"Miss Isobelle Harding," our principal, Mr. Saunders, called me to the stage.
Shaking with adrenaline and sweating like a bitch in heat, I ascended the steps with the sound of applause ringing in my ears. All my focus went into not tripping in my graduation gown and looking like a complete dickhead in front of all these people. The pressure of having a hundred pairs of eyes following me across the stage scorched my face with embarrassment. I wasn't exactly an outgoing person and despised being the center of attention. Perspiration formed across my upper lip like a sweaty mustache, making me feel sticky and gross.
Why did this gown have to be made from black polyester?
In temperatures of eighty-six degrees, the heavy material was suffocating. By the time I had walked across the stage floor, I was a flustered mess. As subtle as I could muster, I wiped my damp palms against my gown before accepting the diploma. The principal grasped my clammy hand as we exchanged an awkward handshake. I couldn't get away quick enough, scampering off down the opposite steps to where my best friend, Joanne Prichard, was waiting for me.
A beaming smile spread wide across her face. "We did it!" she squealed jubilantly, bouncing on her heels.
"I know," I gushed, relieved that the torture was finally over. "Thank fuck for that. No more essays. No more exams. We’re fully-fledged adults. Productive members of society," I expressed, reminiscent of all the caffeine-infused nights that we had endured over the last few years.
“Soon-to-be taxpayers you mean,” Joanne replied, bursting my bubble.
My heart dropped. “Oh, yeah. And repaying the student loans.” The thought was daunting.
"Fuck the loans. I can't believe you're going away tomorrow. I'm gutted I can't come with you," Joanne grumbled, pouting her lips to display her envy. “You’re such a lucky bitch.”
It was true. I was lucky to have been chosen out of all the other candidates. The university had secured a grant for one person to travel abroad to study a rare species of Canis lupus, more commonly known as wolves. An unknown species was found in the faraway state of Whitehaven, and I had been chosen to research them. All the necessary equipment, also food and lodging, would be provided. I didn’t have to worry about anything. When the information pack came through the mail, I obsessively scoured through it to find out anything I could about the place, the culture, and whether I’d be staying in the wilderness or a town with lots of people. I decided to run a G****e search to see if it would bring up a street view, but each time I tried, the search engine didn’t recognize the location. Whitehaven was so remote, there weren't even any news articles available. It’s like it didn’t exist.
"I know . . . I've never been as far as Spain before," I replied. "I've always wanted to go to America. Now my dream is becoming a reality." I clapped my hands with excitement, feeling proud of myself.
My mum was concerned about me traveling alone, which didn't ease my anxiety. As much as I craved my independence, I was nervous about taking this giant leap and it surprised me when my professor mentioned I would be going alone. It would have been nice to have a companion. Joanne was visibly disappointed. Not that she wasn’t happy for me, but because this would be the longest time we would ever spend apart.
"There you are, girls," Dad chimed as he rushed towards us.
My mother was hot on his heels, as were Joanne's parents. They were all bleary-eyed after shedding proud tears of joy during the ceremony.
"Let's get a decent photo of you to commemorate this occasion," Joanne's dad, Gordon, urged.
"Just the girls first, then we'll do one with the mums, then the dads, and then finish with a group photo," Gordon directed, organizing things.
I posed beside Joanne, both giving our best smiles before our mothers ambushed us.
After taking lots of photos, Gordon passed around the camera, allowing us all to view our pictures on the digital screen. My smile faltered as I witnessed the unfiltered reality of a bog-standard image.
Where the hell was a Snapchat filter when you needed one?
"This is one of the proudest moments of my life," my dad, Arron, gushed with pride. "The other times were marrying you, Fiona, and of course, when you were born," he said, as he pinched my flushed cheek.
I cringed, baring my teeth.
"Shall we go to The Smoke House for dinner?" I suggested.
That was mine and Joanna's favorite restaurant, and I wanted us to enjoy one last meal together before I leave for the summer. I would be gone for twelve weeks. That would mean three long months of missing everybody. I wasn't going to hold my breath that they would have sufficient WIFI out in the sticks. It would be just my luck to be given a carrier pigeon to send messages back and forth.
