Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume Seven

By Amanda Martin

Claire's life revolves around Starbucks, stilettos and her career as an Advertising Account Director for AJC. That is until her boss Carl decides to send her on a mission to visit every one of the 200 YHA hostel in England and Wales as part of a marketing campaign. More used to five-star spa resorts than 'flea-infested hostels' Claire only takes the assignment to save face. It becomes clear to her the 'mission' is a ruse to make her resign.

In volume seven Claire travels from west to south, trying to find somewhere she is welcome, as her life begins to unravel. Her friendship with Kim seems irrevocably broken, she has left Michael behind, and is searching for a new future. Can she continue travelling round the UK, staying in hostels, when life has lost its purpose? Or will she be tempted by new opportunities, either at home or abroad?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Martin
• Release date: Jul 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301718535

Amanda Martin

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire, England. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist before deciding that WriterMummy summed her up best. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara. She can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com

Book preview

AMANDA MARTIN

TWO-HUNDRED STEPS HOME

VOLUME SEVEN

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

Two-Hundred Steps Home is her latest work. Amanda is writing the novel in daily instalments on her WriterMummy blog as part of her 2013 365 post-a-day challenge. This ebook is Volume 7 and contains the 31 instalments from July. To catch up on earlier volumes visit Smashwords.

COPYRIGHT

Published by 3AD Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright © Amanda Martin 2013

Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work

Also by Amanda Martin:

Two-Hundred Steps Home: The Complete Journey

Dragon Wraiths

Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

This novel is entirely a work of fiction although based loosely on the YHA Hostels of England and Wales. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

http://www.amanda-martin.co.uk

http://writermummy.wordpress.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Copyright

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

ONE

Claire dragged at the car handle, but it wouldn’t open. She aimed a kick at the tyre and immediately regretted it, as her toe stabbed through the skimpy sandals she’d purchased to go with her maid of honour dress.

Behind her, she could hear that the band had started their next song. Slowly, the conversation returned, almost drowning out the sound of approaching footsteps. They weren’t the light ones she wanted to hear, but the heavy tread of an unwelcome male. For a moment she hoped it might be Jeff, come to reassure her that Kim wasn’t really that angry. Then she caught a hint of aftershave on the night breeze, and hope died.

Praying she could escape into the dark, Claire scurried round the car and wove through the others in the car park until she reached a Range Rover. Without thinking, Claire ducked down in the shadow of the 4x4 and listened. The footsteps stopped, and she felt he might hear her heart thudding in the silence, despite the sounds of the party in the distance.

Claire?

Michael’s voice rang out, closer than Claire expected. She flinched, but stayed ducked low, trying not to dwell on how absurd her actions were.

Come on, Claire. I saw you come over here. The Skoda’s locked. Why are you hiding like a child?

Because you sound like an angry parent. Claire clenched her jaw, and dug her nails into her hand. She concentrated on keeping her breathing shallow. Go away, Michael. You’ve done enough damage. Let me skulk off in peace.

The footsteps came nearer, crunching the gravel underfoot. Claire tensed, ready to run. She wondered if she should remove her sandals, but they were preferable to running barefoot across the stones. Michael stood between her and the hostel entrance.

What are you going to do, Claire? Hide out here all night? I’m going to go and wait in our room, so you’ll have to face me eventually. He stopped, as if listening for a response.

You’re being childish, Claire. So Kim’s angry, so what? She’s the bride and, from what you say, she’s pregnant. Tears and tantrums go with the territory. His voice sounded amused, patronising. Claire wanted to fly at him and gouge his eyes with her pink nails.

What did I ever see in him? What a self-satisfied prig. Kim was right. Thinking about her best friend – and the look of anger on her face as she inadvertently revealed her secret to all her wedding guests – brought bile to Claire’s throat. Her head thumped with too much champagne and she swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. That would give her away for sure.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. What a mess. She shivered, realising it was bitterly cold out in the car park, away from the heat of the hostel. Come on Michael, go away! She wondered if he was going to stand there all night, cornering her until she had to break cover or freeze. Then she remembered his threat to stand guard over her bag and car keys. What a tosser.

Okay, Claire. Have it your way. I’m going to sit in the warm and wait for you to come to your senses.

She heard the sound of gravel crunching, fading into the distance, as Michael carried out his threat.

Damn! Claire whispered, when she was sure he was gone. She stood and stretched out cramped muscles, resisting the temptation to lean against the Range Rover in case it set off the alarm. How am I going to get my stuff back, without facing him?

She stood in the dark and brushed away the tears, as options ran through her mind. She could bribe a member of staff to distract him, or call the police and tell them Michael was harassing her. Or she could get the RAC to get her into the car, tell them she had dropped the keys down a drain. Or she could just face him, and get it over with. Get the hell out, and leave him and his self-righteous preaching behind.

Shoulders back, chin high, Claire strode towards the building.

***

TWO

Claire strode down the corridor, hoping the surge of anger didn't fade before she reached her room. In her head, she replayed Michael's words, and pushed all thoughts of Kim aside. Time enough to worry about her friend when she had her things and was safely away from the wedding. She had no idea where she would go, but that, too, could wait.

As she stalked past guests, she caught occasional glimpses of their faces. Some merely looked shocked to see her striding past like the grim reaper. Others glared and made noises as if to berate her. She shook them off like pesky flies.

At last the bedroom door was in front of her. She hoped, for a moment, that Michael had been bluffing and had re-joined the party. It would be a relief to collect her things and leave, with no more words spoken. Then his voice echoed in her mind, as he called her childish. His smug, arrogant voice, as he'd explained how he intended to brow-beat her into submission.

Bastard.

Claire flung