by T A Williams
‘I just stayed around and sorted out some stuff.’
Sarah was vaguely aware of Melissa starting to hiccup, but she avoided looking in her direction. She took a good look at Paul. She hadn’t seen him for quite a while, since he had gone off to do his MBA. He and his elder brother, Miles, were both good-looking men, but she could see why Paul’s reputation as the company heartthrob had come about. He was probably a year or two younger than her, no more than in his late twenties, had a lovely, warm smile, and his brown eyes sparkled as he looked down at her.
He caught her eye. ‘So you didn’t go off somewhere with some lucky young man?’
Melissa’s choking now developed into something approaching cardiac arrest and Paul was quick to offer a helping hand, turning back to assist her, patting her on the back. Whether physical contact with him was the best thing for Melissa in the circumstances was debatable. Her cheeks, which had already been flushed, were now glowing red, but her discomfort had the effect of changing the subject, about which Sarah was immensely glad. She waited until Melissa had regained the use of her lungs before addressing Paul once more, avoiding his question.
‘Thanks for helping out in my absence.’ Secretly she hoped he hadn’t done too much “helping out”, like he had a couple of seasons earlier. It had taken her a week to sort everything out afterwards. In those days he had been far more interested in his social life than work and she wondered whether his newly acquired MBA meant his priorities would now change. ‘So, what’s next for you, Paul, now that you’ve finished your studies?’
‘Back to work, but starting with two weeks on a bike. My dad seems to think Miles and I need to get down and dirty with the punters.’ He shot a glance across at Melissa, who, fortunately, had relinquished the remains of her cupcake and was looking down, wiping residual moisture from her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you all about Harvard over lunch if you’re free.’ He grinned. ‘Or over dinner if you like.’
‘I’ll be lucky if I have time for a sandwich today, thanks, but we’ll catch up later on in the week, I’m sure.’ Dinner with anybody was most definitely not what she wanted now – or, the way she was feeling, any time in the foreseeable future, and particularly not with a man. Even if that man was as good-looking as Paul and soon to be her boss, if the rumours were to be believed. She just wanted to forget about men for a while and try to get on with her life.
If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. With a parting glance at Melissa that elicited another outbreak of blushing, he headed back towards the door. ‘A bientôt.’ And he left.
As she had predicted, Sarah didn’t even have a lunch break and she preferred it that way, so as to avoid having to meet people. After the cupcakes had done the rounds, she felt sure everybody would now know what had happened to her and she dreaded being asked to talk about it. She spent all morning and most of the afternoon working her way through her emails. She knew she had a reputation in the company as a meticulous stickler for accuracy and she was going to do her best not to let a little thing like being dumped at the altar get in the way of that. Also, the deeper she immersed herself in her job, the less time she had to think about that tall, blue-eyed, handsome bastard, James. At least, that was the plan.
Just before four o’clock, she had a visitor. There was a tap on her door and she looked up to see that it was Paul’s brother, Miles. She hadn’t seen him for a couple of years and, although he looked a whole lot more handsome than she remembered, her first impression wasn’t promising. He was scowling.
‘Hi, Miles, long time no see.’
‘Hello, Sarah. How are you?’ His tone was polite, but she sensed he was just being very English and going through the motions before exploding with rage. What, she asked herself in genuine puzzlement, had she done to put that expression of impending Armageddon on his face? Still, she did her best to sound nonchalant.
‘So, Miles, do you want to come in and sit down?’
‘No.’ His terse answer must have struck even him as rude, so he qualified it. ‘No, thank you. I haven’t got time. Listen, there’s been an accident.’
‘An accident?’
‘It’s Lynnie Green – she’s been knocked off her bike.’
Sarah sat bolt upright. Lynnie was a good friend and one of their very best tour leaders who had started at Hall’s round about the same time as she had. Lynnie had accompanied groups of intrepid tourists to faraway places all around the globe, into jungles, and even across the snowy wastes of the Arctic.