"We've never been there, have we, Gordon?" Joanne's mum, Norah asked.
Gordon pressed his lips together as he thought. "Isn't that the one that serves cowboy food?"
"That's the one," Joanne replied, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Dad. Cowboy food." She chortled.
"I bet our Izzy will get to experience the real deal over the pond," my dad added, "Real cowboy food." He beamed.
Dad had always wanted to go to America, and experience how cowboys lived. He loved watching old western films and often wondered what it would be like to ride on horseback. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t all like that. Whenever he watched an old film on television, he would comment on how his lifelong dream was to sit and eat food that had been cooked on an open bonfire, ride through the wild west, and sleep under the stars. Sorry, Dad but you’re a few decades too late. My grandparent’s equestrian center a half a mile down the road from us didn't quite cut it in comparison. He would have to make do with an electric barbecue, and a walk, trot, and canter around the paddock.
"I will not be hanging around any cowboys, Dad. Where I'm going, there's nothing but forest and mountains for miles," I explained.
Not that the thought of strapping big countrymen wearing slack jeans and not much else didn't seem appealing to me, because it did. A girl could dream, and those were exactly the kind of thoughts I could pack in my spank bank and fantasize about during the twelve-hour flight.
My father's exuberant expression never faltered despite what I told him. "It's still going to be brilliant though, no matter what. It's a fabulous opportunity they have given you," he chirped happily.
"I couldn't agree more," I replied, still relishing the delicious imagery of me riding a ranch-hand called Hank like a bucking bronco. Hank the hunk who was hung like a —
"Earth to Izzy," Mum chuckled, snapping me out of my reverie.
I blushed furiously. I had been single for way too long, and my overactive imagination was reminding me of that.
Dad's upbringing was not as cushy as mine had been. He came from a life of poverty on a council estate in Bradford. Both his parents had died whilst he was little, and he went to live with his aunt. He shared a bedroom with five of his cousins, and each of them survived on one meal a day. Money was tight, and he left school to get a job so he could help his aunt the best he could. It was only after he turned twenty, he joined the police force, starting from the bottom, then spent years progressing through the ranks to become the Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police.
Mum came from a modest middle-class family in Warwickshire. Her life was a stark contrast to the way Dad lived. She had never experienced poverty and didn't understand how it felt to go hungry. My grandparents always made sure she was happy and never went without. They bred racehorses and enjoyed holidays abroad every year, whereas Dad had never even visited the seaside. Mum studied to become a Pediatric Surgeon and currently worked at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London. Both my parents came from opposite walks of life, yet their paths entwined together somewhere along the way. That's almost poetic if you think about it . . . like fate had brought them together.
My parents were supportive of me. I have always shown an interest in animal biology, so I knew it was my future vocation. The type of career that would enable me to travel the globe and take me to places that I could only read about in reference books. Those were my dreams, and I couldn't help but wonder whether fate had any plans in store for me too.
We arrived at the restaurant and were shown to a large oval table right in front of an open-plan kitchen. We could see the chefs cooking, turning the meat on the grills, and the yellow flames licking the sides of the steaks. The cowboy-themed décor and the aroma from the smokers made it feel as if we were in the real Wild West. After perusing the wooden-backed menu, I had decided on the chicken bucket special and a large glass of house red. A twenty-something guy wearing a red plaid shirt and jeans took our orders. We didn’t have to wait too long before he worked his little butt off to bring the food to our table, earning his service charge as he worked those buns.
"Mm, this brisket is to die for," Mum complimented as she tucked into her food.
Norah gave Mum a look which suggested that she was immensely satisfied. "It is. It just melts in your mouth . . . and this barbecue sauce is, mmm, heaven."
I flashed a grin at Joanne who was glowing crimson with shame, embarrassed by the orgasmic noises that our mothers were making as they savored the food.
"I think we should bring our wives here more often, Gordon," Dad joked, looking at his friend with a wide-eyed expression on his face.
Gordon snorted with a nod. "I know. They seem to love the meat, all right."
At that point, Joanne nearly died of humiliation and so did I. Her fork dropped from her fingers and clattered onto the table.
