by Carmen Reid
Gina, Paula and Maddison were all excited by the trip. On the map, the island of Colonsay was a tiny speck of land miles and miles out to sea. Coming from a country where everything was on a vast scale, the Californians loved the idea of visiting somewhere so small.
Once they were up on the ferry deck, watching the mainland slip away, Gina’s mother came over and caught her texting. ‘Dermot?’ she asked.
Gina quickly folded her phone away.
After the snog, relations between Lorelei and Dermot had been frosty for the rest of the ghost tour, despite his best efforts to jolly things along.
‘Stop making jokes!’ Gina had hissed at him. ‘You’re just making things worse.’
All thoughts of Dermot being invited back to the hotel for a cosy evening in the lounge were dispelled as soon as the ghost tour was over: Lorelei had said firmly, ‘Nice to meet you, Dermot. I hope you don’t have so much trouble getting your bus home.’ She’d shaken his hand, shot him a pained smile, then put her arm in Gina’s and frog-marched her daughter along the pavement before she could even so much as say goodbye.
‘Mom!’ Gina had complained. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’
Now, Lorelei pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and reached over to move several loose strands of hair out of Gina’s face. ‘I didn’t give Dermot much of a chance, did I?’ she asked her daughter.
‘No,’ Gina agreed.
‘I’m sorry.’
This wasn’t a word Gina heard her mother say often, so she felt a little surprised.
‘It’s just . . . you’re so far away from home over here,’ Lorelei began. ‘I want you to be safe and loved and looked after. I don’t want you to be hurt or heartbroken, or for anything bad to happen to you ever. Can you understand that?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Gina said, her voice gentle. ‘But nothing about Dermot has been bad. He’s been really kind to me, and he and the dorm girls are the people who’ve made me feel most welcome here. They’re my friends.’
‘He just seemed such a . . . joker,’ Lorelei said. ‘Not at all serious. Cheeky even.’
Gina sighed. ‘I knew you’d think that. I kept telling him not to joke with you. He’s really smart, Mom. He’s trying to get into Edinburgh University next year, and he’s the kind of guy who does dates at art galleries. Really,’she added, almost shyly, ‘he’s cool. I like him a lot.’
‘Yeah, well, I could see that from the way you were kissing him. That was just a little too hot for my liking,’ her mom told her.
‘We were just kissing,’ Gina said firmly.
‘Keep it cool – I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘I’ll be fine. I promise,’ Gina replied.
The ferry was heading out into the open sea, and the waves were beginning to rock the deck up and down.
‘This is really exciting.’ Gina smiled at her mother. ‘Did you come to this island every year?’
‘Yeah, summer holidays and Easter. All four of us, playing on the beaches for weeks and weeks on end . . . Well, that’s what it felt like – but you know, Dad was so busy, the breaks were probably only a fortnight long.’
‘So busy, huh?’ Gina repeated to herself as Lorelei’s phone bleeped like a needy electronic baby in her handbag and took her attention away once again.
Twenty minutes later, the waves were beginning to grow larger and Gina heard Maddison give a moan.
‘It’s getting worse,’ she said. ‘I don’t feel so good!’
‘How long is this journey?’ Paula asked, looking anxiously out at the choppy water ahead.
‘Two hours,’ Lorelei told them.
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Both girls were dismayed.
‘Maybe we should go inside, sit down and have some tea,’ Lorelei suggested.
‘Yeah,’ Paula agreed immediately. ‘The sea spray is messing with my hair big time.’ She put both hands up to her wild, crinkled mane and scrunched it between her fingers.
A cup of tea and a seat didn’t help Maddison. As the ferry rolled up and down, she began to look more and more pale and green. Soon she was rushing off to the toilets to be sick. Afterwards she lay limply across three seats and groaned, her eyes shut.
‘It might help to go back out on deck,’ Lorelei said. ‘You’re supposed to look at the horizon, I think. That used to help my brother.’
But Maddison just shook her head. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to look; she just wanted this terrible journey to end. In just three days’ time they’d be coming back! The thought of this made her groan again.