‘We’ve just heard from her. She was knocked off her bike this morning and she’s in hospital with a broken leg. Fortunately, it’s not too bad, but she’ll be on crutches for a few months.’ He paused so that Sarah could realise the ramifications of this development as far as the company was concerned. The penny dropped just as Miles spelt it out. ‘Yes, that’s right. She was all set to lead the charity cycle ride in Italy starting on Sunday, the one I’m going on.’
Sarah didn’t reply immediately, her brain desperately turning over alternative reps for the job. Apart from being such a good, friendly, sociable leader, Lynnie was also an excellent cyclist and, indeed, one of Sarah’s regular companions on longer rides outside London. Finding a replacement wasn’t going to be easy, and the trip was scheduled to start at the weekend, only four and a half days away. It soon became clear that Miles had already worked out a solution.
‘I don’t see any alternative, Sarah; I’m afraid it’ll have to be you.’ His tone brooked no dissent and she felt her hackles rise. ‘There just isn’t anybody else available at such short notice. I’m coming along and I’ll do my best to lend a hand, but I’ve got a million other things to do over the next few weeks so I can’t commit to playing the leading role. You spent a good few years as a tour leader and your results speak for themselves. You were one of the best we’ve ever had.’ Somehow, he even managed to make this compliment sound grudging and Sarah cleared her throat, ready to retort. ‘It has to be you.’
‘Thank you for those kind words, Miles.’ Her tone was dripping with irony. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she was talking to the future head of the company. No good would come of making an enemy of him. ‘But surely there’s somebody else we can call. There must be.’ Her heart sank as she thought it through. He was right; it wasn’t going to be easy to find a replacement at such short notice. Lynnie hadn’t just been a helper on the ride; she had been the leader. Although, as Miles had said, Sarah hadn’t been out on the road with tourists for some years now, she had done a lot in her time and didn’t need Miles to tell her she had been good at her job. Under normal circumstances, particularly as this trip involved cycling, her favourite sport and hobby, and Italy, one of her favourite countries, she would have leapt at it but, the way she was feeling right now, the idea of two weeks of unrelenting cheerfulness and sunny smiles really didn’t appeal. She opened her mouth to tell Miles she just couldn’t do it, but then closed it again. He really was right. She was the only logical choice. With a very heavy heart, she nodded and replied.
‘Of course, you’re right, Miles. I suppose it’ll have to be me.’
‘That’s very good news.’ For a moment, a look of what might almost have been gratitude crossed his face and he even gave Sarah a little smile. ‘Anyway, you never know, you might enjoy yourself. Some fresh air, some exercise and all those lovely little endorphins flooding through your body may be just what you need.’ To her surprise, he added a personal observation. ‘You’re looking a bit pale and wan today. I remembered you as more active, more of an outdoor sort.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was still an active, outdoor sort, when she had the time away from the office. It had been James – miserable, selfish, bloody James – objecting over and over again to her going off for weeks at a time that had made her transfer to a desk job. For the first time since Miles’s arrival at her door, she felt a glimmer of optimism. If she and James had still been together, this situation would have caused a God-Almi
ghty row. At least now, without him whining offstage, she could make her own decisions again. With far less difficulty than she had expected, she found herself smiling back at Miles.
‘You might well be right. The idea of a couple of weeks in sunny Italy is really rather appealing.’ Then she had a thought. ‘But, hang on, I gather your brother’s coming along as well. Couldn’t the two of you manage it without me? Surely he could be of help?’
The smile on Miles’s face disappeared in an instant. ‘Don’t count on Paul for anything. I certainly don’t.’
Sarah had to restrain herself from querying this assertion. Certainly, it didn’t sound very brotherly. Her momentary burst of optimism at the idea of going on this bike ride was suddenly extinguished as she realised it sounded as though she was going to find herself in the middle of a family feud.
She gave a sigh and then changed the subject as another thought occurred to her.
‘Are you and Paul going to be up for the cycling? It’s a thousand kilometres and it’s going to be pretty hilly, isn’t it?’
