To Rome, With Love

by T A Williams

  There was a general scramble for wineglasses to hold up, but proceedings were briefly interrupted by a crash and a little cry from the end of the table. All heads turned to see Glynis from Cardiff, her face blushing bright red, desperately trying to stem a tsunami of Prosecco that was running off the table into her lap. She held up her free hand apologetically. ‘Sorry, clumsy me.’ Sarah caught her friend Jo’s eye and read the resigned expression on it. After a few moments somebody refilled Glynis’s glass and they all raised their drinks as Sarah tried the toast for a second time.

  ‘To us.’

  ‘To us.’ The voices round the table echoed her words and everybody took a mouthful of what turned out to be excellent Prosecco.

  The meal was really good. They started with a seemingly never-ending succession of antipasti, ranging from cold octopus salad to local salami and hams. The waiters put jugs of slightly sparkling Prosecco on the table alongside jugs of local, deep red Merlot. There was mineral water for those who didn’t want alcohol, but Sarah noticed the levels in the water bottles dropped a lot more slowly than the wine in the jugs. As the meal progressed, she chatted to Lars and Terri and as many of the others as she could reach. Once again, she found she enjoyed talking to Lars, who was as tall as Terri was short, and she found herself having to look up in one direction and down in the other until her neck was quite sore. It turned out that Diana from Bristol worked in the IT department along with her girlfriend, Maggie and, considering how attractive she was, turned out to be quite a shy girl. Shy or not, Paul and a few glasses of Prosecco managed to get her talking and laughing before long.

  After the antipasti came three different dishes of what the Italians refer to as the primo piatto or first dish, otherwise known as the pasta course. There were two different types of pasta: hefty fat spaghetti, locally called bigoli, with a mushroom sauce, and some that looked like tagliatelle and came with a seafood sauce of vongole, cockles. Alongside the pasta was an excellent risotto, made with peas and ham. As the waiters came past, they encouraged the guests to taste all three and, by the time she had finished, Sarah felt sure she wouldn’t have room for much more. Remarkably, small as she was, Terri tucked into everything and wiped her plate clean.

  As she picked up her glass of water to wash it all down, Sarah felt herself being observed, and she glanced across the table. Sure enough, Miles was studying her from his place opposite her with an expression of grim concentration. Sarah toyed with the idea of reminding him to smile, but decided against it. She dropped her eyes and took a mouthful of water, while reflecting that he surely couldn’t have anything to criticise so far. Surely he must be able to see that the tour had started well and the evening was going splendidly. Feeling a bit miffed that he had taken up station so close and appeared determined to keep an eye on what she did, she set her glass down and looked across at him.

  ‘What do you think of it so far, Miles?’

  He was drinking a mouthful of red wine by now and he took his time over formulating a reply. He kept those amazing blue eyes on her all the time and she determined to hold his gaze. She had played this game at school and she knew she was good at it. Finally, he delivered his verdict. ‘So far, so good.’

  Well, that’s a step in the right direction, she thought to herself, determined to stir up some real enthusiasm in him before too long. She didn’t blink as she replied. ‘As you say. Let’s hope it carries on without a hitch.’

  ‘If all the meals are as good as this, I’m going to put on weight, rather than lose it. Brilliant find, Sarah.’ Paul had been following the conversation and there was no need to stir up enthusiasm in him. Sarah watched him out of the corner of her eye, still refusing to look away from Miles. ‘This place is amazing. Very well done.’ Beside him, Diana from Bristol voiced her agreement and Sarah heard Terri echoing the sentiment. Then, mercifully, Miles relinquished his gaze and turned towards his brother.

  ‘And we’re only halfway through the meal. I think you’re right about putting on weight, Paul. You’d do well to work it off.’ There was an edge to his voice as he stressed the word, work, and Sarah couldn’t miss the spark of annoyance that appeared on Paul’s face for a split second. No sooner had it appeared than it disappeared, however, replaced by Paul’s usual sophisticated smile.