‘Poor you.’ Gina stroked Maddison’s hair.
‘When are we going to get there?’ she whimpered.
A quick glance at her watch told Gina there was still over an hour to go, but she wasn’t sure if Maddison could stand this news, so instead she just said, ‘Shhhhh. Try and have a little nap, then it will pass more quickly.’
It was early afternoon, the sky a steely grey, threatening rain, when the dark green island finally came into view.
There was a small harbour with a couple of buildings beside it, plus the odd cottage and a thin grey ribbon of road leading in twists and turns away from the jetty.
Gina was thinking about the hotel. She’d seen the brochure pictures of the charming rooms with their comfortable beds, the old-fashioned bar and the dining room with its sea view.
They were going to be very well looked after during their visit to the island – her mother had made sure of that. In fact, it was only after Lorelei had found out there was a new hotel there that she’d decided to make the return journey. Her family had always rented an old farmhouse, which she described as ‘basic’.
Finally, with bumps, scrapes and a churn of propellers in the water, the ferry docked and the party of Americans climbed back into their car and prepared to drive off to the hotel.
No one wanted to say how bleak and grey the island looked, but they were all thinking it.
‘You won’t believe how pretty it is as soon as the cloud breaks,’ Lorelei said, as cheerfully as she could, when the car hit land and began to follow the few other vehicles onto the ribbon of road. ‘And it gets lots of sunshine,’ she added – which, looking at the lead-coloured sky, the girls found hard to believe.
After a ten-minute drive they were pulling up in front of a hotel that looked just as fresh, modern and glamorous as in the brochure.
The mood in the car lifted, and soon everyone was hurrying out with their bags. Gina was thinking about a cream tea; Paula was imagining seafood; Maddison was just desperate to lie down between cool white sheets.
Laden with luggage, they walked through the open front door and into the reception.
‘Oh, this was such a good idea,’ Lorelei exclaimed. ‘I think we’re going to have a wonderful time here.’
A blonde woman dressed in a plaid skirt and matching waistcoat appeared behind the desk. She looked concerned.
‘Hello . . .’ she said tentatively. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone off the boat today.’
‘Oh, yes, yes,’ Lorelei assured her. ‘We have two double rooms booked for three nights. From today. Under the name Winkelmann.’
‘That can’t be right,’ the woman told her, looking very anxious now. ‘We had a wedding at the weekend and we’re fully booked till Friday.’
The news made the Americans reel.
‘No!’ Lorelei insisted. ‘I have the booking details in my purse. There’s been a mistake – you can’t possibly be full.’
The woman looked upset, realizing what a terrible situation this was. The hotel was the only one on the island, the ferry had almost certainly left by now, and these people were going to be stranded.
If there had just been two of them, she thought, she might have been able to sleep on a sofa and give up her own room. But four . . . She couldn’t accommodate four guests anywhere in her hotel.
‘You’re not the Californians, are you?’ she asked, sounding puzzled. ‘I remember taking the booking
. . . by email. I have you down for March.’
She began to tap at her computer, determined to show them the reservation and the email which had confirmed it.
March?
Then, all at once, Lorelei understood her new PA’s mistake. In Britain 11/3 means 11 March. In the States, it means 3 November.
‘Oh, good grief,’ she whispered as she read the confirmation email her PA had sent.
‘What are we going to do?’ Maddison cried, just as everyone realized how serious this was. They were stranded on a tiny island, a two-hour boat trip from the mainland, and there was no room at the inn.
‘I can’t believe this!’ Lorelei exclaimed. ‘I would have called you myself to double-check the reservation before I left home, but I guess I ran out of time and I just assumed everything would be fine. Oh my goodness!’ she said with exasperation. ‘Is there a boat later today?’
The woman behind the counter replied as gently as she could, ‘Well, no, dear . . . the next boat doesn’t come till Thursday.’
‘What?’ Paula, Gina and Maddison exclaimed together, astonished.
