

**AMANDA MARTIN**

TWO-HUNDRED STEPS HOME

VOLUME ONE

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

Two-Hundred Steps Home is her latest work. Amanda is writing the novel in daily instalments on her WriterMummy blog as part of her 2013 365 post-a-day challenge. This ebook is Volume 1 and contains the first 31 instalments.

**COPYRIGHT**

Published by 3AD Publishers at Smashwords

Copyright © Amanda Martin 2013

Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be  
identified as the author of this work

Also by Amanda Martin:

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 2

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 3

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 4

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 5

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 6

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 7

Two-Hundred Steps Home: Volume 8

Dragon Wraiths  
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

This novel is entirely a work of fiction although based loosely on the YHA Hostels of England and Wales. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

http://www.amanda-martin.co.uk

http://writermummy.wordpress.com

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

Title

Copyright

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Follow the Blog

About the Author

**ONE**

"Claire, could you come into my office for a quick chat?"

Claire looked up from the stack of artwork on her desk and resisted the urge to frown, knowing it would leave creases in her foundation.

"Sure Carl, now?"

"Yes please," he said over his shoulder as he headed back to his own, larger, glass cube on the other side of the office.

Intrigued that he hadn't sent Julia or phoned through his summons, Claire slipped on her heels, pulled on her jacket and headed after her boss.

"Come in, sit down, would you like a drink?"

Carl was already seated when Claire scratched on his door and opened it.

"Earl Grey please, black, no sugar," Claire said as she lowered herself onto the black leather chair, glad she was wearing tights.

Carl pressed a button on his desk. "Earl Grey and an espresso please Jules."

Carl shuffled the paper on his desk and didn't look up. "How's the Birds Eye piece coming together?"

Claire looked at the bald patch starting to appear on Carl's crown and answered in a monotone. "Fine. No dramas."

"And the Vodafone ad?"

"Shooting next week."

"Right." Carl took an audible breath.

_Just spit it out,_ Claire thought as she watched the words fighting to be released from his mouth.

"The Board would like you to hand over your existing clients to Steve."

Claire sat forward. She hadn't been expecting that. Aware of her movement she immediately sat back and looked sardonically at Carl.

"Am I being fired?"

"No," he said quickly, "of course not. You're one of our best Account Directors. No, think of it more as a change of direction. We've secured a new deal with Happy Cola."

Claire raised her eyebrows before dropping them quickly. _Coke?_ That was a big deal.

"They're sponsoring the YHA."

"The what?"

"Youth Hostel Association."

Claire looked blankly for a minute, not making the connection. Then her brain kicked in. "That doesn't seem a likely combination - isn't youth hostelling all about being healthy and the great outdoors. Not something you associate with Happy Cola."

"That's the point. After the Olympics they want to improve their healthy image. They've decided a year's sponsorship of the YHA will improve the perception of their brand in the UK."

"So I'm getting that account? It doesn't mean I have to hand over all my other deals, surely? Even someone as big as Coke must understand they're not our only client."

"Of course not. Actually you won't be managing the account, I will."

Claire felt her heartbeat begin to speed up. Something wasn't right. Carl was looking shifty and he never looked shifty. It was as if he was bracing himself.

"So, come on then, what am I going to be doing?"

"Um. You're going to be staying in the hostels."

"What?" Claire nearly stood up but remembered at the last minute to relax back into her chair. _Stay in control, Claire, don't let him get to you._

"The bigwigs want someone on the ground, living the hostelling dream. They want someone to visit all the hostels during the year of promotion, to feedback stories on Twitter and Facebook, you know how it goes."

"Why can't you send one of the interns?" Claire could hear her voice sounded higher than usual. She swallowed and took some deep breaths.

"Polly and Molly have finals this year and Sally has a cat."

Claire looked incredulously at Carl, then over his head through the glass wall of the office.

"What about Julia, she looks like she could use a holiday."

"This is not a holiday and my PA is indispensable."

"And I'm not?"

Their eyes clashed and fought before Carl smiled and leaned forward across his desk. "Come on Claire, be reasonable. Think of it as an adventure."

"You want me to go and sleep in bug-infested bunk-beds in the same room as a bunch of smelly, over-sexed, students for a whole year? You must be mad." She looked around the office as if seeking something to help her escape. The office was bare except for some piece of modern art and a photograph of Carl's inexplicably beautiful wife.

"No Claire," Carl said in a quiet voice. Claire turned to face him, her pulse beating loudly in her ears. Like any predator, Carl was at his most dangerous when he was silent. Forcing herself to meet his eyes she saw the glint in them and swallowed. Carl didn't frighten her; she'd been around too long and knew she was good at her job. Even so she felt her palms getting clammy as Carl stared at her, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Who did I offend?" Claire could hear the resignation in her voice. _Resignation, was that her only option_?

"No one my dear. Think of it more as an initiation challenge."

It was Claire's turn to raise an eyebrow. This was unexpected.

"The Board feel you have potential but they're not convinced of your loyalty, to them or to our clients. Think of this as a sabbatical to consider your next career move."

"Up or out?" Claire suggested, her lips twisting sarcastically.

"Well I wouldn't put it quite so crudely but yes, as usual, you have encapsulated the essence in a pithy one-liner. That's why you're such a valuable member of the team."

_Right,_ thought Claire as she stalked back to her office. _What a load of crap._

***

**TWO**

Back at her desk, Claire resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. Living in a glass office surrounded by advertising people had taught her self-control in a way her parents' strictures on _The Correct Way to Behave in Public_ never had. She had risen through the ranks quickly since arriving at AJC and that generally made people want to find out a person's weaknesses.

Claire looked out through her glass wall at the Account Managers and Execs working hard at their desks. She could see Julia in close conversation with one of the other PAs. The sight made Claire's stomach twist and she looked away. There was no doubt Julia had a fair idea what had been said in Carl's office. PAs knew everything.

Besides, I saw the surreptitious look of glee she threw my way when she brought in the drinks. No doubt it's all round the Company that I'm being demoted or forced out.

It was that, and only that, preventing Claire from typing her resignation letter and storming back over to Carl's office. _I could get another position by 5pm_ , she thought as she stared impassively at her computer screen, tapping in random letters while her mind churned at eighty-words-per-minute. _But what reputation would follow me? I'd forever be the person who quit on the Happy Cola account. What would the gossips say? That I couldn't hack a bit of dirt and hard work?_

Advertising and Marketing was a closed group. Every day Claire ran into someone from a previous life - a boss, an underling-come-good, a client or supplier. She'd seen former lowly execs become Account Directors or move client-side and become Marketing Directors. You couldn't be rude to anyone, no matter how much you ached to.

Claire gazed out the window at the city view, or what she could see of it. Manchester in February was a miserable place. It rained. When it stopped raining all you could see were more rainclouds building up on the Pennines. Not that she spent much time outside. The rain was a great excuse to drive the five minutes to work or to the shops from her city-centre apartment. When she wasn't at the office or with clients she was tucked up warm in the latest wine bar or boutique.

No, the rain wasn't a problem. Her thoughts dragged her unwillingly back over the last few months, filling her mind with unwelcome images. Pictures of Christmas and New Year flashed through her head like a TV review programme. Forced to give them attention for the first time, Claire realised they didn't make happy viewing. She pushed the images away and looked back out at the rain.

Maybe it would be good to get out of Manchester for a while.

***

**THREE**

Claire's heart thumped beneath her gold heart pendant as she saw the email in her inbox. Carl had been quiet about her new assignment for a day or two and things had gone on as normal. Well, as normal as it got in AJC. Steve had filled her diary with meetings to discuss the accounts he was due to take over but, as he was away on a three-day conference, the meetings weren't until the following week. Hoping the conversation in Carl's office would go away like an unwelcome case of acne, Claire had continued with preparation for the Vodafone shoot and the Birds Eye's Press Ads.

Claire looked at the email subject line and felt her hand quiver as it hovered over the track-pad on her laptop. _Just click Open and find out the worst._ Her hand shook for a moment more before she dragged the cursor over the email link and clicked.

The email was terse, as Carl's often were.

Details of your assignment. Julia will sort the details. You start 1st March.

Good luck.

Carl.

She could imagine Carl sitting laughing at his desk as he wrote the words. _Good Luck indeed_. _Bastard_. She opened the attachment and was surprised to see it was only a single page with Happy Cola and YHA logos at the top. Scanning through the words quickly she saw that the brief had been prepared by Carl's boss, the top man himself.

So Carl wasn't talking complete crap when he said this came from the Board. Great.

It didn't make Claire feel any better to know that her sudden move had been decreed by the powers-that-be. In some ways if it had been Carl's vindictive move she could have handled that better, found some way to get her own back or turn it to her advantage. Knowing that she had come to the attention of the Board made her skin prickle.

Unable to avoid it any longer, Claire turned her attention to the actual brief.

**Assignment** : To travel to each of the Youth Hostelling Association's 200 hostels, located throughout England and Wales.

Your assignment includes maintaining a blog to discuss reviews of the hostels, utilising social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter to inform Fans of amusing stories and anecdotes, and generally promoting the brands of Happy Cola and YHA.

You will relinquish your company car and be given one more suited to your assignment. We will arrange for your apartment to be let and cover reasonable expenses, although you will be expected to stick within a backpacker's budget (c. £20-£30 a day). You will continue to receive your normal salary and holiday entitlement.

Your accommodation for your first two nights' stay has been booked in the Northernmost Hostel at Berwick-Upon-Tweed for 1st and 2nd March. From that point on you will be expected to plan your own route and manage your own bookings.

Your secondment is for one year, including your allotted holiday allowance. This means you will need to manage the length of your stay at each hostel, and your driving route from hostel to hostel, to ensure that you have visited each of the 200 hostels in that time.

Claire's mind reeled as she read and re-read the brief. _A car more suited to my assignment?_ She thought lovingly of the charcoal grey Audi parked in the street below. _Take my Audi away?_ And her apartment. Okay, it wasn't really hers. Mortgages were for people with kids and dogs. Hers was rented, furnished and serviced. Her sleek steel kitchen was kept clean by a firm who came once a week. Still, it was uncomfortable to think of someone else living there.

There was a hard knot in the centre of Claire's brain and she knew the worries about her car and flat were skirting around the real issue. _£20-£30 a day?_ That wasn't going to buy more than an M&S sandwich, a couple of Starbucks and a takeaway noodles for dinner. Was she meant to pay for her hostel room and petrol out of that too? _I'm not paying for it out of my salary, that's for sure. If they're going to make me do this I at least want to come out of it with something._

Claire's mind drifted to pictures of a fortnight's holiday in the Maldives when the ordeal was over. She'd never had enough money left before, after maintaining her shoe-and-handbag habit, but a year living on expenses would leave her nicely in the black. Claire sat back in her chair and smiled suddenly. The brief didn't say when she could take her holiday. There was nothing stopping her dossing around the country for a few weeks and then jetting off for white sandy beaches and bath-water-warm seas.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

***

**FOUR**

"Claire, it's Ruth." Claire held back a sigh and walked into the kitchen to put the coffee machine on. A phone call from her sister was never over quickly.

"Ruth, darling. How are you?" As she waited for her sister to start spilling forth her latest disaster, Claire mulled over how much to reveal about her new assignment. Her family would have to be told something, of course. Not that they ever came to visit, or called her home phone, or sent her letters. Still, it seemed only right to tell them she was moving out for twelve months. Tuning back in to the phone call, Claire realised she had missed some key information and tried to catch up with what her sister was talking about.

"So the doctor said it was probably lack of sleep. You know Sky is a bad sleeper and her nightmares have been worse since she started Year Two."

Claire worked out that someone was poorly, but was unsure whether it was her sister or her niece _. Probably Sky. Silly, spoiled, overly-dramatic child. As if having her father run off with her ballet teacher gives her an open-ended excuse to be a brat forever. Surely they outgrow that nonsense once they start school?_

Claire thought about her own schooling. Her parents had paid for the best, obviously, although Claire often wondered whether that was to ensure their three children didn't hamper their lifestyle, rather than to give their off-spring a good start in life. The school had encouraged independence and character but had no time for tears and tantrums. Claire had learned quickly to work hard and stay out of trouble. More than could be said for Ruth. It had been a constant mortification to her parents that, while their first and third children both achieved academic success, Ruth only acquired notoriety.

Ruth's next sentence cut through Claire's reminiscing like a knife through brie.

"The tests are week after next. That's why I'm calling. Is there any chance you could come and look after Sky? It's half-term and most of her friends are going skiing. Of course we can't afford that..."

Claire inhaled deeply and forced herself not to rise to the bait. Ruth was always poor and begrudged Claire her success. Claire accepted that looking after a child on your own probably hampered your career options, but look at J.K. Rowling, it hadn't held her back. She was convinced Ruth could help herself if only she'd try harder. Claire's irritation at the badly-veiled hint nearly overshadowed the first part of the sentence, but not quite.

"Have Sky? How long for? When?" Claire could hear panic in her voice and forced herself to breathe in through her nose. Once she was sure she was back in control of her emotions she said in a slow voice, "I start a new work assignment on 1st March, and I'll ... be on the road a lot. You know. Meeting clients."

"Wining and dining on someone else's credit card." Ruth's voice cut in.

"There's more to it than that," Claire responded quickly. Then, before Ruth could start the age-old argument, Claire inhaled through her nose again and consciously lowered her voice. "Tell me the day you need me to have Sky, I'll check my diary."

"Well, it's two days, actually." Ruth sounded embarrassed.

As well she might. I don't want to look after her brat for two hours, never mind two days.

Claire had, thus far, avoided spending too much time with her niece, or with her two nephews Jack and Alex. Her brother and his wife lived in Geneva, so that was understandable. Ruth lived near their mother in Cambridgeshire, so her lack of involvement caused considerable friction. _Kids just aren't my thing._

Thinking about minding a six-year-old for two days made bile rise in Claire's throat. She gulped down her coffee and wondered if she could use the new assignment as an excuse. There was something in Ruth's voice, though, that made her pause.

"Can't Mum take her? I thought Mum and Dad were the perfect grandparents?" It seemed odd to Claire that two people who had no time for their own children could go dotty over someone else's, even if they were their grandkids. Maybe they were going soft in their old age.

"Er, Mum's coming with me, to the hospital."

Ruth's words slithered into Claire's brain, freezing where they made contact. "Just what tests are you having exactly?"

"Weren't you listening? I said you never listen to me, you and Robert, you're both the same."

Claire almost smiled at the petulant tone in Ruth's voice. For a moment they were twelve and fourteen again.

"Sorry," she admitted, saying nothing more.

"The headaches, the ones causing spots in my vision. The doctor thinks it's tiredness but they want to be sure. I'm having a CAT scan or an MRI or something, I don't remember the details. I'm not clever like you. That's why Mum's coming."

Claire took the two steps from her kitchen to her lounge and sank into the white leather sofa. "CAT scan? Ruth, are you serious?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't joke about something like that. So, will you take Sky? I don't think Dad could cope with her for two days on his own. You can stay at my place or at Home, whichever is easier."

Claire rubbed a hand across her forehead, as if scrubbing away unwanted thoughts. "Of course I'll come. Text me the dates. I should probably come home before I start my new assignment anyway, store some things in the attic..."

She thought Ruth might ask her about the assignment, but she didn't. After another ten minutes elaborating on her headaches and trips to the doctors she said that Sky was calling for her and hung up the phone.

Claire slumped back into the sofa, cradling her iPhone in her lap. Darkness seemed to engulf the room. A gloom that had nothing to do with the rain hammering against the window pane.