  ‘I can work when I need to, Miles.’ He kept his voice low, but Sarah still caught what he said. Luckily his other close neighbours appeared to have been involved in their own conversations and hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Is that so?’

  Miles glanced across at Sarah to see if she had heard, but she hastily looked away and concentrated on wiping some remaining sauce from her plate with a piece of bread. Transferring her eyes to her wineglass she took a big mouthful, intrigued and concerned by the exchange between the two brothers. Clearly, there was something going on there and she determined to keep an eye on events. As for the trip, she knew she was bloody good at her job and, even though Miles hadn’t shown any great enthusiasm, she knew things were going well and there was no reason that should change. As the thought passed through her head, the weather-beaten face of the ex-professional cyclist appeared once more and she groaned inwardly, crossing her fingers on her free hand and repeating her prayer. At that moment the waiters appeared to clear the plates, only to return immediately with fresh plates and the main course. Sarah found herself smiling as she saw the expressions on some of the faces round the table who had thought the meal had finished with the pasta. As slices of roast beef in a thick wine-based sauce appeared, along with piping hot polenta cut into layers and filled with melted cheese, she began to cheer up again. Stuff Miles and his critical eye. She knew what she was doing and, whatever her screwed up personal life was doing to her emotions, she knew she was going to turn herself inside out to make sure that everybody, and that included Miles himself, had a whale of a time over the next two weeks.

  Chapter 4

  ‘Blimey. And they say prayers don’t get answered and wishes don’t come true.’ Polly looked as amazed as Sarah felt.

  Sarah checked her watch once more. It was dead on half past seven and there, standing before them in the hotel lobby as they came down for breakfast, was Gianluca. But this time, it wasn’t vampire-eyed, alcohol-soaked Gianluca, but a neatly turned out, athletic-looking man with freshly combed hair, wearing an immaculate yellow Hall’s Tours jersey and black cycling shorts, his muscular thighs almost twice the circumference of hers. On his face was an apologetic look.

  ‘Signorina Sara, I’ve come to apologise. I don’t know what you must have thought of me yesterday. I’m really, really sorry for letting you down and I promise it will never happen again.’

  Sarah was still trying to come to terms with this stunning transformation. ‘Gianluca, good morning, it’s good to see you.’ She almost found herself adding how good it was to see him sober and cleaned up, but managed to stop herself in time as he went on to explain.

  ‘You see, my grandfather died on Wednesday. He was buried on Saturday afternoon and I spent the evening with my family and friends. My grandfather was famous round here for his homemade grappa and he told my grandmother before he died that he wanted the family to have a drink and celebrate his death, rather than mourn him.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘I’m afraid we rather took him at his word.’ He paused, dropping his eyes. ‘As a result I’m afraid I felt like death yesterday and, like I say, I’m really sorry.’

  By this time Sarah had got over her shock and felt a wave of relief spread over her. She reached out and caught his wiry arm with her hand. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your grandfather, Gianluca. Apology accepted. We’re delighted to see you.’ She released her grip on him and checked the time again. ‘Now, have you had breakfast?’ He shook his head so she beckoned. ‘Come and join us for breakfast and, by the way, I’m not Signorina Sara, I’m just Sarah, and this is Polly.’

  They walked into the breakfast room and Sarah got a second surprise. Already in there, sitting at a table, was Mile
s, surrounded by the Welsh girls, chatting affably, a friendly smile on his face. He was wearing his Hall’s cycling top, which clung to his strong, hard chest, and his bare forearms were remarkably muscular, covered by a thin coating of wiry brown hair. Glynis, now firmly reunited with her phone, and Jo couldn’t take their eyes off him and Sarah felt an inexplicable flash of what could almost have been jealousy. She instantly chased this off with a mental shrug as just some sort of crazy, mixed-up result of the pounding her emotions had taken over the last few weeks. She led Gianluca up to their table and introduced him. This was when she got her next surprise of the day, as the Italian replied to their greetings in English.

  ‘Hi, everybody, it’s good to meet you all. I’m really looking forward to what should be a great ride. Come and see me any time if you need help with your bikes.’ He spoke really good English, with hardly any Italian accent at all.

