by Nina Kaye
As I get up to head to the bathroom, I pick up my phone from the sofa and see that I have a text message from Josh, sent two hours earlier.
Hope you got home OK. Can’t stop thinking about our night last night. When can we do it again?
I feel a surge of guilt. I realise that my attention should probably be on Josh, not another man, whom I know next to nothing about. Is that being unfaithful? Can I even be unfaithful? Josh and I haven’t had the chat about being exclusive. For all I know, he could be dating other women. I have nothing to feel guilty about – do I?
As it’s highly likely Josh will be fast asleep by now, and I definitely don’t want him asking why I was up till four, I decide I’ll respond in the morning. It’s not such a bad thing to keep him waiting.
Chapter 22
Over the next few weeks, my life slips into a comfortable but enjoyable pattern of working my shifts in the bar. I barely have time to think in between completing the hotel training programme, publishing my blog posts and keeping up with my subscribers – who, to my amazement, have now breached the ten-thousand mark. My job hunt isn’t just fruitless, it stalls completely; I can’t bring myself to apply for anything. I know that I have rediscovered a part of me that I had buried through sheer unrelenting determination to leave Ridgemore estate far behind me – both physically and psychologically. I also know – be it a bad decision or not – I can’t step back into the façade of a life I had created, just to keep me financially sound.
The lump sum from my eBay sales (very kindly facilitated by Dylan), my fast-growing online following, and my first payment due on the earnings from my blog all mean I can take that risk without feeling faint with fear every time I think about it.
I also find myself juggling the attention of two very different men. On one hand there’s Josh, my real-life love interest – a knee-tremblingly hot man. He may lack a level of depth, which may or may not be related to his age; but he’s super considerate and he showers me with affection. My feelings for him are getting stronger by the day; there’s no question about that.
Then there’s the more mysterious ‘GrahamLeeton’, who engages me in a way that spans the emotional spectrum daily. We get indignant together. We rise up in determination to change the world, then acknowledge that we’re out of our depth and pipe down. We appreciate the little things, we laugh uproariously (portrayed by multiple LOLs with laughing emojis), and we let the sadness and empathy through whenever there’s another terror attack or natural disaster. We have the ultimate cyber partnership. And as it blossoms, I find myself more and more conflicted.
I desperately want to meet him in person. At the same time, I’m terrified that if I did, this huge blissful bubble between us might burst in epic proportions, just like the Marshmallow Man exploding at the end of Ghostbusters. What if he’s married? Or he’s ancient, with a hairpiece, dentures and multiple grandchildren? It wouldn’t matter how much we connect at an intellectual and spiritual level, those are red lines. There has also been no indication on GrahamLeeton’s side that he’s even remotely interested in meeting me anyway. So, maybe this is the best way: I have my ultimate perfect man, but in two different men.
There are moments when I find it rather challenging, though. For example, Josh now thinks I have a worryingly weak bladder, because I excuse myself to the toilets about ten times every time we’re together – to reply to GrahamLeeton. GrahamLeeton does, of course, realise that I have a life beyond him, but he’s just so full of energy, razor-sharp observations and piercing wit – and I’m a total sucker for it. Then there’s the issue of making sure Josh doesn’t clock these conversations on my phone. I have to turn off the notifications from the chat app, which means I have to guess when GrahamLeeton might have messaged, resulting in further unnecessary bathroom breaks and Josh asking me if perhaps it’s time I saw a doctor.
‘Liv, are you ready?’
I drag myself out of my latest daydream about who GrahamLeeton might really be, and focus my attention on Amir.
‘Yes, sorry.’ I get up from the bar seat I’ve been sitting in while waiting for Amir to finish the staff rota. ‘Where’s Reyes? I thought she’d be here by now.’
‘She arrived just before you, but she nipped back out to get something from the shop across the road. It’s OK, we have plenty time. We don’t need to be at the distillery till twelve, and as we’re taking a car, it won’t take long.’
‘Oh, are you driving us?’ I ask.
‘Nope. I’m driving us.’ A grinning Josh has burst through the door from the main hotel, Reyes trotting along at his side.
