Chapter 1 – Starting Over

Monday 11th January 2016

I have to remind myself that it was only six months ago that everything changed. I was a regular young man with a good education and I had the world at my feet. Things ended with my girlfriend after a simple disagreement. Basically, I suggested not socialising too much for a short while because I wanted us to do well in our studies. After we split, and towards the end of my university course I had no social life, but I achieved my aim and gained a good degree.

As the final weeks of the course rolled by I felt an immense weight lifted from my shoulders. The hard work was done and I could finally relax, apart from trying to step onto the ladder of working life. I was sharing a flat and unlike me, my flatmates were keener on a social life than studying. It was partly this which led to how things ended in our accommodation and the happy relationship we’d shared thus far.

Yes, sadly, it took one small error in judgement and my entire life went off on a new trajectory.

*

Six Months Ago

Saturday 4th July 2015

Inverness

Scotland

As I stood reading the small ads, I wondered if my knee-jerk reaction to pack up and leave Glasgow had been the right thing to do. Time would tell, no doubt. I stared at the cards on the supermarket noticeboard. “Cars … furniture … appliances … toys … aha, accommodation.” I could see from the layout of cards that there were plenty of bed and breakfast places but only a few full-board lodgings.

“Accommodation is a nightmare, isn’t it?” The observation was from an attractive twenty-something brunette who was standing to my left, also studying the cards.

“It is,” I said as I turned and smiled, noting the wide-eyed look of the young woman. “It’s especially difficult if you’re a young man trying to find full board which is affordable.”

The beauty recovered her composure. “That’s not an Inverness accent either.”

“No, I’ve not been here long.” I laughed. “I’m from Glasgow, but I wanted to live in a smaller, picturesque place.”

“Well, you’re still in Scotland, but it’s quite a difference moving up here.” She turned and noted a number from a card. “Good luck with your search.”

“Thank you, and I hope whatever that is, it works out for you.” I nodded towards her notes.

The brunette glanced at her notes, put away her book and pen and smiled at me before she headed into one of the aisles to commence shopping.

I turned to watch her go and was appreciating her curvaceous figure and great legs when she glanced back over her shoulder. Embarrassed, I smiled and turned back to the noticeboard.

A short while later, I was standing in the toiletries section. I had shaving gel, toothpaste and a toothbrush in my basket, but I was reading the information on a bottle of shampoo, oblivious to the world around me.

“Stick with the one you’re already using.” It was the brunette again.

“Hello again.” I grinned. “Is this one no good?”

“It might be okay, but whatever you presently use is doing a great job.” She nodded to my long wavy brown hair. “Not many guys have hair that long that looks so healthy.”

“Thank you.” It was quite a compliment from a pretty girl who had gorgeous long hair.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I only spoke to you at the noticeboard earlier because I thought you were a girl.”

“Really?”

“Yes. At a glance I saw the tight jeans, slim build and the lovely hair.”

I laughed and so too did my new acquaintance. “Brandon.” I held out my right hand.

“Chantelle,” the girl said. “I’m pleased to meet you, Brandon. Now, I’ll let you get on with your shopping. Good luck with the hunt for lodgings.”

“Thank you.” For the second time I appreciated Chantelle’s skintight jeans and long stride.

*

Saturday 11th July

It was one week since I’d met the delightful Chantelle, and I was standing at the noticeboard in the big supermarket early in the morning once again. I noted the phone numbers and locations of two boarding houses, put away my notebook and set off to select fresh fruit, a few snack bars, a coffee refill pack and a few other items.

I used the self-service check-out because I was self-conscious of some of my purchases, and not because of a speedier transaction. I packed my eco-friendly bag and set off for the exit. I paused at the sliding door to allow a man in a wheelchair to enter the store. We nodded and smiled at each other and I went outside. I squinted and shaded my eyes against the sunlight as I looked around at the massive car park. To my left, in my peripheral vision, I caught a movement nearby and turned to see a girl placing a bag in the basket fitted to the front of her bike.

“Hi, Chantelle.” I inhaled deeply as I appraised her in a T-shirt, Daisy Dukes and white trainers. The denim shorts looked like they’d been sprayed onto her hips and upper thighs.