  As they made their way over to a free table, Sarah looked across and addressed him in English. ‘Hey, Gianluca, your English is amazing.’

  ‘Like a native…’ Polly was obviously as surprised as Sarah.

  He waved away their compliments. ‘Actually, French is my first foreign language. I picked my English up on the road. Cycling’s a really cosmopolitan sport these days. I was with a Dutch team for a good few years and everything was in English.’ As he spoke, Sarah could hear a faint, almost American twang in his accent. ‘Besides, Sarah, your Italian’s really good, and your grammar’s a hell of a lot better than mine. Where did you learn to speak like that?’

  ‘I did Spanish and Italian at university.’

  Sarah was feeling surprisingly good now. She had slept a bit better last night, without so much of the soul-searching she had been doing for the past week. Although she felt she had been getting better at keeping a lid on her emotions during daylight hours, her subconscious had still been giving her a hard time at night. For days now, she had found herself questioning if she was somehow to blame for the sudden end of her relationship with James. Yes, she knew she worked hard and was often away at conferences and travel shows. Yes, she had her hobbies and came home late a few times a week, and often went for long bike rides at the weekend. But then, so did he. And she had never objected to his hobbies and outside interests while, given his way, he would no doubt have preferred her to do nothing but stay in the house and cook him dinner. The more she thought about it, the more she was coming round to thinking that maybe marriage to James wouldn’t have been such a great idea, after all. Armed with that thought, she had managed a clear four or five hours sleep for once.

  She looked round. The sun was shining outside, her hungover guide had emerged, butterfly-like, from his scruffy chrysalis, and Miles was actually remembering her advice and smiling for a change, although not at her and not at his brother. The fact that he was smiling at a bunch of pretty girls was unimportant. He was smiling and that meant, surely, he was satisfied with the way things were going so far. And if he was happy with the way things were going, that meant he had to be happy with how she was doing. After the staring contest of the previous evening, she felt a sense of relief that her future boss appeared to be settling down and relaxing.

  She spotted Terri sitting all on her own and led the other two across to her table. ‘All right if we join you, Terri?’ She got an enthusiastic nod in return. ‘You already know Polly, and this is Gianluca, our cycling expert. He used to be a pro.’ The morning of surprises hadn’t finished. Terri’s reply was really unexpected.

  ‘So did I.’ In response to the looks on their faces, she explained. ‘Only for six months, almost eight years ago now.’ She looked across at Gianluca. ‘Women’s cycling was only just taking off in those days and the team I was riding for couldn’t get sponsorship for the following season so, before we knew it, we were all out of a job again. I know you, Gianluca. I’ve seen you race.’

  ‘You have?’ Now it was his turn to look surprised, and pleased.

  ‘We were training in the Alps and we caught a couple of stages of the Critérium. You’re a climber, and a very good one. I remember seeing you leading the peloton up the Col du Galibier.’ She grinned. ‘We climbed it the next day, but we didn’t go up there anything like as fast as you guys.’

  ‘Well, well, well, it’s a small world.’

  Sarah left the two of them exchanging cycling stories and went off to get herself a bowl of muesli and a glass of orange juice. She mentally ticked off Terri on her list. It looked like she was well introduced to the group. And, even better, she was definitely one who wouldn’t need a ride in the minibus.

  ‘Good morning, Sarah. Sleep well?’ She looked round to find Lars smiling down at her. He, too, was wearing his official jersey and cycling shorts, his lanky legs sticking out like poles. She gave him a big smile and found herself thinking that this definitely hadn’t involved any strain to the face muscles at all. Yes, she thought to herself, maybe she was going to enjoy this ride, after all.

  ‘Hi, Lars. Yes, thanks, I slept like a log.’ It wasn’t strictly true, but her problems were hers, not his. ‘You all ready for the ride?’

  ‘Hopefully. I maybe had a bit too much grappa last night, but I’ll live. I’ve asked for a bike with a big frame, otherwise my feet are going to be touching the ground. As for the fitness side of things, we’ll see. I’ve had a busy few months so I haven’t got round to doing as much training as I would have liked.’

