Chapter Three
Jamie
As I pulled the hire car up outside the seaside hotel I’d chosen as my escape for a week of introspection, I couldn’t help thinking I’d made a mistake.
I was sure this place would be lovely in summer with a quaint seaside charm that went over well with locals and families, but I wasn’t sure it was for me. Perhaps I should have just hired a ski chalet or gone to Bali or the Seychelles.
The grey sky was thick with clouds, threatening more of the snow I’d seen dusting the moors as I’d driven across.
The sea was an equally stony grey with roiling waves that crashed onto a thin strip of dark sand.
The only colour I saw was the locked-up beach huts, their backs pressed against the concrete front as if they were trying to escape the freezing water that inched ever closer.
The only thing that stopped me turning around and driving back to London was that I was tired, and even I wasn’t careless enough to risk my own life by driving on tiny, icy roads when I could barely think straight.
One night in Heather Bay wouldn’t kill me. The hotel had looked perfectly nice online, so as long as the reality matched the pictures, I’d survive for a day or two.
Leaving the car in the small, designated car park, I pulled my suitcase out of the boot and headed for the reception of the Heather Sands hotel, which several travel websites had informed me was one of the UK’s hidden seaside gems.
The boutique hotel was right on the water, and I had to admit the outside was quite pretty. It looked like a Victorian building that had been well looked after and restored, and as I approached, the heavy, wooden front door swung inwards as a smartly dressed member of staff pulled it open.
“Good afternoon,” the man said as he welcomed me inside. He was wearing a dark suit and had a thick Yorkshire accent, although I supposed that was to be expected since Heather Bay was right on the Yorkshire coast. “Are you checking in?”
“Yes,” I said as the man smoothly took my suitcase from me. I glanced around at the reception area I’d stepped into, trying hard to hide my surprise.
The floor was made up of slate grey tiles, and there was a large rug in the centre with a round, wooden table placed in the middle of it.
The table held a large bouquet of flowers with two plates of small biscuits on either side.
There were several doors leading off the entrance hall, and through one, I saw a cosy-looking lounge with large windows that looked out over the water.
At one end was a large set of stairs with plush carpeting I assumed led to all the rooms, and not far from that was the reception itself, set behind a large counter made of the same wood as the table.
“Perfect,” said the man. He gestured over to the reception desk. “If you go and see Tracey, she’ll get you sorted out. Did you want me to take your case up to your room?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you,” I said. The man nodded, and I headed towards the desk. At first impression, this was as nice as any hotel I’d stayed in before.
Perhaps people were right when they said there were nice things available outside London.
It didn’t take me long to get checked in, and Tracey quickly informed me of breakfast times, the details of the restaurant, and where I could find more information about the local area.
I thanked her and took the key cards she offered me before heading up the stairs to the third floor.
It didn’t seem like the hotel was particularly large, which I appreciated, and it didn’t take me long to reach the door to room 302.
I’d booked a small suite since I intended to be there for a while and wanted to be comfortable, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a good-sized, open space with wide windows overlooking the sea on the far wall.
The front part of the room was comprised of a small living area with a coffee table, desk, television, and a comfortable-looking sofa.
To my right was a raised area where a large bed sat, made up with white sheets and deep purple scatter cushions, alongside some wardrobes in a similar dark wood as the desk and coffee table.
All in all, it was a charming space that would give even London’s bougiest boutique hotels a run for their money.
The only difference was that a lot of those hotels often screamed trying too hard, as if they were desperate for guests to notice how cool and unique they were, while Heather Sands seemed to exude a warm elegance that invited you inside and asked you to take it as you found it.
There was a knock on the door, and I opened it to the man with my suitcase. I thanked him and gave him a tip before I sent him away, then I slipped off my shoes, slung my coat over the back of the sofa, and padded over to the window.
From up here, with the last of the afternoon sun shining on it, even the icy, grey sea looked appealing. I began to think I hadn’t made a mistake after all. Perhaps this really was what I’d needed.
Over the last two weeks, I’d debated about whether I actually needed a break or whether I was just running away.
It was probably a little of both, but staying in London would have made it so hard to sit down and have a serious think about what had got me feeling so off-kilter.
Even in the time since my first realisation that something was off, nothing had changed.
I’d still gone out for dinners with friends, spent endless hours in bars and clubs, and fallen into bed with Kai and whoever else offered.
It was like I couldn’t do anything different until I got out from under the city’s spell.
I’d been worried Kai or Daisy would want to come with me, but neither had expressed any interest in somewhere so unglamorous.
I’d thought for a brief minute that Kai might miss me, but then he’d just shrugged and told me he’d be fine.
The last I’d heard from him, he’d been shacked up with some newly arrived Hollywood actor who was in London for a few weeks.
His casual dismissal didn’t even sting. It was just part and parcel of who Kai and I were to each other.
As I gazed out the window, noticing the impressive castle on the cliffs, I tried to remember the last time I’d had anything that resembled a relationship, but nothing and no one sprung to mind. I wasn’t sure if that bothered me or not.