‘Please don’t worry,’ the woman reassured them. ‘This is an island. We’re used to pulling together and sorting things out for ourselves. I really can’t fit any of you in here at the hotel, but why don’t you go to the lounge, have a seat and a wee cup of coffee, while I make some phone calls. I’m sure we’ll be able to sort something out.’
‘I thought this was the only hotel?’ Gina said.
‘Well, yes, but there are other places for tourists to stay. I’m June, by the way,’ she told them, then pointed them in the direction of the hotel lounge.
They were settled on a pair of sofas with two coffees, a cup of tea and a glass of wine on the table in front of them, when June came in with a smile on her face.
‘I’ve found you somewhere,’ she announced cheerfully. ‘It’s not quite as nice as here, but you’ll have two double beds and there’s a fireplace, so you’ll be able to enjoy a cosy blaze at night.’
The Californians looked at her blankly. A fireplace? A cosy blaze? None of them had the slightest idea how to light a fire.
‘Come over to us for dinner and breakfast – even lunch if you like. We’ll be able to provide that for you without any problem,’ June went on. ‘Just use the cottage as somewhere to lay your heads at night.’
‘Where is it?’ Lorelei wondered.
‘Not far. I’ve printed out a map.’
It was only ten minutes away, Lorelei driving slowly along the narrow, unfamiliar road through the damp darkness.
‘Is this it? It looks . . . basic,’ Maddison asked, looking out of the car window and voicing everyone else’s thoughts.
They had pulled up in front of a tiny, dark cottage, surrounded by bare hillside and black rock. Not a tree or even a bush could be seen anywhere.
‘The key’s under the doormat, apparently. We just go in . . .’ Lorelei didn’t sound her usual certain self. Maybe her first impression of this gloomy place had thrown her off her stride too.
Lifting up the doormat, she found mud, some scuttling insects and a key with a large paper label tied round it which read FRONT DOOR.
She fitted it into the lock and pushed open the small, pale blue door. It was stiff and she had to put all her weight behind it as it scraped over the stone floor. She groped about for a light switch and finally found one. When she threw it, the dim hum of an energy-saving light bulb started up. As the girls followed Lorelei into the cottage, in the pale orangey glow they could see a tiny sitting room with three small chairs and a blackened fireplace.
Compared to the luxury and glamour of the hotel, this was basic.
‘Oh Jeez!’ Maddison couldn’t help exclaiming. ‘Is this it?’
‘What are we going to do here all night?’ Paula asked.
‘Huddle round the light bulb for warmth,’ Maddison suggested.
‘Well, maybe it won’t be so bad once we figure out how to set fire to those logs over there,’ Gina said, trying to get everyone to be more upbeat
But the others weren’t happy at all. The two bedrooms were only just big enough for the small double bed each one contained.
‘We’re going to be a bit too cosy,’ Paula said to Maddison when they saw their bed.
‘I don’t think so.’ Maddison blew out to demonstrate the cloud of steam her breath made in the chilly room. ‘Omigod! I haven’t seen that since I went skiing in Aspen.’
All these complaints were winding Gina up. Her friends were finding something to criticize everywhere they looked.
‘I can’t sleep in this cold,’ Paula whined.
‘There’s an electric heater over there,’ Gina said, pointing to the corner of the bedroom. ‘We’ll get it plugged in. I bet there’s one in our room too, Mom – and c’mon, surely between the four of us, we can get a fire started?’
By six o’clock, however, it had become clear that there was an art to making fires.
Gina had enthusiastically set fire to all the newspaper twists and all the strips of kindling, but still the logs remained stubbornly un-lit.
‘This isn’t going to work!’ Maddison moaned.
‘Why don’t we just go to bed? It’s dark enough out there,’ Paula grumbled.
Gina really wanted this holiday to work: for her, for her friends and for her mother. Her mother never took vacations – if this was a disaster, maybe she’d never take another! Gina didn’t want to hear anyone else complaining about another thing.
‘No!’ she insisted. ‘We’re not going to moan and we’re not going to sulk. We’re going to go back to the hotel for a lovely dinner and, Mom, they might have wi-fi for you to download all your urgent emails – and hey, maybe June can teach us how to light a fire.’
