Beneath The Waves

(40) The Joy of Life is Living it

Chapter 40

"Can I go now?" Frankie asked impatiently, bouncing her knee a little as she perched on the end of her bed. She could tell Moira was resisting the urge to place a hand against her bouncing leg, but she couldn't help it.

"Almost." The inspector tried to smile, but it was clear she was a little frustrated. "You remember nothing at all?"

"No." Frankie really wished she and Ryan had discussed some cover plan, to explain their twelve day long disappearance, but she doubted that there were many rational stories that could they could've come up with anyway. She just hoped he'd have the sense to play it dumb, too.

The inspector blinked slowly. Her eyes were large and owl-like behind her huge glasses. "You're sure you're not trying to cover up for anybody...?"

"Why would I lie?" Frankie tried to inject as much conviction and frustration into her voice as possible; which wasn't that hard, seeing as she was already getting edgy. She was desperate to get out of here, find Ryan and Mike and Noah, go home and see Tennyson.

Aunt Moira sighed a little, clearly impatient too, but hiding it much better than Frankie. She had come to visit Frankie practically the minute the sun was up, and her Grandma had come too, having driven all the way up from Cornwall the minute she'd heard the news. They'd brought Frankie her own clothes and shoes, and her grandmother had showered her with books before rushing off with the promise to buy her 'a decent breakfast' –though Frankie suspected she'd been distracted, since that was half an hour ago.

"Some victims develop an irrational affection for their kidnappers." The inspector tapped her knee thoughtfully. "It's known as-"

"Stockholm Syndrome." Frankie winced as her know-it-all attitude kicked in without her brain's permission. She was just desperate to go home. "I don't have it because I don't remember any kidnappers. Can I go now?"

Moira clasped her fingers and stared anxiously at the inspector. "Are you sure it was kidnappers? Pirates?"

"There's no telling for sure at the moment, but aye, that's what we're assuming. It's the only explanation for how over twenty people assumed dead managed to survive for so long." She eyed Frankie again. "Did you know you were the only girl?"

Frankie shifted uncomfortable. "No. I was out on the boat with Ryan, so maybe..."

"We had a few people raving about witches," the inspector told her, her tone dripping with disbelief. "Do you remember seeing any women where you were?"

"No." Frankie shook her head, keeping her face as blank as possible. She wasn't that great at lying, and the inspector seemed to realise it.

"Frankie," Moira urged gently. "If there's anything you can tell us, it would put a stop to this kind of thing happening again-"

"I don't remember!" Frankie's voice came out louder than she'd expected, almost a shout. She quickly softened it. "Sorry. It's just kind of scary, not knowing what..."

Finally, the inspector relaxed. "I understand." She gave Frankie's knee a light pat. "We'll find out what's going on, stop it from happening again. You're free to go home now."

She stood up, exchanged a few words with Moira and disappeared out the room. Frankie heard her shoes squeaking all the way down the corridor.

"Can I see Ryan, quickly?" she asked Moira. "I'll be five minutes."

Moira rolled her eyes. "A minute ago, you were desperate to go home."

"That's because I was wasting my time." Frankie cast one last look around the room, revelling in the feeling of hope and relief slowly seeping through her. She couldn't wait to return to her normal life, leave behind the ghastly memories that still clung to the back of her mind like cobwebs.