‘Hola, Chica.’ She gives me a kiss on each cheek.
‘Hi, beautiful.’ Josh then scoops me up like a sack of potatoes, giving me a smacker of a kiss on the lips. ‘Looking forward to our day out?’
‘Hi.’ I try to squirm out of his grip, embarrassed, causing him to half drop me. ‘What do you mean our day out? You’re coming with us?’
‘Yup.’ His grin widens.
‘But why?’ I’m puzzled by this revelation. ‘You don’t work in the bar.’
‘I talked Aaron into letting me go. Told him as Ops Manager I should have a good understanding of all areas of the hotel.’ His face scrutinises mine, his eyes betraying the disappointment he’s obviously feeling at my reaction. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Means we can spend some extra time together.’
A Mars-Bar-sized lump of guilt lodges itself in my chest.
‘I am pleased.’ I fix as convincing a smile on my face as I can and take his hand. ‘Of course, I am. I just… well, I was surprised, that’s all. And I’m surprised Aaron agreed to it. He knows about us, you know. I don’t want him thinking we’re taking advantage.’
‘He won’t, Liv,’ Amir reassures me. ‘He knows you’re a hard worker. And as much as this is a work-related trip, you can actually enjoy it.’
‘Right.’ I shake my head to clear my muddled thoughts. ‘Sure. Sometimes I forget I’m not in the corporate world anymore.’
‘Well, forget it,’ Amir commands in a very uncommanding way. ‘We’re going to make the most of this. It’s not often we get a day away from work – and on the hotel.’
As if his ears are burning, Aaron suddenly strides into the bar, his long legs giving him giraffe-like momentum.
‘All right, Aaron?’ Amir greets him.
‘Morning, Amir.’ Aaron nods at him stiffly, then looks round at us, a curious expression on his face. ‘Ready for your trip, you motley crew?’
‘Yes, Mister Gardiner.’ Reyes beams at him. ‘We are very much looking forward to drinking the gin.’
‘Right.’ Aaron raises an eyebrow at Reyes. ‘I hope you’re looking forward to what you’re going to learn today as well. It’s a developmental excursion, not a piss-up in a brewery.’
The choice of words and neutrality of his tone leave us all a bit stunned, as well as wondering whether he’s trying to crack a joke or is deadly serious. He takes in our bewildered faces, then continues.
‘You do realise that there’s a test on what you learn today, once you’re back at work. The hotel isn’t just funding you to go on a jolly.’
We look from him to each other, unsure whether to laugh or make for the housekeeping storeroom to stock up on the hotel’s embossed pens and notepads.
‘I’m joking, obviously.’ Aaron tries for a light-hearted chuckle, but it sounds more like a cat being strangled. ‘Just go and have fun. But try to learn something useful you can bring back here too.’
‘What? Ha, Aaron, you had us there.’ Amir starts to laugh, more out of relief than enjoying Aaron’s attempt at a joke.
The rest of us join in with similarly appropriate comments.
‘Off you go then.’ Aaron smiles a little less rigidly than usual at us.
‘All right!’ Josh exclaims. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘I call shotgun!’ Amir whoops, clearly forgetting he’s in the presence of the General Manager.
He and Josh race out
of the bar, with Aaron calling after them not to run in the hotel. He turns back to me and Reyes.
‘I hope you enjoy your day, ladies.’
His tone is sincere, but there’s something about the look he directs at me specifically that makes me slightly uncomfortable. Almost as if he’s saying, ‘Really, that guy?’ I look away, embarrassed; all too aware that the way Josh just behaved has highlighted the age gap between us in neon pink.
‘Thank you, Mister Gardiner.’ Reyes smiles warmly at Aaron.
‘Yes, thanks,’ I add. ‘We’ll make sure it’s a worthwhile trip.’
‘I’m in no doubt of that.’ Aaron gives us a brief nod, then strides back out of the bar, leaving Reyes and I to follow after the guys.
‘We will be having fun today, yes?’ She searches my face. ‘I am sure you can do this.’