***

**FIVE**

"So, you're being pushed out then? I wouldn't stand for that if I was you." Steve grinned at Claire as the two of them sat in Starbucks with a stack of paperwork on the table in front of them.

"I am not being pushed out, thank you very much. The Board want me to prove my loyalty, that's all. I'm on the up."

"Bollocks. Whoever heard of a Company sending its top Account Director out of the office for a full year? You've got windmills in your head if you believe that rubbish. They're hoping you'll get sick of it and quit so they don't have to pay you severance pay, you mark my words."

Claire glared at Steve as he voiced the concern that had been buzzing round her mind for a week. Once she had had time to think it through it seemed ludicrous that a company would continue to pay her a generous salary while she dossed around the country writing a few Tweets and posting some snaps on Facebook. It was clear that Steve was right. She had been at AJC for three years and her severance pay would be at least a year's salary. Much better to have her sweat it out in grubby hostels for a few weeks so that she would be grateful to hand in her notice.

There's no alternative, I will just have to stick it out. If I resign now, not only will I have to work my three months' notice, I'll have to put up with the likes of Carl and Steve smirking at me every single day knowing I couldn't hack it.

Happy to have made his point regarding her secondment, Steve moved onto a fresh topic of torment. "So come on spill the beans, what happened to Lover Boy? One minute you're practically renting a lunch time slot at _Yo! Sushi_ together, next thing you're back to chomping an M&S salad in your office. Dumped you, did he?"

"It's none of your business Steve." Claire looked up from her laptop and stared into Steve's muddy brown eyes, holding his gaze until he looked away. "Perhaps we could concentrate on the accounts? You know, work? The Vodafone ad is being filmed tomorrow and we're still trying to pin them down to tell us what airtime their Board is going to let them have." She took a sip of her latte before replacing the cup on the table. "Apparently the new cheese is all about SEO and viral media rather than more traditional channels."

Steve sat back, his face more serious although his eyes still danced with mischief. "Get Jimmy on to it, he'll create something for them. Like that great Fiat Motherhood video. The missus was in hysterics, sent it to all her friends."

Claire had seen the video but failed to see the humour. Three months in Pyjamas and comparing episiotomy scars? What was funny about that? It just confirmed her view that having kids was a foolish idea. Whatever Michael had thought about the subject.

***

**SIX**

"Auntie Claire! Mummy said you were coming to stay but I didn't believe it." A whirl of blonde hair and beads threw itself at Claire's legs and hugged tight, almost tilting her to the ground. Claire resisted the urge to shake her off like an unwanted dog and waited for the shrieking to stop.

"Hello Claire," Ruth greeted her sister as she came to the door. The two women air-kissed, leaning over the child still wrapped around Claire's legs. "Is that a new perfume, it's very exotic." Ruth sniffed the air and Claire could tell she really wanted to say it was awful, but as Claire was there to do a huge favour she had no choice but to be nice.

"Yes, Michael bought it for me," Claire said tightly, before gently removing Sky from her legs so she could walk down the corridor to the kitchen-diner.

"How is Michael?" Ruth asked over her shoulder. Claire wondered if her sister had been so caught up in her own misery she had missed the status updates on Facebook. _Or is it that she just can't keep the maliciousness at bay for five minutes?_

"We broke up."

"Oh, did you? I'm sorry to hear that. He was very charming. Not that we saw much of him."

Oh, here we go.

As if sensing her sister's reaction, Ruth didn't continue. Instead she pulled Sky away from where she hung off Claire's arm and smiled brightly at her sister. "Tea?"

"Earl Grey please, if you have it?"

"No, only Tetley I'm afraid. Or I have Nescafe?"

Claire shuddered then shook her head. "A glass of water would be lovely, thank you."

Ruth ran water from the kitchen tap into a plastic Disney Princesses beaker and handed it to Claire, who had sat down at the table. Ruth then poured herself more treacle-coloured tea from a spotty-red teapot and sat opposite her.

"Mum will be here shortly. I'm not supposed to drive, so Mum's taking me. They'll do the tests, keep me in overnight for observations, then Mum will come and get me in the morning. I'll be back by lunchtime tomorrow."

"Where are you going exactly? Peterborough General?"

"No, I'm still covered by Mum and Dad's health insurance so I'm going private. It was going to be weeks before they could get me an appointment with the NHS."

Silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the sound of Sky munching grapes. Claire cupped her hands around the bright pink cup and stared at the reflections in her untouched water. It was always like this with Ruth. Unless she was ranting about the latest injustice or gushing over some bloke she'd snogged they didn't have much to say to each other.

"How's work?"

Claire looked up, surprised at the question. "Fine. I have a new assignment."

"Oh, something interesting?"

"Yes, it could be. I guess. It's for Happy Cola."

The spark of interest in Ruth's eyes died. "Disgusting teeth-rotting stuff. I can't believe you endorse evil brands like that."

There didn't seem any way to respond to the comment without starting a row. Sky was now slurping milk through a straw but she looked up and surveyed the two sisters. Catching her gaze, Claire was surprised at how much comprehension there was in her niece's eyes. She realised she hadn't seen her niece in over a year. Claire hadn't joined her family for Christmas, which meant it was the Christmas before that she last saw Sky.

"Miss Hawkins says Happy Cola was invented by a chemist."

Claire didn't know what to say to the non sequitur. It no longer seemed possible to brush the girl off with _That's nice_ and a smile.

"What else have you learned at school?" She said instead.

"If two pieces of metal touch each other in space they get stuck together."

Claire stared at Sky, bereft of words. _Where did that come from? I remember learning completely useless facts in school, but that seems a bit technical for a six-year-old_. She was still scrabbling for a response when the front door opened and she heard the familiar swish of her mother's floor-length wool coat sweep the laminate flooring.

"You're here then," her mother said as she came into the kitchen. Claire turned to look at her, trying to read behind the words.

"Yes, the traffic was surprisingly light, I made good time."

"Right. Well, we'd best be off Ruth. Have you told Claire where everything is, when Sky has her tea and when to put her to bed?"

"Won't you stop for a cup of tea?" Ruth looked up at her mother, who was still wearing her winter coat. "We're not due at the hospital for over an hour. Claire's only just arrived."

"We don't want to be late."

Ruth looked apologetically at her sister, as if their mother's rudeness was somehow her fault. She handed her sister a handwritten sheet of paper. "I've written it all down, but if you have any problems you can ring Dad."

"Much good that will do you. Your Father's working this week, otherwise he would have taken Sky."

"I thought Dad retired." Claire smiled at her mother, to show that she was making a light-hearted comment. Her Dad had retired the year before, but he was finding it hard to let go. He had taken on various non-exec roles that seemed to take up more of his time than his full-time job as Chief Financial Officer.

"Your father works harder than all of you," was all her mum said, before turning to face the corridor. "Come on Ruth."

Sky got down from the table and ran to give her grandmother a cuddle. "Bye bye Nana, see you tomorrow. Auntie Claire and I are going to have so much fun."

"Bye bye poppet. You be good for your Auntie Claire."

Claire remained seated at the table as her sister bent to kiss her cheek, gave her daughter a huge hug, and scurried off down the corridor after their mother. Sky came over and leant against Claire, putting her arms around her neck. As the front door clicked shut Sky's face widened into a broad grin.

"I'm so glad you're here Auntie. I want you to show me how to paint my nails and my lips and all the things Mummy doesn't let me do." Her clear blue eyes sparkled in a way that promised trouble.

Claire was conscious of a strong desire to run down the corridor after her mother and sister, to tell them she would drive Ruth to the hospital. Instead she looked down into the face gazing mischievously up at her and forced out a smile.

"Okay, Sky. Let's have some fun."

***

**SEVEN**

Claire woke suddenly, her heart racing and her ears ringing with the echo of a scream. The bed felt unfamiliar and for a moment she thought she must be at Michael's house. _So who is screaming?_ Her eyes sought the familiar green numerals of his bedside clock but they weren't there. Neither was there the orange glow of a street-light flooding through the window to tell her she was in her own apartment.

Where the hell am I?

As her heart thudded loudly in the now-silent room she wondered if she was still in the depths of a bad dream. Then the scream came again, turning her body to ice. Claire sat upright and threw herself out of bed. That was Sky. She began hurrying from the room before she remembered that the door in Ruth's bedroom was in a different place. Claire yelped as she crashed into the chest of drawers, then winced as something sticky and heavy fell off and landed on her foot. Her swearing echoed loudly in the dark. Taking a breath to calm herself Claire walked forward with her arms stretched out in front of her like a ghost and tried to locate the light switch.

By the time Claire reached Sky's room the girl had fallen back asleep. _If she was even awake in the first place._ In the back of her mind Claire seemed to remember Ruth talking about something called Night Terrors and how children could get hysterical without even waking up. Or was that just when they were babies? Claire wished she had paid more attention to her sister's ramblings.

She sat on the edge of Sky's bed and smoothed the damp hair off her niece's brow. The girl looked younger asleep, even with the remnants of lipstick that still stained her tiny mouth. _I hope that comes off before Ruth gets back tomorrow._

The afternoon with Sky had been surprisingly enjoyable. Now that Sky was able to hold an almost-sensible conversation it wasn't so terrifying to spend time with her. Exhausting, though. _Do children ever draw breath?_ It seemed that Sky could talk non-stop for several hours without tiring. Her chatter had been entertaining but Claire's head still reverberated with the relentless high-pitched babble.

Claire braced herself against the bed, ready to get up and leave the room. Sensing the movement, Sky turned and curled herself around Claire's back, snuggling against her and giving a contented sigh. Claire was aware of an unusual feeling of contentment. _Odd._ She sat within the embrace for ten or fifteen minutes, until she was sure Sky was fully asleep. Then she gently removed her niece's arms and rolled her away, covering her with the duvet so she wouldn't get cold. She leant over the bed and kissed Sky on the forehead.

"Sleep well, poppet. Sweet dreams."

Back in Ruth's room, Claire's heart sank when she saw the time _. 2a.m.?_ She felt wide awake, even though she had only slept for a few hours _. I guess I may as well do something useful_. Pulling out her laptop, Claire started making notes on her assignment. _Best take it seriously. I can't give them any excuse to fire me for incompetence, not if they're already trying to get me to quit._

She wrote a list of things that needed doing:

1. Choose Blog Name

2. Start Facebook Fan Page

3. Choose Twitter name

4. Buy road map and plot hostels on it

_Thinking about it, I don't even know where Berwick-Upon-Tweed is._ She opened the internet and spent twenty minutes wandering around the YHA website, mentally noting twenty ways they could improve their customer journey.

She added _Join the YHA_ to her to-do list before clicking on the hostel that would see the start of her journey. It seemed that Berwick was in Northumberland. Not a part of the country Claire had been to before. Her heart sank. Something about the name Northumberland made her feel cold and grey. Reading on, she found out the Berwick YHA was in an eighteenth-century Granary and included its own art gallery.

_Thirteen rooms, all en-suite?_ That didn't sound like the hostelling experience she'd imagined, with rows and rows of grimy rooms and one bathroom between twenty. _Even if I have to share with three or four other people_ , Claire thought, supressing a shudder, _at least I don't have to leave the room to pee._

***

**EIGHT**

Claire peered through the gloom, trying to distinguish bodies from furniture. They were in the Kaz Bar in _Tiger Tiger_ for her leaving drinks. Molly, Polly and Sally were huddled together in a booth, giggling. One or other of them occasionally glanced in Claire's direction and giggled louder.

I bet they're laughing about the stupid gift Julia bought with my farewell collection. A 75-litre rucksack and a Maglite torch. Honestly, it's not like I'm going hiking in the Andes. Actually it's not like I'm really leaving at all.

Claire thought back to her farewell presentation that afternoon. She had been quite shocked to look up from her desk to see the entire office gathered outside her glass door. Carl had pushed through the crowd and beckoned her out into the centre, like the sacrifice in some ancient ritual. He'd signalled for quiet before launching into a speech about how Claire would be missed, how they wished her well and looked forward to her blog posts and Facebook status updates. When Julia had dragged out the gift and dumped it at Claire's feet Carl's grin couldn't have been wider if he'd been a hyena.

"It won't be wise to turn up in a hostel with Louis Vuitton luggage my dear. They'll have you down as a snob before you can ask the way to the bidet. That's if they don't just steal it and sell it on eBay. The whole point is to _blend._ " And he'd grinned again, like it was all a big joke.

_Well it isn't a joke._ Claire looked around the bar at all the people who had come to say goodbye. _They will miss me, even if they don't know it yet. And I will have the last laugh when I'm sitting on a beach in the Maldives while they're doing Year End and worrying about the next mobile phone ad campaign._

"Get you a drink Claire?"

Claire looked up to see Steve lounging against a pillar near to where she was standing. She realised her hands were empty and was mortified to be caught standing alone and without a drink at her own leaving do.

"That's fine Steve, someone's getting me one. I'm just heading to the ladies." She shone him her widest grin and tried not to run, which wasn't advisable anyway in her towering heels. _I guess I should be glad they didn't buy me hiking boots or something similarly awful,_ Claire thought as she tip-tapped to the toilets and shuffled into a cubicle. There was a conversation going on in the next stall and Claire couldn't help but listen to the slurred words.

"I give her two weeks. She has no idea what they've set her up to. I went travelling in Australia and alright the hostels here are probably cleaner and less crowded - I mean, who wants to travel around England for Pete's sake - but it's still going to be messy, noisy and _Common_. Miss La-di-dah will last a day before she's booking a private room and I know the budget they've given her. Private rooms aren't an option. Couldn't happen to a nicer person in my view."

Claire felt her face grow hot. It wasn't hard to distinguish Julia's drunken voice booming through the wall. _Well, that's just Julia, I know she hates me._ When the next voice spoke Claire felt herself go completely still.

"You're so right, Jules. Silly cow. Thinks she's better than all of us because she went to some posh school and her family are loaded. Her sister can't keep a fella and her brother's a stuck up dick. No wonder she has nothing to do with them. Good riddance I say, I hope she doesn't come back."

Claire recognised the voice. It was Susannah, her best friend from Repro. Claire felt tears itch at the corners of her eyes, causing eye-liner to leak in and make them sting. She sat motionless while she heard the toilet flush. The two girls staggered out of the cubicle, laughing and shushing each other. As the room fell silent, apart from the throbbing bass of music coming through the wall, Claire leant her head against the partition and fought the tears. _It's my party and I'll cry if I want to_ floated into her head, causing a wry smile to twist her lips.

At least I know what they really think, silly bitches.

She pulled herself to her feet, pushed her shoulders back, and strode from the room. Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of Julia and Susannah watching her leave the ladies shortly after them. She sensed rather than saw the consternation on their faces and gained some pleasure from it. Once she had reached the bar Claire ordered a triple gin and diet tonic and turned to face the room. She spotted Mike from Accounts sitting on a Moroccan pouf by himself in the corner and headed over to take a seat next to him. He looked up as she approached and a mixture of confusion and delight crossed his face.

"So, Mike, how are things in Accounts?" Claire settled in and turned on her best charm offensive, determined to enjoy her party if it cost her everything she had.

***

**NINE**

Claire drew a flat-pack box from the pile and pushed it into shape, splaying her fingers so the corrugated cardboard wouldn't scratch her nail varnish. The storage people were due in the morning and so far she'd only just made a start packing up the lounge. Looking around Claire realised it wasn't going to take long. She rarely spent time by herself and therefore had no need for DVDs or novels. The few books she owned were mostly business ones given to her by Carl. _Who Moved My Cheese_ sat alongside _The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People._ She had often wondered what Carl's motivation was in leaving the books on her desk.

Was he being a good boss helping me climb the ladder to the Board, or hoping I would take the hint that I'm not Director material?

