2013

There was someone else.

And, no, it wasn't the ex-high-school-crush who broke Kelly's heart once upon a time. I know, I know, how thrilling would that have been? And a total kick in the arse for me, direct from karma.

But, weirdly, it was the guy who had picked up the pieces for her back then when her heart had been shattered, someone from her course at uni. They'd never actually been involved, just good friends, and had lost touch after uni.

Until he started working in her office six months previously.

She'd tried to fight her feelings, she'd told me. She hadn't even known if he liked her in that way. She still wasn't sure.

"But it's not been right here for a while now," she'd added, sweeping a hand between us. "And, regardless of whatever happens with . . . him . . ." She'd trailed off, biting her lip, taking a deep breath. "I just don't think we work anymore."

Despite everything, even taking into account the way things had been for probably close to a year now, she still blindsided me a little when she suggested our marriage was over. I did try to argue that we should give things another go, not give up so easily. But she had already made up her mind and, to be perfectly honest, I probably wasn't making the effort I could have done to convince her otherwise.

So that was that.

We co-existed for a little while, sharing the same space, me sleeping in the spare bedroom. Well, I say "sleeping" . . . My insomnia had returned with a vengeance. And the dreams had stopped. Probably my punishment for frequently dream-cheating on my soon-to-be-ex wife.

On top of that, work stress was becoming to much for me. The demands were piling up, and the more often I delivered, the more pressure was applied. I felt like I just couldn't win. There was no end in sight.

Is 31 too young to have a mid-life crisis? I found myself frequently wondering. I just wanted a break from my problems. Manchester had proved a solution to my original issue, but now I needed a new plan.

"I've found a flat to rent," Kelly told me a couple of weeks after we split. She was moving out. This was definitely it; we were done. I'd known that already, obviously, but this made it official.

I knew I'd struggle financially to keep the place we'd been renting on alone, so I was going to have to move as well. But where to?

I could probably find a new job easily and return to Glasgow. But after that recent spate of dreams I still wasn't sure I was ready to deal with those memories yet.

And then I was thrown an unexpected lifeline. From my father, of all people.

I'd cut him off completely after he cheated on my mum, and hadn't spoke to him for a long time. But, over the years, he'd reached out frequently and eventually (encouraged by my mum, of all people) we'd tentatively rebuilt a relationship of sorts. He occasionally would visit Manchester and we'd met up a handful of times, although our relationship would never be the same as it is was.

Anyway, he'd recently had a heart attack, he informed me, in what seemed to be a deliberately casual tone, over the phone. A mild one - he was on the mend - but it had made him realise life was too short, and he was off to spend whatever time he had left in a warm country. He'd also made a big business decision.

"My plan was always to leave you the hotel anyway," he told me. "So I was just going to sign it over to you. You can do what you want with it."

It was an olive branch. A very expensive one, but an olive branch all the same.

But, more importantly, it was also the perfect opportunity for me to get the hell out of Dodge. To escape my failed marriage. The job I was beginning to hate. To distract myself from the "What ifs" I'd been frequently experiencing since those dreams began.

Once upon a time I'd travelled four hours south from Glasgow to move on with my life. So why not try going four hours in the opposite direction, up to the Highlands?

I had no idea how to run a hotel, granted. But neither had my dad when he started. I was pretty sure I could find my feet quickly. It would be a new challenge, at the very least.

To be honest, I think I would have talked myself into anything at that point, just to have a way out.

And so I decided, pretty much on impulse, that my new life was going to be managing a hotel in the middle of nowhere.

I just hoped I'd made the right choice . . .

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