Miles nodded. ‘I’ll be okay, thanks.’ He didn’t go into detail so Sarah hoped he was right. It would be embarrassing if the future head of the company wasn’t up to the challenge and had to be carted round in the back-up wagon. Mind you, she admitted to herself, he certainly did look fit. There wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on him. ‘As for Paul, he spends more time on his bike than he does in the office.’
‘Office? I thought he’d been doing an MBA.’
For the first time Miles sounded slightly shifty. ‘Yes, well, anyway, now that he’s supposed to be coming into the company, he’ll need to get his priorities right.’ Sarah couldn’t help noticing how he emphasised the word supposed. Clearly, the notion of being joined by Paul didn’t appeal to Miles in the slightest. Once again, Sarah had to bite her tongue. Thankfully, Miles now turned the subject away from his younger brother. ‘And what about you, Sarah? Are you fit enough?’
‘Fitness is the least of my worries. Did you realise that almost all the people on this ride are going to be from the travel trade, mostly our competitors? You can bet your life they’ll be rubbing their hands with glee if I screw up.’
‘You won’t screw up, Sarah.’ For the first time, Miles sounded encouraging. ‘Besides, you’ll have Polly driving the van and a former pro cyclist as a guide on the road. His name’s Gianluca and we haven’t used him before. Let’s hope he works out all right.’
Chapter 3
Sarah’s first sight of Gianluca was not auspicious.
She had deliberately chosen the very early flight on Sunday morning from London to Venice Marco Polo airport, so as to be able to meet the people taking part in the charity ride as they all arrived over the course of the day from different parts of the world. She was travelling with Polly from the adventure tours department, who was an old friend. Polly had worked at the company for a good few years now and spent almost half her year abroad with groups of tourists. It would be her job to drive the back-up vehicle with all the luggage and, if necessary, anybody who got into difficulty on the trip.
It was a bright, sunny day and the Venice lagoon was clearly visible below them in all its beauty as the aircraft came in over the red roofs and domes of Venice and landed on the runway that had been built sticking right out into the water. They had arranged to meet Gianluca first thing in the morning as soon as they stepped off their plane. In consequence, considering they had arrived in Venice just after eight, but the cycle guide didn’t turn up until gone eleven o’clock, Sarah was far from impressed. The fact that he looked as if he had just been pulled through a hedge backwards also didn’t help. In fact, when he sidled up to them as they waited by the Arrivals gate, Sarah took one look at him and very nearly called Security.
‘Signorina Sara?’ It was only the fact that he used her name that convinced her he was who he claimed to be and not a potential mugger.
She answered him in Italian. ‘Yes, are you Gianluca?’
‘Si.’
Sarah groaned inwardly. He was a very slim man, about as tall as she was, maybe in his late thirties or even early forties. He could have been quite good-looking, but for the fact that, this morning, his eyes were more bloodshot than your average vampire and he was quite patently suffering the effects of a hangover of Rabelaisian proportions. Whatever he had been drinking the night before, it was probably more commonly used for cleaning grease-caked derailleurs than as a civilised beverage. Sarah took two steps back and resolved to get the map out tonight and go over the route. From the state of their guide, they could well end up in Croatia otherwise.
‘You’re going to be our mechanic and guide?’
‘Si.’
Clearly he wasn’t given to long sentences. He didn’t hold out his hand in greeting. From the look of him, the effort would have exhausted him. Sarah shot a glance across at Polly and decided to make the best of a bad job. If he was all they’d got, he would have to do. For now.
‘We expected you earlier.’
‘Si. Scusi.’ No explanation offered, but his bloodshot eyes were all the explanation she needed.
‘We want to set off tomorrow morning before nine o’clock, and the rental bikes are being delivered at eight. We need you to be there to check them and fit them. Can you promise me you’ll be at our hotel before eight?’
‘Si.’
Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out a fresh yellow cycling jersey in a plastic bag. ‘Here, will you make sure you’re wearing this tomorrow, please?’
‘Si.’
He took the jersey with what could have been an attempt at a thank you, but his voice didn’t reach as far as Sarah’s ears. She caught his eye.
