Yours Remotely

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

I had taken the Friday off. I spent the morning trying to pack, but it was difficult when I didn’t know where Gary was taking me. I ended up packing a bit of everything and little of any use.

A little after one, my phone rang. It was Gary saying that he was waiting for me outside. A wave of excitement washed over me when I thought about the weekend ahead. I hurried down the stairs, greeting a neighbour on the way. I stormed onto the street and stared at the row of parked cars. There were all kinds but not a single Punto. I spotted a couple of silver cars, but Gary had definitely told me before that he drove a Punto.

I heard a beep from the other end of the street. I took a few hesitant steps in that direction and spotted a red sports car near the corner. It had darkened windows, and the one closest to the kerb pulled down a little when I got closer. I peered in through the gap and saw Gary. Impressive.

“Hop in,” he said.

I opened the door and stopped to stare at the cream-coloured leather interior.

“You can throw your stuff in the back.”

I did so, sat down in the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt. Gary started the engine and put the indicator on.

“This was definitely not cheap then,” I pointed out, looking around inside the car. Gary had plugged his mp3 player into the car stereo which was playing Green Day’s classic ‘Basket Case’. Gary stared intensively into the wing mirror and smoothly pulled the car into the lane. It was lunchtime and busy.

“It’s an Audi, R8,” Gary responded proudly, as if that explained it. “It wasn’t cheap, but I guess I’m allowed to spend my hard-earned money on something fun.” He turned to look at me with a grin.

“How much?” I asked when we stopped at the traffic lights next to my apartment block.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said and patted my knee while changing gears.

I glanced at the gearstick. I had never been in a car that had six gears.

“It’s been a couple of months anyway.”

We moved on to the next set of traffic lights. One of the two young men on the footpath nearly walked into a lamp post while staring at Gary’s car.

“Where are we going?” I asked when I saw that he turned north.

“You’ll see.” The road turned into a motorway, and he slipped the car into sixth while glancing at the satnav. “You can relax for a few hours.” Nirvana started blasting out of the speakers.

It was a sunny day. The roads were quiet because most people going away for the weekend hadn’t left yet. Gary clearly enjoyed driving his fast car but mustn’t have been speeding because a couple of police cars that we passed didn’t take any notice.

We were making good progress until we flew by two women trying to change a tyre on the hard shoulder. Gary accelerated rather than slowed down when passing them. I looked back in concern and saw one of the women waving her fist in the air.

“Shouldn’t we stop to help?” Surely Gary was enough of a gentleman to help a damsel in distress?

He gave me an incredulous look and shook his head. “Do you have any idea what would happen if I stopped to help them?”

I stared back at him, and Gary sighed theatrically. “As soon as they recognise me, they’d pull out their cameras, phones, pen and paper. They’d take pictures, call their friends, ask for a dozen autographs. Passers-by would notice, they would stop, and they’d all do the same.” He paused for a dramatic effect. “I’d never get to change that tyre.”

He stared at the road ahead, looking disgruntled. He seemed to have taken my comment very seriously. It almost seemed that he took himself too seriously, but I guess he knew better.

After a moment, Gary seemingly thought he understood my concern and added, “I know how to change a tyre, it’s not that. It’s just not worth it.”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t famous, and I knew no more about fame than other ordinary people – what we read in the papers.

We drove on in silence. We crossed the border to Scotland, but we kept driving north – at least if my instinct could be trusted.

“Scotland?” I asked.

Gary’s expression relaxed into one of relief and delight. “Why not? At least it should be quiet.”

“I guess it depends on where in Scotland.”

I didn’t know Scotland very well. My grandfather was a born Scot, but I had visited his home place only once when I was very young. He was from near Edinburgh, and we didn’t seem to be going in that direction.

“This place is guaranteed to be quiet. It’s a cottage, in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s going to bother us.”

We drove on for another couple of hours before we turned off the main road towards a village. Gary stopped the car outside a small supermarket and pulled five twenty-pound notes out of his wallet.