Chapter Eight
THE MONUMENTAL PLATE of scones that Amy had made with Mrs N-B was demolished by Finn and Niffy.
‘I think this is what you call a bun fight!’ Amy had joked as she’d watched brother and sister argue fiercely about who was going to get the last scone.
‘Manners maketh man,’ Mr N-B announced from his end of the table as Niffy struck Finn on the back of the knuckles with her knife and declared, ‘Hands off!’
‘Children! Behave! I can make more – Amy’s given me the recipe!’ Mrs N-B told them.
Once the scones were finished, Mr N-B offered them a lift to the village.
‘Yeah!’ Finn enthused. ‘Niffy and I will take Amy round the sights and then we’ll pay a visit to the new tea rooms – because you never know, we might be hungry again by then.’
‘Do you want to come?’ Niffy turned to her brother in surprise. ‘I thought this was going to be just me and Amy.’
‘Please let me come,’ Finn said with a mock-pleading expression on his face. ‘I’ll be very good. If I’m annoying in any way, just kick me.’
‘With pleasure,’ Niffy assured him.
As they got ready to go, Amy put on her high-heeled red boots and her silky new parka. Niffy shot her a raised eyebrow.
‘Aim, it is absolutely peeing out there. You’re going to get soaked through. Here . . .’ She handed Amy some revolting old waxy Barbour jacket and a pair of wellies crusted with mud and smelling unmistakably of cheese.
‘Are these your old ones?’ Amy asked.
‘Yup.’
‘I can’t, I just can’t,’ Amy told her, wrinkling up her nose.
But Niffy insisted, and so Amy found herself sitting next to Finn in the back of the Range Rover in a crackling waxy jacket, last in fashion in the 1980s, and a pair of wellies she was sure Finn could smell.
After a wet and soggy tramp around the village, the three of them went into the tea rooms, where Finn ordered a round of coffees and ten doughnuts.
Amy, shocked, had to ask, ‘Didn’t you eat enough scones?’
‘Well, yeah, but you have to try their doughnuts – it would be a crime not to.’
As they sat down, Amy manoeuvred herself into
the seat next to Finn’s and immediately peeled off her wax jacket, rolled it into a ball and bundled it under the table.
‘Sorry – Niffy made me wear it,’ she explained. ‘And I don’t want to talk about the wellies on my feet. In fact I don’t even want to think about the wellies. She made me,’ Amy repeated.
Niffy was up at the counter, collecting the coffees, so there wasn’t any real need for Finn to lean close to whisper in her ear, ‘We’ll get her back . . . I’m plotting a nice little trick for later.’
The touch of his breath against her ear made Amy giddy with nervous excitement. He was great! He really was great. He was so good-looking and so funny and so nice and so friendly, and he was right here, beside her, most definitely interested.
Although she was slightly surprised by how quickly she seemed to have got over Jason, it was a good thing, surely? Wasn’t it?
‘We have to play tricks – it’s all there is to do for fun round here,’ Finn went on. ‘We can’t go and hang out with Angus because he’s on a French exchange for the next six weeks or something . . . which is why Niff’s so grumpy,’ he added, his voice low and confidential again.
Angus was Finn’s friend and Niffy’s current Boy of Interest. His aunt and uncle happened to live close to Blacklough, so Angus had been spending a lot of time with them recently in order to see more of Niffy.
As Amy’s eyes met Finn’s, she found herself studying them, trying to make out their colour. They were too dark to be blue, but they weren’t quite brown. She stared and saw a mossy, hazel brown with slashes of green radiating out from the iris.
‘So . . . what do you think?’ Finn asked, and Amy realized with a start that she hadn’t listened to a word he’d been saying. She’d been caught a little too helplessly in those fascinating eyes.
‘Hmm . . .’ she answered, trying not to sound as if she agreed or disagreed. What had he just asked her?
‘OK!’ He flashed a grin. ‘We’ll do that later. Here she comes – stop looking so guilty!’ he whispered.
Do what later?! Amy wondered, feeling alarmed. Was this about the trick? What exactly had she just agreed to?
