AMANDA MARTIN
TWO-HUNDRED STEPS HOME
VOLUME TWO
Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at https://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © Amanda Martin 2013
Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work
Also by Amanda Martin:
Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 1
Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 3
Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 4
Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 5
Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 6
Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 7
Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume 8
Dragon Wraiths
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes
This novel is entirely a work of fiction although based loosely on the YHA Hostels of England and Wales. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
https://www.amanda-martin.co.uk
https://writermummy.wordpress.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Follow the Blog
About the Author
ONE
“Ow!”
“Stop being such a girl.”
“I am a girl and that hurts!”
Josh looked up at Claire and shook his head. “What possessed you to take your hands off the handlebars anyway? You said you hadn’t been on a bike since you were a nipper.”
Claire lowered her head so her hair fell over her face. “I felt like I was flying. I wanted to sit up and feel the wind in my face.”
“Dingbat! Only the pros take their hands off on a cross-country track.” Josh dabbed at the blood pouring from beneath Claire’s ripped trousers.
“Oh look at my GAP jeans, they’re ruined.” Claire’s wail at the state of her clothes was louder than the cry of pain as Josh picked gravel from the wound.
“Nothing a patch won’t fix.”
“I am not putting a patch on my jeans. I might be reduced to sleeping in a bunk-bed and driving a rust bucket but I am not walking round with patches on my clothes.”
“Find yourself a Thrifty then. What do you call them here? A charity shop. That’s where most of my stuff comes from.”
Claire shuddered at the thought of wearing something already used and abused by someone else. It might be time to dip into my wages again. I couldn’t do this backpacking thing for real. She vowed to find a Mountain Warehouse or whatever at the next decent-sized town she came to. I’ll be buggered if I’m going to wreck my good clothes for Carl’s sake.
Josh applied a plaster to Claire’s knee and wiped her other scrapes and grazes with an antiseptic wipe.
“You’re pretty handy at that first aid thing,” Claire said. “I can’t stomach the sight of blood, even my own.”
“I used to work in a hospital back in Oz.” Josh’s voice was closed, preventing Claire from asking the questions that pushed at her lips.
“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day, Planning Lady?” He looked up brightly at her and then pushed himself to his feet to sit down next to her at the table.
“Move on to the next hostel. If I leave now I’ll be there before reception closes.”
“What is the next hostel?” Josh picked at some dirt under his nails.
“Well, the nearest one is a bunkhouse and I’ve decided to leave those until the summer - I have to come back for Wooler anyway - so I’m going on to Once Brewed.”
“Once Brewed? That’s the name of a hostel? Awesome! Count me in!” He turned to face her, his face split in a grin.
Claire took in his expectant expression, like a dog sitting at the fridge. Oh crap he wants to come with me. What do I do? Claire had some notion that backpackers spent a lot of time hitchhiking but she hadn’t equated that with taking anyone along with her. Can I bear to travel with someone? What if I can’t get rid of him?
While her brain churned Josh sat staring, his eyes boring into the side of her face. Oh what the hell. I can always leave while he’s asleep. It might be nice to travel with someone who knows how this hostelling thing works. It’s not like we’ll have to share a room. Most of the dorms have been single-sex so far.
She turned to face Josh, grinning at the expression on his face. “Sure, why not? Can you be ready to leave in an hour?”
“You bet!” Josh jumped up and went to leave the room. He stopped at the door, walked briskly back to Claire and gave her a quick, odoriferous, peck on the cheek. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been stuck in this damn place waiting for a lift out. You’re an angel!” He turned to leave again and Claire called out to him to wait. He turned anxiously.
“Josh? Take a shower.”
***
TWO
“God I’m so sorry.” Claire flushed as she grabbed Josh’s knee instead of the gear stick for the second time.
“No worries.”
Even in the dark she could sense his lewd grin. Blood flushed to her face and she turned to concentrate on the road ahead. She was still searching her whirling brain for a safe topic of conversation when Josh spoke again.
“Claire?”
The serious tone made her glance towards him, trying to see his expression in the dark. She couldn’t and had to twist her head back quickly to concentrate on avoiding an on-coming lorry.
“Yes?”
“Can I read your blog?”
Whatever Claire had thought Josh was going to say that wasn’t it.
“Oh. Sure of course if you want to. You can read it now if you like, there’s not exactly much going on out the window.” It was dusk and the weak Skoda headlights were picking out only the road ahead. The sky was a beautiful deep blue behind them but ahead a mass of storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Claire reached behind her and retrieved her iPad from the pocket of the rucksack.
