A Summer of New Beginnings

by Lisa Hobman

  As the sun began to set she climbed into the tent and decided that after she’d made some notes, she would make the most of the peace and quiet and get to sleep early. Sleep came easily and she dreamed of hot chocolate, dragons and wide-mouthed caves. And of handsome Scottish men who could cook and fix bicycles.

  19

  After an almost refreshing night of sleep Zara woke feeling positive. She was over halfway round the route, which meant she would be going home soon. That also meant she would be going to her high-school reunion, which didn’t fill her with as much glee, but text messages from Shelley had revealed she was quite excited about the event now, so Zara hoped her enthusiasm would rub off on her.

  Every time she was in an area where the signal peaked she received a barrage of texts from Shelley, Marco and her family. They all had encouraging messages and said how much they missed her. Contact from Noah had been scarce and she just knew that it was because he was scared of her backlash. She was past the point of hating him now though. Aside from a few glitches the trip hadn’t been as horrific as she had expected. She still wanted to give him a piece of her mind, simply for his lack of contact. But it would wait.

  Today’s journey would take her to Lairg. She had been advised to take the smaller roads as the main route was known for heavy traffic and she really didn’t fancy battling with that on SD. After packing away her tent for what felt like the millionth time and making a complete mess of it for the same number, she set off. There was a brief stop at a little bakery where she grabbed a buttered scone and a tea for breakfast, which she ate whilst enjoying the view before her.

  *

  The scenery was more and more breathtaking with every new turn she made and Zara was beginning to think that Lachlan was right about this too: Scotland really was the place where you could find yourself; the place that got under your skin and into your heart. She had never before in her life been emotionally affected by hills and trees. Possibly because she lived in a fast-paced city with every conceivable thing she could need or want at her fingertips. Who would have ever thought that a beautiful landscape could bring a tear to her eye?

  The people she had met along the way had chosen to come to Scotland. And then there was Lachlan, who was clearly affected by the place. He’d chosen to come home, after all. His words had rattled around her head in the hours since she’d left his croft. And he was so incredibly sweet and quite sexy. Although, she reminded herself, the last thing she had needed was another brush with romance, so it was a good thing that he was behind her.

  Jeez, no. No more men. Not after what happened with Josh. Ugh, Josh… She hadn’t thought about him for a while and it’d been rather nice not to have been reminded of how hurt she’d felt. But he had cheated on her and there was no coming back from that. So she would have to keep moving forward and eventually she’d stop remembering how good she’d had it with him for a brief time. She just hoped that ‘eventually’ would happen sooner rather than later.

  A loud crack echoed through the air and birds scattered from their branches. Then she heard what she thought was gunfire and shouting coming from over a hill to her right and her heart began to pound. Shit. I thought this was a fairly safe place. Guns and trouble in London were just par for the shitty course these days, but the Scottish Highlands? She continued cycling as the gunfire got louder. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she made her legs work harder. It was a distinct possibility that within seconds the gang of thugs could be over the hill and she’d be in plain sight. Fuck! Oh, God. Oh, God what do I do? There’s nowhere I can hide. Her legs burned with the effort of pushing the pedals so hard, as fast as she could, up what was now a steep incline. Her chest heaved. If I keep pedalling… If I push harder, I can get away. They won’t see me. Fear gripped her stomach and twisted it in knots. Her eyes began to well with tears and her knuckles turned white. More gunfire. More shouting. More pounding of blood through her veins until she felt light-headed.

  Her front tyre hit something and before she knew it she was flying through the air in slow motion, like something from a car-chase movie. The floor became the sky and vice versa. She let out a piercing scream and impacted with the ground with a thud and then blackness…

  *

  ‘Fuck. Is she dead?’

  ‘Don’t say that, Tosh. Jesus, man.’

  ‘But she’s no moving, Rab. She went with a muckle thud. She might be dead.’

  ‘Na, mate, that wee backpack will have taken the impact.’

  ‘Aye but landing on it cannae be good for her spine, eh? If she’s no dead she might be paralysed.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Tosh, I hope the poor wee lass cannae hear your death knell.’

  Another voice, this time out of breath. ‘Help’s on the way. They said to check her breathing. But not to move her.’

