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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

Copyright © Linn B. Halton 2018

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Linn B. Halton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008324476

Ebook Edition © December 2018 ISBN: 9780008324469

Version: 2018-11-30

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

Back to Reality

A New Routine

I’m in the News

The Word is Spreading

All Aboard

A Floating Mirage

Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover

The Morning After the Night Before

A Night of Stars

It’s Time to Head Home

Hitting the Ground Running

No Pain, No Gain

A Magical Setting

Going Greek

The Promise of a Beautiful Day

A Day Trip to Paradise

A Surprising Turn of Events

The Main Attraction

The Magic of Athens

A Mortal Hero Amongst the Greek Gods

As Night Descends

Just Two Lonely People

On the Tourist Trail

One Blink and They’re Gone

Home Alone

The Visit

The Aftermath

Life is a Rollercoaster

The Action Plan

Working All Hours

Filled with Both Dread and Excitement in Equal Measure

A Goodnight Kiss

Retracing Our Steps

One Enchanted Evening

How Do You End Such a Perfect Night?

Some Goodbyes Are Harder Than Others

Picking Up the Pieces

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

I’m Nobody’s Fool

Only a Fool Would Get in my Way

The Heart Instinctively Knows When You’ve Found The One – Doesn’t It?

The Letter

Facing Facts

A New Day and the Sky is Blue, Not a Cloud in Sight

Epilogue

Also by Linn B. Halton

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

For Billy, Lily, Joe and Maddie – twinkle, twinkle little stars!

You inspire every single moment of every single day.

Love you always and forever x

Prologue

‘Antonio, we’re back,’ I call out, kicking the door shut with the heel of my boot.

Juggling Rosie on one side and groceries on the other, I drop the carrier bags down with a soft clunk on the worktop, then deposit the little one on the floor. I hope that sound of glass on tin doesn’t mean there’s an imminent chance of a wine puddle. Yanking the bottle out to check, I see that it’s still intact. Phew! I could have fallen at the first hurdle as wine is a key component in my little plan.

Tonight, I’m planning on having a romantic evening with my husband. I’m going to insist that we watch a film together and relax a little, once Rosie is asleep. Assuming she settles before I come back down to find him snoring on the sofa, like so many nights recently. But then he’s out as much as he’s in these days due to work pressures. I worry that he’s running himself into the ground and I hate that he steadfastly refuses to talk to me about it.

I look down at little Rosie, levering herself up on the vegetable rack so she can grab hold of a carrot.

‘Yum, Rosie. Carrots are good for you.’ I make an encouraging face and she stuffs the end into her mouth, then grimaces. It’s hard not to laugh.

I sweep her up into my arms, settling her back on my hip and head off to see what Antonio is doing. He said he was working from home today but he’s very quiet.

‘Let’s go find Daddy, shall we?’ Rosie looks up at me and grins.

‘Dada,’ she replies, waving her carrot. If only I could get her to actually eat one, I’d be delighted.

Walking into the upstairs office something doesn’t look quite right and I stop to gaze around. Why has Antonio been tidying up when he said he was going to be busy? He gave me a grateful hug when I said I’d take Rosie off to do the shopping to give him some peace and quiet.

His laptop isn’t on the desk and his work diary isn’t there, either. Nor his briefcase. Ah, I expect he’s been called into work. I just assumed he was still here and that his car was in the garage.

‘Daddy’s gone to work, Rosie.’ Little eyes look up at me and she frowns. But as I continue to scan the room a cold feeling starts to wrap itself around my core.

Rosie wobbles but I clasp her to me as I rush into the bedroom, pulling open the wardrobe door adjacent to the bed. I gasp and stand back, unable to comprehend the hangers now stripped bare, some lying in a tangled heap at the bottom.

I snuggle my arm around Rosie’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze as my feet carry us back into the office. Placing her down on the floor I slam the door shut and begin frantically pulling out the drawers of Antonio’s desk.

It’s clear some things are missing as the top drawer is half empty. When I pull out the bottom drawer, though, it’s stuffed full of letters. All I can see is red ink staring back at me as if it’s become the new black. I grab a handful and stare down at them for a moment in sheer disbelief before throwing them on the desk.

Overdue … final demand … debt collection agency … notice of enforcement … County Court Judgement. Looking down at the open drawer, there must be over fifty similar letters and I collapse down in a heap onto the chair. My head is spinning and my hands are trembling.

Tears fill my eyes as I look across at Rosie playing, blissfully unaware that our world has just come crashing down around us. My pocket begins to vibrate and I pull out my phone, hoping it’s Antonio. Maybe this isn’t what it seems, at all … but then I see it’s Mum calling. I switch it off and sit back, tears silently falling in a torrent down my face. I’m too numb to take it all in. None of this makes any sense to me and I simply don’t know what to do, or where to turn next.

Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

‘Here to present tonight’s very special award is our reigning travel ambassador, the inimitable and charismatic Caroline Blakely. Please join me in giving a very warm welcome to a ground-breaking journalist who has become an icon of our daytime TV screens.’

