The Guesthouse. Abbie Frost

and streaks, but they were blue and purple: a fashion statement rather than laziness.

      The new guest stood at the door looking at them. For a brief moment an expression of something like distress passed over her face, before it was replaced by an irritated frown.

      She slung a rucksack onto the floor by the door and pulled off her black Doc Martens. Left them by the walking boots and wiped a muddy hand on her trousers.

      ‘Hi, I’m Lucy.’

      Her fingers were covered in rings, her ears crowded with studs. A sapphire-coloured stone glittered on the side of her nose, highlighting her high cheekbones and huge blue eyes.

      Mo seemed to recover himself and stepped forward. ‘I’m Mo and this is Hannah.’ His Irish twang came on stronger. ‘I’m here with my dad and Hannah’s on her own like you.’ Making sure Lucy knew they weren’t a couple, Hannah guessed. ‘We were having some coffee in the kitchen.’ They all headed through, sitting at the table again.

      Lucy stretched out her long legs. ‘Bit of a walk, eh. I thought it was supposed to be near the village.’ She stood up and went to the fridge. Then looked in the freezer and opened a couple of cupboards. ‘No booze either. That’s a bummer.’

      Hannah felt her spirits rise: someone she could get along with. She considered mentioning her vodka upstairs but thought better of it. ‘I’m going to walk to the village in the morning and find a shop.’

      ‘Good idea, I’ll come with you.’ Lucy smiled, but when the buzzer sounded again, she flashed an anxious glance at the door.

      Raised voices drifted out from the hallway and, after a moment, three people entered the kitchen. A little family, bringing with them gusts of ice-cold air. The woman, arms crossed over her fancy white top, gave them a stony look. ‘I hope one of you is the host.’

      Hannah sighed. ‘’Fraid not. There’s no sign of him. Looks like he’s avoiding us. The website did say it was self-check-in, though, so the host doesn’t have to be here. That’s why we have the electronic keypad—’

      ‘It’s ridiculous,’ the woman interrupted. ‘We’ve had to park miles away on the main road and stumble down a dirt track – in the dark – and with a child too.’

      The teenage girl went red and turned away from them. The poor kid was probably around fourteen.

      Her father gave them a warm smile. ‘Yes, well. I’m Liam and this is my wife, Rosa, and daughter, Chloe.’ His smile got bigger. ‘Excuse Rosa, it’s been a long walk.’

      Rosa’s voice was still sharp. ‘And I don’t like the thought of our car out there in the middle of nowhere.’

      ‘Ours is too,’ Mo said. ‘They should be all right in a place like this. Not much crime around.’ He gestured to the Aga. ‘There’s coffee on the stove.’

      ‘None for us.’ Rosa looked at Chloe and Liam. ‘We should find our room and have a shower. Come on.’

      But Liam stepped towards the Aga. ‘You go on. I could do with a hot drink.’

      Rosa stared at him for a moment, then strode out, Chloe trailing after her. The girl glanced back at Lucy as she reached the door.

      Liam poured himself some coffee and held up the pot. ‘Anyone else?’ Hannah and Mo shook their heads.

      ‘I’ll just have some juice, thanks.’ Lucy went to the fridge.

      Hannah concentrated on her own mug but noticed Liam and Mo sneaking glances at Lucy.

      Liam was tall and strong-looking with sandy hair thinning at the front. He had a warm Scottish lilt to match his warm smile. He sat at the end of the table, leaned back and took a gulp of coffee.

      ‘So, what brings you all here?’ His eyes flicked along Lucy’s legs.

      Lucy raised her glass of orange juice and laughed. ‘You first, Liam.’

      ‘We don’t live far away, actually, but we’re in the middle of a house move and having some problems. Sold our place and bought a new-build. But the work has been delayed – it’s been a complete nightmare to be honest – so we’re marking time here. Rosa found this place and I negotiated us a deal. A pretty good one, too.’ He flashed a white-toothed smile at Lucy. ‘I don’t know how much you lot are paying, but apparently we can stay as long as we like.’

      There was an awkward pause, then Lucy put her glass down on the worktop. ‘Moving house is always a bloody nightmare.’ She looked out the window. ‘I’m dying for a cigarette. Might head out for one in the garden.’

      Hannah had given up a few years ago, but over the past few months the old craving had crept back into her life and now she felt its familiar stirring. ‘Can I steal one? I’ll get some more tomorrow.’

      Lucy nodded, and they walked out the front door.

      The rain had stopped and the dark starless sky stretched away towards the horizon. Still and black, darker than any night Hannah had known in England. Lucy flicked a switch by the front door and a dim lamp buzzed on, illuminating the grey cat as it snaked past them and ran along the patio into the night.

      They sat on a big iron bench, and Lucy lit her cigarette. ‘How long you staying?’

      She raised her lighter to the cigarette in Hannah’s lips and clicked, the flame flickering in Lucy’s eyes as Hannah sucked in a lungful of smoke. She tried not to cough. ‘Just a week. You?’

      ‘Maybe two,’ she laughed. ‘But I’m not so sure now.’

      Hannah took another drag and laughed. ‘I’m sure Liam would like you to stay.’

      Lucy grimaced. ‘Great, he’s just what I need.’

      ‘You did seem kind of surprised to find us all here, though. Were you expecting to be alone?’

      Lucy turned to face her. She really was gorgeous. ‘Was it that obvious? I make music. Just broke up with my band and got an offer for a solo contract. I wanted somewhere quiet, you know, somewhere to write and think. Thought this place would be empty, that no one else would arrive until at least next week.’

      ‘You make music, cool.’ She might have known. ‘What kind of stuff?’

      ‘A mix of things to be honest. Punk, death metal, you know.’ Hannah nodded vaguely as Lucy continued, ‘I need to make my mark before I get past it. Twenty-five isn’t young in the music industry.’

      So they were the same age. Hannah settled into sullen silence and continued smoking. Thought about everything Lucy had already accomplished, about what it must be like to stand on stage as a sea of people cheered your name. Then she pictured her own messy bedroom back in her mum’s house, her own messy life. She took a final drag and stabbed the fag out on the bench.

      Mo and Liam had managed to make a meal, with Sandeep’s assistance. They’d used a huge frying pan to knock up what Mo called ‘a kind of ratatouille’. Everyone sat together at the kitchen table, but only Rosa was talking.

      ‘I just don’t understand why they didn’t mention the lack of road access.’ A wave of her fork for emphasis. ‘Needless to say, I’ve left a complaint on the website and sent our host several messages.’ She looked down at her dish and gave it a poke, as if noticing it for the first time. ‘This looks lovely, but isn’t there any meat in the fridge?’

      Liam touched her other hand. ‘Mo and Sandeep are vegetarian, love.’

      Rosa went to say something, but Lucy got there first. ‘Me too. There’s a big chorizo sausage in one of the cupboards, though. You could fry that up and add it in.’

      Rosa smiled tightly and took a drink of water. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll do something with meat tomorrow.’ Hannah had been trying to place her Scottish accent and realized it was just like Maggie Smith’s in that movie her mum was always watching, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.