Page 52 of A Summer of New Beginnings
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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-endedreturn 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 atthe 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 ofa 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 dietwas 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 giftsfor 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 herselfby 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 andwaved 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 couldfind. 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 minutesto 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 thecarpet 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, MissBailey. 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?’
