A Summer of New Beginnings

by Lisa Hobman

  Hey Zee! We miss you. Don’t go getting addicted to fresh air! Shelley & Marco <3

  A ridiculous photo of the pouting pair accompanied the message and Zara wondered how the hell a multi-media message had managed to come through. She drank the mini bottle of Shiraz she had purchased from the shop; the taste of it took her back to the dinner she had eaten with Lachy when they had got to know each other a little and she smiled at the memory of their conversations. She reached into her bag and took out her memory stick. Unsure as to why, she felt a connection to him when she held it in her hand.

  She climbed into her tent when the temperature began to drop and pretty soon she drifted off to sleep.

  *

  The following day was a particularly early start but she was determined to make up as many miles as she could even though she knew she would still be finished a day or so behind the original schedule. The replacement bike wasn’t right, however. She had got used to Silver Dickhead and it had eventually stopped being quite so uncomfortable. Blue Bollocks – as she had named this one, purely because if she’d been male that was what it would’ve given her – was like starting over. The trouble was she had no choice; it would have to do. And as she cycled towards the day’s destination she welcomed the cool rain that soaked her skin. Even with the dramatic covering of dark clouds the scene that surrounded her was magnificent.

  She passed the site of her accident and the incident with the re-enacters and smiled to herself as she recalled Lachy teasing her about the time-travel thing. She wondered what he would be doing now. Would he be out on his quad bike tending to his sheep? Or maybe in the kitchen making bread to replace what she had taken? She imagined him at the sink, glancing at her over his shoulder with that handsome smile he’d seemed to save for when they had been alone.

  Then her thoughts ran away with her and she remembered the feel of his lips on her skin. His fingers teasing and touching her. Being with him had been different. Maybe even better than with Josh. There had been no expectations. Just pleasure. She shivered as she recalled the way his body had fitted so perfectly with hers. But that didn’t mean anything. It was just sex. It was meant to be that way. It was how the human body was made. There was no one perfect person for every individual. No soulmate crap. She’d let go of that illusion a long time ago. But she missed him.

  She had to focus on something else.

  Riffling through her memory, she tried to find a song that would replace the aching sadness that had taken hold of her. But every song she came up with somehow brought her back to Lachy. Especially ‘Delilah’. She settled on letting it play in her mind as background music for her journey and for that moment accepted that she missed Lachy now but it would pass.

  It had to.

  She cycled through a varied landscape and decided to stop and take both notes on and photos of a little ruined castle she encountered. The texture of the clouds behind the crumbling stones created a powerful image that she hoped would translate onto paper, but she doubted it. None of the photos she had taken so far went any length towards creating the atmosphere she had experienced by being there in the moment. She wished she could be there when the aurora borealis lit up the sky in a multitude of waving colours. And that was something else she had learned about herself. She’d never imagined she would enjoy isolation or solitude, but she had experienced some incredible things by going through the very situations she’d thought she hated.

  After a brief stop at a mini supermarket for her evening provisions she finally arrived in Lairg. The campsite had beautiful views over Loch Shin and a games room that she thought she might try out for research purposes. Pool had always been her game at university and she hadn’t played in a while so wasn’t sure if she still had it. She set up her tent and her solar charger. The little gadget had been an absolute lifesaver as far as her work was concerned.

  The tent was erected in minutes. It had become second nature even though she’d had a brief reprieve—she only wished it were the same with packing it away. Her first stop was the shower block. Cycling all those miles a day was hard work and both her muscles and her nose appreciated what the hot water did for her body. Once towel-dried and dressed she made her way to the games room, but was sad to find no one else around. It was early. She threw a few darts and hit the white ball round the pool table for a while but then decided to return to the tent and eat. The packet pasta salad she had bought was nice enough, but it was no home-cooked Lachy meal, that was for sure. A man who could cook was incredibly attractive and good in bed was far too good to be true. Although, he did invade my privacy… But if that was his only fault…

  Later on she watched a group of people wander into the games room. They were together in a large tent and she guessed from the car stickers that they were doing the NC500 too. Might be good to do a bit of an interview…

  The people seemed friendly when she introduced herself. Three couples in their late thirties. She asked them why they had chosen the route.

