13

Celeste had chosen, as per River's joking question at the end of their first date/not-date, the Bank Holiday weekend to make the trip to Scotland and the tea plantations (farms) there. Three days in which Erisa had agreed to look after the little tea shop in River's absence, aided by a cousin of hers that, Erisa assured River, loved tea.

Of course, River had not chosen a new assistant for the tea shop. Not yet. Choosing one applicant, from ones she had interviewed, proved a daunting task and she hoped she could make the choice at some point during the second, extended, date/not-date. She didn't think she could. Apart from the one that Erisa didn't like (read 'despised'), they all seemed like good candidates and she didn't like the idea of disappointing any of them.

Now, while she waited for the huge Lexus to appear in front of the shop, she wished she had already made the decision. It seemed like such an imposition on Erisa, and her cousin, that River almost had a panic attack trying to decide whether it was worse to disappoint Celeste and not go, or Erisa, and her cousin, by having them do her job for her.

Erisa had already sent River back upstairs twice. Both times to weed out the number of clothes she had packed to take with her. The first time, River had packed everything. Two large suitcases filled with dresses, skirts, tops, jumpers, socks, underwear and many pairs of shoes. Erisa had, quite rightly, stated that River was not visiting Scotland for a year. The second attempt still had far too many clothes in only one, large suitcase.

After rummaging through the suitcase, Erisa had pulled out only the items River would need and sent her employer back upstairs to find her smallest suitcase. It still took both of them to close the lid. Even now, River dithered about taking her stoutest, thickest wool coat that she had only ever worn during the last big snowfall, several years before. Erisa vetoed that idea. The only other item she had was the evening dress she had hired, that sat in a clothing bag over her arm.

When Celeste arrived, Erisa manoeuvred River out of the door before she could think of any items she had forgotten, blowing her a kiss as Celeste drove away. She didn't even have her little backpack to hold on to, this time, and sat with her hands upon her lap, fingers twisting together as they made their way towards the motorway and the dreaded 'North'.

"You look good. I like those long skirts you wear." Celeste had a warm smile upon her face, glancing across to River. "I envy that of you. Skirts just don't suit me. I think I look like a man in drag when I wear them."

"I doubt someone who looks like you could ever be mistaken for a man! You're beautiful!" Swallowing the 'eep' that almost escaped her lips, River tried to cover her tracks. "I mean, because, yes, you're tall, but in a slender, statuesque way. And your hair is short, but in a cute, feminine way. I mean, that's not just me thinking that, everyone says so. That is definitely something I've heard people say. Statuesque and cute. Yep, not only me. Others. Lots of others. Lots."

She had never heard anyone else say any of that. A quick glance showed River that Celeste still wore the large, gold ring on the chain. It nestled atop her smooth, flawless chest. The pale blue of Celeste's blouse reflected in the shining metal. She could tell it was a man's ring and people only wore rings in that fashion if it had belonged to someone special. Important.

Luckily, Celeste changed the subject and they began to talk about the last date/not-date and everything that had happened since. The conversation flowed with far greater ease than the last time and the hours seemed to fly by with only a fraction of the awkwardness their previous journey had suffered.

They talked about the tea shop and its highs and higher highs. Of River having to consider taking on more staff. About the interviews and how River still could not decide who to hire. They talked about the influx of new customers, with both the benefits and the problems that that entailed. And Celeste continued asking question after question that almost tired River out from answering.

River didn't realise it, straight away, but they never talked about Celeste. Every time River tried to turn the conversation to the things Celeste had experienced since Truro, the woman managed to slide the topic back to River and her little tea shop. It made River feel more than a little under the spotlight.

Before either of them knew it, after several stops along the way, they passed the border into Scotland and River felt her heart clench. She had never seen anywhere as beautiful. The conversation died away, for a short time, as both River and Celeste took the time to drink in the cinematic scenery. All rolling hills, heather covered fields and mountains rising in the distance. River wondered if Dwarves hid themselves away in those mountains, somewhere deep within the Earth.

