chapter 22

 Bloody Rob! 

She had waited for him in the pub; all dressed up for their date. Well, not dressed up, there wasn't much point for that here, most people wore wet weather gear and hiking boots.  Not much point in wearing heels either, the roads were rubbish and to and from the hotel.  She had put her new top on to make an effort though.  

Every time the pub door opened the butterflies in her stomach made a loop, but it was never him. She'd drunk two beers, and at nine o'clock she edged her way out into the High street, skulking back to the hotel staff accommodation hoping no one would see her. She nearly managed to get back into her room before Katie-Mouth-Almighty-Phillips caught her. 

"Why are you dressed up, it's not for Rob is it?" Katie accused her, as she looked her over, "Please don't tell me you bought a new top to wear for him? Ian's just seen him in the Plough down in Cranster village with that tart Lucy Walker, said he couldn't keep his hands off her."

Holly looked her in the eye, "For Rob? Do you mean that daft kitchen porter? God, no." Holly unlocked her door and ignoring Katie, who was probably about to ask her where she had been, went inside her room and leaned against it. Hot and embarrassed. How could he do this to her? 

Rob, had been tormenting her to go for a drink with him for the past two weeks. 

Well, he could sod off; she would keep herself to herself from now on. Besides, did she want to go out with a kitchen porter, rising star or not? Could kitchen porters even be rising stars? Well, whatever, God she could get her own back if she dared mention to Carlos that he had stood her up, Rob's life would be hell.

Carlos, the head chef, had taken a liking to Holly, he knew about homesickness, knew how she was feeling, in a strange place, was always sending her nice bits of things to eat, and coaxing her to make friends. 

Holly stood on the ridge of the dale. She could see the rolling green hills for miles up here. It was exhilarating, the warm wind swooping down on her, blowing her cares away, for a moment it took away the hurt, the hurt of being unceremoniously dumped. 

She blocked the thoughts of the last night out of her mind, as the warm wind soothed her glowing skin, as she walked down the half made path amongst the bracken to her secret little clearing. She loved this little place; it was far enough away from the road so no one could see her, and near enough to get back to the hotel quickly. 

It was a little suntrap, and the bracken made a comfy mattress once she had spread her blanket on it. Holly stripped off her jeans and T-shirt and pulled her turquoise bikini straight, she arranged her things, took her bottle of water and her book out of the bag and loaded her favourite playlist up and settled down to sunbathe for a while.

***

Marco was delighted to walk out of the clinic for a while.  He almost ran past the tall wrought iron gates, happy to see wild countryside instead of formal well kept gardens surrounded by a ten-foot wall. He was desperate to get some fresh air. Even the air in the gardens didn't seem right, as if it had an invisible bubble attached to the walls keeping the air trapped.  Marco wanted freedom and an atmosphere that wasn't surrounded by a wall. 

Nobody stopped him. He was there voluntarily, he'd had counselling, session after session about his drinking, and drug-taking, with Drs and counsellors. They had dug into his background, talked about his family, not that there was much of one. His parents lost in a strange and weird world of drugs and art. There had been little protection from the drugs and drink, which seemed to manifest his mother's incredible works of art. His sweet darling mother had been heartbroken when his father left both him and her for a Parisian lap dancer. His mother died from an overdose three years after his father leaving when he was eight. He was taken in by his father's sister, who was a pole apart from her brother.

A strict church-going spinster, she intended to save his soul whether he wanted her to or not. It was hardly surprising he didn't know which way to turn. But the one positive thing he got from both parts of his family was music, there was always music in his mother's studio, from classical to the latest chart hits, and his aunt taught him to play the piano, for which he would be forever grateful.

 Marco was an only child, at first adored, then ignored and unloved, or so it seemed when everyone he loved left him. He needed attention to be the centre of it. It was the only way he could get through the day. After six weeks here at the clinic, which was costing him an absolute fortune, he did feel better than he had for a very long time. Walking uphill along the road, he could see for miles, and his heart swelled, this was freedom. He stood at the edge of the road on the ridge of the dale, breathing deeply, loving the far off view of hills and the blue sky dotted with Simpson clouds, and then he trampled down the half made path made by several hiking boots.

He came across her by accident, and she was such a surprise. He knew her hearing would be disrupted, as she was wearing earphones; and tapping her feet to the beat of the music she was hearing. What a vision, pale creamy skin turning slightly pink on her shoulders, legs bent up at the knee, that seemed to go on forever.  She had delicate narrow feet, and pink polished toes, her blonde hair was piled up on top of her head, but he could see that it would be over her shoulders when she let it down, long blonde and shiny, the ends curling every which way.

What was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to scare her by appearing out of nowhere, but he knew he had to talk to her, he had to see if her voice was as delectable as the rest of her. He didn't get a chance not to scare her. His foot slipped, and suddenly he was on his way to the bottom of the slope, the bracken rolling under his feet like he was surfing a wave.

Holly shot up, ear pods flying away from her face screaming in fright.  Marco, trying to recover his stance, ended up half sitting at her side. 