Two weeks ago she would have asserted it was the former; now she wasn't so sure. The look of glee on Carl's face when Mike from Accounts had lunged in for a snog was etched deep in Claire's memory. It had been like watching a pet cat morph into a tiger.

Claire filled the box with unread books and unopened CDs - Christmas gifts from her siblings - and closed the lid. She wrote "Charity Shop" on the side in marker pen, then straightened up and went to get a glass of wine from the fridge.

_The kitchen isn't going to take long to pack up either, I barely come in here._ The fridge contained a tub of humus, some wilted celery, and a bottle of champagne that Michael had left behind. Claire knew without looking that there wasn't much else in the cupboards. She generally ate at the office or picked up takeaway noodles on the way home. Cooking for one wasn't worth the washing up.

The champagne cork popped loudly in the empty apartment and Claire angled the frothing liquid towards a waiting flute. She felt something ping inside her chest as she opened the Veuve Clicquot: the emotional equivalent of her bra-strap snapping, freeing a tension she hadn't noticed was there.

_Damn you Michael_ , she thought as the cool fizzy liquid trickled down her throat. _If nothing else, you had great taste in Champagne._

Claire carried her glass through to the bedroom and slid open the mirrored door of the built-in wardrobe. A complex pattern of hangers, drawers and shelves confronted her. Three perfect rows of stiletto heels took pride of place in the centre, surrounded by neatly folded cashmere sweaters and impeccably pressed shirts and skirts. Claire knew every item intimately, as if surveying a room of close friends.

She ran through the contents of the closet in her mind, trying to imagine which items might suit slumming-it in hostels. Steve had joked that she'd be better off binning the lot and buying some jeans and tops from Tesco. Claire thought she'd rather skin herself alive.

Selecting her cheapest things - her black GAP jeans, a few M&S jumpers and a pile of pressed Ralph Lauren tops and shirts - Claire began folding the remaining items before packing them into her Louis Vuitton luggage. When the wardrobe was empty Claire carefully placed the bags into boxes and labelled them "Storage".

By the time the champagne bottle was empty, Claire's life had been piled into half a dozen brown boxes. Her new rucksack was loaded with all the things she deemed necessary for a year on the road. She frowned at the red and grey bag as it lolled by the front door next to her one pair of flat shoes.

Don't get comfortable. You and I are not friends. In a month my LV bags and I will be on a plane to the Maldives and you will be in a wheelie bin.

Then she collapsed onto the bed without undressing and closed her eyes.

***

**TEN**

The buzzer echoed through the apartment, dragging Claire from a horrible dream. She had been standing alone in a room of twenty beds, her hair lank and unwashed, her clothes creased and dirty. Shaking away the awful image, Claire looked at the clock and swore.

9.30am? What the...?

Claire carefully sat upright, fighting against the spinning room, and realised she was already dressed. A thumping in her head reminded her of the empty champagne bottle sitting alone on the kitchen counter. The buzzer rang again, more urgently. _Damn it, the removals guys aren't meant to get here until 10am._ She walked to the door without fully opening her eyes, then pushed her mane of chestnut hair away from her face so she could locate the intercom button.

"Yes?"

"Here to swap the car love, haven't got all day, I'm parked on a yellow."

Claire had forgotten Carl's comment about her being provided with a more appropriate car. _Oh well, best go and get it over with, see what they've decided is fitting._ She grabbed her keys and let herself out of the apartment, determined not to be upset by this latest ploy of Carl's to make her quit.

She shouldered open the heavy front door and was immediately faced with a man in blue overalls leaning against the lamppost outside her apartment.

"Miss Carleton?"

"That's me."

"Here to collect your company car and drop you a replacement." The man looked around, trying to work out which car was hers.

Reluctantly Claire gestured at her charcoal-grey Audi, parked several cars down from her front door. The man whistled when he saw it and pushed himself away from the lamppost, revealing a tatty old car behind him.

"Blimey love whose front porch did you piss on? That's a spanking motor to be swapping for this heap of crap. Think you'll find this baby handles a bit differently. It's got gears for a start, and a manual choke."

Claire looked at the rusty box on the road in front of her and wondered what she had done to make Carl hate her so much. The courier's words washed over her as phrases like "brake horse power" and "pisses out oil" made no sense and were therefore dismissed. The phrase "alloy wheels" permeated the fog of her hangover and she turned to face the man, a spark of interest in her eyes.

"Alloy wheels? That's good right? My Audi has alloy wheels." She looked again at the car parked outside her flat, as if hoping to discover it had transformed into something she might be seen dead in.

The man gave her the kind of smile he'd give an eager toddler. "Yes, love, generally alloys are nice to have. Not great on a Skoda though, especially one this old. Just makes the tyres leak. You'll spend a chunk of time and cash getting them resealed and refilled every time you get a flat."

Hope died in Claire's heart. She wouldn't even know where to take a car to have the tyres sealed and filled, whatever that meant. If something went wrong with the company car she told Julia and a man collected it, leaving her an equivalent courtesy car.

Claire watched mutely as the man walked to the rear of the car and gestured that he wanted to show her something in the boot. Puzzled, Claire went to stand by him and saw what she guessed was the engine. _Thank god he showed me that, I'd have looked like an idiot trying to put my bag in there._ She tried to follow the rest of what the man was saying as it seemed important but, as she'd always had her cars serviced, Claire had no idea why she would need to know where the oil and water went or what a dipstick was. It sounded rude in any case.

At last the man was gone, driving away in her beloved Audi and leaving her with - Claire consulted the piece of paper hanging from her nerveless hand \- a Dove Grey Manual 5-gear Skoda Estelle. _Looks like a poo-coloured box on wheels to me_. Claire fought the urge to sob as she crumpled the piece of paper and stalked back into her flat. With any luck someone would notice it was parked on a yellow and tow it away.

A sudden desire to open her laptop and search for flights to the Maldives was interrupted by the shrill call of the buzzer. _Damn thing's rung more this morning than it has since New Year_ Claire thought as she pressed the intercom.

"Did you make a mistake, are you taking that pile of shit away?" Claire's voice rang like struck steel.

"Well Miss, if that's how you see your possessions it's not for us to comment. Removals, Miss, come to collect your boxes."

Claire leant her head against the cool of the front door and prayed for the day to be over.

***

**ELEVEN**

Claire looked round the empty apartment and fought a wave of self-pity. The YHA / Happy Cola assignment had been hard enough to swallow when she thought it was intended to help her get on the Board of AJC. Now she knew, or at least suspected, that it was a ploy to get her to resign the whole thing made her miserable.

I'm good at my job. I landed that Vodafone account, and the Birds Eye one. Not to mention the twenty other clients I've acquired since the beginning of last year. How dare Carl do this to me?

Feeling the fire of anger burn away the pity, Claire got up from where she had been curled into the leather sofa and went to the kitchen to make an espresso.

Drat, of course, the espresso machine was mine. I've boxed the darn thing up.

The removals men had been put-out to discover Claire didn't have Tetley tea or milk or anything useful to make them a 'brew'. They'd hauled her boxes down the flights of stairs to the street, paying no attention to Claire's yelps of concern as they man-handled her shoe collection and the box containing her precious espresso machine.

Claire looked at her watch. _11.30am on a Monday morning. I should be at work. This is just wrong Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._ Carl had told her to take the week off before starting her assignment, to give her a chance to sort out her affairs, empty the flat, give back the company car. It felt like she'd been put on Gardening Leave.

Or maybe it takes most people more than a drunken Sunday evening to box up their whole life? Perhaps with hindsight it was stupid to agree to the removals men coming on Monday. What am I going to do in an empty apartment with no espresso machine for a whole week? There's only so much Earl Grey a girl can drink.

Claire grabbed her bag and headed for the door. _I need coffee._ She walked the five minutes to her nearest Starbucks and gratefully ordered a skinny latte, realising she'd missed breakfast. Before long she was encased in her favourite chair, looking out the window at the people rushing by. Claire sipped her coffee and tried to formulate a plan to survive until Friday, when she would be checking into the Berwick YHA. Thinking beyond that point gave her a headache.

God forbid but I might just have to go see my parents.

The coffee cup was empty too soon and Claire looked around for something to fill another hour. Failing to find anything she decided to head to Deansgate for some retail therapy.

Claire wandered aimlessly along the street for an hour before she realised there was no fun shopping when you knew you weren't going to be able to wear or carry your purchases for weeks. What was the point in giving in to the allure of the strappy heels that had called from one shop, or the beautiful dress that had yelled from another, when her trip to the Maldives was so far away? Still, a need to spend burned deep in Claire's throat and she walked back and forth trying to find somewhere to wield her plastic.

She stopped outside a shop that had never registered on her radar before, due largely to the window display of hiking boots, camping gear and anoraks. The mere sight of all that healthy outdoor stuff made her want to head for the nearest Spa. Now, though, it seemed the only place where she could shop with a clear conscience. Shrugging her shoulders Claire thought _what the hell_ and pushed open the door.

The interior was more crowded than Canal Street on a Saturday night. Racks of blue and grey clothing crowded round her while rucksacks that could eat hers for breakfast climbed the walls and loomed ominously. Along the back, row upon row of aggressive boots marched up in formation. Claire was about to back out when a young voice hailed her from the depths of the store.

It wasn't immediately clear where the voice had come from until a man emerged from between the rows of clothes. Claire looked up into a tanned and handsome face. Gleaming white teeth shone from smooth, snoggable lips. Wavy blonde hair bounced above an attractive face while sea-blue eyes twinkled at her in welcome.

"You alright there?"

His voice did disturbing things to Claire's tummy.

"Er, Um." Claire looked at him helplessly, fighting the urges his proximity was raising in her midriff. He grinned, whether at her discomfort or out of friendliness Claire couldn't tell. She looked around vaguely, trying to find a purpose for being there.

"Er, I'm er, going hostelling."

The man gave her a glance that suggested he'd heard more believable urban myths but his smile didn't falter. "That's awesome. Where are you off to? Going Walkabout? To The East? Over the Pond?"

Claire looked confused. As far as she knew The Walkabout was a bar on Quay Street, The East a Chinese Takeaway over on Faulkner Street and she didn't think she knew any ponds, although wasn't there another Takeaway over in Salford called Pond something?

"No, not eating out. Hostelling." Claire wondered if maybe hostelling was actually some kind of student slang for getting pissed and eating take-out. "You know, travelling?"

They stared at each other in mutual confusion before the shop assistant gave in first. "What country will you be traveling in?"

"The UK. I have to visit every YHA in England and Wales as part of my job."

"Ah, you won't want much camping kit then. Pretty tame country and the hostels are all mod-con, not much need for a Billy or an Esky."

Again Claire looked at the man as if he were speaking a different language. She guessed from his accent that he was from Australia or New Zealand and wondered if he was talking Maori or Aborigine. She nodded, hoping that was the right response, and gave him a smile. Feeling something more was required she added, "I have a rucksack and a Maglite."

"Well that's a good start. What about a soft-fibre towel, washing line, travel wash bag, ear plugs, sleep mask, sleeping bag, waterproof coat, hiking shoes or winter boots?" As he said the last items he glanced down at what she had thought of as her sensible shoes - her black leather Gucci pumps with the 1 inch heel - with a slight raise of an eyebrow.

Half an hour later Claire left the shop with a smile as large as the shopping bag bashing her hip. On her feet were her favourite purchase, although the man had said they weren't really necessary in England. Still, the Helly Hansen Eir Boots had been a bargain at £130 and they really were very comfortable.

***

**TWELVE**

"Hi Mum, it's Claire."

"Your sister's results aren't back yet."

Claire realised guiltily that she hadn't given a thought to Ruth's tests beyond being glad to hand back parental responsibility as soon as her sister got back from the hospital. Claire had enjoyed her two days with Sky more than she had expected to, but it had been exhausting on a level previously unknown.

"Ah okay, will you let me know when the results are back?"

"If you want, although it wouldn't hurt you to ring Ruth once in a while."

Claire inhaled through her nose. _The phone works both ways_. "Yes Mum," she said then hesitated, choosing her next words cautiously. "I was calling to ask if I might come home for a few days, see you and Dad?"

There was a pause and Claire held her breath.

"Of course. You are always welcome..."

Claire tried not to snigger and then not to curse as her mother continued.

"...Not this weekend though, your father is playing golf and I'm on shift at the shop."

_Well by the weekend I'll be in some Northern Province so that's not a problem._ "I was actually thinking of tomorrow."

"Why? What's happened? Why aren't you at work; are you sick?"

Claire could just imagine her mother's reaction if she were to suggest coming to stay while infested with germs. There was an intake of breath down the phone before her mother added, "Don't tell me you got laid off?"

"No, Mum. Besides, Directors don't get _Laid Off._ " Claire hoped her mother hadn't discovered an unprecedented interest in her daughter's career. "I have a new assignment that means I'll be travelling a great deal for the next few months. I thought it would be nice to come home for a short visit first, as I'll be out of reach for a while."

"Well, if you want to I can make up the spare room. How long will you be staying?"

Claire tried to ignore the lack of enthusiasm and focus on the question. "Only until Friday morning. I have to be in Berwick by bedtime."

"Berwick-Upon-Tweed? Why on Earth do you want to go all the way up there? It's practically Scotland."

Claire stifled a sigh. "It's part of the assignment, Mum. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

"What time will you be here? Only I have a hair appointment at ten and a WI meeting in the afternoon."

"Mum I still have a key. I can let myself in, if that's okay with you? If it's too much trouble I can go visit Ruth instead."

"I will not have you bothering your sister when she's poorly. Come to us."

_When did Ruth become the golden child?_ Claire thought back to when they were all living at home. Ruth was always the one in trouble, needing to be collected from the police station or A&E, while Robert and Claire were home finishing assignments.

"Okay Mum, I'll see you tomorrow."

Claire hung up the phone then scrolled through her contacts trying to decide whether to ring a friend to suggest a late drink or just call for takeaway. She looked at familiar names but for some reason none leapt out as someone she wanted to spend her last night in Manchester with.

"Hello, yes, can I order a Number 27 please?" Claire laughed, "Yes, it's Claire. Okay, that's great, see you in twenty minutes."

Claire hung up and got out her iPad. Soon she was engrossed in shooting birds from a catapult, trying not to dwell on the journey that would start when she closed her front door for the last time in the morning.

***

**THIRTEEN**

"Just start, you stupid stinking heap of junk!" Claire smacked her hand against the steering wheel, then winced as pins and needles shot up her arm. It felt like the wheel was made of iron rather than the cushioned leather she was used to.

"Don't cry, don't cry." Claire inhaled deeply and stared out of the chipped windscreen. She was still parked outside her flat. No one had towed the car away in the 24 hours since the Skoda had arrived to replace her company Audi and so she had no choice but to use it to drive to her parents before heading up to Berwick to start her assignment.

Claire dropped her head back against the seat, wincing again at the hardness of the headrest. She had never been in a car with fewer comforts. She tried to recall what the man in blue overalls had told her. The words _manual choke_ floated into her head, although she had no idea what they meant. Claire fished out her iPad and typed the words into Google. She scanned through the information on ehow and began searching around the steering wheel for something that looked like a lever she could pull. She found it eventually near the handbrake and yanked it out. When she turned the key this time, the engine spluttered into life with a throaty roar more suited to a tractor than a tiny tin-pot car.

Claire looked out the window, hoping none of the neighbours were watching. Even though she wouldn't be back to the street for a year she didn't really want anyone to question why her shiny company car had been traded for this East European relic.

