Liv couldn’t believe her master plan had been derailed by a toilet. Was she ever going to make it to Loch Lochy? She’d been calling for help for ages, and had now reached shouting stage, but nobody had come to rescue her. The music was still blaring out so it was likely they couldn’t hear her shouts. At least she had her phone so decided to see if she could work out where she was exactly and call the garage. She put the toilet lid down. If she was going to be a while she might as well sit down.
It wasn’t the nicest place to be trapped. It was a bit smelly and small with dark grey walls scrawled with graffiti such as ‘One star – wouldn’t pee here again’ and ‘Banksy woz ere’. The latter she very much doubted. But at least she had a loo and a sink so she figured she could survive quite a while if she had to. She was scrolling through garages near Glasgow when the door suddenly opened and she jumped to her feet. She was saved by a rotund man in an egg-stained T-shirt – not exactly a knight in shining armour, but he’d do.
‘Pump four?’ asked the man in a thick Scottish accent.
‘Sorry?’
‘Are you pump four?’ He pointed over his shoulder. Liv had almost forgotten that she’d filled up with petrol.
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve not paid.’ He scowled at her.
‘Because I was locked in your toilet.’ She didn’t like being unjustly accused of something.
‘Can ya not read?’ He rapped a knuckle on the sign.
‘I thought it meant the toilet, not the door. And it was somewhat of an emergency. Anyway, this has delayed me for a very important meeting.’ She strode past him with as much dignity as she could muster.
‘You’ve not paid,’ he yelled after her.
‘I’m going to pay now!’ she yelled back as she rummaged in her bag for her debit card.
She went to stand by the till point and waited for the large man to squeeze himself behind the counter. He came to stand the other side of the counter but said nothing. There was an odd moment where they looked at each other, expecting the other person to do something. At last he spoke. ‘What pump?’
Liv put her hands in the air.
‘Number four, obviously.’
He grumbled something inaudible. She paid with a wave of her card.
‘Thank you so much. It’s been lovely to meet you,’ she said. ‘And this is yours,’ she added placing the toilet door handle on the counter.
‘For crying oot loud!’ he grumbled. ‘I should charge you for vandalising my loo!’
‘Sorry,’ she said, and she walked out wishing now that she had left something floating in his toilet.
The next leg of the journey was thankfully less eventful. Glasgow was busy, there were queues at each motorway junction where people were hopping on and off. For a while she sat stationary, but Liv decided to keep the last can of Coke as an emergency.
The satnav display taunted her with the anticipated arrival time. She’d been elated when she’d crossed the border but that had been ages ago. How long did restaurants stay open? If she got all the way there and it was closed, she’d have to wait until the next day to confront Fraser. Although she had no idea what time it would open again, maybe only for dinner the next evening. She needed to face him tonight because the adrenaline that had fuelled her slightly rash decision to travel all this way had suddenly dissipated. Now she was having a few second thoughts.
It had seemed like a good idea when she’d been charged up by her mum and sister, hell-bent on righting the wrong. But now she was in the car with only Plastic Stan as backup she was starting to question her choices. What if Fraser was aggressive? Having a go at him could be very unwise. Although from what she knew about him and their interactions he’d not seemed like that at all. He’d come across as a mild and gentle soul. She reminded herself that this was the same person who had cruelly ghosted her – maybe she didn’t know him at all. But then there would be other people about as it was a public place. She should be fine. Worst-case scenario there would at least be a few witnesses. She had a fleeting thought that if she somehow went missing, her last known whereabouts could very well be a grainy picture from the garage of her handing over a door handle.
Charlotte’s words came back to her. She liked the idea of being the person she wanted to be. Charlotte was right, nobody knew her in Scotland and how well did Fraser really know her? Question was: who did she want to be? She didn’t want to be the person who dodged difficult situations. She wanted to be the sort of person who spoke their mind and said out loud all those things that went through her head. But that would land her in uncomfortable situations and was precisely why she avoided them. She tried to push the actual encounter to the back of her mind and focus on getting there.
The last part of the journey seemed to go on and on. It started to rain. Not a light drizzle, it was like someone had a hose on the windscreen. The wipers had to really fight to clear it. She was also getting tired. She gripped the steering wheel and focused on the road ahead; she just needed to get there and verbally shred Fraser so she could move on with her life. The satnav told her she needed to take a half right turn.
