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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In her mind, Fran made a mental list of everyone she wanted to attend. Obviously all her friends at the jam club. Darren and his band. She wondered if she could get in contact with saxophone guy and harmonica guy in Bristol. And Rhodes, if she could get a hold of him. She needed to get his number or something.
Right now, the top of her list Paige. She hadn't seemed interested in performing, but when Fran had asked for volunteers to put posters up and spread the word, she'd agreed to help, along with Ash, which seemed like the perfect situation to work her persuasive charm. Which, granted, hadn't really worked on anyone yet, but Fran remained optimistic.
Paige was waiting for her, sitting on the low wall that separated the promenade from the beach. She was dressed lightly: a high waisted patterned skirt and a loose vest top, so she seemed almost diaphanous in the breeze, as if any moment a strong gust of wind could just sweep her away.
"Hi," she said, waving. "Sorry I'm a bit late. Is Ash not here?"
Paige shrugged. "I haven't heard from her."
"Right."
They chatted for a short while, until about fifteen minutes later, when Fran got a text: Sorry, smthn came up. Do the posters without me! Ash x
"Right." Fran said again. "I guess it's just the two of us."
Fran had come prepared; she showed Paige the map she'd drawn up last night. She'd written down the names of everyone she wanted to perform and, with the help of Darren and the local address book, circled their homes and drawn out the quickest route to visit each of them. As requested, Paige had printed off some flyers which they could hand to passers-by and push through letterboxes en route.
"Gosh, Fran, are you sure you thought of everything?" Paige said, after Fran had explained the plan for the day. Fran faltered.
"Have I forgotten something...?" she said, scanning the paper again. She was pretty sure she'd been over everything. Paige laughed a little.
"It was a joke," she explained, and Fran's face cleared in recognition. "Come on, let's go."
The journey also included a stop at the White Hart, to pitch the idea to the owner. Fran had never met him – or actually been to the pub before, but she was immediately charmed when they reached it just after midday. It had a rustic, dark brick exterior, shrouded in masses of thick ivy. Window boxes packed with bright flowers added flares of colour to the exterior. If it was possible to fall in love with a building, Fran was head-over-heels in it already.
The owner was slouched at the bar as they walked in, picking his teeth with a toothpick. He looked at the two of them suspiciously as they approached him, and his stern expression only deepened as Fran explained her proposal.
"You gonna pay to hire out the venue?"
"Um, I don't think I have enough money for that..." Fran said, uncertainly.