Claire managed to find first gear, after a quick tour of third and fifth. The gear stick was a giant baton, like a cheerleader might twirl, and the distance between the gears could be measured in inches. It had been months since Claire had driven a manual and that had been a hire car. Bunny-hopping down the street nearly gave her whiplash as she tried to find the bite on the spongy clutch.

Claire headed out of town to the motorway, weaving through morning rush-hour. _What possessed me to leave this early? Idiot._ The truth was Claire didn't know any other way than to get up at 5am.

Traffic ground to a halt as they approached a roundabout and Claire could hear the engine growling at her. Looking around helplessly she realised she hadn't pushed the choke thing back in. She was sure ehow had said something about it only being needed for a few minutes and she'd been driving for twenty.

Damn this car.

She inched forward in the traffic wishing that she could get anything other than Commercial on the ancient radio. After the third advert for PPI Claims she turned it off and tried not to worry about the sounds coming from the engine behind her. She glanced in the rear mirror and saw something fogging her view even though the way was clear in front.

What...? Is that mist?

Claire turned to look over her shoulder. There was steam pouring from the boot. _That can't be good._ She looked down at the dash and saw that the temperature needle was thrusting at the red. _Bugger._ Claire searched around to see if there was a way out to the hard shoulder, or better still a service station, but there was just stationary traffic all the way to the roundabout. _Double Bugger._

Claire coaxed the car onto the roundabout and down to the motorway, praying they would make it to Knutsford services before it conked out entirely. The cars around her hemmed her in like a pack of lions surrounding a sickly calf. The horns started as she crept down the slip-road, not daring to go above twenty.

She was practically sobbing with relief by the time the Skoda crawled into the petrol station. Climbing out of the car Claire resisted the urge to kick it. If there had been a tree branch handy she could quite happily have bashed the bonnet like Basil Fawlty.

"Problem love?"

Claire looked up to see a kind face twinkling at her from beneath a motorbike visor. An elderly gentleman in a black leather jacket with a red scarf around his neck was just putting the petrol cap back on what looked like an old police bike. He pulled the disposable gloves off his hands and walked over to where she was slumped against the car.

"Overheated?" The man looked to where steam was still pouring out the back of the car.

"I guess." Claire shrugged. "It's not my car; I normally drive a 2011 Audi."

"Ah, I imagine you've been having fun with this then." She looked up to see if the man was being sarcastic but it seemed he genuinely meant it. _Maybe if you ride a motorbike then even a Skoda seems comfortable._ Claire never understood the appeal of being out in the cold and rain when you could be nestled in a heated leather seat.

"Did you turn the fan on?"

"The what?" Claire watched as the man reached into the driver's seat and pulled a lever. The boot popped open and he went round to inspect the engine. His voice was muffled as he spoke from the depths of the car. "These old things often have a bodge for the fan. A manual switch under the dash."

Claire walked closer so she could hear him better. She had learnt her lesson about paying attention. "You need to flick it on in traffic but remember to turn it off when you're parked otherwise you'll flatten your battery."

He looked around the forecourt and located a bucket of water, then pulled on his large leather gloves and twisted off some part of the engine. A plume of steam whooshed out and the man leant away before turning back to pour some water into the hole.

"You'll need to take it steady but I don't think you busted anything. Are you a member of the AA?"

Claire looked puzzled. What did Alcoholics Anonymous have to do with her car overheating? Unless he was worried she might turn to drink in her anger and shame.

"The AA? Breakdown cover? I recommend it if you're not used to driving an old car. Temperamental things. Need love and care." He stood up and slammed the boot shut. "Bought my daughter one of these when she passed her test and she ended up taking the carburettor off when it broke." He beamed with pride as if he could imagine nothing finer than a daughter who would get her hands dirty.

Claire looked down at her perfectly manicured nails and wondered if her father would be proud of her if she turned up at home covered in oil. Her mother would freak.

"How do I get AA?"

***

**FOURTEEN**

Claire parked around the corner from her parents' house and turned to contemplate the rucksack on the back seat. Taking it in with her was going to raise questions, but leaving it in the Skoda was tantamount to putting a sign on it saying "Steal Me". Even in this part of Cambridge there were bound to be people handy enough with a wire coat-hanger to break in.

She pulled the tiny silver handle to open the door. _I could probably break in myself if the need arose. Maybe I should start carrying a piece of wire in my handbag. I'm bound to lock my keys in at some point._

She pushed down the lock and checked she was holding the keys before slamming the door shut. One of the quirks of this particular car was that it wouldn't lock from the outside. _I miss my beep-beep button already and it's only been a day._

Claire opened the front door to her family home only after ringing the bell to see whether anyone was in. She wasn't surprised to find the house empty. The journey had taken much longer than expected and her mother was probably already at her WI meeting. Her father was rarely in during the week. Despite taking retirement he kept himself busy during normal working hours, as if the groove made by fifty years of work was so deep he could do nothing but run along the same path.

She looked around the hallway and lounge, trying to tell if anything had changed. It was unlikely. If her father's groove was created by time spent in a suit and tie her mother's ran between her charities and the WI. Home decoration and interior design had never been her thing. Claire supposed a house of magnolia and pine was better than frills and flowers everywhere but it did make the place feel cold. When they were little there had been a few photographs of her and her siblings around the place, the odd painting tacked to the wall. Now the pictures were as bland as the furniture.

Claire shivered, cursing herself for forgetting to unpack a cashmere from the rucksack. The house was always several degrees colder than was comfortable. Another quick yell confirmed that the house was empty. Walking through to the kitchen, Claire headed for the kettle, hoping her mum had thought to put some semi-skimmed milk on the sign for the milkman. There was a note by the kettle. _Mum does at least know me that well,_ Claire thought with a smile.

"I bumped into Kim at the supermarket and mentioned you were coming home for a few days. She said to call her if you fancied a drink."

The note was written in beautiful curling handwriting on a piece of pink paper torn from a notebook. Claire stared at it, wondering if she was feeling strong enough for a night out with her oldest friend. Nothing cuts through your life to the core like an hour spent with someone who has known you since you were five.

Claire poured steaming water into a large mug and gave the teabag a prod, watching the rich red-brown colour spread out like spilt blood. She was conscious of a strong pulling sensation somewhere in her chest. It was the lure of the Maldives; of empty sandy beaches and no one having any idea where she was.

***

**FIFTEEN**

"Claire, over here!"

Claire looked round the half-empty pub for a familiar face but nothing jumped out. She was casting her gaze back across the bar when she saw a hand waving from a dark corner.

"Kim, there you are." Claire made her way through stools and tables to reach her friend. "Your hair! My God, I didn't recognise you."

She bent over to kiss her friend's cheek before sliding in next to her. Her eyes fixed on the bright red points sticking up from her Kim's head. "I don't know what's more dramatic, the colour or the spikes."

"I know, wicked isn't it? Mum hates it..." She giggled like a little girl.

"Kim, you're not sixteen anymore you know: pissing off your mum doesn't need to be your primary concern." She laughed, but in truth she was shocked. Kim's hair had always been a beautiful blonde. It was the reason they met.

Claire remembered it, even now. She had crossed the playground on their first day at primary school and asked if she could touch Kim's hair. It had been soft, like a fairy princess's. Claire had tugged at her own thick brown locks in disgust. Now Claire stroked her dark straight hair and marvelled at her friend's bravery.

"Oh I didn't do it just to annoy Mum, although that's always fun. No, I'm in a play, it's part of the costume."

"Is it a wig?"

"Nah, they offered one but where's the fun in that?"

Claire laughed at her friend. "Shall I get drinks?"

Kim nodded. It was an unspoken rule between them that Claire got the drinks. Kim had been an actress since University and had yet to secure anything that paid more than a pittance, while Claire's work had always been well remunerated.

"So, what's the play?"

" _Midsummer Night's Dream_. I'm playing puck."

"Hey, that's great. I thought puck was normally a boy?"

Kim smiled cheekily, looking every inch the playful character. "There's no 'normally' in Shakespeare. You've got to remember they were all originally played by men."

"Talking of men, how's yours?"

Kim flushed and grinned. "Hot, hard, handsome."

Claire felt a pain under her rib cage at the look on her friend's face. Kim had been engaged to her fiancé Jeff for two years. They were waiting for more affluent circumstances before they got married. The girls hadn't seen each other for months, not since Michael, although they were linked on Facebook. Claire tensed, waiting for Kim to start the twenty questions. She stared at her drink then flicked her eyes up to her friend's pale pixie face.

"Your mum told me you were starting a new assignment." Kim gazed at Claire over her glass and they shared a look which said they knew what wasn't being discussed. Claire smiled gratefully then took a gulp of her G&T before taking in what Kim had said.

"Mum said that? Blimey, I thought she never listened to a word I said. Wonders never cease."

"So, come on, what's the assignment? What drags you out of Manchester mid-week to visit folks and old friends? Not that you rang me..." She raised an eyebrow in mock censure.

"Sorry Kim, my head's been all over the place. I only decided last night that I was going to come home today." Claire paused, trying to decide how much to say. Even though they had known each other for over two decades, she and Kim hadn't been close all that time. When Claire had been sent to public school the girls had drifted apart. They'd got back in touch during their University years and caught up for drinks when Claire was in Cambridge, which wasn't often.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Kim didn't sound put-out, just genuinely as if she didn't want to press her friend for information. Claire thought about the people at AJC she had regarded as friends. _Maybe there's more to friendship than sharing a taste in shoes and handbags. And hairstyles_ , she added, glancing at the pillar-box red locks shining above Kim's face.

"They're trying to make me resign." It was the first time Claire had said it out loud as if it were fact. She was gratified to see the horror on Kim's face.

"How? Why?"

"The how is easy, I'm not so sure about the why." Claire took a deep breath before launching into the tale of her last few weeks, right up to buying her new boots. She angled her foot out from under the table. "Gorgeous aren't they?"

"I'd rather have the £130 quid!" Kim laughed. "I could buy some fake Uggs for a tenner and pay two weeks rent with the rest." She let her cheeks fall into an approximation of a serious expression. "So, you're taking on the assignment then?"

Claire hadn't told Kim about her Maldives plan. She didn't want Kim to think of her as a quitter. "Yes, I'll be driving up to Berwick on Friday."

"Wow, you're so brave. That's about as far out your comfort zone as me putting on tights and heels and tip-tapping into your office to sit at your desk." She grinned at the mental image and mimed typing at a computer. "Would it suit me?"

Claire laughed too, feeling some of the tension leave her face and shoulders. "You'd be brilliant. You could give Polly, Molly and Sally a run for their money."

"What are they, the office cats?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Make sure you stay in touch. I don't get to see much of the country unless it's the inside of a theatre. Post pictures."

"That's part of the assignment. Not that I've given it much thought. I suppose I'd better think of a blog name, a Twitter handle, all that bollocks." She took another swig of G&T. "What should it be? _My boss is trying to hound me out_?"

"How about _Posh Girl Goes Camping_?" Kim sniggered. "Not that it's anything like camping. Most of the rooms are en-suite these days."

"How about _Around England in Thirty Starbucks_?" Claire thought about her budget. "Not that I'll be able to afford them anymore.

" _Have Helly Hansens, will travel_?"

"Now you're being silly! No, nothing's really grabbing me."

"You're an Advertising Guru, surely you can think of something?"

Claire sighed. "Apparently I'm not a very good one. Advertising is all about promotion, but who wants to read about my slumming it in hostels for a whole year? I bet Happy Cola had nothing to do with it, it's all just a sham cooked up by Carl."

"What if it isn't though?" Kim looked thoughtful. "I mean, Happy Cola, that's huge. A horrid Corporate conglomerate peddling a disgusting unhealthy drink but, in your world, it's big cheese. It might be your chance to get your revenge on your stupid boss."

Claire considered Kim's words. She'd forgotten Happy Cola. What if the assignment was for real?

Maybe I should start taking it a bit more seriously.

***

**SIXTEEN**

"Please pass the salt."

Claire located the salt pot amidst the silverware on the table and handed it to her father. He thanked her without making eye contact and returned to demolishing his lamb roast.

Chewing the slightly over-cooked meat, Claire looked up at her parents' bowed heads and wondered when they got so grey. _And boring. I remember when they used to talk at dinner. Maybe I'm making them feel uncomfortable._ It wasn't a nice thought. Claire was used to not getting a prodigal-son welcome when she came home but the constraint surrounding her at the dinner table that evening was suffocating.

"Kim's dyed her hair red for a role in a Shakespeare play."

"Hmmm." Her mother speared a green bean and put it in her mouth.

"She looks great, like a life-size pixie."

"Hmmm." This time it was a baby carrot that felt the fork.

"She's having her nipple pierced and leaving Jeff for the cleaning lady."

"Hmmm. What?" Her mother's face whipped up and she looked at Claire for the first time since they sat at the table.

"Joking. Just wondered if I was actually here."

"It's not healthy to talk and eat, it causes you to take in too much air. Your father suffers from heartburn so we have silence at the table." She spoke the last words pointedly and returned to the massacre of the vegetables.

Sighing quietly, Claire focussed on eating her dinner as swiftly as possible. She had had plenty of time to regret coming to visit her parents in the two days since she'd arrived. She had barely shared three words with her mother and tonight at the dinner table was the first time her father had even appeared. She was shocked to see how old he looked.

Has it really been so long since I visited, or has he been aging in double-time since he retired?

Claire tried to turn her mind away from the mausoleum of the dinner table and think nice thoughts. Her future wasn't exactly swimming in them. In the morning she had to load her hated rucksack into her loathed old banger and drive 300 miles to stay in a flea-ridden youth hostel. She had taken the decision to invest in a Sat Nav, having found it difficult to even get home to her parents' house without the inbuilt one in her company Audi. It had taken until an hour ago for her to bring herself to plot in the route to Berwick and she was shocked to find out it was going to take at least five hours to get there when she left in the morning.

_Probably six or seven in that stupid car, it only manages seventy-miles-an-hour downhill with the wind behind it. I'm going to have to leave at 5a.m. to get there by dinner time._ She looked around the table at the chewing waxwork figures of her parents and gave a tiny shrug. _That's not going to be a hardship. I might not want to go to Berwick but I can't wait to leave here._

As she tried to get comfortable in the z-bed her mother had deigned to put up for her, claiming the linen in the spare room was in the laundry, Claire mused that at least she'd had some practice sleeping in a lumpy bumpy bed. That was the only prep she had done for the big adventure that was due to start in a mere twenty-four hours.

_It'll be fine_ , she thought sleepily _. I'm good at winging it._

***

**SEVENTEEN**

Claire looked at the white shape on the road and shivered. There had been a heavy frost overnight and the Skoda looked like an igloo recently teleported from the North Pole.

"Great. Just what today needed."

She pulled her jacket tighter and scurried back to her parents' house to get some warm water. This was beyond what could be battled with de-icer.

The house was dark and silent as she let herself in through the kitchen door. All goodbyes, such as they were, had been said the night before as Claire had gone up to bed. Her mother had managed a muttered "Good luck" and her father had told her half-heartedly to call. Not once in the two days she had spent at home had either of them asked what her assignment was. Of course she hadn't wanted to tell them so that was fine by her.

At last Claire was inside the car staring out through the only part of the windscreen that hadn't immediately refrozen. _My Audi would have told me how cold it actually is out there, warned me to drive carefully and heated my seat for me._ The Skoda seats were freezing and she couldn't hold the steering wheel with her bare hands. _Please start,_ Claire prayed as she yanked out the choke and turned the key. She raised her eyebrows as the Skoda fired up immediately.

I guess being designed for Eastern Europe must have some advantages. Who knew?

The Sat Nav was already programmed to take her to Berwick-Upon-Tweed so Claire stuck it to the windscreen and tried not to dwell on the five-hour journey time. The current estimated time of arrival was 11am but Claire knew it was going to be nearer twelve hours on the road by the time she had coaxed the car three hundred miles north.