“Go to the notes section, you’ll see the drafts there.” It could probably wait until they got to the hostel but Claire was eager for a second opinion. So far there had been no likes or comments on her posts and only a few visits. She knew she wasn’t trying as hard as she could to engage on Twitter and Facebook but she was still a little disappointed there wasn’t more response.
Josh stared at the black rectangle in front of him as if it was alien technology. “Um, how do I turn it on?”
Claire held back a laugh. I guess iPads don’t come your way every day when you’re
on the road all the time. She conveniently forgot that, until Michael had given this one to her for Christmas, she hadn’t known how to turn one on either. She reached over in the dark, careful to touch only the iPad, pressed the button then swiped the screen. She described the icon he needed to tap and eventually he was immersed in her writing.
The breath seemed to stick in Claire’s throat as she listened to the silence. Eventually, after far longer than it should have taken to read a few thousand words, Josh raised his head and gazed out the window.
“Well?”
“Very informative.” Josh’s voice fell leaden into the waiting silence.
“You don’t like them?” Claire fought an unexpected desire to weep.
“There’s nothing to like or not like. It reads like a website.”
“Well, that’s what it’s meant to be.” Claire could hear her voice rising in the dark and fought to keep it level. “The brief was to write about the YHA’s 200 hostels and how they promote a healthy lifestyle. So that’s what I’ve done. All the information is there.”
“Yes, information. That’s the word. It’s just information. There’s no heart.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“How many followers have you got? How many likes? I know this is the first week but how many people have visited your page?”
Claire found herself surprised at Josh’s knowledge of blogging terminology. She couldn’t find any words to respond.
“I’m sorry, I’ve offended you.” Josh’s voice was soft.
“No,” Claire forced out a laugh. “It takes more than that to offend me. I’m sorry you don’t like it.”
“It’s not that. I think what you’re doing is amazing. I write a blog for the folks back home when I get near a computer and it’s tough thinking of what to write. And it’s not my job.”
That explains how he knows more than I do. She found herself wanting to read his blog, to read about his life on the road.
“Maybe you could guest post on my blog, share your experience of travelling?”
“I can. But this is your blog. You need to write your story. People can go to the YHA website to find out opening times and local attractions. People want colour and texture. Write about hiking the Pennines in the snow. Write about falling off your bike and trashing your trousers. Talk about picking up hitchhikers and seeing the stars.”
“I’m not sure that’s what Happy Cola really want.” And I don’t want the world sharing my humiliations thank you very much.
“Bollocks. They want advertising. That’s all they want. They don’t care how they get it.”
“They will if it portrays their brand in a negative way.”
Josh laughed. “How is it negative that a girl from the city who hadn’t ridden a bike since she was a kid felt so alive the first time she freewheeled down a hillside that she thought she could fly?” There was something in his voice that Claire couldn’t quite place. It made her feel like melted marshmallow in a mug of hot chocolate.
She thought about sharing that part of her adventure on the blog. I guess it can’t do any harm. What does it matter if I humiliate myself? It isn’t my name on the blog anyway and no one I know is going to read it. Especially not Michael. She shook her head at the traitorous words. Michael, will you sod off out of my mind. It’s over and that’s the end of it.
Claire looked out the window as the Sat Nav warned her she was nearing her destination. All she could see was a square of tarmac on the side of the road and some buildings set back behind a line of trees.
“Looks like we’re here.”
She pulled into the car park, glad to have an excuse to finish the conversation. They dragged their bags from the back seat and went in together to check in. All Claire wanted to do was find a quiet corner, get out her iPad, and write.
***
THREE
“Bagsy I get the bottom bunk; I rather fancy you on top.” Josh’s laughter rang round the small room as Claire glared at him and wrapped her arms around her midriff.
“It's bad enough that you talked me into sharing a room with you. I can do without the suggestive comments. Don’t push me or I’ll go to reception and move to a dorm. Then you can pay for this whole room by yourself.”
“Surely you'd rather share with just me than a room full of chicks you’ve never met? They might snore.”
“You might snore for all I know. Besides I've learned my lesson on that one, I have ear plugs. And don't think about trying anything either. I'm not interested in a travelling romance. If I hear you climbing that ladder in the night I’ll stick a pin in you.”
“Don't get your pants twisted Claire I'm a perfect gent. I don't pursue where I'm not welcome.” He said the words with a glint and Claire was conscious of a warm flush rising up her neck. Ignoring the betrayal of her body Claire dug through her rucksack to retrieve her night-dress and wash bag.
