Page 1 of Kindling
1
“Okay.Almostworth the three-mile trek.” Harper huffed out a long breath as she stopped at the bottom of the white wooden steps. They led up to a rustic modern cottage, which would be her new home for the undecided, foreseeable future. Before she could get excited, she tutted at her lilac suitcase, purchased only last week for this very trip.
Ruined. The wheels had gathered thick carpets of moss and piles of soggy leaves after she’d dragged it along a barely-there footpath, far away from the last glimpse of civilisation. Her Uber driver had kindly thrown her out on a dead-end road and left her to fend for herself in these thick, roadless woods. “I’ll nae get any closer than this, love,” he’d claimed. “I’m sure it’s a nice walk, though. You’ll be right as rain.”
It was not a nice walk at all. She had decided already that she did not like Scotland.
And Scotland did not like her, it seemed, because the country had also ruined her favourite pair of burgundy ankle boots. With a groan, she used the signpost labelling the cottage Heatherley Lodge to swipe the mud from her chunky soles.When she’d booked an extended, remote holiday with her redundancy pay, the Airbnb listing hadn’t specified that finding the place would add to her growing list of newly-faced inconveniences. First she had lost her job. Then her girlfriend. Now, she had lost the will to live.
Harper had already tried to call her mum (if only to cry about it) – despite turning thirty this year, she had not outgrown that habit yet. But, naturally, there was no phone signal to be found. Only tricky-to-decipher signposts had led the way.
Never mind that, though. She was here now, and “here” looked quite nice. She pulled out her phone to snap a picture of the lovely lodge. With ivy growing up the panelled walls, an autumnal wreath hooked on the arched door, and light pouring in through floor-to-ceiling windows, it was the ideal place to wallow.
No, Harper. Not wallow. You’re here to write a bestselling novel,she reminded herself. Mostly, she was here to reclaim her dignity, and romanticising her sad little life on Instagram for her ex to see seemed like a wise first step.
Propping her heavy suitcase by the steps, she searched for the most flattering angle, making sure the flame-red autumn leaves surrounding the lodge were in frame as she crouched and side-stepped her way to the perfect picture. She could already imagine sitting by the window in the orange armchair she’d seen on the listing’s gallery, laptop open on a sleek glass coffee table beside a steaming mug of hot chocolate placed on a quirky coaster.
“All right.Definitelyworth the trek. I already feel like a proper author.”Writing had always been something she’d left on the back burner in favour of financial stability and a steady job in the field she’d studied – marketing – but since that had fallen through, it was time to finally focus on something she cared about.
And if that didn’t work, she’d surely gain a few hundred new followers while she stayed here, snapping her cosy aesthetic lifestyle like those pretty influencers she scrolled past each day. Kenzie would be jealous, probably regretful of their break-up. They’d never gone away together, minus an underwhelming caravan break in Blackpool to celebrate a friend’s hen party and a spa day for Kenzie’s birthday.
With a deep breath, Harper turned her back to the lodge and held her phone out to take a selfie. She sucked in her round cheeks and pouted to make her lips look kissable in that way Kenzie used to like – but she wasn’t doing it for her, she told herself.Liedto herself.
Despite the dried tear stains on her cheeks, left behind from when she hadn’t been able to contact her mum, Harper couldn’t help but admire herself. With her olive-green beanie, blonde waves, and cheeks rosy from the walk, she looked almost as glossy as the view behind her – or would, at least, with a decent filter.
However, when she checked if she’d got a nice shot, one where her nose didn’t look too big or her eyes weren’t half-closed, her gaze snagged on something else in the photo.
On the last snap, the lodge’s front door had opened… and a middle-aged man with sandy hair and a blue V-neck jumper was emerging.
She shot her head up, face warming with embarrassment when she saw the man in question hopping down the steps, keys jangling in hand.
Still, she tugged at her thick plaid “shacket” and pasted on a smile, pretending she was completely fine with being caught in the act. “Hiya! You must be the owner, Darren. Sorry I’m a bit late… You didn’t say I’d have to walk so far.” She played her annoyance off with a nervous laugh.
He frowned as he reached her, glancing from beneath thick brows around the woods. Up close, she saw a few strands of grey peppered his hair, which was styled in a neat side part.
“It’s advertised as remote.” His thick Scottish accent was music to her ears. Harper may or may not have chosen the location because she enjoyed the brogue, hoping that being surrounded by a different dialect would help her erase memories of her very Mancunian ex-girlfriend.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Although you might have to leave me a guide about how to do the shopping and whatnot.”
Darren hummed, then glanced warily behind him to the lodge. Unease twisted in Harper’s already unsettled stomach. Was something wrong? He didn’t exactly look happy to see her, considering she’d shelled out a hefty deposit and already promised at least a month’s rent. She hoped to stay longer, until her novel was written or she ran out of money,but she might have to reconsider if she couldn’t get to Tesco on a regular basis.
“Look, I’m terribly sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Oh, god. Harper was nauseous now. Nothing good ever started with those words.I’m terribly sorry, but we just don’t have the resources to keep you on. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I love you anymore. I’m awfully sorry, but your favourite lipstick shade has been discontinued.
“We’ve had a few wee maintenance issues pop up this morning, and the lodge isn’t fit for guests. I’ll give you the full refund, love, but I’m afraid I have to cancel your booking.”
Her mouth hung open. From the outside, nothing seemed wrong with the lodge. It was perfect, exactly how it had been advertised on the website. “If it’s just a faulty plug or something, that’s okay. I have power packs to keep me going until it’s fixed.” She’d packed five just to be sure, almost as though she’d known she might get lost in the middle of the woods. It paid to be cautious, or a “worrywart”, as Kenzie often called her.
Darren shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s nothing that easy. The plumbing is absolutely buggered, and the kitchen and bathroom are both flooded. I’m waiting on somebody to come out, but it’ll take bloody weeks to fix the damage.”
So the maintenance issues weren’t “wee” at all. Harper’s lungs contracted. What was she going to do?
“I… erm… So, what now?”
“Well, like I said, I’m waiting for the plumber, and then it’ll be a question of repairs.” He grimaced. “I don’t even know if I can afford those. Hopefully, the place’ll be up and running again in a couple of months.”
“But what aboutme?” Her voice cracked, throat aching with the threat of tears. She shouldn’t have come here.This was why she hadn’t booked a long trip for over a decade. The way her spine stiffened in trepidation, her body braced for the worst whenever she was somewhere new. It wasn’t worth it when she could have been tucked up in bed with Netflix, comfy at home.