Claire had been driving for nearly three hours when her gurgling tummy prompted her to take a break. The Sat Nav said she had travelled only a third of the distance to Berwick. Despite most of the driving being on the dual carriage way or motorway Claire was exhausted. Driving the Skoda was much more involved than driving the Audi. Remembering to turn on the fan when the engine got hot; pushing the choke back in when the car coughed and spluttered; trying to judge the gaps in traffic with wing-mirrors that moved out of position when the car went over fifty miles per hour; overtaking with zero acceleration. Claire sighed and began looking out for Services signs.

A sleek black BMW pulled up behind her position in the outside lane and immediately began flashing his lights. Claire looked down at the speedometer: she was doing 72 miles an hour.

"I'm doing the speed limit you arsehole. Can't you see I'm overtaking?" She looked left at the articulated lorry doing 56 in the inside lane. As she pulled ahead of the lorry it also flashed its lights and Claire wondered what he had to be grumpy about. Then she realised he was telling her it was okay to pull in. Her cheeks flushed hot as she swung her car in front of the lorry and raised a hand in thanks.

At last she saw a sign for the Services and gratefully took the exit. "Robin Hood Airport? I want to go there!" Claire smiled for the first time that day as she headed for the roundabout. She was tempted to drive into Bawtry and have a proper stop but she wanted to get nearer to her final destination before she relaxed. She followed the signs for the Services instead and heaved a huge sigh as a Costa billboard filled her vision.

"Coffee, hurrah."

Claire sat at wobbly metal table, surrounded by harassed families and focussed business men. She looked at her phone and was shocked to see it was only ten o'clock. _Hey, maybe I will be in Berwick by lunchtime._

She gazed out the window, her massimo skinny latte clasped between her hands for warmth. It wasn't quite Starbucks, and there were more calories in a Costa, but after three hours of driving it was extremely welcome. A strange feeling settled over her. Claire tried to analyse it. It was a soft feeling, the kind associated with snuggly duvets and the Sunday papers in bed. She felt... relaxed.

"Oh my goodness, Claire? Is that you? What are you doing in this hell hole?"

Claire didn't register the voice immediately. There was no reason for anyone to know her here. The hail was accompanied by the tip-tapping of heels across the polished floor. The voice spoke again, nearer this time.

"It is Claire, isn't it?"

Claire turned and saw a wave of blonde hair surrounding immaculate red lips and an insincere smile. Her stomach plummeted as the snuggly feeling evaporated.

"Linda. How lovely to see you. Apologies, I was miles away."

The woman adjusted the strap of her handbag and took a seat opposite Claire without asking. Stifling a sigh Claire hitched a smile on her face and tried to remember all the pertinent facts about the woman sat beaming in front of her. She was marketing director for an electronics company but the name of the business eluded Claire. _I've never forgotten details like that before. What's happening to me?_

"So, what brings you this side of the country? I thought your stomping ground was Cheshire." Linda looked Claire up and down, taking in her jeans and hiking jacket. "Holiday?" The sneer was palpable.

"In a manner of speaking." Claire had no intention of giving anything away to this woman. It would be all over Twitter before her coffee got cold. Claire's tone of voice would have silenced lesser beings but Linda was made of more impenetrable stuff.

"How... novel."

Claire ground her teeth and tried to think of a way to get rid of the woman without being rude. Thankfully Fate intervened in the rather modern guise of Linda's ringing phone. Signalling her apology, the woman got up from the table and trotted to the door to get a better signal.

I hadn't factored in meeting people I know. I haven't really thought this through at all. Even with a new Twitter Handle, Facebook page and blog, people are going to find me. This is so not cool. Carl I am going to make you wish your sorry arse never crossed my path.

***

**EIGHTEEN**

Claire peered through the dark at the place her Sat Nav had decided was her Final Destination. It looked like a small car park surrounded by an eclectic mix of buildings. Her ears rang with the silence of the evening as she pulled into a bay and turned off the ignition. Every part of her body ached.

I'm not going to have to worry about how to stay fit without my annual gym membership; this car is a workout all by itself.

Claire looked through the windows for the green YHA sign that she thought would greet her arrival but all she could see were cars and walls. She pulled out her iPad and loaded up the hostel page but there was no more information.

_Bugger. I guess I'll just have to wander around until I find it._ Claire got out and looked around the car park. She didn't welcome the prospect of staggering about in the dark. _I wish I'd managed to get here in daylight._ She turned and glared at the car.

"We would have done too if you hadn't overheated three times in that traffic jam. Stupid car."

She could hear a clock chiming the half-hour and realised she had no idea which hour it was. The last fifty miles had passed in a daze of exhaustion and misery. It was one thing travelling around the country in a modern Audi, knowing you were staying in a four star hotel when you got there. _A bit different hauling this heap of shit three hundred miles up the country to stay in a flea-infested hostel._

Claire dragged her rucksack from the passenger seat, not willing to leave it in the car even though she barely had the strength to lift it onto her shoulders. _Please God let this damn place be close by._

"Are you lost my dear?"

Claire looked round but couldn't locate the source of the voice.

"Are you staying at the hostel, perhaps? The YHA one?"

Claire caught a faint scent of perfume, the kind her grannie used to wear. She looked down and saw a petit lady standing in the shadows smiling at her.

"I guessed by the rucksack. I'm staying there too, would you like me to show you how to get in? It's easy to miss in the dark." When Claire didn't answer the lady walked a bit closer. "Do you speak English my dear?" She enunciated the words as if talking to someone hard of hearing.

"I'm English," Claire managed. "And yes, thank you, I am looking for the YHA." Claire was too tired to question why someone who looked the wrong side of seventy was staying in a _Youth_ Hostel. _I guess I don't really count as youth either if it comes to it._ She followed the lady a short distance to a building which loomed four or five stories above them, blocking out the star-spattered sky.

"I'm Hattie, I'm in one of the dorms. Are you staying long?"

Claire forced her scattered mind to focus on the voice. "Er, no, two nights."

"That's a shame. Lovely hostel this." When Claire didn't respond Hattie peered up into her face. "You look done in. Get yourself checked in and get some sleep. I'll probably see you at breakfast?" She made the statement into a question but turned and scurried away before Claire could answer.

Claire let the rucksack drop from her shoulders and gazed around without seeing, unsure what to do next.

"Can I help you?" Another voice hailed her, male this time. "I'm the hostel manager. Are we expecting you?"

Claire turned and smiled at the man. "Yes, my name is Claire Carleton."

"Ah yes, you're booked into a twin room for two nights. Come with me I'll get you checked in and you'll be snuggled under your duvet in no time. You look like you could sleep standing up."

_Twin room?_ Claire's mind latched onto the only part of the sentence that mattered. _By myself? No sharing, no strangers snoring?_ For the first time in weeks Claire was conscious of a feeling of gratitude towards AJC. She stood waiting by her rucksack but the man didn't offer to carry it, just walked off without checking whether she was following. Claire felt her cheeks flush red as she stooped to retrieve her bag.

The next ten minutes were a blur of forms and questions. Claire had a vague recollection of being shown a bistro which seemed just a sea of lime green. _Very on-trend_ was Claire's only thought. She was then ushered into a lift and escorted to her room on the third or fourth floor, she didn't notice which. _This doesn't seem right for a hostel. I thought they chucked a key at you and handed you a sheet? They certainly don't carry your bag._ Claire felt the straps digging into her tired shoulders and gave up trying to make sense of it all.

As the hostel manager opened the door to her room Claire felt she might weep. It was bright and neat, if slightly like a posh prison with its grey wall and grey metal beds. Not a plush hotel by any means but the duvet looked thick and comfortable and she could spy an en-suite through another door.

The hostel manager handed Claire a sheet. "You'll need to make up your bed and you can hire towels if you haven't brought any. You're booked in for breakfast and if you want dinner you can go down to the Bistro, or there's a pub and an Indian not far away. I can't imagine you'll want to cook tonight but, if you do, the guest communal area is on the fifth floor."

He stood for a moment as if waiting for Claire to respond. When it was clear she had no words he nodded a farewell, handed her the key, and left the room. Claire's senses were overwhelmed by twelve hours of new experiences. Her body fought conflicting needs: a shower, coffee, dinner and sleep all seemed equally important. Half-heartedly flicking the sheet over one of the beds Claire collapsed full length and dragged the duvet over her head.

Sleep first, everything else could wait.

***

**NINETEEN**

"Hello there, Good Morning. How did you sleep?"

Claire flinched at the bright voice and wondered if she could ignore it. She didn't recognise the wrinkled face beaming at her, but a vague recollection of the night before threw up a name card.

"Hattie? Yes, I slept okay, thanks." Years of training allowed Claire to be nice when what she really wanted to say was, _Sod off, I'm not here to make friends, I'm working and, even if I weren't, I'm not about to be best buddies with an octogenarian._

A quick glance round the café showed Claire a surprising number of bodies tucking into breakfast. Hattie patted the seat next to her and Claire had little choice but to sit with her new friend.

"Is it always this busy?"

"Yes, dear. The hostel has a dozen or so rooms and it's very popular. The locals come too, although not so often for breakfast. Between you and me..." she leant in close to Claire and a cloud of talc and perfume wafted over her, "...their dinner is better. I think the chef doesn't like mornings."

"But you eat it anyway?" Claire looked at Hattie's plates of bacon, eggs and other Full English delights and shuddered.

"Not every day, only at the weekend. They have a lovely little kitchen on the top floor but it gets a bit mucky on a Friday night, what with takeaway boxes and late night munchies."

Claire smiled at hearing a word like _munchies_ coming through pristine false teeth. "You sound like you've been here a long time?"

"I have, dear, on and off. At my age there's little point spending money on rent and bills. Besides, it gets lonely. There's only me and I hate cats."

Claire turned round in her chair, taking her eyes off the laminated menu to stare in wonder at the beaming, line-patterned face. "Let me get this straight. You live here? In a hostel dorm room?"

Hattie nodded enthusiastically. "Not always here, although it is a lovely hostel. Where else could I stay with all my bills paid for £7 a day? It used to cost more than that to heat my flat. I don't have to clean and I meet some lovely people."

The words entered Claire's brain but made no sense. Why would you choose to give up your apartment and live in a hostel? Share a room? _No one could be that poor, surely._

"Have you been travelling long?" Hattie spoke around a mouthful of sausage and her chewing gave Claire a chance to choose her answer. In the end she decided honesty was probably easiest. There was no need to impress this garrulous old biddy.

"Not really. This is my first day actually. I'm... I'm writing a blog about hostelling." _Well, that's true enough._

"Oh how charming. What will you write, will you include me?" Claire was touched to see how delighted Hattie was at the idea, like a small child being offered a tremendous treat.

Claire shrugged. _Why not? I have to put something in the damn blog._

"Of course. Would you like to tell me about your travels? Why did you choose the YHA? Do you feel it promotes a healthy lifestyle?" Her voice grew stronger as she spoke and she realised at last she was back in her comfort zone. She might not know about making her own bed with a flat sheet or how to start a car with a manual choke but she knew about social media and she knew about fulfilling a brief, however stupid it was.

As Hattie began to talk, waving her hands and nearly knocking over the vase of flowers on the table, Claire sipped at the coffee recently deposited in front of her and scribbled notes on a napkin.

***

**TWENTY**

_So, this is the northernmost town in England? Whoop-di-do._ Claire looked around the high-street and sighed. _There isn't even a bloody Starbucks_. _Caffé Nero just isn't the same_.

Claire had gone back to her room after breakfast to type up the notes on her interview with Hattie. She'd been determined to spend the day in her room playing on the iPad, but the greyness had closed in until she was driven out to seek colour and coffee.

Before she left the hostel, Claire did a quick search on interesting information about Berwick. Her research threw up thrilling facts like Berwick meant Barley Farm. _That seems about right. Stupid hick town. I wonder why Scotland wants it back?_

Claire decided to explore Berwick in an attempt to discover what made people think hostelling was so amazing. As yet nothing had cropped up to recommend it. Her idea of a vacation was to bake on a beach and read airport-purchased paperbacks. She always did some sight-seeing but it was the normal tick-box stuff: pyramids, opera houses, mountains. As far as she could tell Berwick's best offering was a few boring bridges.

_What do Backpackers do all day? They can't shop; they have no money. There's no Sky in a hostel, internet is only available at £3 an hour unless you have a smartphone and what penniless student can afford one of those? How many times can you wander round places staring at the architecture?_

After two hours of exploring Claire's feet were throbbing, her back ached and her brain was numb. _What am I going to tweet about? The number of arches in the Royal Border Bridge?_

She remembered Hattie recommending a trip to some Priory on a nearby island that apparently was accessible by car at low tide. The old woman had raved about it so much Claire had almost been tempted until she'd checked it out on Wikipedia. It looked like a pile of old rock. She had never heard of Lindisfarne, and doubted anyone she knew had, so it didn't count as a tick-box visit.

Spying a bookshop, Claire decided the best thing she could do was plan her route and get through it as swiftly as possible. _I wonder if I can stay in more than one hostel at a time?_ The wind whipped round her as she crossed the street and ducked into the store. She paused beneath the warmth of the heater while thoughts churned in her mind. _The brief didn't say anything about having to actually spend the night. Maybe I could check in, make a cup of Earl Grey in the kitchen, and move on._ Cheered by the thought Claire scoured the shelves for a map of Britain. She needed to plot all the hostels and work out the shortest possible distance to drive around them all.

In the back of her mind a nagging feeling tore at Claire's new resolve. No matter how much she loathed Carl it was not in her nature to shirk a responsibility or put in a half-hearted effort. The happy feeling seeped away like a wave on the sand. _I am going to have to do this properly or not at all. Not for them but for me, for my professional pride. Damn._

On the shelf near the maps Claire saw the colourful spine of a Lonely Planet guide to Britain. She grabbed it and took her finds to the till. The sky seemed a little more grey as Claire hobbled back to the hostel on blistered feet.

Claire spent the afternoon in the Bistro cross-referencing the YHA hostel guide, the Lonely Planet book and the map. When she finally collapsed into bed at 9.30pm she was almost smiling. _At least I know where I'm going tomorrow. Well I know what it's called anyway. I wonder what Wooler has to offer._

She was about to close her eyes when her mobile phone beeped. Two thoughts went through her head like lightning. _Ruth's got her results back,_ and _Carl is texting to gloat._ Reaching for her phone without turning on the light Claire held the screen up to her sleep-blurred eyes. She blinked until the words came into focus.

Hey Claire. How are things? I miss you. Can we talk? Michael.

Claire's heart thudded beneath her cotton nightie - bought for dorm-sharing days. _What the hell does he want?_ She tried to think dispassionately about Michael but couldn't manage it. Instead her mind filled with the look of pain in his deep brown eyes the last time she saw him. As if she had reached around during an embrace, stabbed him in the back and yelled, " _Speak hands for me!"_

***

**TWENTY-ONE**

The drive to Wooler was not long enough. Claire felt the weight of her phone pulling her like a black hole, dragging her in.

I will not give in. I can't do it. However much I'm hurting him now, it's a fraction of what it will do if I answer now and leave again later.

Claire sat upright in the uncomfortable seat and stared at the road ahead. The pull of the phone on the passenger seat was like an itch in the corner of her eye. A chicken-pox itch. All consuming but laden with the knowledge that a moment's weakness might leave a life-long scar.