‘I hope so.’ I shrug non-committally. ‘I wasn’t off to the best start there with my reaction to Josh coming, was I?’
Just over an hour later, we drive through the gates of the countryside gin distillery in the Scottish Borders, with ten minutes to spare before our tour is due to start. It’s a large old stone building that looks like it was once part of a farm. A large sign by the gates, framed by trees with leaves of fiery red and burnt orange, introduces it as Greenlaw Gin Distillery. Josh parks the car and we pile out, commenting on how fresh and pleasant the air is, and enjoying a few moments of basking in the bright autumn sunshine, before crunching our way across the gravel in the direction of the entranceway. Josh walks beside me, while Reyes and Amir are a few steps in front. As they vanish around a corner, following the signs to the entrance, Josh grabs my hand and pulls me back.
‘Josh, what are you—’
He pulls me into him and plants a long sensual kiss on my lips before I can even finish my sentence. At first, I try to pull away, too conscious of the fact I’m on a work-related outing. But his hold on me is tight, one of longing, which despite my initial discomfort, makes me melt into him, feeling the same desire. I can taste the saltiness from the bag of crisps he was eating in the car on his lips.
‘Are you two lovebirds coming, or what?’ Amir has reappeared around the corner, having clocked our disappearing act.
Josh and I pull apart.
‘You did say to enjoy ourselves,’ I mutter, trying for a casual shrug, but my flaming cheeks give my lingering unease away.
‘Well just don’t enjoy yourselves too much.’ He raises an eyebrow cheekily. ‘I don’t want to see anything I can’t unsee. Or… maybe I do…’
‘Hey! Behave!’ I feign indignation.
‘Let’s go, beautiful.’ Josh grabs my hand and hauls me round the corner after Amir.
As I allow him to lead me down the path, I feel like a naughty teenager on a school trip. It’s certainly not how I’ve conducted myself in the past and I’m definitely not completely comfortable with it.
We reach the entrance and walk into a small reception room. A cheery man wearing a kilt, with wild red hair, cheeks to match and a tenor-style voice greets us, vigorously shaking each of our hands in turn.
‘Welcome. Welcome all. You must be the group from the Mayfield Hotel?’
‘That’s right,’ says Amir. ‘Just the four of us.’
‘Great to have you.’ The man beams. ‘I’m Alan. I’m the owner of the distillery. Our tours are usually done by Steph, our dedicated distillery tour guide, but I’ll be taking you round today. How was your journey?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Amir continues to act as spokesperson. ‘We’re really looking forward to this. We specialise in gin in one of our bars, as you know, so we’re keen to learn more about how it’s made – to be properly in the know. We have quite a few high-net-worth customers from abroad, and they ask a lot of questions; gin being the big thing these days.’
‘That it is,’ Alan booms, nodding overzealously. ‘Predictions are that gin exports from Scotland will soon surpass those of whisky. Well, you’ve come to the right place. I can fill you in on all you need to know. Just follow me and we’ll get started. Would you like a tea or coffee?’
He takes our preferences, passes them on to a female colleague who looks like she may be his wife, then leads us through to a small room set up like a theatre, inviting us to take a seat in the front row.
‘So, the format for today’s visit is this.’ Alan is standing in front of us, gesturing theatrically. ‘I’ll give you a short overview of the history of gin, and the strong roots its production now has in Scotland. Then I’ll take you round the distillery and explain the production process. You’ll get to see some of the real action there. And then we’ll finish with a tasting session. How does that sound?’
‘Sounds great!’ Amir’s ears prick up on hearing we’re getting a tasting. ‘Bad luck, Josh. As you’re the driver, I’ll have to drink yours.’
Josh sits forward, about to backchat Amir, when Alan jumps in and addresses Josh.
‘Not at all, son. We can’t have you missing out. You can take a couple of miniatures away with you – on the house.’
‘Really? Thanks, Alan.’ Josh looks mighty pleased with this arrangement, firing a ‘burned’ look back at a deflated Amir.
As Alan turns away to receive a tray of tea and coffee, Reyes leans in towards me conspiratorially.
‘Chica, I am liking this hombre.’
