And there she was, in the flesh. Her hair still dyed blonde, but curly again like when I saw her for the first time. She looked tired, cynical. Bored. And a little sad. I recognised these emotions instantly as it was the same way I'd been feeling fo...
Life didn't get easier during that first week. Although I tried to keep my distance from the source of my angst as much as possible, it was extremely difficult to avoid Iona completely. I was also very aware of the fact that Alice was finishing up in a matter of days, and then we'd be properly forced to work together.
But, in the meantime, all of our interactions bordered on cold. Since our altercation about Angus on Sunday morning, Iona seemed (understandably) annoyed with me, and I just generally struggled to find a way to be normal around her. I knew I needed to find a way to break the ice somehow, and deep down I felt I really did have to be the one to do it, but my brain froze around her, and my default reaction was stilted and awkward.
Iona's attitude towards me was made even more frustrating because she was so bloody lovely to everyone else around us. Alice was practically her best friend already, she was on a first name basis with every member of staff by the end of her first day and, of course, she and Angus appeared to have formed a special bond. That part annoyed me the most, obviously. Any time I was unlucky enough to witness them flirting, I had to leave whatever room we were in immediately.
The nights were as difficult as the days. I'd mainly toss and turn in bed, struggling to sleep, and thinking about the fact she was on the other side of the wall from me. And, on the occasions I had to give into the need to get myself off while thinking about her, trying desperately not to groan too loudly. I was pretty sure the walls were thick, but I still didn't want to risk her hearing me.
I was really looking forward to my upcoming weekend off. I didn't really have any plans, apart from a long drive, picking up a food shop, then possibly going to the village pub for a couple of drinks . . . but it would be good to temporarily escape my troubles at least.
However, it seemed that my worry-free weekend was not to be.
It started at around 10.30am on Saturday when I ran into Alice as I headed to my car, and she mentioned that Iona and Angus had visited the pub together the previous night. "They went on a date?" I asked abruptly, aware I sounded abrasive but unable to stop myself. Jealousy appeared to be my favourite emotion right now, especially when it came to that pair.
"I don't know if you would call it a date," Alice had giggled, before eyeing me sharply. "Are you okay, pal? You look a bit peely-wally all of a sudden."
I was more surprised I wasn't green. "I'm fine," I replied, my voice sharp.
"Hmmmm." Alice's face was a study in faux-casual. She had already asked me again, mid-week, what the deal was with me and Iona. "You're meant to be old friends, yet you're both going out of your way to avoid each other. I don't get it," she'd said. She'd then told me she'd get it out of Iona eventually, even if I wouldn't spill.
Good. Maybe then she could fill me in on the reason for the whole ghosting situation.
"I've got to get on," I muttered, practically throwing myself into my car in my effort to escape any further interrogation. Alice could be terrifying when she got the scent of blood.
I drove south, heading towards Loch Maree. I needed a change of scenery, a different loch to stare at broodily. It was a clear cold day and the craggy snow-strewn ridges of Slioch, the mountain on the other side of the loch, reflected itself dramatically in the water. Tourists around me were gasping and taking photos, but I didn't bother - I'd already snapped many pictures of this view and, to be perfectly honest, photos rarely did the sight justice. They didn't compare to the real thing.
I couldn't stop wondering what had happened with Iona and Angus the previous night. I hadn't imagined there was a vibe between them; I could practically see the spark every time I caught them speaking. The thought they might have actually got together was making me feel physically sick, churning my guts with anxious dread.
I knew it was none of my business but I couldn't help the way I felt. I wished I'd had the guts to just communicate with Iona. But, even now, I still didn't. I was frightened of what I might hear, of the home truths she might serve up. Sighing, I headed back to my car to get on with the day.
The fretful thoughts continued to play on my mind though: as I wandered around Tesco in Ullapool; ate fresh-cooked chips beside Loch Broom (another loch, another broody stare!) while watching the ferries from the islands come and go; popped into a distillery to buy another bottle of whisky for my room collection. There was only thing for it, my fucked-up brain decided as I unloaded my groceries back at the hotel.
I was going to get myself, as Alice would say, "absolutely steamboats".
Maybe that would help me forget, at least for a while.
Or maybe not.
Either way, I was prepared to give it a go.
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