All too soon Claire reached her destination. Wooler. It was bigger than she expected; a pretty place with amazing views over the hills. _I must check what hills they are and write about it in the blog. Healthy living and all that. I'm sure I'm meant to recommend hikes or mountain biking or something._ She looked down at her pristine jeans, spotless Helly Hansens and unchipped nails. _As if._

She missed the YHA sign the first time and had to drive up and down Cheviot Street until she saw it next to a side road. Her expectations rose as she turned off down the lane but they crashed to earth when she drew up outside the building.

A bit different to Berwick. You don't get further from a five-story former Granary than this... sheltered-housing bungalow.

It wasn't just the building that was a surprise. It was the fact that it looked abandoned. Claire's heart-rate picked up and she could taste bile rising in her throat. It hadn't occurred to her to ring ahead and book. _I mean, who stays in a hostel in March? Apparently no one in Wooler._

Wanting to be proved wrong Claire got out the car and walked over to the low brick building. She peered through the windows and tried the door but she didn't need to rattle it to know it was locked. _Bollocks._ It was freezing standing in the car park. Claire retreated to the car and got out her iPad. She tried to load the YHA page but couldn't get any signal. _Big fat hairy bollocks._

Claire sat back in her seat, frozen. Her brain kept bouncing between her current predicament and the message from Michael. She was conscious of a strong urge to call him. _He would know what to do._ She shook her head, hard enough to hurt, and put the key in the ignition. Her choices were to drive back to Berwick or to find another YHA hostel nearby that was open, but she couldn't make the decision here with no access to the wider world.

Nearer the main road Claire's iPad decided to reconnect to the superhighway and she was able to find another hostel in Alnwick that said it was open all year round. _I should have checked that last night. Stupid girl._ Not wanting to chance it, Claire phoned the hostel and was brightly informed that there was plenty of space either in a dorm or a private room. _Book a private room, bugger the budget. Pay for it yourself if you have to._ Claire listened to the internal voice and spoke into the receiver.

"Can I book a dorm bed please? Yes, just for one night. Great. ... Ten o'clock?" Claire checked her watch. "How long will it take from Wooler? ... Okay, I'll be there in half an hour."

_What the...?_ _What possessed me to book a dorm-bed? And reception is only open until 10am, what's that all about? Thank god I left early this morning to avoid Hattie._

Sighing at the betrayal of her brain, Claire tapped the post code into her Sat Nav and pulled back onto the main road. At least now she had more to think about than Michael. _I guess I'd better check the hostel information and book ahead a day or two._ She looked around the Skoda. _This is not a car I want to spend the night in._

Claire pulled up outside the dark brick building and shivered. It didn't look very welcoming. The information on Alnwick said the hostel used to be a court house. _I can believe it._ A quick check showed her it was two minutes to ten. Abandoning the Skoda on the single yellow outside the building Claire rushed in before reception closed.

Walking into the hostel was how Claire imagined it might be to enter the Tardis. As dark as it was on the outside it was bright on the inside. The interior was clearly new and although it was done in the cheap laminate and robust carpet of a dentist or doctors surgery at least it wasn't oppressive. After staying at Berwick, Claire was getting used to the bland décor and barely registered it as she hurried to Reception.

"Ah you must be the lady who rang from Wooler. Did no one tell you it isn't open all year round?" The man at reception grinned jovially. Claire felt the blood rush to her cheeks and replied in a small voice. "I didn't think to ask."

"New to this are you sweetheart? Best to book ahead even at this time of year. Lucky we had space."

Claire felt as if she had been chastised. She filled in the forms, asked where she could park the car, and took the key to her room without another word. She wasn't ready to view the dorm, or to discover who she would be sharing her personal space with that evening. With a short wave at the cheery receptionist she went back to her car just as a Parking Attendant stuck a ticket to the windscreen.

Bugger.

In a former life Claire would have rushed up to the man and attempted to charm, cajole or threaten him into taking the ticket back. Instead she waited a few paces away until he had walked off, then went to the car and ripped the yellow square off. She climbed into the driver's seat, fighting back tears, and vowed to put the damn thing in the post to Carl.

They didn't say anything about the bloody daily budget having to cover parking tickets.

***

**TWENTY-TWO**

Claire put her key in the lock, opened the door, and peered into the room as if someone might jump out and attack her. It was dark so she reached inside for a light switch, hoping no one was asleep. _Surely no one will be in bed at 8pm?_

A quick scan of the bunk beds showed them all unoccupied. Claire released a breath she didn't realise she had been holding and stepped into the room. It looked like only one or two of the four beds were taken, as there were only two bags in the room. Relieved to be alone Claire shut the door behind her and had a proper look at the room. The walls were blue and cream and there were stripy curtains in similar colours. _It's not about to win any décor or luxury awards but at least it's clean._

She looked closely at the beds and realised that both bottom bunks had been claimed by the current occupants. _Maybe I should have come straight to the room this morning, I might have been able to claim a bottom bunk._ She didn't fancy the idea of climbing up and down a ladder in the night. _I haven't slept in a top bunk since I was about eight and I got concussion falling out in the night. Thank god mum thought it was time for me and Ruth to have our own rooms._

The memory brought others to mind. How Ruth used to wriggle, shaking the bed as she shifted position every fifteen minutes. Her snoring that would resonate up through the mattress when she had a cold. Claire felt a chill prickle her skin. She hated sharing her space with people. _Except Michael._ The words entered her mind only to be shoved away.

Claire chose the bunk furthest from the door and tucked her bag in the corner. She removed her nightie and wash-bag from the rucksack and threw them on the bed to stake her claim. Then, with nothing else to keep her, she decided it was time to go and have dinner. She hesitated before taking her iPad from its position stuffed between cashmere sweaters. She had avoided having it on display in the hostel in case it marked her as different, but she needed to spend some time on Twitter and the other social media sites and it would prevent her from looking like an idiot by herself at dinner.

The hostel dining room reminded Claire of school dinners at primary school, before she was whisked away to join the same school her father had attended. Not that there had been girls there in his day. The dining hall there had been rather more opulent.

Claire chose a seat in the corner and prayed no one else would join her. There were a few people in the dining room but it wasn't crowded. Claire ordered the most palatable thing on offer, then loaded up her blog and tried to think of something interesting to write. She had spent the day in a giant second hand bookstore - largely because it was warm and she didn't have to walk anywhere. She wasn't a big reader, but had found herself caught up in some silly romance with a bright cover. The book was in her bag upstairs. _Purely for research purposes, so I can embody the backpacker spirit._

"Hello, may we join you?"

Claire looked up from her iPad to see two blonde girls standing in front of her holding trays. A swift glance confirmed what she already knew - that there were empty tables in the dining room. Claire hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to tell the women _no, feck off._ But at the same time she didn't fancy being crowded in by a couple of strangers. She noticed a flicker of consternation whisk across one of the girl's faces and relented.

"Of course, please." She gestured to the empty seats and sat back so her iPad wasn't taking up table space. _There are two of them, it's not like I need to make conversation._ Claire resolutely stared at her screen, giving off her best Metro-travelling vibes, the ones that created an area of blank space around her even when the trains were crushed with commuters. It failed.

"Hi, my name is Ola, this is my sister Francis. We are from Sweden. The nice man at reception said you were staying in our room, so we come to say hello."

Claire looked up and stifled a sigh. She couldn't ignore them now, no matter how tempting it was to pretend she didn't speak English. "Hi, I'm Claire, nice to meet you."

"You are English yes? You travel long?"

The one Claire thought was Ola was clearly puzzled that someone would choose to travel solo round their own country in the middle of winter. _Or that's what I would think anyway. Who knows what she's thinking under that beautiful Scandinavian mask._ Claire tried to decide whether to come up with a story more interesting than the truth, but she couldn't find the energy. She settled for a slight twisting of the facts.

"I'm a writer. I'm researching a piece on hostelling in Britain."

The girl who hadn't yet spoken, Francis, lit up at the words. "You write for _Lonely Planet_?" She spoke the words reverentially, as if _Lonely Planet_ were on a par with the _Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy_.

"No, sorry, it's an independent piece." She finished speaking then gazed away, signalling that she had no more conversation. The girls took the hint and began talking quietly to each other in their own language.

_I wonder if they're talking about me?_ Claire eyed up the lasagne and garlic bread the girls were eating and wondered if it was too late to change her order.

If one of us is going to reek of garlic all night, I want it to be me.

***

**TWENTY-THREE**

A soft glow shone through the window and across Claire's face. Used to sleeping in the cave-like darkness of a room with blackout blinds Claire was pulled awake by the light. It took a while to work out where she was and why her blinds weren't closed. Irritated as much by the memory of the last few days as by being woken, Claire rose on one elbow to figure out where the light was coming from. From her elevated position on the top bunk she could see through the gap in the curtains right down to the road.

Snow. Marvellous.

The moon illuminated the street below like studio lighting, making it difficult to tell what time it was. The room was silent. Claire blessed the Gods that the Scandinavian women didn't snore. She fumbled under her pillow to locate her phone, although she could nearly tell the time on her watch by the eerie light seeping through from outside.

_2am. Bollocks_.

Claire felt wide awake. If she'd been at home she would have got up and done some work, knowing it was the quickest way to feel sleepy again. With two strangers in the room with her she felt she couldn't turn on the light or even make too much noise in case she woke them.

This is what that damn Maglite is for then. Shame it's in the bottom of my rucksack. Not much good there. I don't even have headphones to listen to music. Idiot.

Claire lay in the dark trying to distinguish the sound of Ola and Francis breathing. She wondered whether she should check if they were still alive. What responsibility did you have for your bedfellows if they were also complete strangers?

Claire heard a noise that made her heart thump in her ears. Someone was fumbling outside their door, scratching, as if trying to insert a key. _I'm glad it's locked. Imagine someone trying to get in the wrong bunk in the middle of the night_. She shivered at the idea of having to fend off some sweaty oik and felt glad she'd had the forethought to buy a nightie.

The room filled with the sound of Claire's shallow breathing as she strained to hear if the noise had gone away. It hadn't. Utterly awake now, she tensed ready to defend herself as she heard voices outside the door. _What if someone's trying to break in, to steal our stuff?_ Claire wondered if she should wake the girls.

_I'm surprised they're not awake already with that racket. Maybe this is normal. Maybe you have to learn to sleep surrounded by noise, like you do when flying_. A stab of pain shot through Claire's head as she contemplated weeks of broken sleep. _I really don't do well on less than six hours._

At last the fumbling stopped. Claire took a deep breath which stuck in her throat as the door opened and a light pierced the darkness, followed by another. Flashlight beams shone overhead like search lights as two very drunk girls staggered into the room. One of them tripped over and fell heavily against Claire's bunk; the other pulled her friend upright with a snigger. They shushed each other and giggled as they headed into the en-suite. Claire could hear them talking in loud whispers that they obviously thought was them being quiet. She couldn't decide what was more annoying: Being woken up by a couple of drunks or being awake already and discovering she'd been trying hard to be silent and considerate in an empty room.

Where the hell have they been until this time anyway? Even with 24 hour licensing who wants to stay up late in this provincial backwater? And they say we Brits drink too much.

Claire lay in her bunk not speaking. She was tempted to admit to being awake but she couldn't face a scene. Besides, what was there to say? _Excuse me but some of us like to go to bed early?_ That was rubbish anyway. Back in Manchester her night would still be young at 2am.

_What is happening to me? Oh my god, I'm turning into my mother. Next I'll be admonishing people not to talk and eat or advising them that man-made fibres make you sweat in an unladylike fashion. Right, that's it. I'm ringing Carl first thing in the morning. Roughing it is one thing but I'll be damned if I'm going to become a boring old cow before I'm thirty._

***

TWENTY-FOUR

"Really? A single room is cheaper than the dorm? ... Yes! I mean, yes please can I book the single room. ... Is there snow where you are? Sat Nav has me driving over some hills by the look of it. ... Oh, okay. Thanks. I'll see you soon."

Claire hung up the phone and smiled. Her eyes felt heavy after a broken night and her ears still buzzed with the sound of drunken snoring that had droned on from the time the girls got in until she finally fled the room at 6am. But a quick search on the YHA website had revealed Byrness. The hostel wasn't the nearest, but as the nearest was either Wooler - closed - or Mounthooley Bunkhouse - a remote shepherd's cottage - the choice was simple. It helped that Byrness was more a B&B than a hostel, offering breakfast and dinner. And now, like an end-of-year bonus, they had a single room available that was cheaper than the dorm.

Maybe I won't ring Carl and quit just yet.

Claire had stuffed all her things in her rucksack when she'd stalked from the room while the girls were still comatose. She'd had to wait in the chilly lounge for nearly two hours until she could hand back her key. By the time reception opened Claire had composed seven different resignation letters and was trying to decide on her favourite.

She had narrowed the choice down to three, one of which was a career-ending two-word sentence, when she heard movement behind reception and went to check out. She hoped there was someone new on the desk instead of the cheery man who had checked her in the day before. The gods, it seemed, were on their coffee break.

"Ah, good morning Ms Carleton. I hope you slept well."

Claire wondered if his head tipped back like a puppet when he smiled that widely. The thought made her shudder.

"You can hope, if you like. It won't make it true."

"Oh? Nothing wrong I trust?" The man behind reception frowned much as someone might to a small child who had dropped their lollypop in a puddle.

"Nothing that a curfew wouldn't fix."

The man tilted his head and looked at Claire with innocent puzzlement. She found she didn't have the energy to explain.

"I'm driving to Byrness today, will the snow affect me?"

"Depends what you're driving. The roads don't climb too high but they won't be cleared except by traffic. Might be a bit hairy in places."

Claire thought about the Skoda parked in the local car park. How it lost its rear end on a tiny patch of ice if she so much as touched the accelerator.

I want my all-wheel-drive Audi back. Maybe my luck will return and someone will have stolen the heap of junk in the night, though goodness knows why they would.

Weighing up the options of another night with the party girls and a tricky drive of forty miles through the snow Claire knew there was no decision to be made. _How bad can it be?_

"Thank you for the information. I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm not in any hurry; their reception is open until 10am."

"There isn't much to do in Byrness, I wouldn't rush."

Claire sniggered internally, not wanting to offend the jolly man in front of her. Inside her mind the words _Like there's so much going on in this provincial hole_ fought to be heard.

"I have a good book, I'll be fine."

An hour later Claire cursed her blasé attitude to snow. The route might not climb but it had no shelter either. It marched across open land, without so much as a low hedge to prevent the snow icing the road like a wedding cake. Claire peered through the windscreen at the road ahead. All was white. The bonnet of the car, the road in front, the fields to either side. The only things telling her she was still on the road at all were the twin-tracks in front of her and the red line of the Sat Nav.

Please let them not be leading me to some random farm.

Ten o'clock had come and gone by the time Claire steered her skating car to the chequered flag of her Final Destination. She guided her four-wheeled sled into a side road and came gratefully to a stop. Her hands were shaking and her eyes itched with the strain of concentration. She barely noticed the cold or the numbness of her fingers but she could practically taste Earl Grey tea in the back of her throat.

Still everything was white. Claire forced her aching body to unbend and climb out of the car, cursing as her Helly Hansens sank into deep snow. It was only then that she took in her surroundings.

"What the...? That bastard!" Claire wasn't sure if she meant Carl or the jolly receptionist. " _There isn't much to do in Byrness._ " He could have told me it's a ff-frigging string of ff-frigging cottages in the arse-end of n-nowhere." She shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. Wind whistled through the trees and swirled eddies in the snow.

Claire walked round to the front of the car and looked again, hoping to see a town or even a village hidden behind the row of houses in front of her. As she span a slow 360 all she could see were white houses, white snow-laden trees and the slow moving traffic on the A68.

"Well, all I can say is they had better let me in. Ten o'clock reception or not, I am not sitting out in the car until 4pm."