They continued on, through the picture-postcard landscape as the sky turned dark. River couldn't believe how the hours had passed so easy. It seemed a long way from the tortuous few hours on the road to Cornwall. She didn't know whether she had talked too much, this time, however. But it felt better to travel like this than in a constant state of trepidation, as she had before.

The headlights of the Lexus brought into focus an astounding looking house, up ahead. Like something from some Period drama, where tight trousered men pursued buxom ladies that looked about ready to explode everywhere with breasts flexing and swelling beneath corset tightened dresses. With walls covered by climbing ivy and leaded windows, the house took River's breath away.

"And here we are. That wasn't too bad, was it?" As the tires crunched upon the gravel of the large driveway, Celeste brought the car to a halt. "Better than last time? Just as bad? We didn't even sing."

"No! No, it was great. Much better." River flung her hand out, miming a plane taking off. "Voosh! Flew by. And we don't have to sing every time we're in a car together. Unless you want to. Did you want to? And I didn't mean to say we'd definitely be in a car together again, I just meant ..."

"It's okay." Celeste laughed, catching River's hand that had started performing aerial acrobatics.

Celeste's hand felt so soft upon hers. Long fingers curled around River's shorter, pudgier ones. Celeste had the kind of fingers that River could imagine floating along the keyboard of a grand piano, playing some complicated but beautiful classical tune that River would struggle to know the name of. She glanced up from those fingers as something caught her attention.

"That's our luggage!" Her head whipped around to see a man walking away from the car, carrying her little, overstuffed suitcase and Celeste's expensive looking bag. She wrestled with her seatbelt. "Bloody Scots! Nicking our gear!"

"Relax. It's okay." Celeste tried to hold on to River's hand as River tried to dive from the car after their luggage. "River. River! It's porter service at this hotel. He's carrying our bags to the reception."

"Porter service?" River looked across Celeste, out through the window and realised the man did appear a little too well-dressed for a thief and his clothes did look a little uniform-y. "I didn't know. You must think I'm a right idiot. I've never been to a hotel that had porters. Well, I haven't been to many hotels. Except Marbella, with my Mum and Dad, and I'd struggle to call them hotels. More like broom closets with beds. Sorry. I'm going to embarrass you, aren't I?"

"Never." Giving River's hand a little squeeze, Celeste unfastened her seat belt and opened her door.

Nervous, River tried to walk behind Celeste as they entered the reception area of the hotel. Sure enough, their luggage sat in front of the reception desk, where a woman wearing a tartan sash across her shoulder smiled at them as they entered. She seemed pleasant enough, even though River had trouble understanding her accent, although it did sound nice coming from the woman. Sing-song.

After a little conversation with the woman on the reception, Celeste returned to River and the man who had carried their bags from the car reappeared from nowhere, lifting their luggage and waiting for River and Celeste to follow him up the curving staircase.

Everything looked like something from a movie. A chandelier lit the area from above, hundreds of glass attachments sending glittering light cascading down. The walls were all dark, polished wood. The carpets, worn, but still deep and colourful, with delicate patterns. River didn't know where to place her eyes. She hadn't even started to look at the portraits and landscape paintings that sat upon the wooded walls.

"I get the feeling this is a very expensive hotel." Holding her hands tight to her body, River tried, very hard, not to touch anything. Not a thing. She didn't fancy breaking some two hundred year old thing, handed down from Clan chief to Clan chief. "I feel out of place. Out of place and overwhelmed. Out of place, overwhelmed and certain I can't afford it. Out of place, over ..."

"Don't worry about anything. You're not out of place anywhere." Celeste stopped on a step, waiting for River to catch up. She had fallen behind, feeling more than a little out of her depth. "This is my treat. A gift to you for making the trip to Truro so enjoyable. This weekend is all paid for. I don't want you to worry about anything. Just enjoy yourself."

River wasn't certain she could enjoy herself. In her mind, she found herself making several back-of-the-envelope calculations and the numbers that she estimated, only from what she had seen, almost made her choke. How could she relax knowing how much Celeste was wasting upon her?