Nigel Pickering was an average middle class English lad. At the age of 19, he had opted to take a "gap year" between leaving school and going up to Oxford to study Law as his father had done, but was none too sure about what to do. His parents, who were, after all, being invited to fund the apparent continuation of Nigel's dependency on them for some time, were keen that it should be something that would get him well away from the narrow world of academia. Nigel's father suggested that a Short Service Commission in the army might well be a good thing – apart from anything else, it would be paid. His mother, however, was not keen. The British army, she pointed out, had gained such a reputation as an efficient peacekeeping force in Northern Ireland that it was now being invited to carry out more and more of this sort of thing in an assortment of unfriendly parts of the world.
Nigel's father was bemoaning this situation in his club as he shared a bottle of moderately good claret with a colleague from his barristers' chambers. His colleague thought for a moment, before suggesting a possible solution. An old school friend of his ran a small hotel in Scotland. It was moderately successful, but he needed somebody to help out. He couldn't afford to pay union rates, but it would probably suit young Nigel.
Thus it was that Nigel found himself packed onto a train heading towards Edinburgh, with a couple of bags containing his clothes, his walkman and tapes and a few books. Once separated from his parents, he was able to go into the station bookstore to lay in a small supply of porno magazines, to keep himself occupied out in the middle of nowhere.
As the train carried him inexorably northwards, Nigel gazed out of the window and wondered what his six months at the hotel would be like. It had been a struggle to convince his parents that at least half his gap year should be spent traveling, and the deal was that his father would match anything he had managed to save from his earnings in the "working" half of his gap year to fund the "travel" half. He knew little about the hotel where he was going, save that it was a small place out in the country, run by Mr Ferguson and his wife and catering mainly to the outdoor pursuits clientele in the various seasons. There was also a small campsite next to the hotel, and Nigel's main tasks would be running that for the summer months, and then helping out in the main hotel in the autumn through Hogmanay, after which the place closed down until Easter. He knew that the Fergusons had a daughter, slightly older than him, who helped out during her university vacations. His mind dwelt a little on the thought of the daughter, as, like most boys of his age, he was obsessed with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, having been to an all boys' school, he hadn't had much opportunity to mix with girls, and was, to his continuing frustration and disappointment, still a virgin.
Changing trains at Edinburgh, Nigel continued by local train and bus until he reached the nearest public transport link with his destination. This being in the days when mobile phones were in their infancy, he went to the familiar red phone box to call the Hotel. Upon being told that it would take only twenty minutes to reach him, Nigel sat in the bus shelter watching the light summer rain sweep in waves across what he thought must be hills, if he had been able to make them out properly. Eventually, a Ford Transit minibus with the name "Fergusons' Hotel" painted on the side up, and a cheery voice called, "Are you Nigel? Jolly good, put your things in the back and hop in." He put his bags in the back, and climbed in beside the driver, who introduced herself. "Hello" she said with a slight Scottish accent, "I'm Mary Ferguson, Alec would have come himself, but he's getting the bar ready for this evening. I need to get back and get on with the dinner."
As they drove along the hilly, winding roads, Nigel quietly eyed Mary. Slightly plump, with short reddish blond hair she seemed to be in her early to mid thirties. Nigel was a bit disappointed, as he though that this meant the daughter would be in her early teens. She wore a plain white blouse and jeans, and drove carefully, explaining that sheep often strayed onto the road. She told Nigel that the hotel stood in its own grounds, and had been a small hunting lodge until a forced sale to pay death duties. It had passed through a number of hands, until her husband had used an inheritance to buy it and turn it into an hotel. They had been there for a number of years, slowly building up a reputation and clientele of regular customers who kept coming back. The campsite was a new venture, to try to maximize profits, and it would be Nigel's task to see to it that it ran efficiently. He would be required to collect and account for all the fees paid by the campers, keep the bathroom and shower block clean and enforce the few rules and regulations, mostly relating to fire regulations. His accommodation would be a small bed-sit and bathroom flat over the newly built shower block.
The minibus slowed to a halt, and turned into a driveway bearing the same sign as that shown on the side of the bus, and he saw a medium sized grey building loom through the drizzle. Mary drove round the side, and pulled up beside a gate leading into what was obviously, from the presence of a couple of orange and blue tents, the campsite. Mary helped Nigel with his bags to the shower block, gave him a key, and told him to go in and get settled, and then come through to the main hotel for a bite to eat when he was ready. "You'll be tired from your journey, so we won't put you to work until the morning." she said with a smile as she drove the bus round to the back of the hotel and out of his sight.
Nigel unlocked the side door, and carried his bags upstairs. Dropping them on the floor, he surveyed his home for the next six months. A light and airy room met his gaze, with a sofa, television & VCR, cabinet with refrigerator, coffee table, large wardrobe and a queen size bed. There was a white tiled bathroom, with a washstand and bath/shower. Nigel stretched, tired from his journey, and fetched his toilet bag from his bag and had a quick shower before putting on a clean shirt before running through the rain to the hotel. Finding his way through to the bar, he saw a tall overweight man with thinning blond polishing glasses. "You must be Nigel. Welcome, welcome. I'm sure you're tired out, so we'll just give you a bite and a drink and see you in the morning. Would you like a beer or a whisky?"
During the year or so that Nigel had been old enough to drink legally, he had never really taken to spirits so he asked for beer. Alec called through to the kitchen, and began chatting to Nigel. He ran over much the same stuff that Mary had on the journey, but Nigel listened politely as he sipped his beer and ate up the bangers and mash that had been placed before him. A few guests began to drift into the bar as he finished, and Alec waved goodnight to him as he headed out and back to his flat. "Breakfast in here at 8" were the last words he heard as headed out.
The next morning, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep, Nigel got up. He took a quick shower, made his bed and was in the hotel at 10 to 8. Mary was laying up a few tables, and told him to sit at the bar whilst she got his breakfast ready. He looked around the oak paneled room with its hunting prints and stags' heads on the walls, and looking back behind the bar saw a girl aged about 20 come through from the kitchen bearing a tray laden with the "full fried" breakfast. She smiled as she placed the tray down, and unloaded in front of him the pot of tea, the bowl of porridge with jug of cream, and the covered plate that he later discovered held bacon, fried bread, eggs, ham, tomatoes, mushrooms and black pudding. "I'll be back with toast and marmalade later" she said. "You must be Nigel? I'm Dawn. I'm Alec and Mary's daughter." Even if she hadn't told him, he would have guessed her parentage. Of middling height, she had her father's fair hair and her mother's full curves. As Nigel finished his breakfast, Dawn came out and said to him, "Mam says that you're to find your way all round the camp site, then later when I'm done serving breakfast I'm to show you anything you couldn't find, and then to show you round the hotel."
The sunny weather was a marked improvement on the day before, and Dawn took him round. There wasn't a lot to see, and Nigel's duties would mainly consist of keeping the place clean and tidy, taking the money, and helping out campers as they need. She explained that the main reason he was needed was that the license required someone to be resident on the site. His day and evening off would be Tuesday, she told him. He asked why a Tuesday, and she replied that it was the night when the cinema was open in the nearest town.