  ‘I just love the fresh air,’ said one of the men, very athletic-looking and wearing outdoorsy clothes. ‘My work’s city-based in Leeds and so I come up here to escape the fumes and breathe a little. Both literally and figuratively. I can let go of the stress here.’

  ‘So you’ve travelled this route before?’ she asked with intrigue.

  ‘Oh, yes. We come and do the 500 every couple of years but we visit the Highlands annually just for the scenery. If I had my way we’d relocate up here but Henry’s job won’t allow it just yet,’ the man’s partner said.

  They played pool and she drank a bottle of beer with them. It struck her how similar some of them were to her. Busy city types who had taken a break from the hustle and bustle of city life. And it surprised her how many of them wished they could relocate.

  ‘Now if I was you, with your job, I’d be up here like a shot working remotely or freelance or something,’ one of the other men, a guy called Rich, told her. ‘You have the perfect job to live somewhere incredible and have the best of both worlds.’

  She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I think I’d miss the city too much. The inconvenience of everything here. The… the…’ She scrambled around her mind for what she had once known without a doubt.

  Rich pointed his beer bottle at her and laughed. ‘See! Even you’re getting addicted to this place! To say you didn’t want to come here, you’re really going to have a hard time saying goodbye, I reckon!’

  She worried that he had a point.

  Nope. She was a city girl. Big city, bars, shops, cars, fumes… lots of people rushing… Lots of shops though… and bars…

  She decided to quit whilst she was ahead – who was she kidding? ‘Well, folks, I’m back on the road tomorrow so I’m going to call it a night. Thanks for chatting. You’ve been really helpful. I have all your email addresses so I can let you know when the article goes live.’

  She bid them all goodnight and wandered out into the dusky evening to go back to her tent. The air was warm and there was a smell of heather and greenery. She could hear the calm chatter of the campsite occupants and nothing much else. The sky overhead was a pinpricked navy-blue canopy exposing tiny dots of light and the moon lit up her way just enough to help her get back.

  26

  Zara awoke to a rainy morning and much to her surprise, the weather matched her mood. This was going to be her last day of cycling. She had decided to combine the two final days into one due to her delays. Tonight, if all went well she’d be in Inverness, find a cheap hotel and chill out. She could consolidate her notes and eat a good meal before travelling home. Noah had booked an open-ended return rail ticket and even though she was keen to see her family and friends she needed to sleep in a bed and rest, and was looking forward to doing just that.

  Her usual morning routine ensued: she battled with the tent, cursed and swore under her breath but ultimately managed to get it in the bag with less hassle than usual. Bloody typical. In no time she was on the road again. She waved at the group
she had chatted to the night before as they sat outside their tent eating bacon sandwiches – the smell of which made her stomach growl in jealousy. Once again she was surrounded by lush green trees and scant traffic. Sheer bliss. The rain had cleared and the sky above was blue but there was a slight chill to the air, which made cycling a little more comfortable.

  She had been told of a place called the Storehouse by the group she had met so she made that her destination. She’d been told to try the scones and she wasn’t one to argue where such things were concerned. Once she had chained up the bike, aka BB, she walked inside. Baked goods and their sweet, delectable aromas enticed her and, after all the exercise she’d had recently, she threw caution to the wind as far as her diet was concerned. She went to the counter and ordered a scone with fresh cream and jam and a coffee and went to sit at a table that looked out onto the Cromarty Firth. She could certainly see why her new friends had suggested the place.

  All too soon the scone was devoured and she went to the counter to purchase another for later. Then she had a stroll round the deli and collected a few small gifts for Marco and Shelley, her mum and her dad and some tablet for her brothers. She wandered by the water’s edge and took a selfie with a giant blue anchor that had been placed by the shore like a majestic sculpture. She made notes about the café and the scones – it had to be done. And then she was on her way again.