“Nice nighty.”
Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re outrageous. Right, what now?”
“Now we explore.”
It didn’t take long to discover that the hostel had no hidden delights, apart from a little corridor conservatory along from the lounge which was probably lovely in the summer. The whole place felt in need of a refresh, particularly after some of the places Claire had stayed in already. It was like visiting her Gran’s house, before she died. At least it doesn’t smell of boiled cabbage.
“What do people do when they’re hostelling?” Claire sat on the edge of her chair and looked with puzzlement at Josh’s sprawled form.
“Whatever they want. Read, listen to music, chat, meet new people. If you’re lucky someone will start jamming.”
“Jamming?”
“You know, playing the guitar, singing.”
“Oh god, really? How awful.”
It was Josh’s turn to look perplexed. “What did you do to relax when you were at home Claire?”
Claire gave the question some thought. “I didn’t. I was either at work or out.”
“Where did you go out then? You must have had some fun.”
“Oh yes.” She thought about nights drinking with her friends. And then she remembered Susannah’s comments at her leaving party and wondered if they were really friends or just colleagues who bitched about her behind her back. Images of Sunday morning brunches with Michael, and walking in the park to let the wind blow away their hangovers, besieged her brain. They were unwelcome memories and she shoved them away.
“That’s different, though,” Claire continued. “That’s at home with friends and access to a decent wardrobe. What do you do with a sack full of unwashed clothes and no one to party with?”
“You don’t need clothes to party.”
Claire sniggered, drawing a ready grin from Josh. “I didn’t mean it like that but, yes, that’s one way to party. What I meant was you don’t need to dress up to have fun.”
Claire raised an eyebrow at Josh’s stained clothes, muddy trainers and unkempt hair. He wouldn’t even be allowed in to Tiger Tiger.
If Josh was aware of Claire’s critical scrutiny he didn’t show it. Instead he swung his legs down from the arm of the chair and sat forward, making eye contact. “I asked at reception when we checked in, apparently there’s a pub next door that does a bonzer steak pie. Come with me, we’ll have some nosh and I’ll show you how to be social when you’re on the road.”
Claire looked down at her travel-creased clothing and pulled at her greasy hair. “I could really use a shower and a change of clothes.”
“No, you come as you are. Most of the people in there will have been hiking Hadrian’s Wall all day. There won’t be any glamour, you’ll fit right in.”
Unsure how to take his last comment, Claire grabbed her purse and followed Josh out the door.
If nothing else it will be content for the blog. We’re only going to eat a meal and chat with some people, I used to do that all the time at work. How different can it be?
&n
bsp; ***
FOUR
“Hey Claire, great singing last night, how's the hangover?”
Claire dropped her head on her hands and groaned, refusing to respond to the man who had stopped on his way past their breakfast table. He chuckled and walked on. Claire was about to raise her head when she heard more footsteps and another voice.
“Alright Josh, Claire, nice guitar playing mate. Good session. You guys off to do the wall today? Weather looks smashing.”
The voice receded and the room went quiet. Lifting her head slowly Claire peered out under one arm. “Have they all gone? Is it safe to come out?”
Josh laughed sympathetically. “Yes they're gone, though you have no reason to hide. You were awesome.”
Claire moaned softly. “Not you too. What did I do exactly? It all goes hazy after the guy with the guitar and the bottle of whisky arrived.”
“You drank quite a lot of the whisky, mostly from the bottle, then you started dancing. Simon played accompaniment and when you kept falling over the furniture you decided to sing instead. You've got a nice voice you know, although the words were a bit slurred.”
“And you played guitar? I don't remember that.”
Josh shrugged. “Well you were mostly asleep on Steve's shoulder at that point.”
“Oh God, who is Steve?” Claire covered her face with her palms and peeked at Josh through splayed fingers.
“The guy who just said g'day to you.”
Claire dropped her head again. “Tell me nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened,” Josh said, a bit too quickly.
Claire looked up. “Now say it like it's true.”
“Well I can't swear to that. I was making Lucy's acquaintance.”
“Which one was she?”
“The red head with the stray curls.”
Claire shook her head. This wasn't going to be blog material. The sooner the night was forgotten the better.
“So are we walking the wall today or are you ticking this box as done and moving on?” Josh’s tone was neutral as he finished the last of his breakfast.
Claire considered the opportunity to escape and leave Josh and their jamming session behind. She looked out the window. Blue skies and scudding clouds beckoned her out to blow away the hangover.
Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume Two Page 1