From Winamop.com

Nobody In
by Joyce Walker

 

 

I woke up, switched off my phone alarm and noticed I had a destination alert: ‘9 miles to the Nobody Inn.’ Strange, I thought, because I’d never used the map app and had only been to The Nobody Inn once, while I was on holiday in Devon and on that occasion I’d stumbled across it by accident and it had changed my life and definitely not for the better.

I was touring with my then new husband in the area and we’d both been lured in by its “olde worlde” charm.

It was on a particularly cold summer’s day, so cold in fact that the proprietor had lit the fire in the fireplace and I’d gravitated towards it while Glen went to the bar to get some drinks and find out if we could get a bite to eat before moving on to another exploration destination.

He returned with a glass of warming red which he handed to me while informing me his coffee would be delivered shortly, which, of course it was along with a message that there was a table for us in the dining room.

After a delicious meal, suitably replete we’d returned to the same spot by the fire and had almost been lulled to sleep by its comforting warmth.

“Look,” said Glen, “I’d love a brandy, but if I have one I won’t be able to drive on, how do you feel about getting a room here, if they’ve got one to spare?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, after all, I’d had a boozy lunch and was in no fit state to take his place behind the driving wheel.

Once more he headed to the bar and came back with a beaming smile and a key.

“We’re in luck,” he said, “They’ve just had a cancellation.”

I suppose that the best way to describe the room we’d been given would be quaint, the kind of shabby chic you find in many larger hotels than this one and it had everything we needed for a short stay, an en-suite bathroom and a bed, which was too tempting to ignore for an afternoon nap before dinner, or in our case chunks of homemade bread, cheese, ham and pickles as we’d slept late and missed the deadline for a cooked meal by around half an hour.

As it was the tourist season and we were told our room had only been available because of the last minute cancellation we’d been told about, we’d expected the bar to be full, but it was, in fact, quite empty, leading Glen to crack jokes about it living up to its name and being called The Nobody Inn, because there was literally ‘Nobody in.’

Something we’d live to regret for when I woke in the morning, one of the people who weren’t there, was him.

Our car was still in its parking slot on the car park along with all the possessions we hadn’t brought inside, but Glen had literally disappeared.

I thought at first he’d gone for an early morning stroll to the nearby village to get a morning paper for even though we were on holiday he liked to be kept abreast of what was happening in the world, but as breakfast and then lunch time came and went without his reappearance I became genuinely concerned.

I lost count of the times I’d rung his mobile without success and wondered how long I could reasonably give it before I went to the police and reported him missing.

When I could wait no longer I did just that, but was told that with no evidence of foul play there was little they could do.  Perhaps he’d always planned to walk out on me.

“We’ve only been married a couple of months,” I said, “Why on earth would he want to leave.”

The comment was met with pitying looks but no reply worth noting.

“I’m sorry,” the desk sergeant said, “but believe me, it does happen and it’s surprisingly easy for someone who doesn’t want to be found to disappear.”

That was ten years ago and no matter how hard I scoured the country I hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

Every weekend for the first five of those I tried to retrace my journey, but not only had Glen gone out of my life, but so had The Nobody Inn, for I’d never managed to find it again.

Up until that morning I’d almost convinced myself that everything about Glen, including the holiday we’d taken together had been a dream.

Now, staring at the text message on my phone there seemed to be only one way to find out. I rang work and reported in sick, got the car out of the garage and following the directions I’d been given, made that short nine mile journey into the countryside near my home.

There it was, looking much as it had when we’d stumbled on it together all those years ago, yet in a totally different location.

Getting out of the car I walked up to the entrance, took a deep breath and went inside.

“Welcome,” the proprietor said, “Glen is waiting for you in the dining room and you’re just in time for breakfast.

And there he was, looking just as he had that lunchtime ten years ago, the same beaming smile on his face, “Where’ve you been?” he asked. “I waited for you and looked for you for a long time, but you never came back.”

“What do you mean I never came back?” I replied. “You were the one that disappeared.”

“I can assure you I’ve been here all the time,” he replied. “But no matter, you’re here now and neither of us is going away ever again.”

He was right, we’ve been together at The Nobody Inn ever since, it’s our own little bit of heaven.

 

 

 

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