There’s a wild round of applause as Caroline begins the walk across the stage to the podium. Looking extremely elegant in a long, slinky black dress that hugs every perfect little curve, she delivers her trademark wave. She lingers until the applause gradually begins to subside; I’m transfixed and can’t take my eyes off her. I never dreamt I would ever see her in the flesh.

‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for such a wonderfully warm welcome to the annual Traveller Abroad industry gala evening. I’m absolutely delighted to be here tonight to present this year’s Top Travel Blog award. But it’s also a celebration of a group of truly inspiring people who have set the internet alight. With their wonderful posts about destinations both home and abroad, their social media following and interactions are a lesson in how to capture the attention of your target audience. They have helped boost not only the domestic travel industry, but have been instrumental in raising the profile of many small businesses who constantly struggle to gain visibility.’

There’s a pause while Caroline delicately prises open the envelope, no doubt being very careful not to ruin those beautifully manicured nails of hers. I slide my own, home-manicure job beneath the table, letting my hands rest out of sight on my lap.

Stealing a glance at each of the other eight nominees seated around the table, I wonder who the lucky winner will be. Of course, this is in between trying to make a convincing job of looking like I belong here and am taking it in my stride. My fellow bloggers all appear amazingly calm and professional on the surface. They are all in with a real chance of winning, so I can only hazard a guess at how difficult it must be to maintain your composure when you are so close to victory.

The pressure is mounting with each second that passes and, like the true pros they are, each of them does an admirable job of displaying that well-practised smile. The one that says it’s all about the nomination and not the actual winning part. Which it isn’t, of course, unless you are like me – the wild card. I’m simply delighted, and a little shocked if I’m being honest, to be here rubbing shoulders with the best. I suspect my blog hits will double in figures tomorrow off the back of this one evening alone. So, while the dress was an unexpected expense, it will hopefully pay for itself several times over. More visibility means more hotels will be clamouring to be featured and, in turn, more advertisers will want to partner-up. Maybe living the dream isn’t such a distant prospect, after all. I want to give up the day job and become a full-time travel blogger. But I know that’s a big ask and that’s why I’m giving it everything I have – every spare minute of my time.

To put things into perspective, I’m the newbie and it was only fifteen months ago that I decided to expand my website to blog about my travels. As a freelance photographer, it made sense to add my own holiday snaps and as more and more visitors asked about the locations I featured, I began posting useful information about each destination. And it’s grown from there; well, I suppose exploded is a more accurate description. I was lucky enough to bump into the iconic pop star, Harry Martin, on one of my first trips abroad. I cheekily asked if I could interview him about his stay at the prestigious Altar Bar resort in Cannes. To my complete and utter shock, he agreed; right place, right time, I suppose. I obviously caught him in the right mood. The interview went viral and suddenly my website was well and truly on the radar, plucked from obscurity and being shared all over social media.

But this is an extremely prestigious award and for the winner it will mean a flurry of very lucrative sponsorship deals – big money. Everyone with something to sell wants to advertise on the hottest blogs and the winner will be on fire! Trying not to be at all biased, as she also happens to be my best friend, I genuinely believe that Sally’s name will be on the card inside that envelope again this year. She’s been there since the start of this blogging phenomenon and I’m still only on the fringes of the mutually-supportive, travel-blogger network. But I’ve seen enough to know the award has been the subject of an almost unbelievable amount of speculation on Twitter and Instagram since the nominations were announced ten days ago. It is the trophy every travel blogger dreams of winning. And that’s why the tension now is almost tangible.

‘And the winner of this year’s Top Travel Blog award is…’

I reflect upon the stark reality that if I was at home now I’d probably be working on Rosie’s papier-mâché project. I mean, expecting a nine-year-old to model an entire island is a tall order. It’s also a lengthy process, as it has to dry in stages. The deadline is looming—

‘…The Sun Seeker’s Guide to a Happy Holiday.’

I join in with the clapping and then I tune back in; my stomach suddenly feels like a yo–yo as all eyes are on me. It hurtles to the floor at speed and then zips back up again, making me gasp.

‘Go! Move those feet lady, you only flippin’ won!’

Sally Martin, my blogger friend and constant inspiration, gives me a shove and suddenly my feet seem to take on a life of their own. They propel me forward in the direction of the stage, while the room around me becomes a blur. Focus, Leah, fainting is not an option, so pull yourself together. As I approach the steps I lift my dress slightly, for fear of tripping over in my ludicrously high heels while I make the ascent. If I’d thought for one single moment that there was even the slightest chance I could win, then I would most certainly have worn flats.

Each second seems agonizingly long, until finally I’m standing next to the celebrated host herself, thinking now is not the time to have a fangirl moment. Caroline hands me the award and I take it with both hands, hoping no one can see that I’m trembling from head to toe.