  ‘You look fit enough to me. You’ll be fine, you’ll see. As for the grappa, ask Gianluca to tell you about the grappa his granddad used to make. I’ve seen the results. It’s scary stuff.’

  ***

  They set off shortly after nine. While they were waiting around, Sarah had the opportunity to chat to all the participants and was delighted to hear everybody sounding positive about the hotel and the trip so far. She was also delighted to hear from Jo that Glynis had been checked and was carrying her phone. Sarah gave them both a grin. A few people were apprehensive about what awaited them, but she was able to allay their fears by telling them that their route that day was going to be dead flat.

  ‘From the map, the highest point we reach is seven metres.’ She grinned and pointed to a fine palm tree in the hotel grounds. ‘That tree over there’s higher than that.’

  The route that day, from a logistical point of view, was complicated. The plan was to cycle all the way round the Venice lagoon and they would need to take no fewer than three ferries to help them complete the circular ride. Although it was possible to take bikes on two of the ferries, the third was only for pedestrians so Sarah had had to book a boat specially for their group. She was fervently hoping it would arrive as planned and be big enough, otherwise they were likely to find themselves marooned on a long, thin island for the night.

  They set off along a busy main road, but soon turned off onto quieter country roads, riding only a few metres from the waters of the lagoon. Big, tall Lars got a better view than anybody else, but even little Terri must have managed to glimpse the vast extent of water, dotted with little islands, most little more than swampy islets, some with clumps of cypress trees. There were numerous elegant white ibis and occasional statuesque grey herons in the shallows, accompanied by a variety of ducks and geese. From time to time they caught sight of boats, mostly flat-bottomed punts being sculled along, gondola-style. It was a really beautiful, and a very easy, ride.

  After a while, they emerged onto the coast road, riding alongside a vast, sandy beach facing south, punctuated by wooden groynes to protect the precious sand from being washed away. Already now, in mid June, there were quite a few tourists to be seen, and the beach was a hive of activity as the owners of the never-ending succession of private bathing establishments set out their sunbeds and umbrellas ready for the onslaught that would start in less than a week, when the school holidays began. Sarah was glad they would be well away from the seaside by then.

  It was just as they were setting off again after their coffee break, so as to catch their first fe
rry, due to leave at half past twelve, that Sarah heard a voice from behind her.

  ‘Sarah.’

  She immediately recognised Miles’s voice. She braked and fell back alongside him. The bright-yellow bike the rental company had supplied for him was unmistakable.

  ‘Hi, Miles. How’s it going?’

  ‘Fine, but I think your saddle might be a tad high. I can see you rolling from side to side, and the received wisdom is that your bottom should be fairly immobile. Otherwise you’ll get saddle sores.’

  ‘Well, thanks, Miles.’ She took a good look at his face, surprised, but somehow not displeased, that he had been looking at her, and gave him a little smile, but it wasn’t returned. ‘You may well be right. This is my own saddle. I brought it from home and Gianluca fitted it for me this morning. I thought it felt a bit strange. I think I’ll fiddle with it next time we stop.’ She decided, seeing as the two of them were together without anybody to overhear their conversation, that she would do as he had asked last night. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

  He looked across and caught her eye, but she saw comprehension dawn on his face before she had to remind him. ‘Ah yes, the obligatory smile. How’s this?’ His sunglasses prevented her from seeing his eyes, but the rest of his face definitely split into an altogether convincing smile and, as it did so, she found herself smiling back.

  ‘That’s the way, Miles. I know I said you’d smile if you were happy, but maybe the opposite applies. The more you smile, the happier you’ll become.’

  His smile didn’t waver, but she sensed the strain he was experiencing in keeping up the appearance of happiness. ‘That would be amazing. Yes – you keep bullying me, Sarah, and maybe it’ll work.’

  The smile was still on his face so she risked something a bit more personal. ‘The other thing they say is that talking is good. If you ever want to talk, I’m a good listener.’