"Izzy, are you coming to spend a penny?" she asked hastily. It was a polite way to ask if I would accompany her to the women's restroom.
I followed her as she weaved past the tables filled with happy diners. The moment that we were out of earshot, she rounded on me.
"Why are they like this? We can't bloody take them anywhere," she whined in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.
"They're having fun. It's cute. My parents work all the hours that God sends. It makes a change, seeing them spend time together like this," I replied with a shrug.
Joanne chewed on the inside of her cheek before answering. "Yeah, but they don't give a shit what they say and who hears them," she huffed with a half-laugh. “What am I going to do without you? I’ll be all alone, wallowing in second-hand embarrassment.”
Joanne was easy to embarrass; it didn't take much. Just the mention of sex was enough to turn her a deep shade of red. I wasn't a prude by any means, but I kept my saucy thoughts to myself. I locked those in a vault in the back of my brain, never to be brought out into the open.
After a brief moment of respite, we returned to the table to finish our meals. The conversation flowed smoothly, and the alcohol lifted my spirits. Now wasn’t the time to get all sentimental about leaving my family and friends behind. I was looking forward to whatever the future had in store for me.
Once the evening ended, we said our farewells. Three months would be over in a flash. I would be back before they know it. My only concern was the lack of service my mobile phone was likely to receive high in the mountain range. It would make calling and texting difficult. But that was a problem I would have to face another day. Tonight, I was planning to dream about Hank and his extra-large plank.
The following morning . . . “Have you got all of your travel documents and your visa?” Mum asked as she crossed off each item on the checklist. Mum was a list maker. Not a single day went by when she didn’t compile a list of things that she needed to do or things she needed to buy. This time, she had put together a list of all the items I needed to take with me to America. “Yes, Mum, they’re in the travel wallet you bought for me,” I replied, holding it up as evidence. “See, Arron. Those things come in handy, don’t they? They keep everything together all in one place. Everybody should have one,” Mum suggested as she wagged her index finger at Dad. He had initially scoffed at the idea of owning one, back when she was ordering them from eBay the other week. Mum began rhyming things off, using her fingers to count on. “Let’s see, you’ve got your money. We packed your suitcases. Do you have a spare charger? Did you get one?” she questioned, her brows almost hitting her hairline as if
I gazed out through the windscreen and up at the highlighted brickwork. The spotlights on the walls bathed the guesthouse in a pale-yellow hue and a sun canopy stretched around the front of the building like a light and dark striped skirt. The inside was just as modern as the outside. Peter helped to bring my belongings to the reception desk. We had to be quiet so as not to wake the sleeping borders. Chloe and Lincoln were there to greet us, and what a fine-looking couple they were too. Chloe’s summer dress clung to her voluptuous figure like she had been hand-stitched into it, and her blonde hair and tanned skin gave her a healthy glow. Her husband, Lincoln, stood around six-foot-five, rocking the hot mountain man look without really having to try. Either he was well-endowed, or a snake had slithered up the inside leg of his jeans, because fuck me, that was one impressive appendage. I turned my attention elsewhere. Peter and Lincoln carried all my luggage to my room, allowing Chlo
Chloe pulled into a free parking bay along the edge of the town square. Lakewell was a cute little place that had an ample number of shops, despite being in such a small, populated area. I had an excellent view of White Lake from this side of the town. There was a picnic park along the water’s edge with an adventure playground for children. The harbor was bustling with families all out enjoying the sunshine and feeding the ducks clumps of bread. I could imagine this place being great to raise a family. Chloe and Lincoln certainly picked the nicest place to raise Angelica and Cameron. “I’m going to take the kids to choose a gift for Lincoln. We could meet up for lunch later if you don’t want to be dragged from store to store by the kids,” Chloe suggested. “I’ll meet up with you later,” I decided, wanting to go off and explore on my own for a while. “I need to pick up a few essentials.” Chloe nodded, chuckling at the unusual term I used for browsing. “It’s impossible to get lost arou
