Page 94 of The Next Chapter

‘I don’t think you’d have to be alone, Lola. Not if you didn’t want to be. I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d want to get to know you.’

Something that feels like shame settles low in my stomach at my words. Or it could be that I’m out of my probiotics and as predicted there’s a scarcity of them up here. But no, I think it’s shame. Because whether I don’t want to admit it to either Lola or myself, I’m one of those people.

Chapter Sixteen

I’m reading more of Noah’s book. Again.

Yesterday, after the session with Lola, I’d gone on her mid-afternoon hike. There’s no reason things like this couldn’t be advertised more. Like on Airbnb, where they have experiences. It would be an easy way to bring in more business. It cannot be a good business model, Lola leading a hiking party of five for two hours.

At least my zippy trousers had gotten another run out.

The whole hike, Lola’s words about she and Noah feeling alone even when they aren’t were at the front of my mind. Now that she’s said it, there is a lonely quality to his work, like he’s the only person in the world somehow. My phone buzzes next to me, but I ignore it to keep reading. In the book, Noah is describing a hike around The Old Man of Storr, a high pinnacle of rock on the Trotternish ridge. It buzzes again as I finish my paragraph.

* * *

Old Man of Storr was likely the result of lava flow and landslips, but legend would tell a different story, that of a giant, encased in earth after he fell and died while wandering in the area.

Seb: You seriously think that this guy is your real dad?

I put down my kindle. Seb has sent a photo of Ashton from his most recent tour. He’s wearing a black jacket that’s covered in feathers and the leather chaps that he must have found. He isn’t wearing a shirt, and his tan is of the mahogany variety. He’s wearing more eyeliner than I’ve ever seen on a human.

Me: I told you. Lola all but admitted it, she said she loved him.

I peer some more at the photo, even though I’m committed to believe that he’s a wanker who has strung Lola along for decades. I zoom in on his hair. That has to be where I get mine from. His is sort of knotted. That’s what mine would be like without my hair care plan.

Seb: I love you, but you don’t see me wanting to dick you down, do you?

Seb: Just saying that made me sick in my mouth.

Seb: But Ashton, I’d dick him down in a heartbeat. I think he’d like it too.

Me: Bisexual people exist you know. And please can we stop saying dick down. It’s 8am.

Seb: All I’m saying is don’t get ahead of yourself. Let Lola’s story play out how she wants it to.

Me: That’s actually really good advice.

Seb: I always give good advice.

Me: No, you told me I could pull off that half-shaved head look.

Seb: I was only saying that for the LOLs. You would have looked ridiculous. But my real advice is golden.

Me: How reassuring.

Seb: Got to go. I have a meeting with Kitty. She wants the first three chapters by the end of summer. Told her you’re all over it.

Me: Yeah. No problemo.

Unease settles deep in my stomach. I’m still sure that given the choice, Lola wouldn’t be telling anyone anything. But she feels like she has to for the sake of the hotel. Maybe Noah and I should help her more. We’d made a start on the pagoda last night. And you know what’s wild? Building a garden pagoda in the dead of night. But even if the three-pronged plan was a success and Lola didn’t need to sell her story, Your Life would still lose out.

I have my laptop open next to me on the bed having just ordered my business plan to be printed, bound and sent with a courier. Because at the point at which you’re doing some mild construction work, it’s time to present your plans more fully.

An email comes through from Mr Vandergilden. He’s chasing me and becoming increasingly impatient, even though I’m exactly on schedule.

Urgh, he’s impossible sometimes.

Speaking of impossible, Noah sticks his head around the bedroom door.