Goodmans Hotel

Three more hours of driving took us into Scotland and we paused once more, relieved to step out of the van, straighten our backs and exercise our legs. We bought hot drinks in the café, where a noisy group of half a dozen boys and girls of his age who loitered around a couple of tables looked across at Darren a number of times. He used the toilets before we left and one of the girls stopped him with some query or other on his way back.

'An admirer?' I asked as he climbed back into the van.

'After something you wouldn't approve of. What kind of place have you brought me to, women accosting me for drugs outside the toilets?' They were probably bored local kids who had driven up to the café in some battered old car or cadged a lift and were hanging around in the hope that something exciting would happen.

Wanting to talk I said, 'She might have been after something else. How do we know you're not bisexual?'

'How do we know you're not?' He had become good at turning questions back on people.

'No, tried it. Women don't do it for me. The attraction isn't there.' He grinned and put his earpieces in again and went back to his music.

We drove on for another couple of hours, crossed the Forth Bridge, and followed the motorway all the way to Perth, arriving in darkness at the cottage. Vincent was ready for us with a humorous greeting at the door. He raised a hand and said, 'One minute,' then turning his head called inside: 'Were you expecting two gay boys this evening, Zetta?'

'Are they nice looking?'

'Not bad.'

'Well let them in then.'

The 'cottage' was actually a gaunt three bedroom house at the end of a short terrace on the outskirts of the town. What happened next rather countered the effect of Vincent's warm welcome. He took us upstairs while Lizetta prepared the evening meal. They had taken the largest bedroom at the front, and he showed us into the one at the back, a reasonable size, furnished with an old fashioned chest of drawers, a fitted wardrobe and a double bed. 'Not up to your standards at the hotel, but will it do for a couple of nights?'

'Bed looks comfortable. This do you, Darren?'

'Yeah, it's fine.'

Still carrying my bag I left Darren to settle into the room and paused near the top of the stairs, waiting for Vincent to show me the third bedroom. He followed, looked at me and smiled uncertainly, confused by my actions. He had evidently been expecting us to sleep together.