She glared at the row of houses and tried to distinguish which was the B&B. "Thank god I've got my own room. Surely only hikers, hippies and weirdoes choose to stay here in the middle of frigging winter."

Claire clomped up the path to the front door and hammered on it with her glove-encased fist.

***

TWENTY-FIVE

Claire shuffled deeper into the corner of the brown leather sofa and tried to get comfortable. The book on her lap remained closed. Her iPad was in the tiny room she had hired for the night. There was no signal in the hostel so she had the perfect excuse not to update her blog or Facebook account.

Silence blanketed the deserted building. Claire had arrived just as the lady who ran the B&B with her husband left to take some hikers up to the Pennine Way.

"Who hikes in this weather?" Claire had asked and had received a withering glance in reply from one of the passengers.

"Excuse me!" Claire had responded, too quiet to be audible.

It turned out that plenty of people wanted to stomp around in the snow. Everyone staying at Byrness Hostel to be exact. The host lady had explained that they would be back for dinner so she wouldn't be lonely for long.

_Lonely? Ha. This is bliss_. Claire looked around the empty room and stifled a sigh. _Okay, more boring than blissful._ She felt guilty even thinking the word _boring._ Her mother's words to her and her siblings when they were growing up echoed in her head:

"Only stupid people get bored," she would say. "You have the capacity to entertain yourselves, to read a book, play the piano, invent a song, game or story. Your genetic code is embedded with the facilities to not be bored. Use them."

Claire looked down at the romance she'd bought at the second hand book store. It was so happy it made her miserable. Her brain seemed to be empty of ideas and there was no piano _._

I guess I'm an embarrassment to my blood. Either that or I was adopted. Maybe that's why mum hates me.

Claire looked round the room for inspiration and spied the Visitors Book.

Maybe I should read it, try and understand what draws people to this nomadic life.

The comments were mostly vague, complimenting the accommodation, the hosts, the food, the views and the hikes. She flicked the pages looking for something that might stand out. She had almost given up finding anything interesting when a lead weight dropped into her stomach as she saw handwriting she knew. Familiar sloping characters with curly fs looped gs. Writing she had last seen on a Christmas card inscribing the words _Dear Claire, with all my love._

She looked at the date on the entry and tried to work out whether it was before they got together. Without really needing to, Claire checked the diary in her phone.

That was only a week or two before we met.

She swallowed, thinking she ought to get a glass of water. _The central heating must be drying my throat out._ Her heart beat loudly as she read Michael's review. It was several lines long, written in small, cramped words. _How thorough. So very Michael._ She read through his views on the Pennine Way, the charming hosts and the wholesome food. His words were balanced and fair and Claire could hear them in Michael's rich voice. The final line grabbed her guts and gave a twist. _Debbie and I very much enjoyed our stay. The room was extremely comfortable and the company delightful._

A growling noise echoed loudly in the silent room, making Claire jump. She realised with a start that _she_ was making the noise, deep in her throat. _Debbie. His darling ex._

I wonder why he left her. Sweet, delightful Debbie.

Michael was recently-separated from Debbie when Claire first met him. They had parted amicably, so Michael said, agreeing that they didn't suit. _I wonder if he went back to Debbie, when..._ She couldn't finish the thought. Unwelcome images of the last time she saw Michael swamped her over-wrought emotions and dragged tears from her eyes.

Claire slapped the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf before clumping to the kettle to make tea. _I wonder what room they slept in._ She looked around the doors, her skin prickling. _Did she love hiking and all things outdoors? Did she always make it to dinner engagements and remember to call when she promised? Did she want kids?_

The thoughts clattered loudly in Claire's quiet brain until she thought she might lose her sanity to the sound.

How do people bear all this damn silence?

***

**TWENTY-SIX**

Claire looked around the dinner table at the flushed, shiny, faces of people who had spent too long out in a blizzard. The food was good but Claire couldn't wait for the meal to be over. So much eager enthusiasm was putting her right off her spaghetti.

"So Claire, are you here to do the Pennine Way tomorrow? Rather unusual hiking by yourself at this time of year."

Claire jerked her head up, so inured to the conversation wafting over her that she had ceased to pay attention.

"What, me? Hell, no."

She laughed loudly but stopped when she realised no one else was smiling. She managed to swallow the next words waiting to spill out: _Only sad freaks and single people go hiking._ She wasn't sure what category that put Michael and the darling Debbie in. She didn't want to think about them. And after an hour of conversation she knew that these good folk certainly didn't fit in either category. Jason and Fi were married and, when they weren't hiking, spent their days working for a busy firm of solicitors. Jenny and Paul were engaged and both studied medicine. They'd all met at university and now went hiking together twice a year.

Claire had been conscious of a growing sense of unworthiness throughout the meal and was surprised that any of them had bothered to talk to her at all. She had introduced herself as a Marketing Exec and wondered afterwards whether they thought that meant she was at the bottom of the pecking order rather than the top.

"We're out again tomorrow, why don't you join us? It must be dull cooped up indoors by yourself all day."

Jason's grin had a spiky edge that Claire mistrusted. She wasn't about to admit that the day had dragged like a Finance meeting. She had every intention of leaving in the morning for the next hostel, but something in Jason's sardonic stare made her hackles rise. She looked back at him coolly and silently challenged him to continue.

"We'll be walking out to Kirk Yetholm tomorrow to complete the Pennine Way. Well, we haven't done all of it this time. Who has twenty days to spend travelling?" He raised an eyebrow at Claire and it was as if he knew everything about her.

_Has he figured it out? Maybe he's linked me with the_ Two-hundred Steps Home _blog? Can't imagine how, it's only got three followers. Maybe he's a friend of Carl's sent to spy on me. After reading that Visitor Book yesterday anything is possible._

Thinking about the Visitor Book comment made Claire think of Debbie again. Before she was aware of it her mouth opened and she began to speak. "Okay, why not? I probably don't have all the right gear with me but I should be able to manage a dozen miles." Her traitorous brain seemed to have the wit not to add, _how hard can it be?_

Twenty-four hours later she was glad she was at least saved that humiliation.

_Damn this streaming nose, when will it stop?_ Claire turned her head left and right so she could see if anyone was watching, then wiped her nose with her woollen gloves. _Mental note to disinfect these when we get back to civilisation._

Claire's hood was pulled up as high as it would go, and her coat was zipped to her chin, reducing her vision to the patch of snow directly in front of her. Her face was so numb her nose could be chopped off by a cosmetic surgeon and she wouldn't notice. _There may be something in that_. _Freezing as a form of anaesthetic. Why not?_

She dug her hands deeper in her pockets and tried not to whimper. Her thighs burned from keeping her balance in the deep snow. The sound of her own sniffing was driving her nuts. Little other external noise made it through the hood; only the rustling of her clothing, the scrunch of snow and the wind whooshing past her hood. Her eyes ached from the brightness of snow. _Funny, it didn't occur to me that I might need my damn sunglasses in March_. Claire mentally catalogued the pains: _Hips sore, feet sore, skin dry, lips chapped, face frozen, knees creaking. This must be what it feels like to be ninety._

They crouched in the lee of a low stone wall to get some food. Claire perched on her rucksack and stared longingly at Jason's flask of coffee and foil-wrapped warm pasty. She bit into the sandwiches provided by the hostel and tried not to expose more skin than necessary. They didn't stop for long. Even the cheery Paul had fallen quiet as they neared their destination.

Claire dropped into a metronomic one-two one-two beat just to keep her feet moving. Jenny called out names like _Black Hag_ and _Old Halterburn_. They sounded like insults but she guessed they were points on the map the others all carried.

Claire's heart began to thud in her ears as something dark loomed out of the snow. She wondered whether she should alert the others, but they were a few paces ahead, leaving her to trudge at the rear. None of them seemed concerned by the hulking shape. Claire watched it nervously as they approached, before realising what it was. _It's a damn tree_. _I think that's the first one I've seen. Where do the birds live up here? Maybe they don't; maybe they have more sense._

Occasionally the ground beneath the snow was solid, like a path. Her legs were grateful for the respite from uneven terrain until she felt her boots slipping and realised it was even more treacherous than the unpaved earth. Paul had mentioned something at dinner about it being a shame about the snow because he'd bought his gaiters deliberately for some bog hopping, which was still possible in places between the boardwalks and the paving slabs. Claire had no idea what he meant, picturing bed-hopping with more dirt. Now she felt the snow might be a mercy.

On the ridge Claire's entire world contracted to the focus point of Jason's blue ski jacket in front of her. _Ski jacket_! It hurt to see it and think of the snow trousers, Degree 7 snow jacket, snood and gloves currently sitting in a storage facility somewhere near Manchester. The hiking jacket sold to her by the tasty man in Blacks, combined with her cashmere and as many t-shirts as she could fit on, was keeping her warm on top but it was not the weather for jeans. They clung like a blanket of thin-sliced liver to her legs and dragged her down with every step.

Jason had sniggered to Fi when Claire joined them in the hallway ready for departure. He had smoothed the smile from his face and suggested alternative trousers might be more comfortable. When Claire had explained she had nothing else he just shrugged. Fi looked troubled and said something to him in a low voice but he just shook his head. Feeling the numbness in her thighs, Claire wished Fi was the kind of woman who stood up to her man and helped the city girl. _Not that I'd have accepted help then. I'm glad I went back and put tights on underneath. I might be sweatier than a clubber at 4am but I'm not getting frostbite._ At least her Helly Hansen snow boots were coming into their own, even if the snow was over the tops most of the time.

They walked past some more trees and some pathetic-looking sheep huddled into the scanty shelter afforded by a wall and Claire felt the mood of the group lift. Her brain processed the information that they were reaching the end of the ordeal. Her steps became more brisk and she raised her chin for the first time in hours. There was a footbridge at the bottom of the valley and at last they were off the snow and onto a paved road. Claire swung her legs from the hip, trying to stretch out tired muscles. All she could think of was a hot shower and a cup of Earl Grey.

Her muscles tightened as she felt the road begin to climb. _You bastard, I'm done. How could you just have one more hill?_

And then it was over. They were all tucked into a warm car with steamed up windows heading back to the hostel. The two couples chattered excitedly about the walk, about having finally completed the Pennine Way, about getting some certificate or other. Claire rested her head against the vibrating freezing glass and dreamed of tea.

***

**TWENTY-SEVEN**

Claire tried to roll over to see what time it was and let out a wail of pain. She felt as if she had been slam-dunked by a twenty-stone bruiser. Time check could wait: still was best. If she stayed completely motionless only certain parts of her hurt. Her feet, covered in blisters that had only revealed themselves when she had peeled off her snow boots. Her cheeks, wind-chapped and raw. Everything else was a dull ache until she used any one of the hundreds of screaming muscles, when agony shot through her like a five-year-old trying out acupuncture.

The evening before replayed in Claire's mind. There had been a sense of camaraderie when they got back to the hostel. The host prepared hot drinks, took their clothes away to dry them and then served up a delicious meal. The five of them sat together discussing the day, with Fi showing photographs she had taken on her iPhone. Claire was amazed at her ability to use the camera in sub-zero temperatures but Fi explained, with a strange look in her eye, that she thought they might be important.

They'd all gone to bed early. The two couples were leaving in the morning to return to their day jobs and there wasn't a television for them to veg in front of anyway. Claire thought she'd never get to sleep before nine o'clock and surprised herself by sinking into the bed and closing her eyes with no palpable effort. It felt good, as if her body had been doing what it was built to do. _Maybe this hiking lark isn't so bad after all._

That was then. Now, as the sun came up, Claire happily cursed every deity that deigned to come within earshot. She had never experienced so much pain, not even after a brutal spinning session or an all-night-rave.

There was a scrape at the door and Claire turned her head to face it. She couldn't find the energy to speak, never mind get up and answer it. _Go away,_ she thought silently. _I have no_ _desire_ _to see any of my_ _torturers_ _this morning. Go back to your happy, healthy, over-fulfilled lives and leave me to die in peace._

The scratching sound came again. Cursing her visitor's inability to understand the silent command, Claire opened her paper-dry lips and croaked, "yes?"

"It's Fi, can I come in?"

_Fi. What the hell does she want? Come to gloat?_ Curiosity overcame ire and Claire called out, "Come in." She flushed as she heard the weakness of her voice.

Fi's head peered round the door and her brows contracted in concern at the sight of Claire in bed. "I'm so sorry, did I wake you? We're off early I'm afraid."

"No. I was awake. Just unable to move."

Fi came closer to the bed, her frown deepening. "Does it hurt? A hot shower and a gentle walk will help loosen off the muscles." She smiled in sympathy. "I remember my first major hike. Jason dragged me over Scafell in new boots. I had blisters on my blisters and my body felt like it had been filled with molten lead."

"Yes." Claire tried to nod and thought better of it. "That sounds about right."

There was silence as the two girls watched each other warily. "I wanted to get your email address, so I could send you photos from yesterday." Fi hesitated. "...for your blog."

Claire sat up, then cried out as a dozen muscles protested the sudden movement. Her mouth opened but no words came. Her shock must have been obvious though because Fi blushed.

"I'm sorry. We should have come clean yesterday. I'm friends with your boss Carl's sister on Facebook. When we put in our status update that we were staying in Byrness he said to look out for you. He asked us to goad you into hiking, as your blog was about healthy lifestyle but you weren't leaving the hostels. I didn't like it but Jason wanted to see if he could. You did really well especially if that was your first hike?"

The words all came out in a rush and, when she had finished, Fi stood and twisted her hands, staring out the window. Claire didn't know where to start. She hadn't heard from Carl once since her arrival in Berwick, despite calling several times and leaving messages with Julia. It made her skin itch to think of that snake discussing her with strangers. _As for Jason dragging me on that infernal hike at Carl's bidding. How_ dare _he?_ Claire wanted to stalk out the room and find Jason so she could smack him in the face. Except it would hurt too much and Jason didn't seem worth the extra pain.

"What will you do?"

Claire had forgotten Fi in her rage at Carl and Jason. Aside from being weak and silly and doing what her husband wanted, she hadn't really done anything wrong. It was a good question. _What should I do?_ Claire's brain began to ache more than her thigh muscles as she tried to pick through her options.

"What would you do?" Claire looked up at Fi who was still standing by the bed. She thought about her situation, stuck in bed talking about her boss with a total stranger. She looked around at the sparse bedroom, the still-damp rucksack, the worried-looking lady, and began to laugh. It hurt her tummy muscles but she laughed anyway. It felt good. Fi looked shocked at first, as if Claire had snapped and had some sort of breakdown. Then she too began to giggle.

"I'd probably smack Jason in the face if he played a trick like that on me. Except I wouldn't because I'm a wuss. I bet you could though. And that boss of yours. He sounds nothing like his sister, she's a darling."

Claire laughed harder and wiped at her streaming eyes. Eventually she had no more mirth left and she sank back into the pillows like a punctured balloon.

What should I do?

"Can you send me those pictures? If Carl wants outdoor pursuits, I'll give him outdoors."

Fi grinned and started tapping details into her phone. As she was leaving she turned back to face Claire.

"Piece of advice?"

"Of course, fire away."

"Buy some hiking trousers."

Claire grinned and nodded before sinking back into the protective hug of the bed.

***

**TWENTY-EIGHT**

"Julia? It's Claire. Don't bother: I know Carl's in an end-of-the-world summit in Timbuktu and can't be reached. I don't want to talk to him, I just want to pass on a message, seeing as that's his preferred method of communication. You tell him it will take more than his sister's friend's stupid husband to make me quit my assignment. If Carl wants to fire me he'll have to do it in person. Until he grows a pair and tells me to my face that I'm no longer required I will do the job he is paying me to do. That's all."

