Chapter Nineteen
This town has more substance, I’ll give it that. The streets appear friendly enough, with their rustic light-grey stone buildings. There’s even a high street with shop fronts offering fish ’n’ chips, kebabs, Chinese and tea rooms. My mouth waters from the combined smell of frying fat.
It takes us a few moments to realise people are giving us funny looks. Probably due to the fact that my hair resembles something close to a bird’s nest. Oh, and I have torn-up shirt strips bandaged around my shin. We may look particularly grubby too… At least we shouldn’t smell, thanks to the deodorant we were supplied with.
But surely hikers walk through here all the time on their way to and from the wilderness? We can’t stand out that much. We stop as we come to a T-junction. A bed and breakfast across the road offers value-for-money stays. It’s an incredibly old building that leans to the right. It could very possibly be about to topple over. We tilt our heads to read the sign as it’s come loose on all but one nail and hangs vertically.
“What do you reckon?” James asks.
“It looks…”
“Dodgy as fuck,” he says.
“I was going to say cheap.”
“Worth a try, I suppose. We could at least ask about getting our phones fixed. Maybe they can help,” he suggests, squinting down at me.
I peek back at all the people we’ve just walked past to get here. We could’ve asked any of them for help. Well, I suppose we didn’t because we’re both slightly out of sorts now. Even James seems a bit more reserved than before. We need a decent meal, a solid sleep and a damn good shower. That’ll get us back to ourselves. Especially as we’re supposed to be returning to the hotel tomorrow or we’ll miss our flight.
“Come on, then. Knowing our luck, it’ll be too expensive,” I say, pouting as we cross the road towards the building.
The tiny front door is so low James has to duck to get in. The hallway has been redesigned into a reception area with a desk and a bell. The red and white flowery wallpaper is stained and peeling in places along the ceiling. James is just about to ring the bell as an elderly, grey-haired lady pops through a door, wearing an old-fashioned apron.
She blinks at us with her kind yellowy eyes. “Hello there.”
“Afternoon,” James says. “How much are your rooms please?”
“They’re sixty for the night, duck.”
I sigh, I’m about to turn away when James says, “Any chance you could do us a solid and meet us at forty? We’re sort of strapped for cash.”
She makes a face. “Hmm. Can you go without breakfast?”
James looks across at me for confirmation. I say, “Is there hot water?”
“Of course there is,” she says, giving me a sneer, as if I’ve offended her by asking.
“Great, we’ll take it.” I don’t even care if there’s only one bed at this point. There’s a bloody shower, for crying out loud. With hot water! Luxury!
James fishes through his bag looking for the fifty-pound note. Once he’s found it, he hands it across to the lady who makes a face as if we’ve handed her money from a Monopoly game. “We don’t take fifties, duck.”
James pauses as he’s zipping up his backpack. I blink at her across the desk. There’s a moment of silence that drags on.
Then James says, “What do you mean you don’t take fifties?”
“Don’t get shirty with me, young man. This is probably fake.”
“It’s certainly not fake.” James looks to me for assistance.
I shrug. “Does anywhere in the town take fifties?”
“Hmm, the fish ’n’ chip shop probably does.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Come on James. We’ll be back in a bit.”
*
The chips smell like heaven. They’re perfectly greasy, soaking the white paper they’ve been wrapped in as we return to the bed and breakfast with two twenty-pound notes. What an excellent excuse to buy two large portions of chips. They weren’t super happy to give us change for a fifty, but with James’ persuasion, and my quietly-panicked face, we succeeded, returning to collect our key for the night.
Once we’ve been shown to our room and the shared bathroom, we finally plant ourselves down on the bed – me, cross-legged, James, with his back against the headboard. The room isn’t so bad. The bed itself is a little creaky. But it smells alright in here, like rosewater and lavender. There’s an adequate amount of light streaming through the window and reflecting off the oval mirror placed above a dressing table at the side of the room.
We gorge ourselves silly. James is attempting to resuscitate his phone, having seen an Android charger behind the reception desk and begging the lady to lend it to him. It won’t turn on right away so it’s possible it’s flooded. Mine is a lost cause. There’s water behind the main screen – I didn’t even know that was possible.
“We could’ve asked to borrow that lady’s phone, you know? Called Michael and demand he picks us up,” I say, scoffing another chip down. God, it’s so good! Chips are life. Especially when they’re covered in salt and vinegar. Each bite requires diligent finger licking.
James finishes chewing on a chip, then gives me an inquisitive look. There’s something else there too. It looks like a bit of heat has risen into his cheeks. Is he embarrassed?