  *

  She had mixed emotions as she cycled towards the Highland Trax shop in Inverness; SD was gone and she’d soon be parting ways with its replacement. It was bizarre how she appeared to have formed an attachment to the thing that was involved in much of her trauma over the preceding days, but in some ways she would remember the first bike fondly… Well, perhaps once her bottom was back to normal.

  The city was buzzing with people on their way home from work, everyone rushing, chatting, carrying shopping bags and briefcases. It was like a much more compact version of London only this city was a stone’s throw from some of the best views she had ever witnessed. She glanced up at the old clock tower and was a little shocked to find that she had a matter of minutes before the bike shop closed.

  Thankfully she was lucky to arrive just in time and, as much as she had surprised herself by enjoying the trip, it was a relief to hand the bike over to the staff. There were definitely more comfortable and less strenuous ways to travel.

  The man who had delivered her replacement bike was there to greet her. ‘Ah, Miss Bailey, how are you doing?’

  ‘Hi. Great, thanks. Relieved to be back on two feet, I think.’

  He nodded. ‘Aye, it’s been quite an adventure for you, eh?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, yes, you could say that.’

  He held up his finger. ‘Oh, hang on there a minute, would you? We had a letter dropped in for you earlier today actually.’

  Zara frowned. ‘A letter?’

  ‘Yes. One sec.’ He disappeared into the back office and returned moments later clutching the thick cream-coloured envelope. ‘There you go. Dropped in by one of the hotel staff in person.’ He raised his eyebrows.

  The envelope was embossed with a fancy logo from a swanky hotel in Inverness. She opened it and read.

  Dear Miss Bailey

  We will be delighted to welcome you this evening to stay in our Grand Suite. Payment has been made in full and dinner is booked for 8 p.m.

  Yours sincerely

  Hugo McTavish

  Manager

  She smiled and shook her head. Noah’s on one serious guilt trip. She thanked the shop staff and waved goodbye. Once outside she dropped Noah a quick text to thank him for the booking but didn’t expect a reply. She knew what he was like when he was feeling bad and after the time she’d had he must have been feeling terrible.

  As she had been informed that dinner was booked for eight that evening and the hotel was apparently quite upper class, Zara dived into the closest dress shop she could find. She was very much aware that cycling clothes weren’t really appropriate for fine dining, but was also aware she had less than thirty minutes before the shop closed to find clothes, shoes and undies, which wasn’t exactly a lot. She dashed round the store and picked up a black dress, black bra and panties, a pair of ballet pumps and some make-up. She arrived at the checkout with five minutes to spare, feeling quite impressed with herself. At least in a fancy hotel there’ll be nice toiletries, she surmised.

  She made her way across Inverness to the address of the hotel and gasped as she walked up the long driveway. It was a white-painted Victorian building in beautiful grounds – not the kind of place she would have expected Noah to book. Bloody hell, he really is on a guilt trip.

  Inside, the marble-tiled floor glistened under the chandeliers in the reception area and just beyond the main desk she could see plush leather sofas to either side of a stone fireplace. A tartan carpet in deep burgundy and green covered the floor in the sitting area and Zara couldn’t help smiling at how cosy it looked.

  A smartly dressed young man stood behind the desk – his waistcoat matched the carpet she could see – and he greeted her with a warm smile.

  ‘Good evening, madam. How may I help you?’

  She smoothed down her dishevelled locks and cleared her throat, suddenly feeling very underdressed. ‘Ahem… hi, yes, my name is Zara Bailey. I believe there’s a room booked here for me.’ She handed him the letter she had received in the bike shop.

  He typed into the computer. ‘Ah, yes, Miss Bailey. You’re in our Grand Suite this evening. It’s through the door to the left and up the stairs or the elevator to the third floor. Would you like help with your bags?’

  She cringed as she looked down at her minimal luggage. ‘Oh, that’s okay. I think I can manage.’

  ‘Very well.’ He smiled again. ‘Dinner is booked for eight and your guest will join you then.’

