Page 44 of Merry & Bright
“It looks like it’s had a good innings though,” Alan added as though that should somehow cheer Cam up. “How long have you had it?”
“All I know is, it’s been in the cottage since my folks bought the place,” Cam replied. “That was twenty-odd years ago.”
“Yeah, well they don’t make them like this anymore,” Alan said in a regretful tone, turning his head back to look into the depths of the understairs cupboard. “The new ones don’t last the same.”
For a moment, they both contemplated the clunked-out boiler. Its once-white exterior had a greyish tinge now, betraying its advanced years, and a rash of rust crept down the seam of the casing, spreading over the bottom corners of the unit like patches of eczema.
Why couldn’t it have kept going just a little bit longer?Cam couldn’t afford to replace it right now. He justcouldn’t. He pressed his lips together, determined not to let Alan see how devastated he was by such ordinary news. The thought of Alan gossiping to the other villagers about him made his gut clench with sick resentment. He could just imagine what they’d say about him.
Apparently he can’t even scrape together a couple of grand for a new boiler. That business of his can’t be doing too well...
Cam cleared his throat. “So, there’s nothing you can do to fix it, is that what you’re telling me?” The words came out wrong. In his head, they were a plea. On his lips, they sounded sort of...disbelieving. That certainly seemed to be how Alan took them anyway, judging by the faintly affronted look he cast Cam’s way.
“Yes,” the plumber said tautly. “That’s what anyone’ll tell you.”
Great. Now he thought Cam had been questioning his honesty.
Cam considered admitting that he just couldn’t afford any repairs. But in the end, all he said was, “Okay. Well, thanks for coming round on such short notice.” He cringed inwardly at the coolness of this dismissal but Alan seemed to take it pretty well. His annoyed expression faded and he even gave Cam a friendly nod.
“No bother,” he replied, picking up his toolbox. But with his next words, it became plain he hadn’t picked up Cam’s intended meaning. “So, shall I get you a couple of trade catalogues out of the van? If you want the work done any time soon, you’ll need to get a new boiler ordered sharpish. New Year’s a bloody awful time for getting parts.”
“Oh, no, don’t do that!” Cam blurted. Alan frowned, puzzled, and Cam cast around for an excuse to give. “I—uh, I think I’ll get a second opinion on whether it can be fixed first.”
There was a long silence and Cam’s heart sank as he realised that this time he really had offended his neighbour. Coming on the heels of his earlier comment, this one probably made him sound as though he thought Alan was trying to rip him off, or perhaps just that he thought Alan was a rubbish plumber. Either way, the man looked to be tight-lipped with anger now.
Cam opened his mouth to try to repair the damage, to take the comment back or qualify it, apologise—something—but he couldn’t find the words to smooth this over, not without admitting the truth about how broke he was.
Before Cam could say anything else, Alan brushed past him, making for the front door. “Well, good luck finding someone to fix it,” he said tightly. “I hope you don’t get a burst pipe in the meantime. Snow’s forecast this week, you know.”
And then he was out the door and striding down the path to his van.
Cam watched him go, cursing inwardly, then he sighed and closed the door, turning back to face the interior of his too-small, run-down, depressing fucking cottage.
He needed a new boiler.
He needed fifteen hundredfuckingquid.Fifteen hundred!
Jesus.
He could barely meet his bills at the moment. He actually had a decent number of bookings for trips and events next year but they didn’t start till late April. The next few months stretched ahead, long and cold and income-free.
Cam wandered into the living room and dropped down onto the sagging, ancient couch with a sigh. As usual, whenever he let himself think about his predicament, he felt his gut begin to churn and his heart to race a little. Classic signs of stress and anxiety, and heknewit. Knew to take deep breaths. Knew to try to turn his thoughts in a positive direction. He’d always been a bit of a worrier—his brain could take him to worst-case scenarios in a hop, skip and jump. The trouble was, though, he couldn’t see a positive way of looking at this. There was no getting away from the fact that he had no source of income for the next four months.
When he’d set up Glen Croe Adventures, he’d counted on at least some bookings for the various activities over the winter months—the canoeing, kayaking and cycling could be done at any time of year and he offered generous discounts out of high season. He’d reasoned that there were loads of regular holidaymakers who had weekend places in the area who always had their eyes open for new things to do. And then there were all those businesses across the central belt who might be interested in team building and charity events, maybe even some corporate hospitality for the adventure-inclined. Back in his days as a big-firm accountant, Cam had been on several such outings, though he’d personally always found them too easy for his fitness level.
That was why he’d decided Glen Croe Adventures would offer more challenging options. He’d spent ages researching and planning routes, putting details on his website, and getting flyers printed for the local Tourist Information offices. The site was getting plenty of hits too, and decent numbers for summer, just no winter bookings. It seemed he’d grossly underestimated just how seasonal the business was going to be.
Cam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He made himself take a few deep breaths then scrubbed his hands over his face, as though the physical sensation might somehow force him back into the here-and-now, even as his mind continued to race.
He was tempted to switch on his laptop and start going through the spreadsheets again, just to see if there wassomewherehe could find the money. A ridiculous impulse—he already knew there was no money anywhere. He knew his figures so well, he could practically recite them. Knew very well how worrying his situation was. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to run through the cold, hard facts:
He was almost a year in, and still his business wasn’t profitable.
He had no source of income for the winter months.
He had a payment he needed to make on his bank loan every month.
His redundancy money was gone.