"I'm sorry, so sorry I didn't mean to scare you." He said, holding his hands up, "I just slipped."

Holly took a prolonged glance at him, took in the apologetic expression on his face and began to giggle. He closed his eyes for a moment revelling in the sound, and when he opened them again, she was sitting up watching him.

"May I?" he asked, wanting to sit down before he fell completely.

She nodded, "Yeah, you'd better before you fall over again. Are you on holiday here?"

Marco inclined his head, "Sort of, what about you?"

"Oh, I work in the hotel just further up the road. It's my day off; I don't have to be back for a bit, so I am taking advantage of the weather. Good book, good music and our fabulous chef has made me a picnic lunch."

Marco smiled at her; she was so enjoying her day. "What do you do at the hotel?"

"I'm in the housekeeping team, sorting the rooms out, fetching and carrying for people."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Some of it is a bit boring, but I love looking after people, and apparently I am the fastest bed maker in the West, though we do try to make it interesting. We have a chart in the staffroom, and you put a tick against the things you have found in the room. You know, things like odd socks, millions of those. To more unusual things like er, oh a hubcap, Japanese noodles, oh and vibrators of course, Oh and last year we found a blow-up doll!" she grinned at him.

His mouth pulled to one side in a grimace, "Used?"

Holly laughed, "No, the box was all shrink-wrapped, it hadn't even been opened thank goodness! We had some fun with that; it ended up in a guest's bed. Some total numpty thought that the room maids were public property; he thought that I was public property."

"What happened?" He asked, wanting to beat this idiot to a messy, bloody pulp.

"He was drunk and got me in a corner on his corridor, got his hand up my skirt, ripped my top. He soon regretted it though."

Marco looked up over his sunglasses, "What did you do?"  One corner of his mouth quirked in amusement.

"Well, we rubbed the doll with the inside of a red jalapeno,  and put it in his bed."

"Oh shit!" Marco screwed his eyes up.

"Are you being sympathetic to him? Holly asked accusingly.

"No way," he grimaced, "I'm thinking of the pain. What happened?"

"Someone did tell me," she said smirking, "he sat with his junk in a glass full of ice-cold milk for most of the night." 

"Did he complain?"

 "He complained about his bits hurting, but you have to understand this wasn't the only time he had done this. He had been a regular guest, and we all got fed up with him. We had done the right thing telling the manager, but he still did it. So we took matters into our own hands."

"Well, I can't say I blame you, but then looking at you, I can't say I blame him either."

Holly closed her eyes, and her skin turned the colour of summer pink roses. Marco changed the subject.

"What kind of music are you listening to?"

 "Allsorts".

"What were you listening to when I fell off the hill?"

She laughed again, "Clouds Up, I think," she said, thinking about it "yeah it was."

"And what do you think to them?"

"Yeah, they're good.."

Marco nodded, biting his lip, she didn't have a clue, and she had no idea who he was. He relaxed a bit more.

"Would you like to share my lunch, there's plenty." 

"Are you sure?"

Holly nodded, "Yes, Carlos always puts loads in, and I don't want to upset him if I don't eat it all."

"Ok thank you. Did you bring sun cream? Your shoulders are turning pink."

Holly searched through her bag and pulled out a tube of Piz Buin.

"Come here, let me."

He smoothed the cream over her silky skin, down her arms, around her shoulder blades, delighting in the softness of her skin.

"You'd better nip down to the stream and rinse your hands; otherwise, your lunch will taste disgusting. It's about twenty feet further on."

"Be back in a minute."

Holly watched him go. Bloody hell he was gorgeous! He did seem familiar somehow; maybe she had seen him in the hotel bar or walking around the village. He was the archetypal tall dark and hot as hell! Oh and his eyes, wow! Dark sultry come-to-bed-and-let’s-not-get-up-for-a-week-eyes.

 While he was gone, she tidied the blanket up a bit. She remembered the way his hands felt on her shoulders, long artistic fingers. She wondered what he did for a job; she must ask him when he came back. She stood up and shook the blanket, as she turned around, she could see him crouched down at the edge of the stream. She walked down to him; he was watching something. 

"What have you found?"

He reached for her hand and pulled her down. "It seems like we've ended up in a dragonfly love in." He grinned at her.

Holly looked around the edge of the stream and counted eight pairs of blue and green iridescent dragonflies all curled around one another. 

"They are so pretty", Holly said, she crouched down beside him her hand on his back to keep her balance.

 He slid his hand around her waist, her skin smooth and warm. He so wanted her, wanted to have her in the sunshine on a bed of bracken.

"Didn't you mention lunch?" He asked, pulling her up to her feet.

 "I'm sure you could eat something?" she said her voice cracking.

 He didn't give her a chance to say anything else as his lips came down on hers. His arms wrapped around her slender body. Holly was in paradise; his mouth was firm against hers. She wanted to feel his skin, and she pushed her hands under his T-Shirt, smoothing her hands over his golden skin. She could feel him so hard against her belly. He picked her up and carried her back to the blanket.