Fran has a tried-and-tested solution for dealing with her problems: run away.
And despite what the self-help books say, it's worked pretty well up until now. "Now" referring to her hiding in the seaside town of Seacombe until the end of summer, and...
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It was so nice to be back in the store again. Fran hadn't realised how much she'd missed the jam club until she'd started playing Radioactive with Elliot when he came in mid-morning, and since then she'd been swept away by the tide of melody. She felt a pang of sadness when she heard Darren moving around downstairs, beginning his closing down routine.
Over the sound of the song they were singing she could hear Darius mutter a goodbye, drawers closing, papers shuffling. Shortly after would come the sound of the till ringing shut, and then the inevitable clunk of footsteps on the stairs...
Fran frowned. She'd heard a ringing, but not the high pitched trill the till made – it was the melodic peal of the bell at the door. And then a voice, quiet beneath the sound of their music, but one she recognised immediately–
She stopped playing, aware of her heart rate quickening.
Ash glanced at her and lowered the violin, and the music petered out.
"Hey, why'd we stop?" Joel complained.
"We're closing up anyway," Fran said, trying to peer over the edge of the balcony without being too obvious about it. "There's always tomorrow..."
Fran caught sight of the woman as soon as she could see over the railing. In the dim glow of the store, muted slightly by the twilight, she seemed almost iridescent with colour. Tall, with a buxom figure that over the years she'd learned to flaunt. Platinum blonde hair fell in wispy curls around her shoulders. Her makeup was immaculate: eyes shaded with dark eyeliner and shadowed with a hint of ice-blue, a dash of blush on the cheeks and a subtle coat of lipstick.
Fran froze.
"Shit," she muttered, edging away.
The woman looked up and caught her expression; petrified like a deer in headlights, and flashed her a dazzling smile.
"Frannie, darling!"
Joel shot her a sideways glance, smirking. "Frannie?"
"Don't call me that," she hissed. The others had clustered around the balcony railings, attracted by the noise.
"Who's this?" Elliot murmured.
Ash looked at her. "Do you know her, Fran? I've never seen her around before."
Fran shook her head. "No." Feeling a little guilty about the lie, she corrected: "I mean, not really..."
"Weird," Ash said. "Wonder what she's doing here..."
"She's so...bright," Joel said. "I don't think–"
"Anyway," Fran said loudly, cutting them off. "I'll see you tomorrow! Have a great evening guys!"
She waved at them until they got the hint and started to troop downstairs. Fran followed more slowly, deliberately not making eye contact with the woman, who waved at the others as they walked by. She had a feeling any conversation she started now would quickly escalate, and she didn't want any of the others to see that, see the mess in her life that seemed to trail after her no matter where she went rear its head once more.