I stared out at the scenery for a few more minutes before turning back to the room. I had no idea what to do now. Usually, my evenings in London followed a regular pattern: food, drinking, partying, and sex. Wake up, rinse, and repeat. But I’d come here to get away from that.
The only problem was, I didn’t know how.
“Well done, Jamie,” I muttered to myself. “You’ve really fucked yourself over here.”
I supposed dinner at the hotel would be a reasonable place to start, perhaps followed by watching something on Netflix, and an early night. It was only half-past four, though, and still too early for any of that.
Okay, so maybe Netflix first. Or a bath.
I shook my head and paced up and down the room. Why the fuck was this so hard? Why did I feel so lost at the idea of spending one measly night on my own? God, the idea of being alone for a whole week seemed impossible.
I wanted to rescind my earlier thought that this had been a good idea. This was a horrible idea. I had no idea how to do anything that didn’t involve drinking, dancing, and fucking any and every man I wanted.
“Get a fucking grip,” I said as I stopped walking and flopped onto the bed. It was ridiculously comfortable, and I sprawled out like a starfish, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not like it’s the end of the fucking world.”
This was ridiculous. I was nearly thirty fucking years old. I shouldn’t need someone to babysit me or keep me company like I was a puppy in need of attention. I needed a distraction.
Maybe a walk would do me some good. Yes, that would clear my head and blow away some of my swirling doubts.
But I did let myself lie there for a few more minutes, just enjoying the sound of the sea outside my window and the soft bed underneath me.
And before I knew it, I found myself drifting off.
When I woke an hour and a half later, I felt a lot calmer, and my internal freak-out about what the fuck I was doing seemed to have abated.
I still felt unsure but more in a Bambi-on-ice way rather than a the-world-is-ending way.
It was probably the natural reaction to totally uprooting my life and deciding to do some intense internal soul-searching at the drop of a hat, especially after I’d pretended it wasn’t happening until last night when I’d finally packed for my trip.
The whole room was pitch black and the sky outside was similarly so.
When I got up and peered out the window, I saw glimmers of stars and a sliver of moon through the gaps in the clouds, and I smiled. It was virtually impossible to see the stars in London most nights. That, and I barely ever bothered to look.
Feeling renewed, I slipped my shoes back on and grabbed my coat. I still wanted to take a walk and gather my thoughts before I found food, and I assumed it would be easy to find a path to the front from the hotel.
Slipping my key card into my pocket and wrapping up against the cold, I headed downstairs and into the evening air. The wind had a stinging bite to it that made me jump, but it wasn’t bad enough to force me back inside.
As predicted, it was easy enough to follow the streetlights to the front, where a mixture of closed shops and open takeaways studded one side of the road with the beach on the other.
The golden glimmer of the streetlights bounced off the edges of the high tide, and I found myself mesmerised as I walked.
My stomach rumbled as I passed several fish and chip shops, and I realised I hadn’t eaten in hours.
I’d told myself I’d get dinner in the hotel, but the temptation of fish and chips was growing stronger by the second. Perhaps I’d get some on my way back and just eat it in my room.
I reached the other end of the front and realised the road curved round a little farther, heading slightly up the hill before slightly splitting in two directions. Intrigued and not ready to go back, I followed the pavement until I heard laughter and noise spilling out of a building on the corner.
The faded sign swinging in the wind had a picture of a fat, sleeping, white goose in the middle, and the Sleeping Goose painted in gold lettering around it.
I stared up at it for a second, wondering whether to go in.
Pubs were always a bit hit or miss, especially if you didn’t know the area.
They could be charming gold mines, or they could be dodgy as fuck.
And while the sounds pouring out of establishment were loud and joyful, it didn’t mean I’d be welcome.
As I hesitated, I heard a gleeful, bouncing voice behind me on the wind and turned to see two men approaching.
“A chess set, Laurie. A chess set! All the mice have got little hats too and props. Just think how fucking delightful it would look in the living room,” said one of the men, who was wearing knee-high boots with chunky, knitted tights, a tartan skirt, and a pink coat that seemed to have white fur around the collar.
As he got closer, I was sure his face looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t work out why.
“You don’t even know how to play chess,” said the other, a gothic-looking man with a long, dark coat and leather boots. I assumed his name was Laurie from what his companion had said.
“Yes, but I could learn. And even so, it would be worth it for the aesthetic,” the first man said before he sighed dreamily. Then he added, “Do you think we’ll be the last ones here?”
“We usually are. Everyone expects it now.”
“Well, if people could please stop dying, I could finish work earlier.”
“I know,” Laurie said dryly. “It’s very rude of them.”
The pair of them had reached me now, and I had to pull my phone out of my pocket so I didn’t look like I was staring at them.
They slid past me and into the pub. I turned slightly to let them by, and as I did, I noticed the progress pride sticker stuck in the window nearest the door with swooping letters above it that read Everyone Welcome.
I smiled to myself and followed the two men inside.