  ‘We think she’s dead, Angus.’

  ‘No, wait… I can see her chest moving up and doon. Aye… aye, she’s breathing.’

  ‘Thank fuck for that. Any of the guys doctors or nurses, do you ken?’

  A new voice chimed in. ‘Erm… what about Lurch? He’s some big-wig bloke, eh?’

  ‘Nah, you tube! He’s an accountant, not a fucking doctor.’

  ‘Close enough for me. Hey! Lurch, over here!’

  Footsteps approached in the distance, crunching on the gravel road. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Come over here quick, you tube!’

  ‘Aye all right, keep your bloody kilt on!’

  Zara blinked open her eyes. Her head throbbed and it felt as though every fibre in her body were doing the same. When she focused she realised she was surrounded by a group of men in Highland bonnets and tartan sashes. White linen shirts covered in dirt could just be seen under the coarse, woolly fabric. There was a distinct eighteenth-century appearance to the men but the bizarre thing was that their swords appeared to be made of… wood. What the—?

  A strange realisation dawned on her.

  She gasped and widened her eyes. Shit! I’ve somehow gone back in bloody time. Like that woman on Outlander. How the hell? Her breathing rate increased and she began to hyperventilate. This can’t be happening. Outlander isn’t real. I didn’t touch a big bloody stone. I must be dreaming. I remember the gunfire…

  Oh, shit, am I dead?

  One of the bearded Scotsmen laughed. ‘No, lassie, you’re not dead.’

  Okay so I said that last part out loud.

  ‘You had a wee fall off your bike, that’s all. But you’re awake and talking. Just try and slow your breathing, eh?’

  At least he was being kind and not trying to rape or pillage her like the character from the TV show. She scrunched her aching brow. ‘But your clothing…’

  Beardy man glanced down and, as something akin to realisation hit him, chuckled. ‘Re-enactment group. Let me guess, you thought you’d done a Claire?’

  She opened and closed her mouth, trying to make sense of his words. ‘A… a what?’

  He glanced at his gathered friends for their assistance. ‘You know, Claire Fraser or whatever she was called, you know? Outlander? Don’t tell me none of yous Jessies have watched it. Gone back through time, oooooh.’ He waved his fingers around.

  ‘Oh, no… Silver Dickhead?’ she mumbled and the bearded man looked a little hurt.

  ‘Charming,’ he chuntered.

  ‘Leave her be, man. She’s probably got concussion,’ another one of the men, a younger one, insisted. ‘Anway, here’s Lurch.’

  Another man peered down at her but he was silhouetted against the sky so she couldn’t see his face. ‘Oh, bloody hell, you again.’ He leaned back slightly and she saw the features that accompanied the familiar-sounding voice.

  She snorted but managed a wee smile. ‘I could say the same thing, Lachlan.’

  ‘Aye, well, we’ll have to stop meeting like this, eh?’

  ‘Look, Lurch, I told them you’re an accountant not a bloody doctor, but the stubborn tubes wouldnae listen.’

  Wit
hout taking his eyes off Zara, Lachlan said, ‘Lawyer. Not accountant. And I really wish you’d stop calling me Lurch, guys. We’re not in school any more and I’m neither exceedingly tall nor grotesque.’

  Beardy man chimed in, ‘Not looked in a mirror today, eh?’ The rest of the men laughed.

  Lachlan rolled his eyes and shook his head but smiled down at Zara. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Zara’s mouth was dry and she was a little overwhelmed with her almost dip into the eighteenth century and the shock that accompanied the whole incident. ‘Erm… My head aches and I feel a bit queasy but I think I’m okay.’

  ‘Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?’ She nodded. ‘Any pain when you do?’ She shook her head. ‘Probably a mild concussion. I’ve had it when I played rugby at university. It’s not pleasant but you’ll probably be okay.’

  A siren could be heard and a car with a green flashing light arrived. Zara heard one of the toy soldiers, as she’d decided to call them, talking to the doctor. ‘Hi, doc. She’s over here. Bit fuzzy-headed but seems okay. She’s already insulted me.’