“Hi, Brandon.” She laughed. “As much as I’m flattered, you can draw your eyes back into their sockets.” Chantelle grinned. “So, it’s obviously a day for T-shirt and shorts.” She nodded to my outfit.

We both laughed.

I tried to recover and act casual. “I wasn’t sure what to wear today, but I thought, you know, with the sunshine and light breeze.” I nodded to her smart black bike with it’s distinctive classic style. “Nice wheels … is it a genuine Hollander?”

“Good heavens, no. It would be cheaper to buy a car.” She paused with her key in the chain-lock. “It’s an imitation, but obviously not a bad one if you recognised it. This is the item I found on the noticeboard last week.”

“Right. I was intending to get a bike after finding a new place to live but I might do it the other way around.”

“I can recommend the place I picked this up. The guy sells new and refurbished and deals in all sorts of bikes.”

Apart from how I left Glasgow, I wasn’t an impulsive person by nature but had to seize the opportunity. “Chantelle, I don’t know if you have a boyfriend or … anybody … could I buy you a coffee?”

She glanced at her watch, smiled and nodded. “You’ve got half an hour, and I get bored easily.” Chantelle refitted the security chain and lifted her safety helmet and shopping bag from the basket in front of the handlebars.

Five minutes later, we were two of the only six customers in the supermarket’s big cafeteria.

“Thank you,” Chantelle said and sipped her latte. “How is it going with the hunt for a new abode?”

“I’ve noted two more, but I’m not building up my hopes.” I stirred sweeteners into my Americano. “At least my weekend has been brightened by meeting you again.”

“I hope you didn’t come here this morning to look for me.” She held my gaze.

I wondered if she was serious, and said, “I prefer doing shopping early on a Saturday because it’s usually quieter.” I smiled and looked into her sparkling blue eyes. “Okay, I was hoping to see you, but I’d have been satisfied just to see you passing. I wouldn’t start stalking you or anything—that’s a bit sick.”

“I’m glad to hear you think that way.” She nodded. “So, what do you plan now in your search?”

“I don’t give up easily on things so I’ll keep on looking. It might mean moving farther out of town if that’s the way to reduce the rent, but if I got a bike I’d be happy to ride a few miles to town.”

“A few miles?”

“Yes, there’s a boarding house not far from the airport and the rent for full-board would be the same as I’m paying for the bed and breakfast place where I’m presently staying, just outside town.”

“You have quite a casual attitude to distance, so I take it you’re accustomed to cycling?”

“Yes, I sold my racing bike before I came up here. It didn’t fold into the baggage allowance I’d allowed myself.”

Chantelle laughed and it was a pleasant sound. “I have a racing bike, but I got the Hollander lookalike to get around locally because it’s functional and looks smart.”

“Do you work locally, or are you a student—”

“Student—are you pulling my leg, Brandon?”

“If only …” I whispered.

“I beg your pardon?” A shapely eyebrow arched.

“You could be a student,” I said quickly. “You look about my age or maybe younger.”

“And what age are you, my short-sighted friend?” A faint smile teased her lips.

“Twenty-three.”

Chantelle worried her lip and smiled. “I’m … no, I’m not going to tell you, but I’m older than you think, and certainly older than you.” She shook her head slowly. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a freelance editor and proofreader.” I nodded. “I know, I know, you’re thinking I’m a bit young. I left uni with a degree in Creative Writing and had a job lined up with a big company in Glasgow, but I had my reasons for leaving.”

Chantelle nodded. “Do you have anything published?”

“I have a couple of ideas on the go, but until you’re a household name there’s no money in writing. I mainly work for indie authors, and I keep my prices competitive so that my client base will continue to grow. My income presently allows me to pay my rent and feed myself.”

“So what do you do for other indie authors that they couldn’t do for themselves?”

“Many of them enjoy the production of stories, but are either not good at the other stuff, or they want to have somebody they can trust with hours of tedious work. When a story is written it needs to be edited, returned to the author, rewritten, and edited and so on until it’s as good as it can be. A final proofread, line by line and then formatting of the manuscript help create what the reader pays for.”

