Finding Fraser(73)

I gave her a wave and leapt onto my bike to head back to Morag’s. Nothing good came of dwelling on my absent boyfriend, so I spent the ride trying to think cheerful thoughts about Gerald. Staying at a B&B run by a cute English nurse? It sounded to me like he was definitely on the road to recovery.

But try as I might to focus on Gerald and his happiness, my mind still turned magnetically to Hamish. I aimed my bike at a pothole in the road and bounced through it viciously. What could I say to HiHoKitty and the other commenters who demanded details of our first night together?

Up to that point I’d managed to avoid admitting how little time we had actually spent together, but things were getting ridiculous. I wanted to be with him. I knew he liked me back from the way he’d kissed me. And riding at high speed over the rutted lanes on my bike was a poor substitute for what we could actually do with some decent time alone together.

I decided to make plans for the next day. I could just whip over to the garage on my break, and all of this worry would be put to rest. We were both consenting adults. We just needed enough alone time to let things develop naturally. My stomach clenched with anticipation. Things were going to work out just fine.



I’d reached a good rhythm, driven by these pleasant thoughts, as I pedaled past the cafe. I’d almost ridden right on by before I noticed the black smoke pouring out the front door. Screeching the bike to a stop, I didn’t even bother to flip out my kickstand, but hopped off and tipped the bike against a wall. I ran to meet Ashwin, who was walking out the front door.

“Is there a fire?” I gasped, as he stepped out to meet me.

He rolled his eyes. “The percolator blew up. I told Da it was on its way out, but you know …” His voice trailed off, and even through the closed door of the cafe, I could hear his father yelling into the phone. Ashwin nervously pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

I peered into the front window. Sandeep was in the back, a pall of smoke hovering above his head in the kitchen. Nothing else appeared to be damaged.

“We had only one couple in the place, so I’d nipped out back for a fag,” muttered Ashwin in my ear. “It turns out, the coffee machine boiled dry without anyone on hand, which was probably a good thing, seein’ as it shattered into murderous shards that snowed down over everythin’.”

I couldn’t help feeling relieved my shift was long over and there was no way I’d be blamed. “Everything?”

He took a long drag, his eyes slitted and staring into the distance. “The sink, the big bin of sugar, the vat of chocolate powder—ever’thin’.”

“How mad was your dad?” I whispered.

Ash shuddered. “If he could’ve actually flayed me alive using only his voice, I would have no skin left. He yelled for about an hour, then he closed the place down, kicked me out and cleaned the kitchen himself.”

His fingers trembled a little as he lit a new cigarette. “This whole ‘family business’ thing …” He shook his head. Through the window I could see Sandeep slam down the phone and grab his raincoat. Seconds later, he came storming out the door, jamming one arm into the coat. He caught sight of his son and stopped in his tracks.

I could see Ash physically brace himself—eyes half-closed, shoulders hunched.

Sandeep took a deep breath and looked at me.

“Set yer alarm, Emma. I need yeh to consult on the new equipment. We’re headin’ tae Edinburgh in the mornin’.”

He jammed a catalogue into my hand and stabbed a finger in his son’s face. “And yer driven’, if ye can manage it without blowin’ up the fookin’ van!”





Sandeep’s van was parked at the foot of Morag’s driveway by the time I emerged at eight the next morning. With all the bus travel, I had become completely used to driving on the wrong side of the road, though the roads seemed so much narrower when driving in the van. Still, it turned out keeping my eyes closed meant I shrieked less at the sight of giant trucks bearing down on us on the impossibly narrow roads, so I mostly tried to nap.

In all, the trip went very smoothly. The roads were clear, Ash kept his head down and his speed under the limit, and his father spent most of the time ignoring the fact I was trying to snooze, and waxing rhapsodic about the new espresso machine he planned to buy.

Once we passed Fort William, I gave up trying to sleep. Sandeep seemed a little disappointed that I didn’t know the difference between the brand names. I explained that I knew how to run the machine, but the relative manufacturing merits were beyond the scope of my barista experience. I’d read through the catalogue and picked out the one that I thought would look nicest in the shop, which managed to thoroughly disgust Sandeep.