2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Keeley
T he stairs creak underneath my feet as I head to my room on the first floor.
I can still feel my cheeks burning from our interaction. I was just joking. Fine, it was a stupid joke but when those piercing blue eyes landed on me I was lost for words for a second. I have a certain habit of putting my foot in whenever I get flustered. My ex-husband thought that was my most endearing feature but I’m not so sure I agree with him. And it can’t have been that endearing, considering that he left me because he was no longer in love with me.
Actually, that’s not fair, it was more of a mutually agreed divorce. We just married too young and grew apart. There was no drama, no crying, no screaming, just a grown-up agreed separation. That was six years ago and I haven’t spoken to him since. We didn’t have children so we’re simply no longer in each other’s lives.
I push the heavy door to my room open. Well, room is an understatement. The hotel management upgraded me to one of their amazing suites.
I love this hotel and especially the reception hall. In all my time as a travel blogger I don’t think I have ever stayed in a hotel that I loved as much as the Greenview Manor Hotel. It has a cosy and warm feel to it despite its upmarket set up and its rich history is just everywhere.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for period buildings.
I’ve been here for two weeks now and although writing about the highlights of the Lake District isn’t really one of my more exciting assignments—hence my earlier joke—the stay at the Greenview Manor has certainly made a difference to how I see Fellside.
I miss being able to choose destinations to review. When I owned my blog I had the freedom to do as I pleased but my income was limited. Now that one of the largest travel companies in the UK has bought my platform, they decide where I need to go next and it’s usually dictated by the special offers they want to drive sales to. But at least I no longer have to take on dictation work for law firms on the side. I hated not being able to focus on my latest blog post because it just wasn’t paying the bills.
The sale of my platform gave me a nice nest egg and given how popular the blog was—I was just shit in monetising the popularity—the new owner kept me on to continue exploring the world for my readers.
“Write about the adventures people can have in Fellside,” my editor has instructed me. Adventures, ha! It’s a sleepy little mountain village. The most exciting thing I’ve found so far is the massive cinnamon buns at the local bakery. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually enjoying this slower life, the views and the amazing coffee shops. My life has been full on over the last few years and I feel tired. The time here has been relaxing and refreshing. But it has also provided me with limited action packed things to write about. My followers are in their late twenties and thirties. Unlike me, cake and sheep aren’t their idea of a good time
My eyes fall on the brochure I still clench in my fist. I try to smooth out some of the wrinkles before unfolding it.
Oliver hadn’t exaggerated; they certainly offer a large number of adventures. There’s something for everyone. I eye the paragliding for a moment; it’s been on my bucket list for a while. I’ve tried rock climbing before and it’s not really for me. But canyoning looks like fun as well.
There is a distant rumbling. Leaning back on the window seat I scan the sky where dark clouds approach from the other side of the lake. My room has a stunning view of Lake Windermere and the surrounding hills and for the last week I’ve spent every day writing my blog from here. There is no more inspiring place than this.
And just like that, the gnawing feeling returns in my tummy. I’ve felt it a few times whenever I think about my impending departure from Fellside. I feel oddly at home here. Ever since I arrived, I’ve experienced a sense of belonging that I haven’t felt in years. Until now, I’ve enjoyed my nomadic lifestyle—Morocco one week, Oregon the next. I never know where I’ll be heading and I’ve thrived on that unpredictability. But over time, constantly being away has meant losing touch with many friends and it makes for a lonely life which is becoming exhausting.
Fellside’s charm hit me the minute I set my foot in it. I’m an observer, wherever I go; I like to observe people to get the feel of a place. It helps me to recreate the atmosphere when writing about it and in some circumstances it has also protected me from bad things happening.
What I have seen at Fellside is typical village life that I sneered at when I was younger. But I’m forty now—well almost—and I’m tired. Settling down somewhere, having a chat with a neighbour, meeting friends for a meal and maybe even falling in love again; the prospect of a normal life sounds better and better.
But I’m not here for me. I’m here for my readers and they want some action. I wonder if Oliver leads all of these adventures. He did mention that he took these women paragliding. Hmmm, I’m sure if I post a photo of him and mention that you get strapped to this hunk, he'll be inundated with bookings. He can be his company’s own thirst trap.