“What about book covers?”

“I’ve been dabbling in that area in the past few months and it adds another string to my bow.” I sipped my coffee. “If I could find a better deal with accommodation I’d be able to concentrate more on building my client base and not worry about living day to day.”

“I’ll keep an ear to the ground on your behalf, and if I hear of anything, I’ll watch out for you here on a Saturday morning.”

“Really—that would be amazing.”

“You sound sincere and so caught up in wanting to just earn a living.”

“I’m prepared to pay the price for anything that comes my way, and I recognise when I need to accept help.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Brandon. When we start to believe that we don’t need anybody else, that’s when things can go badly wrong.”

“May I ask what you do for a living?”

“I started out hairdressing but now I’m also a qualified beautician. I keep my hand in with the hairdressing but I pay a nominal fee to rent a small room in a salon here in Inverness.”

“Well, if I may say so, as a hairdresser or beautician, you don’t have to worry about yourself.”

“Steady, Brandon.” She laughed. “Seriously though, thank you.”

“I suppose we’re alike in one respect, and that is that we have our ambitions and set our own working hours.”

“I do alright in the hairdressing salon, but I also go out and do home visits for some clients.”

“Is it easier to rent accommodation in Inverness, rather than buy a flat or whatever?”

“Yes, housing is at a premium in such a nice location, as you might expect. If I had a little bit more income I’d be able to rent a flat, rather than a large room with ensuite. I have to admit, my present accommodation is sufficient for my needs and I like how things work there.”

“Are there many people in the house?”

“No. It’s a bit of a special case. My landlady’s husband is a diver out on the North Sea oil rigs, so although he earns a lot of money, he’s away from home for two or three weeks at a time, and then he comes home for maybe two weeks on each break. He’s home at the moment but he leaves again on Sunday.”

“Right, so basically, the landlady has the companionship of one or two tenants and no real financial worries?”

“She has two rooms for rent and a third one pre-booked by a tenant who uses it off and on. I have one of the two regular rooms, and recently the second one was vacated by another young woman who left to work in London. My landlady interviews those interested and she’s selective.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t got somebody else in there because it would put more money in her bank account.”

“I’ve seen several people come for a chat with her, and in the year I’ve lived there the other room has only been lived in twice, and both times they were young women.”

“It sounds like she only wants to rent out to women, and to be honest, I don’t blame her. As long as nobody can prove that’s what she does, then nobody can claim any kind of discrimination.”

“I had considered that, but I wouldn’t offer it as an opinion.”

“Perhaps when she and her husband set up the house to rent rooms it was his idea that the rooms were only to be rented to women.”

Chantelle smiled. “I’d also considered that angle, but I’ve never asked. I wouldn’t want her to worry about me saying anything to anyone.” She glanced at her watch. “Thank you for the coffee, Brandon, and I will keep a lookout for you, and I’ll … wait a minute. Do you have a mobile number?” Chantelle produced her phone.

I knew my features had brightened as I pulled out my phone and turned it to show my companion the number. “I’d never have asked you for your number.”

Chantelle pouted. “I thought you liked me—”

“Of course, I like you … I—”

“I’m only teasing.” She laughed and pressed a few keys on her phone.

I looked at the display on my phone. “Thank you, Chantelle.” In the excitement to put away my phone, I knocked my shopping bag over and a few items fell onto the floor.

Chantelle bent down more quickly than me, lifted two of the lightweight packs and gazed at me as she placed them on the table.

“Thank you—” I lifted the items from the table and felt my cheeks warming. I was aware my lips remained parted as I looked at the attractive woman sitting opposite. I lifted the packs of black hold-up stockings, the black lace panties and the matching bra. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply several times as I imagined moving on again at short notice. I gripped my bag and placed a hand on the table ready to get up 

A slender hand landed on mine. “You stay where you are and I’ll get us fresh coffees.”

“Chantelle, I—” I didn’t know what to say, or where to look. My face was burning with shame.

“Stay there and keep an eye on my shopping.” A faint smile played over her lips. “I think we need to chat some more.” She left me to fetch the drinks.

***