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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Fran loved walking in to the sound of music; it made the place homely, filled it with warmth, atmosphere, character. She was so focused on the melody she hardly noticed where her feet were taking her until a second before she nearly collided with a tall figure rearranging the shelves.
"Darius...!" Fran floundered. "How nice to see you! I um, thought it was Thursday today?" She distinctly remembered Darren offering her a granola bar that morning for breakfast, and without the structure that term-time provided she'd found herself increasingly reliant on Darren's oddly specific breakfast schedule to give her days order. It was quite a good system, actually. She was considering adopting it for when she left for uni.
"I'm covering for Darren," Darius replied, dumping the box on the table. Fran stood on her tiptoes so she could peek inside: "He said he had to go somewhere."
"Oh, right. Did he say when he'd be back?"
Darius shrugged. Fran thought this over: Darren didn't like to leave the house during work hours, so this was an unusual turn of events. Something must have happened. But he hadn't messaged her or anything, so after a moment's deliberation she decided it wasn't serious.
"Well, I'll be upstairs if you need me," she said. "You're always welcome to join us, if you want!" she added brightly.
Darius nodded but didn't answer, and Fran jumped up the stairs two at a time without expecting one.
It was the usual crowd upstairs: Joel, Ash, Paige and Elliot. Elliot and Ash were playing, and Paige was leaning against the railings, watching with her arms folded and that same passive interest in her expression. Fran had taken to hiding her satchel and valuables in her suitcase when she left the house, because Joel had no sense of personal boundaries. Sure enough, he was lying on her bed flicking though her kindle when she reached the top.
"Frannie," he announced, catching sight of her.
Fran crawled onto her mattress and retrieved her guitar, kicking Joel's leg lightly. "I told you to stop calling me Frannie," she said, as sternly as she could manage.
"Did you?" Joel said, innocently. "I can't remember."
Fran rolled her eyes. "Ass."
Joel just smiled. Fran focused her attention back on the melody, taking a few seconds to catch the chord sequence Elliot was playing before joining in, slipping in seamlessly into the song. The melody swept over her, easing away the restless thoughts that had been on her mind since yesterday. She didn't recognise the song Elliot was playing, she realised, as she followed them through the music. Was he improvising?
And then deciding to switch it up a bit, she shifted the key upwards. The piano faltered for a second; Fran remembered abruptly that she couldn't just change keys whilst Elliot was playing.
"We're in D," she whispered.
"Oh – okay," Elliot said, and to his credit, after a couple more bars he picked the chord sequence back up and started to settle more confidently into the new key.