Oliver has one of these lean but firm climber bodies I have noticed around the village a lot. They don’t look like gym rats but when they flex their arms you can see the shirt tightening across their chest—something Oliver demonstrated nicely earlier by crossing his arms. His shirt practically became a second skin and I could see the outlines of his defined pecs. Holy moly, how horny am I? I mean, the last casual dating thing I had ended two months ago when I left Turkey. But still. One look at a mountain man and I’m going gaga.
But he wasn’t just like any of the other fitties I’ve seen. There’s something a bit different about Oliver, something I can’t put my finger on.
I google a few videos of paragliding and canyoning. They both look quite cool and definitely something my editor would approve of and my readers would love. My phone screen shows about ten thousand notifications but none of them are private messages. They are all from followers on my blog and I’m ignoring them for now. Once a week I spend two hours going through them and replying to the odd one, just enough to show I’m engaging with them. It’s not that I’m ungrateful; these people allow me to travel the world. But I get so many that replying to them would be a full time job
Me
How does paragliding or canyoning sound?
The text takes a few seconds to send—reception isn’t the best in Fellside—but this time it doesn’t take long for the small blue tick to show. I don’t even have time to put my phone down before a response comes through.
Mark
Perfect. Stick to canyoning though. We just did a piece about paragliding in Zermatt.
Me
Aye Aye Sir!
There is no reply from Mark. He is a matter of fact editor and I don’t think I’ve ever had a personal conversation with him. We talk business and nothing more.
Alright then! Stuffing my mobile in my back pocket I head back down to the lobby. It’s pathetic I know, but I catch myself carefully peeking around the corner to see if Oliver is still at reception. The lobby is a hot-adventure-man-free zone, though.
Relieved, I take a deep breath and head over to Marisa.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she smirks. “Oliver is nice , isn’t he?”
“Oh, you mean the guy who nearly bit my head off for making a joke?” I say, rolling my eyes dramatically. One thing is clear: I'm never going to be an Oscar-worthy actress. I couldn’t have faked disinterest worse if I’d tried.
“Don’t even pretend. I saw you eyeing him. And don’t let his bark put you off, he’s a softy,” she giggles.
“So, asking you how I can book with them is probably not going to convince you that I’m not interested?” I lean against the reception desk and hold out the brochure.
“Paragliding,” she wiggles her eyebrows.
“Actually, canyoning,” I give her a grin. “Editor’s orders.”
“Ah, boring.”
“This is just business,” I declare with as much conviction as I can muster.
“Fine, be like that,” she laughs. Marisa is such an easy person to talk to that our dynamic changed from customer and hotel staff member to something resembling a friendship very quickly.
“Right, they have a slot free tomorrow and the weather looks good. You better use that opportunity, you never know here when the weather will change and for canyoning you want some semi decent weather,” she rambles whilst stabbing away on her keyboard.
“Why does it matter, you get wet anyway?”
“Trust me. You’ll be grateful for the opportunity to warm up in the sun whenever there’s a gap in the rocks or at least when you’ve finished,” she shudders.
“Not a fan of canyoning.”
“No. My hubby convinced me once. Never again.”
“And how do you know if they have a space free?” I try to poke over the reception desk at her screen, but it’s too high, creating an impossible angle.
“Because we have direct access to their booking software. We get commission for everything we sell and it makes it so much easier if we can book people straight into the system.”
“Good for you! Tomorrow sounds great. Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just bring a swimsuit, one piece if you have as you’ll wear it underneath a wetsuit. A towel and underwear to change into and some snacks and water. It’s exhausting. The rest Alluring Adventures will provide.”
Sounds easy enough. I can just grab some nibbly bits from the shop on the way to the meeting point.
“Tada, you’re booked in.” She takes a map from the stack lying on the reception desk and circles something. “Alluring Adventures is here. So just take the bus from the main road. Get off in the centre of Fellside and then it’s a five-minute walk.”
Perfect! That will take me straight past a corner shop.
“The trip leaves at ten so I would take the bus to Fellside at nine. You’ll be early but with the next one, I don’t think you’ll make it.”
Life is slow in Fellside and the local buses run only every thirty or forty minutes; on weekends even less frequently.
Marisa gives me a printout that confirms my booking.
“I’ve charged it to your room,” she explains as I pull out my card.
“Even better,” I grin and thank her. A thrill shoots through me as I study the receipt on the way back to my room. The videos looked amazing, so no wonder I’m excited. But I would be lying if I were to say I wasn’t secretly hoping to see Oliver again, too.