  The doctor arrived beside her. ‘Hi, I’m Dr Mackay. I’ll give you a check over. Can you tell me your name?’

  ‘Zara… erm Zara Bailey.’ He proceeded to ask her facts about the date, what she had for breakfast and who was the prime minister. Then he shone a light in her eyes and asked her to follow it. Other checks followed – he was certainly thorough – and he finally gave his diagnosis.

  ‘You’ve a mild concussion. I’m afraid you shouldn’t really get back on the road for a day or two. And to be honest you shouldn’t be alone. Perhaps I can contact the medical centre at Thurso and see if they can sort you a bed. Leave it with me.’ He stood to leave and disappointment sank like a heavy weight on Zara’s shoulders. More delays. More hassle. Just when things were starting to feel okay.

  ‘Erm, Doc, does it have to be a hospital stay? Or could she maybe stay with someone… you know, not medically qualified as such?’ Lachy asked.

  ‘I didn’t think she’d know anyone. One of your… erm… band of merry men said she was cycling the NC500. Guessing she doesn’t have friends here as such or she wouldn’t be cycling alone.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right but… I’ve met Zara before. She camped on my land a couple of nights ago. I’d be happy to take her in for a couple of days to make sure she’s okay, if it’d help.’

  ‘Well, only if you’re sure.’ He pulled a leaflet out of his bag. ‘Here are the signs to look for with concussion. If anything changes you must contact me immediately, okay?’

  Lachy nodded. ‘Sure thing, Doc. No worries.’ He walked back over to Zara. ‘Is that okay with you? You’re welcome to stay with me. I know going to Thurso will take you off the officially recommended cycle route and I guessed you’d not want that.’

  Zara’s eyes began to sting. ‘I don’t want you to put yourself out again because of me. I—’

  ‘Hey, don’t cry, it’s really not a problem. I think you should heed the doctor. And I’m okay to work around you. I’m the boss, after all.’

  ‘Hey, she can always stay with me,’ beardy man insisted.

  ‘I’ve a spare room at mine,’ the guy known as Tosh added.

  ‘Thank you, everyone, but I think Lachlan’s place will be fine.’

  ‘Aye, if he doesn’t bore you to death with accountant speak.’ The men laughed as they dispersed.

  ‘Bloody lawyer. How many times?’ He shook his head again. He helped her to her feet and she went a little dizzy and wobbled. ‘Whoa. Take it easy. Come on, I’ll help you to my car.’

  She glanced down at his thick calves where they protruded from the bottom of his kilt. How had she never noticed how sexy those were before? He had gorgeous, manly legs and she’d heard things about kilts and undies… She snapped herself out of her daydream. ‘Oh, God, I feel so bad. I’m stopping you from your acting thingy.’

  ‘Re-enactment. And it was only a run-through really. I’m not even sure if it’s me, to be honest. My neighbour got me involved as they needed more men but I… oh, I don’t know.’

  She smiled. ‘Well, the outfit suits you.’

  He laughed. ‘Cheeky. Don’t you be taking the piss or I’ll put salt in your porridge instead of honey.’

  ‘No, I really mean it. You look… erm… authentic.’

  ‘I bet you got the fright of your life when you woke up surrounded by that set of ugly munters, eh?

  Zara giggled as she remembered her immediate reaction. ‘Just a little. Not the ugly part, I mean. But the clothing scared the crap out of me. I honestly thought I’d somehow travelled back in bloody time.’

  ‘No way. Seriously? That’s hilarious!’ Lachy had to stop walking to laugh and Zara, whilst she felt incredibly silly, couldn’t help but join in.

  Suddenly a thought occurred to her as they approached what she presumed to be Lachy’s car. A rugged, mud-covered four-wheel-drive complete with a trailer. ‘Shit! Silver Dickhead! I asked one of the men earlier but…’

  Lachy stopped and turned to face her. He cringed and sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Yeah, about that. It’s in a bit of a state, I’m afraid. A tractor kind of… erm… ran over it.’

  20

  When she heard the news about her wrecked bike, Zara’s eyes widened. ‘What? Oh, my God! What am I going to do? Where is it?’