Claire hung up the phone and grinned. An unfamiliar surge of liberation flooded through her, starting in her chest and spreading out down to her fingertips. She pictured Julia's face as she listened to the diatribe pouring down the phone, imagining the perfect cherry-red O in the middle of her flawlessly made-up face. Glancing in the mirror on the back of her phone Claire realised with a start that she hadn't put make up on for two days. And she didn't care. _Who is there to impress out her in the sticks?_ She stroked her face. It felt clean and smooth, like it could breathe. _I don't remember the last time I went out in public without slap._

The sun shone on the white walls of the Byrness hostel as Claire loaded her things into the car ready to drive to Kielder. She looked at the building with more fondness than she could have imagined two days earlier. Settling into the icy seat Claire pulled on her gloves before touching the freezing steering wheel. She tugged the choke, gave the car a pat of encouragement and checked the Sat Nav instructions. Her heart felt buoyant as she poked around for a gear and drove away.

***

**TWENTY-NINE**

"G'day, you need a hand?"

Claire ducked out from under the bonnet to find a tanned face full of teeth grinning at her.

"Car bust?"

"What?" Claire looked bewildered for a moment before realisation dawned. "Oh, no, I haven't broken down. The engine's at the other end. I'm just getting my boots out. They were wet so I put them in here instead of in the car. The carpets might be old and mouldy but I don't want them stinking of damp or getting my bag soggy."

She stopped speaking as she realised the words were rushing out in a torrent. As it was only half an hour from Byrness to Kielder Claire had decided to take a detour to the nearest town in search of coffee. She had arrived in Hawick in time for lunch and had lost a pleasant hour or two in Turnbulls. She knew the Kielder Hostel reception wouldn't open until 5pm so she went on to another café bookshop and happily immersed herself in other people's lives until it was late enough to head to Kielder. As a result she hadn't spoken to anyone since her phone-call to Julia that morning. It seemed words built up like water behind a fallen tree if you didn't use them.

Claire looked at the man who had spoken to judge his reaction to her verbal diarrhoea. He didn't seem fazed by it. He wandered closer and peered under the bonnet as if to confirm that there was, in fact, no engine there.

"I might be a girl but I do know what an engine looks like." Claire's voice came out sharper than intended. The man looked up and smiled again, and Claire was struck by how attractive he was. Something throbbed inside her and she looked down at her boots as if hoping they would fill the awkward gap in conversation. Brushing her hair behind her ears Claire reached in and retrieved the still-wet snow-boots. She tied the laces together and threw them over her shoulder where her rucksack was already in place.

The stranger stood up and dug his hands into his pockets. "You staying here?"

Claire swallowed a giggle and looked around the emptiness that surrounded them. "Oh have I missed the five-star spa resort?"

The man grinned as if to acknowledge his obvious question. "Name's Josh. I've been here a while, you want me to show you around?"

_Is he hitting on me?_ Claire couldn't tell. It had been a long time since anyone had chatted her up. Apart from Mike from Accounts and that didn't really count as she had initiated that particular conversation, more fool her. Deciding it didn't really matter if Josh was interested or not Claire slammed the bonnet down and followed her new Aussie friend into the hostel.

Claire had been prepared for the remoteness of the hostel, after reading the information on the website. She knew, for example, that the nearest shop was 17 miles away. What she hadn't noticed was that, all covered in snow, the place resembled a ski resort. It was comforting even though they weren't in the mountains. _Maybe I can pretend it is a five-star hotel, especially if it looks as smart on the inside as Byrness did._

After she had been shown to her dorm and had a chance to take in the wooden bunks and multi-coloured duvets Claire dismissed the similarities to a ski chalet. _Never mind. Josh has promised to take care of me._ She took out her least-creased top and her make-up bag. A dab of mascara, a spritz of perfume and she was ready.

Back in the lobby she looked at Josh askance. He was wrapped up in winter woollies including a giant hand-knitted bobble hat and scarf set that looked like it was a Christmas gift from his Gran.

"Um, are we going out? I thought there was nothing to do round here?"

"Have you looked out at the night's sky? It's a beaut. Be criminal not to get ourselves to the observatory on a night like this. Skedaddle back to your room for your coat or you'll freeze."

"What observatory?" Claire's mind struggled to catch up. She was tired and hungry and wanted dinner and maybe a gin and tonic if that was possible.

"It's about a mile away. Come on. Public viewing is from 8pm and it'll take a while to walk there."

Claire weighed up the merits of eating dinner alone or accompanying her handsome new friend to look at dots of burning gas in the sky. She looked at her watch. "It's only 7pm. Why don't we eat first then I'll drive us up to your observatory thing if it's so important. It's too bloody cold to walk."

"You beaut, that's a bonza idea!" He pulled off his hat and beckoned Claire to follow him to the dining room.

Claire felt like a leaf that had just been blown by a gust of wind into a swollen river.

***

**THIRTY**

"Look, there's Orion, although it's upside-down of course. His sword's pointing skyward, if you know what I mean?" Josh chuckled, the sound spilling out from somewhere deep in his throat. Claire didn't understand his words but the swell of his laughter washed over her, resonating deep in her midriff.

They stood shoulder to shoulder gazing up at the glitter-strewn sky. It reminded Claire of something Sky might produce at school that would turn up in the post to _Auntie Claire_ , dropping blue sparkles all over her cream carpet.

Standing in the freezing night beneath the myriad of stars Claire realised she had never truly seen the night sky before. In Manchester it was barely possible to distinguish the Big Dipper above the persistent glow of streetlights. Here, deep in the Kielder Forest, it was hard to see the dark of Space in between the sparkling specks of light. She felt like a child in awe of the sight above her.

Claire became aware of the gushing words filling her head and gave a mental shake. _All this sky is making me poetic. Time for another G &T I think._

She turned to Josh, to tell him that it was time to go. His silence spread to fill the space around him as he gazed, rapt, at the display above his head. Claire shrugged and turned to stand alongside him again. _There's no real hurry I guess. He's having fun and it took some effort to get here._

She thought about the skidding, spinning Skoda ride up the snow-strewn path and sighed. Halfway up the track she had stopped the car and made Josh drive, as much to stop his constant stream of advice as to soothe her tattered nerves. When they arrived at the Observatory it was to find that Public Viewing was cancelled due to the weather. Thankfully they were still able to access the decked areas and see the stars with the naked eye.

The word _naked_ caught in Claire's mind and she became aware, as if for the first time, of the man standing slightly too near her for comfort. She could feel Josh's coat brushing hers, his woollen clad hands near hers on the railings. Her nostrils filled with the scent of cheap deodorant and cigarette smoke. Not smells that would normally have the kind of effect on her knees that they seemed to be having at that moment.

Josh was pointing out the constellations he knew, explaining which ones could be seen in Australia, upside-down of course, and which ones couldn't.

"Did you know you can't see the Pole Star if you're as much as one degree over the equator? Amazing. We don't have anything that fixed in the Southern Hemisphere although our stars are brighter, especially the Southern Cross."

Claire turned so she could hear what Josh was saying without taking down her hood. It was freezing up on the observation deck. Josh glanced round at the movement and his words fell from his mouth and lay dead in the snow. He leaned forwards and raised a mitten-clad hand to Claire's face.

Claire's heart beat loudly but not as loud as the clamour filling her brain. _What the hell? Oh God is he going to kiss me? I barely know him and he reeks of fags and oh crap it's just too corny to snog the first Australian guy I meet. Isn't that what all backpackers do?_

Josh's face came nearer, his breath steaming in the cold air, brushing warmth across Claire's frozen face. Her eyes widened as the monologue shrilled loudly in her head. She was immobile with indecision. It would be awkward to turn away and avoid the kiss, but not as awkward as what might happen after they came together. The thoughts raced on, wondering if they would sleep together, wondering how that happened exactly if you were both staying in dorm rooms.

_They don't shag in dorms do they? With people trying to sleep all around them? Surely they get a double room?_ She wondered who 'they' were. Some alien species of traveling people? _That's me now, I'm a backpacker too._

Josh's lips were almost at hers and still no plan of action had presented itself in her jumbled mind. His eyes were closed, a fact Claire found slightly disappointing. She couldn't remember her first kiss with Michael - they were both too drunk - but she had some idea that first kisses were meant to happen with each of the people gazing longingly at the other until the moment when lips touched and fire exploded.

She felt the first brush of Josh's lips against hers. They were rough and chapped, and his unshaven cheeks scratched her cold skin. His eyes flew open when she didn't respond and he looked into her face then, his expression rueful but unabashed.

"Ah well, can't blame a bloke for trying. You are very hot. Taken?"

He pulled away.

Claire remained still for a moment more as she processed events, unsure why she hadn't responded. She had wanted to. Every part of her body was throbbing with the need to lose herself in someone's kisses. Her traitorous brain, not for the first time, seemed to have taken over at the crucial moment.

"Um, no, not taken. Er, you just caught me by surprise that's all."

Josh grinned. "Ah, so I I'm free to try again at a better moment? Sweet."

He turned back to face the stars as if they'd been discussing where to meet for lunch. Claire swallowed, her throat dry, and tried to detangle her jumbled thoughts.

Great, that's all I need, another bloody complication. Oh Michael, where are you?

She turned and faced the night, seeking answers amongst the stars.

***

**THIRTY-ONE**

"Av-a-go-yer-mug, Claire!"

Claire tried to respond to the voice, her breath coming in sharp pants. The feeling was immense, overwhelming her. Her whole body quivered in anticipation. _Just a bit more effort_ she thought between breaths.

"Wow! Ripper!" Josh's voice was exuberant. Claire tried to share his joy but she felt depleted, her body soft and malleable, not to be trusted.

She pulled her bike alongside Josh's and looked out over the view. She had to admit it was worth the exertion, although her breath still came in ragged gasps and a stitch tore at the left-hand side of her ribcage.

"You are unfit lady, look at you. When did you last do some true blue exercise?"

Claire bristled at the teasing tone. "I'll have you know I go to the gym three times a week for spinning classes."

"Pah, Spinning. Stupid. Wasted sweat. Might as well go to a tart instead of taking time to seduce a beautiful lady." His gaze rested marginally too long on Claire, bringing more redness to her already flushed cheeks. "I mean proper outdoors stuff, with real air in your lungs and a view worth the effort."

"And real rain dripping down your neck, real blisters on your feet and a real two-hour bike ride back home?" Claire's elated tone belied her negative words. She had to admit she felt amazing. She'd heard people talk about the feeling but had always thought that was just their way of conning you to join them in their misery, in the same way she liked to meet up with people on a Sunday morning over a Bloody Mary to share the agony of a hangover.

"Come on, when was the last time you were outdoors for more than the time it takes to walk to the car?"

"I walked the Pennine Way two days ago, thank you very much."

Josh turned to face her, eyebrows raised. "Really, well I beg your pardon." He mimicked her middle-England accent and Claire had to smile. "Alright, I was dragged out by some arse trying to score points with my boss."

The eyebrows rose higher, almost vanishing in Josh's sandy unkempt hair. His expression invited confidence so, while her breath slowly returned to normal and the pain in her side faded, Claire filled him in on the last few weeks of her life, omitting anything to do with Michael.

"He sounds like a proper dingbat that boss of yours. Why don't you quit? It's just a job and a shonky one at that. Get on a plane, go see the world before you get tied down with a husband and ankle-biters."

Claire shuddered and bent quickly to massage her aching calf muscles. Josh's eyes caught the movement and he chuckled. "Don't fancy the whole wife-and-mother bit? I don't blame you. Won't catch me shackled for life. As long as the surf's up somewhere and I can hitch a ride I'll be there."

It was Claire's turn to be intrigued. "Does it ever get lonely?"

"Nah, why would it? There's always blokes to chat to and chicks to keep you warm." He winked.

"What do you do for money?" Claire realised it was a personal question and quickly added, "You don't have to answer that. Sorry that was rude of me."

"No worries, it's fair enough. I work when I have to. Bar work mostly or fruit picking. Enough to get by. I only kip in hostels in the winter; mostly I pitch my tent somewhere for free. Or..." He stopped but something in his face gave the rest of the answer so Claire finished for him.

"Or find some warm sheila to give you a bed?" She flushed, thinking about their near-kiss the night before. Josh hadn't tried anything since but then they'd been on this crazy bike ride since first light. When Claire had admitted, on the trip back to the hostel in the dark, that she'd not been on a bike since she was a teenager Josh had dared her to accompany him. Taking in the weak sun as it broke through the rain clouds to glint off the water, Claire was glad she had.

"At least the snow's all gone." Claire looked around, amazed at how quickly the snow had washed away in the overnight rain. "What's your plan now?"

"Don't have one." Josh turned the bike ready to return to the hostel. "Don't do plans."

Claire tried to imagine a life without plans. It didn't seem possible. Like trying to drive a road in the pitch black. _Surely you have to see at least some of the way ahead?_

"Well I do have a plan I'm afraid and I need to get going. The sooner I get round all two-hundred sodding hostels the sooner I can get my life back."

"Is that all it is? Hard yakka? It'll be a drag-arse year for you if that's your view."

"What other view is there? This is my job; it doesn't have to be fun."

"But it could be." Josh pulled up alongside Claire and they mounted their bikes, freewheeling down the hill they had just climbed. Josh took his hands off the brakes and let the bike pick up speed.

His words floated over his shoulder as he sped off. "Just because you have to do something doesn't mean it can't be fun. Let go and live a little!"

Claire watched his disappearing form and wondered if she could take her hands off the brakes too. What if she fell and hurt or humiliated herself? What if Josh laughed?

So what?

The traitorous part of her brain that often took over materialised with a sly smile. It prised her hands off the brakes one finger at a time. Until Claire, too, was flying.

###

This story is continued on Amanda Martin's daily blog at http://writermummy.wordpress.com

Download Volume Two now

If you enjoyed this e-book, please leave a review.

About the Author

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

Also by Amanda Martin:

BABY BLUES AND WEDDING SHOES

Amanda's latest release, the chick lit novel Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes is available now.

5 out of 5 stars **"** **Wonderful, engaging story** **"**

" _Wonderful, engaging story by a talented writer. Pleasantly surprising depth in a plot which one might have initially assumed would be a predictable meet-cute, boy meets girl, happily ever after. A more thought provoking story evolved than expected in the beginning. Author has a nice way with descriptive words which makes one feel nearly in the room. Readers with an appreciation for a bit of reality and a bit of hopeful romantic wishful dreaming will not be disappointed by this lovely tale. Well done."_

DRAGON WRAITHS

Dragon Wraiths, a Young Adult novel. Read the reviews:

4 out of 5 stars " **Pacey and engaging** "

" _This is a wonderful romp for the YA audience that definitely crosses over to Adult (which is me!). Amanda writes in a wonderfully emotive and poetic yet also pacey style and I was at once absorbed and engaged with the central character. I wouldn't call myself a fantasy fan by any stretch (the work Tolkien just makes me want to snooze...) yet I was completely onboard with this parallel world and I found the transition between them, and the entire storyline credible. I found a Harry Potter-esque sensibility to the author's use of intriguing devices and methods for the real and fantasy worlds combining - but this is not to say there is any pastiche going on. Thoroughly recommend the book - and am hoping there's a sequel on the cards!"_

4 out of 5 stars **"** **Thoroughly enjoyable read** **"**

" _Thoroughly enjoyable read. Loved how dragons and humans worked together. Very original and entertaining._ _  
_ _It's a fast paced novel that any age with imagination could enjoy. I'm way out of YA age and still loved it. The ending really made me smile._ _  
_ _I'd read another by this author."_