‘Do you know which hotel we’re staying in?’
‘Si.’
At least that sounded positive, but she decided to put him to the test anyway. ‘What’s it called?’
‘Hotel Internazionale.’ At least he could manage more than single syllables.
‘And you know where it is?’
‘Si.’ Wearily he raised a finger and pointed inland.
Sarah followed the direction of his hand and clearly saw the sign on the roof of the hotel less than half a mile away. Satisfied that he knew where he was to meet them, she decided there was nothing to be gained, and potentially a lot to be lost, by keeping him here at the airport. Much better that he should go home and sober up. She gave him her sternest look and sent him off with a warning. ‘You realise that if you’re not on time tomorrow, there will be consequences?’
‘Si.’
With that, he was off.
‘What a chatterbox. I thought he’d never stop talking.’ Polly had been watching the scene with interest. Her Italian was very much at an elementary level, but even she had understood every word Gianluca had said, all thirteen of them. ‘I’m getting a bad feeling about our friend Gianluca. I think we’d both better work on our navigation skills.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Paul and Miles should be arriving soon. I wonder what they’ll make of Gianluca.’
‘And what are the rest of the group going to think?’ Sarah shook her head miserably. This wasn’t the start she had hoped for. Nevertheless, she decided to put a brave face on it. ‘You never know, maybe he’ll scrub up and emerge a new man at the crack of dawn tomorrow. We live in hope.’ She avoided meeting Polly’s eye and changed the subject. ‘And there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Pol. Could we keep the whole James, wedding thing between ourselves while we’re here in Italy? You’re the only one over here who knows about the marriage that never happened, and I’d like to keep it that way. There’s no need for anybody to know, particularly Miles or Paul, and if nobody’s asking me about James and the wedding, then maybe I stand a better chance of forgetting, or at least not thinking so much about what happened. Or didn’t.’
‘Of course, Sarah. I promise I won’t say a word. Just you try to forget all about it.’
Some hope, Sarah found herself thinking as
she changed the subject to something safer. ‘Well, at least the forecast’s good.’
‘And staying good for the next few days, as far as I could see. I think it’s going to be a warm ride. Oh, oh, here we go. It’s show time, folks.’ Polly had spotted a group of three men emerging from the sliding doors and heading towards them. They had clearly recognised the yellow cycling jerseys she and Sarah were wearing. These had the name of the cancer charity and Hall’s Tours plastered all over them and were a garish, bright-yellow colour, so as to be as visible as possible to other road users, as well as reflecting the heat of the sun. Polly gave them a wave. ‘Oh, hi, hello, I’m Polly and this is Sarah. Welcome to Venice. Are you with the Hall’s ride?’
‘We sure are.’ The American accent was unmistakable. ‘Hi, Polly, I’m Chuck and these are Mike and Dan.’ He was a tall man, maybe in his late forties, with short-cropped, light-brown hair and a friendly expression on his face. She reached over and shook hands with all of them and handed out copies of the programme. The other two men were younger, both rather good-looking, one very muscular, and both clearly deferred to Chuck, so Sarah addressed her remarks to him.
‘Have you guys just arrived from the States or have you had a chance to get over the jetlag?’
Chuck grinned. ‘This ride’s going to be tough enough without starting off half dead. No, we’ve been in Europe for a few days, getting acclimatised.’
Sarah smiled back and nodded approvingly. ‘Very sensible.’
‘Only we chose to do our acclimatising in Switzerland. That whole damn country is one big mountain.’ The muscular one, Mike, groaned theatrically. ‘I’m worn out already.’
Sarah found herself smiling at him. ‘Well, you don’t need to do anything too athletic today. We’ve got a bus outside that’ll take you across to the hotel now. Polly will show you the way. You can dump your things at the hotel and then, if you like, there’s either the bus or the water bus to take you across to Venice for a bit of sightseeing. We’ll see you again for dinner this evening when you’ll have a chance to meet the other people on the ride. Meet back at the hotel at eight. The details are all on your programme.’