  Lachy pointed to the trailer. ‘Tosh loaded it and your bags up already. It’s not roadworthy, I’m afraid.’

  She glanced over the side of the trailer at the twisted hunk of metal and suddenly wanted to cry. ‘Oh, no, I’m so sorry, SD,’ she whispered. But then her heart rate increased as panic set in and she gripped her hair. ‘But… it was an expensive bike and it was on loan. And… the North Coast 500. And my school reunion.’

  Lachy held up his hand. ‘I know. I know. Look, I’m sure if we contact them they’ll be fine. They must have insurance for things like this.’

  She knew there was insurance, but it didn’t take the sting away. ‘That’s not the point. This is a disaster of epic proportions. How the hell do I explain…? What do I say to…?’

  Lachy placed one large hand on each of her shoulders. ‘Look, there’s no point stressing about it. Let’s get you back to mine and get you settled, eh? We can sort the rest out tomorrow. Try not to worry.’

  She gazed up at him; his face was kind and reassuring. She nodded. ‘You’re right. Not a lot I can do right now. I just feel so stupid.’

  He smiled and she could tell he was going to tease her. ‘Well, you did think you’d travelled back in time, so I’m not 100 per cent sure of your mental state but… Look, these things happen. It was an accident. And it wasn’t your fault the tractor ran over it. It’s a narrow road and it was a choice between avoiding you or avoiding the bike. I’d like to think he chose wisely.’

  ‘Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe he should’ve chosen the other way.’

  He helped her into the car and closed her door. Once he was seated behind the steering wheel he started the engine and Florence and the Machine blared out of the speakers at full blast. Her favourite song too.

  ‘Oh, I love “Delilah”.’ She smiled and, for the first time in the last couple of hours, calmness washed over her.

  ‘Aye, I do like a bit of Flo and the Machine. Especially this track. Gets me right here.’ He patted his chest.

  She knew exactly what he meant. It was such an uplifting song; empowering even. It was the kind of song you listened to when you were feeling low and couldn’t help dancing to it. Although she couldn’t exactly imagine Lachy dancing round the kitchen in his underwear as she’d tended to do before her lodger moved in. Now it seemed that Marco had taken over that particular baton, as she had discovered when she’d arrived home late and found him waving his arms and singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ at the top of his voice wearing only his designer fitted boxers. He had all the operatic parts off pat, but the crazy thing was he hadn’t even cared when he’d realised he had a gobsmack
ed audience of one. In fact, he had tried to encourage her to join in.

  Lachy set off in the direction of his croft and they both sang along in mumbled tones to the track until it had finished, neither wanting to really let go for fear of embarrassment.

  ‘So, school reunion, eh? I hate those bloody things. I can’t believe you actually want to go to one,’ Lachy said out of the blue.

  Zara scrunched her nose. ‘My best friend, Shelley, is suddenly desperate to go and show everyone what we’ve achieved. And I think I’d like to show them too, in a way.’

  ‘Seriously? Why does that even matter? And this them you speak of, I gather you weren’t keen on them when you were at school so why go to the trouble of attending an event you don’t want to attend just so you can show them how well you’ve done? Isn’t that what social media is for?’

  She laughed. He did have a point. ‘Yeah, I don’t really go on much, to be honest, except for work. And if I did I wouldn’t be friends with any of that lot. They used to call me and Shelley names and we were excluded from everything fun. We had our own little group.’

  ‘I bet you were the brainy bunch or something.’

  ‘Now who’s being cheeky?’

  ‘I can just tell you’re intelligent. It’s not an insult. I mean, you work for a well-known travel magazine. So in spite of your penchant for time travel I’m guessing you’re quite bright.’ He was grinning at her again. Her stomach flipped.

  Stop it, Bailey. Stop noticing how attractive he is.

  They pulled up outside the croft and Zara felt happy to be there again. The house was a pretty, stone detached building. Quite sizeable but not overly large. It was homely and its isolation wasn’t intimidating as she might have expected. She hadn’t really taken much notice of the exterior the last time she was there, so now she was having a good look at the typically Highland architecture. It was more function over attractiveness, but in being so it was more appealing. Like someone who was beautiful but didn’t go bragging about their looks.