Chapter 1 – Bleak Midwinter
Christian was bored. He shrugged on his jacket and stepped outside taking in the view and shivered. He was bored and cold. He leant over and picked up a couple of empty beer bottles from the veranda, his temple throbbed.
Christian was cold, bored and hung over. He placed the bottles on the top of the wall, scooped up a weapon and threw it with some vigour. An unsuspecting and innocent bottle took the brunt of his anger as the missile landed square on and it fell, but there was no satisfying crash of broken glass just a slight thud and the thick new fallen snow swallowed it up.
A second snowball followed with the same effect, he raised his arms in triumph before realising there was no-one there to share his victory so he pushed his now ice cold hands into his gloves and wrapped his arms around himself.
Christian was cold, bored, hungover and lonely. What on earth ever possessed him to come here, to the back of beyond at this time of year on his own? This was so not him, not him at all. He should be taking in the sun on a beach, lying out stripped to his speedo's enjoying the sight of sun-kissed well oiled bodies parading along the boulevard, or squeezing chest to chest against hot sweaty bodies writhing to the thumping music in a Barcelona night club.
He didn't do the country at the best of times, never mind in the depth of February in a remote area of Scotland where everyone was related to everyone else and nothing opened on a Sunday because the church demanded the full attention of the local populous. Their shock as he declined the offer to join them had been thinly disguised.
He kicked at the snow, wrapped his scarf tighter and trudged down the path to walk the half mile to the nearest form of life, the chalet shop, which although he knew would be closed for the Sabbath, he had been assured would leave milk and the Sunday papers open for residents to help themselves, along with an honesty box. He laughed inwardly at the thought, can you imagine the Minute Mart operating an honesty box, Patrick would be bankrupt within a week!
He hoped Julie would not be hanging around waiting for him. To be fair when he first arrived four days ago she had been the only really friendly face he met. All the others had taken one look at his clearly non winter, non country attire and branded him a 'southern softy' before he even spoke.
The problem was that Julie, who ran the retreat's so called leisure centre, had become a little too friendly. The leisure centre consisted of a swimming pool which should be more accurately called a swimming puddle, clearly meant for children to splash in rather than actual swimming, a small jaccuzi, a couple of exercise bikes, a sauna and a sunbed. So far he had been the only person making use of it which left Julie openly ogling and flirting with him. To begin with he had joined in with the flirtatious banter, enjoying drawing a blush to her cheeks, but he quickly realised while it was all good fun for him, it was a touch too serious for her.
With the resort being family run, and the size of her father and brothers toying with her emotions was probably not the smartest move. He did think of telling her he was gay, but suspected this might not be a concept that she understood – and looking at the size of her father and bothers….
He really didn't want to stand out any more as being any more different from the crowd, they already looked at him with considerable suspicion, only tempered by the fact that in the small shed they called a pub he had opened his wallet last night and allowed the whisky to flow freely. Hence the throbbing temples! It was clearly an unexpected gesture; maybe it was true that Ian's legendary meanness was genetic after all!
Jane, oh how she would laugh if she saw him now, walking half a mile to read a newspaper he wasn't even interested in to find something to do, to keep his mind occupied, to stop him from thinking too much, from worrying, from realising just how empty and hopeless his life really was. He didn't like having to lie to her, it wasn't his nature, and the worst of it was he couldn't even call her to hear a friendly voice. This god forsaken place didn't even have a phone signal. There was a pay phone in the pub but the background noise would be too much of a giveaway, it wouldn't take her long to figure out he wasn't where he said he was going to be, he wasn't enjoying the nightlife in Ibiza.
He groaned out loud, he was bored, cold, hungover and lonely, so what exactly WAS he doing here. Then he remembered they eyes, the brown soulful eyes pleading with him. It all started out so appealingly, a whole 4 days together away from Walford, away from prying eyes, away from family. Some time to luxuriate in each other, to find each other, to love each other without the constraints of the ticking clock demanding Sy's attention, drawing him away before the heat of their bodies had even died down. It still sounded appealing in principle, but this was reality and Christian flip flopped between the hope that all his dreams of four days of blissful passion would be fulfilled and the nagging fear that Sy would chicken out, that he would be forced to spend the full ten days on his own with a only bunch of inbreds for company.
Syed's strength of conviction in their relationship (can you call something a relationship when one half refuses to use the term boyfriend?) warmed when his eyes were locked on him and reflecting his smouldering lust, but cooled as soon as the connection was broken.
Would it be out of sight, out of mind? Would a few days of complete separation cool his ardour completely? Would he succumb to the safety of the charms of Amira, of the family, of the mosque? Would he forget him so quickly?
The desperation gripped him again. Zainab had already been complaining before he left that Masala Queen couldn't cope with both of them being away at the same time, with Christian going on holiday for a fortnight she couldn't possibly spare Syed time off to go to a course, even if it would help the business.
Would her insistence grow? Would that streak in Syed that continually sought appeasement from his mother outweigh the desires that were so deeply hidden from all but himself? Would he, Christian be at the bottom of the list once again, eventually returning to Walford to a sting of apologies, more wounded and soulful brown eyes, and if so what was his response to be?
"Hello there, bonnie morning isn't it."
His thoughts were broken by the delightful lilt of Julie's voice.
"Surprised to see you up and about, Dad says you fair packed away the drink last night. He was impressed you could keep up with the locals you know."
Christian grinned, "It was a good night, I think I met most of your family. I didn't think you worked on a Sunday?"
"I don't just come back from the Kirk, want me to take you around to see the sights?" she suggested hopefully.
"Nah, you're okay, enjoy your day of rest", he turned away towards the chalet shop before swiveling around again, "There haven't been any messages for me have there?"
She shook her head looking distinctly disappointed "Expecting a message from your girlfriend are you?"
"Not me darling, strictly unattached me", he grinned much to her delight, "Just my friend is due to join me this evening and I wondered if the weather would affect his travel plans."
"Oooh! Is he as dishy as you are? Could do with some more talent round here! Haven't heard anything, but if I do I'll drive up to your cabin."
He put his head down and walked on, well no message that was encouraging. If Syed wasn't coming surely when he couldn't raise him on the mobile he would think to leave a message, wouldn't he? Six hours, that's all he was due to wait, six hours...he could do this.