“Do you want to? We could still do that. I’m sure we can find his hotel’s number pretty easily.”
I consider it. Do I want that? I’m sure the castle hotel is very nice. Far, far nicer than this quirky little place. But we’d have to face Michael, knowing what he’s done to us. I don’t think I can do that right now. Not feeling as depleted as I am.
Besides, I’ve had worse company. We’d have separate rooms if we went back tonight. Although it’s only been three nights, I’ve sort of grown used to James’ heat alongside me, the closeness of his face, his presence somehow keeping me grounded whilst I dream. And then I realise, to my horror, that there’s something worse lingering. Something I knew might happen, but I ignored. Something I’m going to kick myself for later.
I sort of like James. Really like him.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as I peer up at his dark blue eyes. He’s worried about my answer. I can’t tell what he wants me to say. Maybe he does want to go back. Maybe he’s been waiting for me to ask exactly this. Or maybe he doesn’t? Does he feel the same as me?
I shrug, try to play my feelings down. “It’s ok. We’re alright here for tonight. We can call him in the morning.”
James nods, takes another chip, chewing slowly. I’m sure I see the whisper of a grin on his lips. “Alright then. It’s a plan.”
Just then, his phone vibrates. We both sit upright, staring in wonder as his screen lights up, slowly loading. James practically launches at it, clicking buttons on the side like he might be able to speed it up. Then he’s logging in and searching his contacts. Before I have a chance to move, he’s dialling a number.
“I can go,” I whisper, clambering off the bed.
“No, it’s ok. Stay,” he says. “If you want to, that is.”
Before I can answer, a woman’s voice bursts down the line. “Jamesy!”
“You ok?” he asks. He swallows, his face serious as he stares back at the screen. It takes me a moment to realise he’s on FaceTime. I climb back onto the bed, quietly picking at my chips whilst he talks to his sister.
“I’m fine. We’re all fine,” she sings.
James presses his lips together as if he’s almost afraid to ask but then he says, “Can I see him?”
“Who?” his sister teases.
“My bloody nephew.”
“Sure, but hang on,” she says. “Why’ve you not been answering your phone? We’ve been worried.”
James sighs but he’s grinning. “My phone broke. It’s a long story. I’m sorry I’ve been off grid. I’m alright. We’re in Scotland.”
“Who’s we?”
“Me and Fliss.”
Soph cackles down the line. “That irritating woman from marketing?”
James laughs giving me an unapologetic shrug. It says, you knew how I felt about you.
I stick my tongue out in response.
“Who you looking at? Is she there? Is she on your bed? Fuck’s sake, James.”
Unexpectedly, James turns the phone so his sister can see me. I try to duck out of the screen but it’s impossible, so instead I wave awkwardly.
“Hi,” I say, with my mouth full. James smirks at my panicked expression, spinning it back to face him. Soph says something about pretty and cute, but James is talking again.
“Show me my damn nephew,” he demands in a jokey manner.
There’s shuffling down the line, a soft squeak, the unmistakeable sound of a sleepy newborn. James watches, his eyes widening, his lips parting slightly. He tilts his head.
“Soph,” he whispers. “ Look .”
“Isn’t he perfect?”
“Absolutely perfect. You sure you made him?”
“Shut up, you prick.”
He guffaws. “You’ll have to curb that potty mouth.”
“Piss off,” she says sweetly.
“Can’t wait to meet him. What’s he called?”
“Bernie,” she says, and I nearly choke on a chip while James sniggers. If Sophie hears she doesn’t say anything.
James looks at me over his phone. “Want to meet my nephew?”
“Oh, it’s ok,” I say, not wanting to intrude on his family moment. But James nods at the spot beside him. I crawl across the bed, planting myself so we’re shoulder to shoulder. If someone had told me this would happen three days ago, when we were abandoned roadside in our work clothes, I’d never have believed it. Look at us. So comfy in each other’s company.
It doesn’t mean anything, Fliss. It can’t last. It’s just a reaction to the situation.
And I know this. I do. But there’s a wonderful energy leaking from his pores now he knows his sister is well and his nephew is perfect. I want to stay right here soaking it in, but I can’t because this is going to end badly. I can sense it.
I hop up, swinging my legs off the bed.
“He’s adorable,” I say. And he is. His soft cheeks, those tiny lips, the little fingers curling round his mummy’s hand. “But I really need a shower. I’m going to…” I don’t finish the sentence, waving to Sophie on the screen and dipping out of the room, clean white towel in hand.
