Chapter 6
Chapter Six
I sat at breakfast the next morning, spreading apricot jam over a thick slice of golden toast in the dining room of The Gorse. It was such a generous wodge of toast it could’ve acted as a doorstop.
I’d already had a quick call with my aunt and uncle in my room, who’d enquired about the weather, the food and if I was keeping wrapped up. Then my aunt Sandra mentioned she’d jumped on the Tube yesterday, to travel up to London with her best friend April for a spot of lunch and a browse around the shops. My heart had let out a little creak of longing.
Sod the carbs, I decided, as I examined the toast on my plate. I needed energy to give my conniving agent a verbal tongue lashing.
Even though there were still a few other tables occupied with guests, I couldn’t contain my ire as I reached Justine on my mobile.
She began to wish me a good morning and was about to enquire if I slept well but I cut her off. ‘You lied to me,’ I accused, through a ferocious bite of my toast. ‘You told me I was the first choice for this travel guide.’
There was an awkward cough. ‘Did I?’
‘Yes, you did. You know you did. But that’s a load of old bollocks, isn’t it, Justine?’
A couple of elderly ramblers at a nearby table sent me disapproving tuts from across the top of their fried eggs.
‘I have it on good authority that Caldwell Publishing offered River this travel guide first, but she turned it down.’
I could hear Justine squirming in her Eliza Tinsley leather office chair. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Never mind who. Is it true?’
‘Look, darling, this is a huge opportunity for you so who cares what happened before it came to you?’
Typical Justine. Trying to schmooze her way out of trouble.
‘You’ve got this young man, Logan Brown?—’
‘It’s Logan Burns,’ I corrected, cutting her off and rattling the teapot on my table with irritation while I poured myself a fresh cup.
‘Yes. Sorry. Logan Burns. You’ve got him to help you do this. His reputation is excellent, and I know you’ll do a great job. It doesn’t hurt that he’s very easy on the eye, too.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I looked him up online.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes. I guess he is,’ I answered reluctantly. I decided to round off the conversation and agreed to keep her posted on how things were going.
‘Yes, regular updates please darling,’ trilled Justine into my ear.
I pulled a face. I was irked enough, without dwelling on River.
‘Yes. OK. Sure.’ My voice was laced with irritation.
I quickly rang off.
God. The prospect of the next three weeks stretched ahead of me like one endless weather-beaten road. If this damp weather kept up, I was going to look like a scarecrow when the time came to head home.
It was then that my phone pinged signalling that a new email had arrived in my inbox.
It was a gloating one from Brandy.
Just saw your updated itinerary. Will be thinking of you.
Her tone oozed sarcasm, and she’d added:
Rather you than me! Ha! Ha! Ha!
I poked my tongue out at my phone, eliciting more disapproving glares from the elderly walking duo seated nearby.
I glanced out The Gorse’s dining room windows and onto the winding pavements, trying to move my furious thoughts on from River, Justine and Brandy’s bitchy email. At least it wasn’t raining at the moment. Though there was still a leaden sky looming overhead.
Dread pooled in my stomach. Oh, how I wished I could’ve been on a coach first thing this morning, heading back to Glasgow Airport.
I drained the dregs of my tea and dashed off an email to Primrose at the publishers and copied in Justine, confirming I’d begin my travel guide research tomorrow with Logan. Today, I’d have a wander around, take in a couple of the local coffee shops and make the most of some free-time before all these hideous activities started. I’d made it clear that as soon as the three weeks were up, I would be returning to London. Just in case either Primrose or Justine got any bright ideas about me staying up here for an extended period.
As if!