‘What, Alan?’ I whisper in disbelief. ‘You fancy Alan? He must be about fifty-five – at least.’
‘Then he has good experience. This is better.’ Reyes’s eyes twinkle mischievously. ‘The red hair is sexy. He is sexy Scotsman.’
I have to stifle a giggle as a rather disconcerting image of Reyes and Alan together materialises in my mind.
‘You seem to have quite a broad taste in men,’ I mutter under my breath. ‘And for a married woman, you certainly seem to like to look.’
‘Looking is not touching.’ Reyes shrugs, unconcerned.
I shake my head in incredulity as I watch what I consider to be a somewhat clumsy Alan hand out the hot drinks. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot make the gigantic leap to sexy Scotsman. I decide Reyes must be blinded by the highland dress. A rookie error, but a common one.
‘Right, let’s get started,’ Alan announces, once we’re all sipping away at our drinks. ‘A quick quiz. From which country is gin widely believed to have originated?’
Amir’s hand shoots up.
‘Yes?’ Alan prompts him.
‘The Netherlands. Its precursor was called genever.’
‘That’s right, son.’ Alan looks impressed. ‘In fact, the invention of gin is not totally clear. It is, however, claimed by the Dutch, the British, the Flemish and even the Italians. OK, one more question. What’s the main ingredient in gin that gives it its unique flavour?’
Amir’s hand shoots up again, but this time he doesn’t wait to be prompted.
‘Juniper berries!’
‘Correct again.’ Alan beams at Amir. ‘You seem to know your stuff, son. Perhaps you should take over from me.’
It’s plain that Alan is joking, but Amir looks elated by this comment. The rest of us stare at Amir with distaste for being such a suck.
‘Teacher’s pet.’ Josh covers up his name-calling with a fake cough, causing me to snort with laughter, then sink down in my seat in embarrassment.
Alan simply smiles at us jovially, clearly having missed the joke. I will him to speed up. This visit is getting more and more weird – and more and more like a high school field trip. The difference being that we’re allowed the alcohol at the end.
An hour and a half later, our tour of the Greenlaw Gin Distillery is complete and we’ve settled into seats in the tasting room: a generous space that benefits from the timeless beauty of traditional architecture, while having been tastefully decked out with more contemporary furniture and fittings. A colourful modern-looking tartan plays a key role in the décor, and to complete the effect, low-level Scottish country dance music frolics from the speakers in the
corners of the room. Alan is over at the bar, consulting with one of his employees over the different tasting combinations he wants to offer.
Having not had a moment to myself since we left the hotel, I excuse myself to the ladies. As I enter the pine-scented restroom, I pull my phone out of my bag and see that I have a notification from my blog chat app. It’s GrahamLeeton, of course; he is the only person I actually converse with on it.
GrahamLeeton: Observation of the day: I am officially ancient. I was in a café, sitting at a table next to a group of teenage girls, and I kid you not, they spent nearly forty minutes discussing a single photo one of them was about to post on Instagram. First it was the photo effects, then the intended recipients, then who was likely to comment and who wasn’t – and what that might or might not mean. I was exhausted just listening to them! How are you today, MissGinFizz?
I laugh as I read this, then quickly tap out a response.
MissGinFizz: That does sound exhausting! Must have been entertaining too though. I’m great, thanks. I’m actually living up to my namesake today. At a distillery tour with some of my workmates. We’re learning about gin so that we know what we’re talking about in the bar, and we’re about to start my favourite part – the tasting session. :)
He replies almost immediately, and before I know it, I’m immersed in conversation with him.
GrahamLeeton: The girls were actually quite amusing. Especially when they started agonising over whether Tariq (whoever he might be) would think the post was cool or naff – at least that’s what I think they were debating. They used words I had never heard before! Distillery visit sounds fun. Be helpful for your blog too – I do love a good BOGOF. I hope you have a chauffeur to take you home??
MissGinFizz: BOGOF??
GrahamLeeton: Buy one, get one free. BOGOF. You get something out of it for your work and for your blogging.
MissGinFizz: Ah… OK, now I feel stupid.
