today, she cursed it for making her jump.
Downstairs, she made her way to the back of the kitchen and the utility room that led onto the field. The Frenchies trotted on behind, always curious to see what she was doing, waiting patiently while Frankie took her laundry basket, then went outside to bring in the washing. For the first time she didn’t fancy going out there at dusk. Christalle had kindly offered the use of her washing machine until Frankie’s was plumbed in and as she unpegged her clothes, Frankie found her eyes wandering to the boundary of her property and the pine forest, a place where someone could hide and watch her.Why are you thinking things like this? Not helpful, stop it, Frankie. You’re being stupid.
Stuffing the clothes in the basket she made her way inside, ushering the Frenchies indoors, turning the key in the lock and giving the handle a shake before she went through to the kitchen and placed the basket on top of some boxes. As she folded her washing, Frankie noticed something was missing. It stood out a mile: her big knickers were gone. Nobody could miss them. They were what she called her time-of-the-month comfy pants, not the same as big girl pants you needed when you had to be brave.
Shaking off the idea and resolving to check upstairs in the bin liner she used for dirty clothes, she plugged her phone into the charger and clicked the radio app, deciding there and then to go into town the following day to buy a proper radio, or an Alexa, and maybe some speakers so she could blast music around the house and fill up the voids. Maybe it would be nice to chat with a computerised voice.
It was as she moved the basket that she noticed her car keys weren’t on the top of the pile of kitchen units, and the bars of her cage well and truly started to rattle. She always left her keys there, with her sunglasses and shopping bags. She was organised, had a place for everything and the room was almost bare so where were they? How had they disappeared?
This led to a frantic search while unhelpful memories of things going missing in London pinged away, like annoying text messages.Remember the knives in the fork compartment, the shelves of the fridge reorganised, the wheelie bins going missing, the strange sounds at night.
Frankie’s brain was slowly scrambling, previous order being unpicked at the seams. She found the keys in her bag, in the little zip pocket, nice and safe.Of course that’s where they were, you just forgot, that’s all.
The final straw came in the form of a kind invitation, and it was this fact, that something she would have previously accepted without hesitation, something she’d intended to do anyway suddenly caused her immense anxiety, broke the proverbial camel’s back.
To occupy herself Frankie swept the wooden floorboards which collected dust throughout the day, blown in by the breeze or brought in on puppy paws. She was so lost in her own head that when Luc shouted from the gate it startled her slightly.
‘Bonjour, Frankie, you will come for drinks later, about seven? We havehuîtresandmoules… sorry oysters and mussels and some very nice Cremant, pink and fizzy for you ladies.’ Luc was leaning on the gate, smiling. He was such an easy-going man.
While she processed his request, words zapped through Frankie’s head, like racing cars going round a track in a blur, the whining noise as they whipped in front of her eyes made her wince.You can’t go out: what if someone gets in while you’re away? And you’ll have to come back when it’s dark, to an empty house. Just you, Frankie, all on your own. They might be waiting. Stay here, stay inside where it’s safe.
Before she could caution herself or think things through, her panic translated into a rush of words. ‘No. Sorry. Not tonight, Luc, I’m not feeling well, sorry, really sorry…’
Not caring that she didn’t give Luc chance to respond or that he looked confused before he waved and wandered away, Frankie turned and closed her door. Shutting out the sunshine and fresh air, as dust motes flittered through the air, she spoke sternly to the Frenchies who were wagging their tails and getting in the way, telling them to move. Once the door was slammed shut, with shaking hands she turned the key, unable to ignore the tightening of her neck, her airways constricting as panic took hold.
Scarlet was dead. Dunne was out of prison. What if Andrej was too? What if this was a huge mistake? She couldn’t outrun the past. It could still touch her, crawl under her skin like a germ, a creature, eating away at her, never letting go. It would never let her go. She couldn’t do it. All this. Who was she kidding?You’re a fool, Frankie, a stupid pathetic fool.
Making her way towards her phone, a link to the outside world, to Jed, her mum, Frankie talked herself through the fog.I need to speak to Mum, tell her she was right. I should have listened– No, don’t do that, you’ll ruin her holiday. Ring Jed. Ring him now, he’ll know what to do.
Frankie yanked the phone from the charger as the puppies danced around her feet, perhaps picking up on the atmosphere, sensing something was wrong, vying for attention. So when she stood on Belle’s paw by accident the yelp that cut through the silent kitchen pierced her eardrums and wounded her heart. Dropping to her knees to comfort her startled puppy Frankie begged for forgiveness, the words taking on a double meaning as her troubled mind pictured Scarlet.
‘I’m sorry, little one, I’m sorry, Belle, come here, let me make it better… I’m so sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean it. Do you forgive me? Please say you forgive me?’ Frankie sobbed as Belle licked her face and Oscar tried to get onto her lap and join in, puppy kisses saying it was okay, which made her cry more.