*
I’m deliriously relieved to discover this quirky B&B, with a pink bathtub, flowery-patterned roller blinds and bubbly linoleum flooring, has a power shower. I close my eyes and let the hot water wash over my hair, face and body. I give in to the way it pummels perfectly against my shoulder blades. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m moaning.
I wash my hair using the shampoo and conditioner that’s been left for me. Then condition a second time, praying that’ll be enough to get some of the knots out. Especially as I’ll need to use my fingers to comb it in lieu of my hairbrush. I scrub all over, trying to get the smell of damp, muddy countryside, and my own aromas off my skin. I crave the feeling of cleanliness.
Once I’ve climbed out, I grab my towel hanging on the back of the door, wrap it around me, and sigh contentedly, as my wet hair drips down my left shoulder. That might be the best shower I’ve ever had. I pat down my body, slowly realising the towel she’s given me is actually very short, barely covering my butt cheeks. I stare at the pile of clothes on the floor for a moment. I could put them back on. That would be the smart thing to do. No need to stoke the fire between me and James further by returning to the room practically naked. And yet the thought of putting those sweaty, mucky things back onto my clean body makes me want to cry.
No. The towel will have to do. I sneak through the door, stepping quietly down the hall to our room, listening for voices. When it’s quiet, I peek in to check I’m not intruding on James’ family conversations.
He’s scrolling on his social media accounts. As he notices me, he glances up, smiling. “How was the shower?”
“Good. So good ,” I say, coming into the room a bit more to reveal my incredibly short towel arrangement.
James gulps as he sees, blinking at my legs. He presses his lips together, then opens them to say something, then closes them again.
“I couldn’t bear to put my hiking stuff back on. Sorry,” I say.
“It’s ok,” he says, voice strained. “Tell you what, I’m going to hop in the shower now too. Leave you to get dressed.”
He’s gone, closing the door behind him before I can say I need clean clothes and probably should’ve thought that through before getting in the shower in the first place. I groan, peeking round the room, hoping something will give me inspiration. There’s an old, flowery bed throw I could fashion into a dress.
A dress! I stride across to my bag, whipping out my black skater dress from the flight to Scotland. It’s still a little damp, having not been left out to dry at any point, but once it’s on, it covers enough of me to go downstairs and ask the landlady if she has a lost property box I can pillage.
In luck, I find myself a slightly baggy black vest top, beige cardigan and a pair of leggings. There are even pink sneakers in my size. Then, in a rush to get dressed, I whip some items out for James. He’s tall so there’s far less choice for him. He’ll have to make do.
*
Once he’s out of the shower he stands there, towel folded in at his waist, bare chest glistening, his hair even darker now that it’s been washed and cleaned, frowning at my choices for him. “I’m not sure I believe this was all they had.”
“It’s all there was, I promise.”
“Hmm,” he says, unconvincingly. He pulls the top on over his head, shaking his hair loose as he glances down at me. “Go on, laugh.”
I cover my face as a snigger bursts from my lips. “You look…”
“Like a hippie from the seventies on a peace protest march?”
The tie-dye top I found him is blue, yellow and pink, practically glowing with joyous fun. It’s probably a few sizes too short, riding up at his belly button, tight around his shoulders. “You look like you’re about to shackle yourself to a tree.”
He shakes his head, looking across the bed. “I can’t believe you even found me some lost boxers.”
“Marie promised me it was all clean.”
“Wow, and what are these?” he asks, holding up a pair of beige chino shorts that happen to have approximately fifty pockets.
“I believe these are what are called dad pants.”
“Dad pants?” he chuckles.
“The pockets are for snacks, bottles of milk, first aid kits, dummies… It’s the modern-day alternative to bum bags.”
He smirks at me before shaking his head with a sigh. “Turn around then.”
I do as I’m told, twisting away to look at the wall whilst James pulls the second-hand boxers and shorts on, when my eyes catch on the mirror on top of the dresser. There he’s stood, naked from the waist down, in all his glory. My jaw drops open. He hasn’t noticed me gawping. I quickly look away, pinching my leg.
“All done,” he says.
I take a second to compose my face before turning back with a guilty smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I squeak. “It’ll do, right?”
“Yeah sure. Hey, fancy some more chips?”
“We have no money left,” I remind James with a confused frown.
He waves his phone in front of me. “I have contactless set up on my phone.”
I can’t fight the smile on my face. “Then, yes. Let’s get wine and all.”