“So that’s it? They just returned unscathed?” I asked disappointedly. Call me wicked, but I hoped there would be a raunchy tale to tell. Something to fantasize about when I go to sleep at night. “I can only repeat what I know.” Teresa shrugged. “The girls weren’t harmed in any way; they came back with the same excuses. That the men were searching for the ideal woman, but they never found the right one,” she finished. “Personally, I think that most of them went looking for trouble. Most seemed disheartened when they came back unfulfilled.” She scrunched her face in revulsion. Chloe giggled and even Teresa relaxed and saw the funny side. The scientist in me was rolling my eyes, calling this out for the bullshit that it was, but after the night I had, something Teresa had just said resonated with me. Like an itch I just had to scratch or else it would bug me. “I thought I heard wolves howling outside the guest house last night,” I told them. Chloe frowned. “Kids love to pull prank
All was quiet in the guesthouse as I returned. I wondered if any other guests had checked in since my arrival. There wasn’t any sign of Chloe and the children. They must have gone into their living quarters to relax. I returned to my room, noticing the maids had made the bed, and left clean towels on the comforter.They hadn’t touched my recording equipment. It was stacked in the corner of the room where Peter said it was. A large brown envelope caught my eye. Someone had propped it up on my pillow. It looked important. I emptied the contents onto the crisp white sheets, finding the keys to the car, Peter’s email address on a piece of folded notepaper, and the log-in information I needed. As if the universe thought I needed a break, my phone rang. It was my mother. I swiped my finger across the touchscreen to answer the call. “Hi, Mum. How are things at home?”“Great,” Mum replied. “I’m just checking in with you to see how you’re settling in.”“Everything’s fine. I went into Lakewell
I bucked and thrashed to break free of my kidnapper’s iron grip, but it was useless. Whoever he was, his strength exceeded my own and all I could do was scream bloody murder as he dragged me deep into the forest. No one would know where I was. I dropped my backpack on the lawn. My camera was still dangling from the cord around my neck, weighing me down and biting into my nape. My terrified screams turned to desperate sobs. At one point, a hand pressed down so hard over my mouth that I thought I might pass out. I could scarcely see a thing as he pulled me through the thicket. All I could hear was ragged breathing and the sound of heavy footsteps beating on the ground — until the bickering started.“What part of ‘let me handle it’ did not sink into your thick skull?” an angry voice roared. “Can we not discuss this now? I'm kind of busy here, in case you haven’t noticed,” the guy holding me answered him.“Go easy on her, she still needs to breathe,” a raspy voice snapped.There are thr
He turned me around and pulled me to the couch, the soles of my sneakers squeaking against the varnished floor. The men darted back from the adjoining room wearing shorts and nothing else. One guy flung a pair through the air and my captor caught it with one hand, then whirled me into the arms of a blond guy. He wasn’t as rough, but he showed no signs of letting me go, pulling me back on the couch and onto his lap. The guy who dragged me from the door put on his shorts and then went to join the others. They huddled together and muttered between them, “Why don’t you say something? You’re the eldest.” Two of them shoved the nominee forward — a strapping guy with dark hair, a cropped beard, and silvery grey eyes. He seemed like such a bad-tempered bastard, turning to snap at them like a rabid dog. But then he dragged his gaze to me and held it there as if he was contemplating what to say. “I’m Alex Bennett,” he introduced himself; his tone remained firm. “On behalf of me and my brothe
They wanted to wait until Alex came back from the kitchen, which was fair enough. This concerned him too. He carried a red mug by the handle, treading carefully so as not to spill a drop onto the floor.So, he’s houseproud — noted. I could tell a lot from someone by their actions. The way they respected their living space and the people around them.“Here, I hope I’ve made it right,” Alex handed me a mug of steaming hot tea then put a coaster onto the coffee table in front of me.I took in every detail, making a mental note of their behavior patterns. It would help me to figure out what made them tick. After inspecting the tea, I risked a sip. It wasn’t too milky, and it wasn’t too strong . . . it won my seal of approval. We were off to an impressive start.Alex watched me, cringing to see whether the drink was to my liking. He wanted to impress me, but why would he care? Kidnappers were supposed to be wretched, horrid, despicable human beings with agendas. They don’t offer their hos