Page 20 of The Next Chapter

To the side of the hotel there’s a wooden pier jutting out onto the loch, kayaks bobbing in the water next to it. On the bank, there’s an enormous willow tree, its branches sweeping the ground. The lake, I mean loch, itself is huge and dark and still, with a pebbly shore where there’s a big wooden shed.

Seb opens his door and on autopilot I do the same. The front porch has a string of bulbs wound around the two wooden pillars either side of the steps. It’s taken us so long to get here that the sun is setting and one set flickers feebly to light as we watch. The other doesn’t even try.

Once again, I’m struck by the fact that this is the last place on earth I’d expect to find Lola Starr.

‘Is that a…?’ Seb’s voice trails off as a chicken picks its way in front of the car. At least I think it’s a chicken. It only has feathers on one side of its body and its eyes are shut. It’s in an even worse state than Elton.

‘Where are we?’ Seb asks as the chicken stumbles its way to the other side of the car park.

‘I don’t know,’ I answer, peering around. It’s eerily quiet.

On the other side next to the loch there’s the hotel shop. Another glorified rickety shed with an honesty box outside. It’s all very, very surreal.

‘We can leave our bags while we check in,’ Seb says, and it’s a good idea. I don’t want to meet Lola carrying a cool bag full of probiotics after all.

Thank God this plan doesn’t involve telling her who I am. I’d just explode from the stress of it all.

I nod, telling myself that I need to get my shit together.

We head over to the steps to the porch. It’s still sweltering outside but the skin on my arms is pebbled, and it feels like my hair is full of static, as if I’m on charge somehow.

‘Here we go,’ Seb says, pushing the glass-panelled door to the hotel open with his shoulder and then bracing himself as it all but falls off on him. He gestures me through.

My feet are moving. I hardly notice the small reception area, the wood desk stacked with a mishmash of leaflets, the woman stood behind it, her long blonde hair in a thick plait slung over one shoulder.

‘Welcome to Broadford Hotel,’ she says as I stop dead in front of her.

* * *

As I stand by in front of the desk looking at Lola, it seems impossible that no one has ever figured out that this is the Lola Starr, even if she is going by Lola Vain these days. She must be around fifty now, but it’s the same face I’ve stared at countless times in magazines.

Her face is the only thing that’s as I imagined, though, everything else is just off.

I expected… I don’t know that I expected high heels and big hair out here on the Isle of Skye, but I didn’t expect green Crocs and dirt engrained hands. Gone are the sharp eyes half smiling at cameras in countless paparazzi photos. Here, Lola’s eyes are soft, creased at the edges.

A barrage of emotions slam into me, fighting for dominance. Anger, because how can she have just been here, all this time? Relief – we found her! Surprise, disbelief, happiness. The torrent renders me basically mute as I stare at the person who gave birth to me.

‘Thank you,’ I hear Seb say. ‘We’re happy to be here, aren’t we, Lily?’

For a split second, Lola’s eyes meet mine and I think the whole thing must be written all over my face because she looks at me intently. I should have gone with a different name! What if she knows my name? Mum and Dad said that they named me, but what if they let her have some say? I go to speak but she’s turning her back to us, pulling some paperwork and a set of keys from a shelf on the wall there.

Seb gives me a ‘what the fuck’ look, tilting his head towards her.

Suddenly, I’m overcome by the urge to tell her who I am. Ask why she left.

It’s not at all part of the plan. But I want to ask why she ignored my letters. Ask why she didn’t try harder.

The questions I’ve had, this, now is my chance to find out the answers.

I take a deep breath and meet her eyes. This is my chance.

And I just… can’t. Everything is wrong. Lola Starr looks nothing like the superstar I always pictured. Lola Starr, the girl in the orange dress, glamorous, famous and shiny – the person I’d pictured myself putting all these questions to – simply doesn’t exist. The woman in front of me is wearing dungarees, for god’s sake.

‘Yeah, really happy,’ I blurt. Lola’s eyes are still boring into me. Oh god, does she know? Is she on to me? Is it the name thing? My heart speeds up, it’s going impossibly fast as I crash headfirst into panic mode.

‘I’m Lily… and this is… this is my twin brother, Seb.’

Seb’s eyes go wide as Lola pulls her gaze away from mine.