‘What’s half right? What does that mean?’ she shouted at the satnav. A quick glance at the display told her she was almost on it. Then she saw a sign half covered by vigorously waving trees, which said Lochy House Hotel with a large arrow to the right where there appeared to be a narrow gravel track.
Liv braked and pulled hard on the steering wheel in the hope of making the turn. The car was going a bit too fast and skidded as it hit the gravel.
‘Shiiiiiiit!’ She righted the car, thankful there was no one else on the road, but there was a large pothole filled with water that she didn’t notice until she was driving over it. The hole wrenched at the tyre, causing her to fight the steering wheel. A few feet further on, with the car tugging to one side, she knew she had a problem. Liv pulled over where there was a passing point on the narrow track. The rain continued in sheets but she had to see what the damage was. She jumped out of the car and went around to the passenger side. She could see it even before she knelt down that the tyre had a whopping great hole in it.
‘Bugger it!’ she said and she dashed back around to the other side, dodging puddles as she went.
Liv sat in the car for a bit, rain dripping off her hair and thundering onto the windscreen. What should she do now? She turned to her passenger.
‘Stan, any ideas?’ He didn’t reply, which was probably a good thing – that was a whole level of horror film she wasn’t ready for. ‘Nope, I thought not,’ she said. She’d have to figure this out on her own.
The rain wasn’t going to ease. It was almost ten o’clock now, and according to the satnav the hotel and restaurant were just a few more yards up the road. Liv decided she hadn’t come all this way to get derailed by a flat tyre. She pulled up her hoodie, grabbed her phone and got out of the car. She was going to tell Fraser Douglas what she thought of him! On second thought, perhaps she’d ask if he knew anyone with a tow truck first.
Liv set off with the driving rain soon soaking through her clothes. Helpfully there was another sign further up for Bonnie Scott’s, which she followed down a long, winding driveway. The walk gave her a chance to go over her rant in her head, which fired her up a little more. There were lots of trees but as she made it around the last bend the hotel came into view. It was a large grey stone building with gables and a turret. It looked more like a fairy-tale castle than a hotel. There were no lights on anywhere, which did not give Liv hope, but having come this far she wasn’t giving up yet. She was thankful there was a small portico where she could shelter from the rain. She knocked on the door and waited. Her knuckles on the solid door didn’t make a lot of noise but she waited and knocked again but harder – still nothing.
Frustration drove her back out into the rain, and she trudged around the outside of the hotel in the hope of finding some signs of life. Had this all been a waste of time? She was about to give up when she saw a dim light further around the back. She followed it, tripping over undulations in the lawn as she went. There were a couple of lights on up ahead and the signs of life buoyed her a little. As she neared the lit window she took in her surroundings: outside it was pitch-black, freezing cold, and there wasn’t another soul about. Suddenly she wasn’t quite so bold. What if Fraser was a madman? She could almost read the newspaper article – Lone woman, who vandalised toilet, disappears from remote Scottish location.
She was feeling vulnerable so decided to see if she could get a look through the window first. If she could ascertain if there was anyone else inside, and ideally if Fraser didn’t look like a serial killer, that would help inform her next decision. The nearest window was thin and horizontal, higher up the side of the building. Higher than she could see even on tiptoes. Thankfully there were a number of crates that looked to be steady enough for her to climb up on. She got on the first one, which felt robust, so she stepped up onto the next one. A little more precarious but at least now she could grip the stone window ledge and peer inside the window.
She found herself looking into a small room that was either a kitchen or utility – it was hard to tell. There was a run of worktop, a rack of coats and some long cupboard-style doors. A door was open at the end of the room but that was at the furthest limits of her vision. She inched along the crate and felt the structure wobble. She froze and again leaned in against the window. Briefly she saw someone beyond the small room but it was so fleeting she wasn’t even sure if they were male or female. She was intrigued and keen to see who was there. She was watching intently, waiting for somebody, ideally Fraser, to appear when something thumped her on the backside.
‘What the actual—’ Fury shot through her as she twisted around to confront whoever had inappropriately clouted her. But as she turned the sight that met her was unexpected. A bull with horns like a curtain rail was preparing to give her another shove.
‘Argh!’ she yelled, which startled the bull and caused it to turn around and swipe her a second time. She tried to hang on to the windowsill but it was no use. The force of the animal’s rump sent her flying off the crates. Her head bashed into the window ledge as she fell. Unable to stop herself, Liv landed awkwardly on the concrete below with an unpleasant thud. Everything around her turned to black.