  ‘My guest?’ Confusion took over as she tried to figure out why Noah would come all this way. It was one major bloody guilt trip if he had. ‘Do you have the name of my guest at all?’ The man scrunched his brow and she replayed what she had just asked. ‘Oh, erm… this has been booked as a surprise for me by a friend. I just don’t know which friend.’ Nope, that doesn’t really help you to not look like a prostitute, Bailey. She suddenly felt like Julia Roberts’ character in Pretty Woman when she arrived at the Regent Beverly Wilshire.

  He glanced at the screen again. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the name. And I didn’t handle the call, so I can’t really help. It’s all just booked in your name. I can call my colleague if—’

  She felt that awful telltale heat rise in her face and wanted to just get to her room. ‘Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. I have a good idea who it is. I’ve been cycling the North Coast 500, you see, and this is their way of congratulating me for not dying,’ she said, feeling the need to explain. She dashed for the elevator – well, she had just cycled almost five hundred miles so the stairs were an absolute no-no.

  As she rode upwards to her floor it dawned on her that maybe… and it was a long shot… but maybe this was all Lachlan’s doing. Maybe he missed her and had decided to surprise her? Her stomach flipped as she thought about that possibility, as minuscule as it was. The nervousness in her stomach turned to butterflies doing the fandango as she imagined him walking into the fancy restaurant in a kilt. Of course, he probably wouldn’t do that but if he did… Those calves… His thighs under that kilt… The elevator pinged and the doors opened. She walked along the corridor and located her suite, stuck the key card into the slot and the door opened.

  She stepped into a beautifully decorated hallway with a thick carpet that sank underfoot as she trod further into the suite. A bathroom lay straight ahead with his and hers marble sinks and a roll-top bath big enough for two. Round the corner was a walk-in shower cubicle too. As expected, expensive toiletries graced the surfaces in readiness, along with thick fluffy bathrobes and towels. Oh, God, I could move into this bathroom alone.

  She came out of the bathroom and wal
ked into the main area of the suite. Shimmering fleur-de-lys wallpaper covered the bed-head wall – the bed-head itself was a sumptuous burgundy velvet. A plush leather couch, much like the ones in the reception area, sat in the bay window overlooking the grounds and the biggest bed she had ever seen was situated to make the best of the view.

  She walked round open-mouthed and excitement built once again. This wouldn’t be Noah. This has to Be Lachy. But if it was Lachy he was being very presumptuous. Unless all he expected was to dine with her and leave? That would be acceptable. How would she feel seeing him again? She closed her eyes and let the image of him walking towards her unfold. That handsome smile on his face and that stubble on his angular jaw. The short amount of time they had spent together had felt sexually charged and she knew if it was him she wouldn’t be able to resist him. But this was such a grand gesture for someone she’d had no-strings-attached sex with, wasn’t it? Had it meant more to him? She wasn’t ready to admit that there was a good chance it had meant more to her… Not yet. Even though deep down…

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, this isn’t helping me. I need to shower. In fact, no, I need to have a long soak in that massive tub,’ she said to the empty room, as if doing so would dislodge the images and feelings coursing through her. Pissed off with herself, she stomped through to the bathroom and turned on the taps in the tub. Whatever happened she was leaving tomorrow to go back to London, so even if Lachy did turn out to be her ‘guest’ for the evening nothing could come of it. She couldn’t allow herself to feel something for someone who lived so far away.

  She poured vanilla-scented bath oil into the water, stripped her tight-fitting bike clothes from her body and stepped in. As she sank down she immediately began to relax. The cocoon of steam enveloped her like a hug and she exhaled some of the tension she had been holding onto. She closed her eyes and thought back to some of the sights and experiences she’d had during her trip. The eagles, the dolphins, the seals… Bess’s little face as Zara mounted her bike to leave… Lachy standing with his back towards her as if he couldn’t wave goodbye. Tears over-spilled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. Lachy had been right – in spite of her original reluctance to come to Scotland, she would be leaving a little piece of her heart in the Highlands.