“Get us some grub,” he said, handing me the notes. I stared at him with my mouth open.

“I have money too,” I said but didn’t sound convincing, even to myself. I had money, yes, but not the kind of money he had.

“We’ll let your money be. This one’s on me.” He pushed the money towards me again, and I took it. “I’ll find a petrol station and pick you up here in 15 minutes.”

I grabbed my handbag and crossed the footpath into the quiet store; apart from the two sales assistants, there was only one customer in it. I went around the store and threw random items into my trolley – pasta, rice, bread, juice, bacon, tea, wine, crisps, tomatoes, eggs –everything we might need. I spent most of the money Gary had given me.

I hobbled out the door with three full bags and saw Gary’s car outside the door, parked on the wrong side of the street; not that it mattered because the village was dead. There were no people in sight and no cars, except a couple parked a little further away.

We left the hamlet behind us and hit a small road. After a few sharp bends, we turned into a narrow track with thick forest on both sides. I was just about to ask where on earth we were going when I spotted a building with a ‘reception’ sign on the side of it. Gary pulled up in front of it. There wasn’t a stitch in sight.

“I’ll let you do this,” Gay said with a nod towards the door.

I looked back at him. Was he going to hand me another few hundred quid for this? “Why me?”

He sighed and flexed the muscles on his arms, tired from the long drive. “Lea, I don’t want anybody to know I’m here. What kind of a holiday would that be?”

I shrugged. “Is it in your name?”

“Of course not. It’s in your name. It’s paid for. All you need is the key.”

I sighed. Nothing was ever easy with him.

“OK. Wait here.”

I got out and climbed the three steps to the door.

The room was decorated in good taste. Next to the door was a palm-like plant, and on the walls hung pictures of different Scottish things – men in kilts, Scottish Terriers, whisky ads, bagpipes. There was a pile of brochures on the counter and - luckily – a bell that I could use to announce my arrival since there was nobody behind the counter. After a few seconds, a woman in her forties stepped into the room. She briskly gave me her hand and introduced herself as Mary. She asked for my name and quickly found the booking on the computer. She gave me a form to fill in and reached for the key behind her.

“There are two of you, right?” she confirmed, glancing over my head at the car outside.

I nodded confirmation.

“Your boyfriend must have money. He’s paid for the cottage and drives a nice car. You’re a lucky girl.” She gave me a friendly smile that held no curiosity.

I was about to correct her misunderstanding about Gary being my boyfriend, but I thought better of it. I forced a happy smile and took the proffered key.

“Cottage number four, in the furthest corner like you asked. Just follow the signs.”

I thanked Mary for her help and returned to the car.

We followed the narrow gravel roads for two or three minutes until we saw a sign with a big number four on it. The road ended, and we faced a stone cottage. Gary looked around suspiciously. The cottage was in the shadow of a small hill, but there were no trees.

“Where am I going to go with the car?” he asked. He decided to drive it behind the cottage, where it would be obscured by a small number of bushes and hidden from passers-by. Having a sports car had its drawbacks.

I took the key and carried our groceries inside. The cottage wasn’t big, but it had everything we needed; a bathroom, a small kitchen, a dining table and a sofa in the middle of the open-plan room, opposite a small TV. A curtain separated the bed from the rest of the room.

I put the groceries away and was almost done when Gary walked in with our bags. He put them on the floor next to the bed and checked the views from each window. There was nobody in sight, just mountains, forests and fields.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” I asked, raising the kettle.

That brought Gary back from staring at the views. He shook his head.

“No thank you. I have other plans for tonight.” He walked over to me, took my arm and started pulling me towards the bed. He pushed me gently onto my back and got on top of me.

“It’s been far too long since the last time,” he muttered, kissing me on the lips. He took my wrists, moved my hands above my head and lowered himself so that I could feel the heat of his entire body on mine.

“You won’t get much sleep tonight,” he continued and nibbled on my earlobe.

Gary was very good at keeping at least some of his promises.