Turning and finding myself staring back at the assembled audience, I clutch the sizeable, cut-glass crystal award to my body. I don’t want to drop it and look totally inept. Cameras flash and I almost pinch myself. Is this real, or have I slipped into a warm, fuzzy dream from which I’ll wake up to find it’s just me and the waiting staff as they clear the tables? I’m so tired from working such long hours to make ends meet, that anything is possible these days.

An expectant hush falls over the room. My mouth is so dry that I have no idea whether I’m capable of forcing out anything at all, let alone something suitable enough for such a grand occasion. Caroline gives me an encouraging smile. She is the queen of daytime TV and it obviously takes a lot of skill to make everything look so easy, but I clear my throat as people are looking at me expectantly.

Placing the award down on the podium in front of me releases my hands to nervously smooth down my gown. It’s a pale silver-grey, the silky, floor-length fabric inset with lace panels. With a deep V at the back and a fishtail detail that gives a very modest little flair, I’m aware that it rather flatteringly accentuates my recently-acquired, enhanced rear profile.

‘Um … I … as you can tell I really wasn’t expecting to be standing up here tonight, so I will admit that I’m both thrilled and honoured—’

There’s another little ripple of applause, which thankfully gives me a few more seconds to compose myself; but this is going to be the shortest acceptance speech on record.

‘I feel truly blessed to accept this wonderful award on behalf of my daughter, Rosie, and myself. We have been so very grateful for the support we have received from the travel blogging community and the amazing visitors who keep coming back to read our posts. To have our work acknowledged by people we so greatly admire is the icing on the cake. All I can say is a heartfelt thank you, as this means so very much to us.’

Caroline can see that I’m too overwhelmed to continue and she leans in as we air kiss. It’s like an elegant dance move, or a disaster if you get it wrong. As soon as it’s over, I beat a hasty retreat back to the nominees’ table before my nerves cause me to collapse in a heap on the floor.

‘A very worthy winner, indeed,’ Caroline’s words ring in my ears, even above the tumultuous applause.

I place the award on the table while everyone is listening to the final speech and manoeuvre my phone out of my evening bag and into my lap so I can text Mum.

Take a deep breath, Mum. I’m holding the trophy!!! The Sun Seeker only bloody won! Your daughter and granddaughter did it! Beyond thrilled, won’t sink in … will see u later. Lx

Okay, the grammar police would have a field day and maybe, just maybe, there are a few too many exclamation marks in there, but woo-hoo! Something unbelievably wonderful has happened and I’m struggling to take it all in.

Tonight, though, I feel like a million dollars for one simple reason: this is validation – and it does feel like it’s been a long haul. All those late nights spent online after putting Rosie to bed, often extending way into the early hours of the morning, have finally paid off.

With my previously almost non-existent rear stuck to my typing stool as if someone had superglued it there, every hour of sacrifice has been worth it and I’m feeling vindicated. Of course, the fact that it also helped me create a little junk in the trunk is a bonus. I’m no longer that painfully thin, straight up and straight down sort of girl I had become for a while. Stress is a fat-buster, in tandem with destroying just about everything else in your life. Blogging helped me to blot all of that out. But I digress, because what tonight means is that my gamble paid off. I wasn’t just reaching for an impossible dream, as so many people very kindly took the time to warn me.

I brush off thoughts of the handful of online haters who left mean comments on my lovingly-penned posts. And the spammers who left drivel that had to be deleted, wasting some of my precious online time each night; comments that looked like someone’s cat had been sitting on the keyboard and refused to budge.

But the best bit of all? When my daughter, Rosie, wakes up tomorrow morning and I tell her what has happened, I get to see that little face of hers light up with pride! It isn’t just my blog, but our blog, because we are a team of two, and now it’s official – we’re up there with the best.

Back to Reality

‘Mum, it’s so heavy! Where are we going to put it?’ Rosie’s eyes are like saucers, she’s so excited and I know it’s going to be difficult to get her to focus on breakfast.

‘The clock is ticking, Rosie, you need to eat that cereal and head up to the bathroom to clean those teeth. Yes, it’s quite something, isn’t it? And What’s in Rosie’s Suitcase? is an important part of the website – high five me, girl.’

Our hands collide in mid-air as Mum walks into the kitchen.

‘Are my girls celebrating? I’m so proud of you both. How did you feel wearing that gorgeous dress, Leah? It was right for the occasion, wasn’t it?’

I tried on so many dresses to find something smart enough to wear, but when you are restricted to the budget rails there’s only one place to go if you want something special and that’s to the Next clearance sale. When I first saw the Lipsy tag hanging from the dress I half-closed my eyes as I turned it over to reveal the price. At fifty per cent off it was affordable, just, but even without trying it on I knew it was going to be perfect.

‘Yes, Mum, I felt like I was dressed for a red-carpet event.’

She smiles, easing herself down into the chair opposite me with a cup of tea in her hand. Mum stayed overnight to look after Rosie, and Dad is picking her up later this morning.

‘Well, it was an awards ceremony. And you should have let us pay for it, Leah. You’ve been working so hard now for such a long time and you deserve this win. I thought you said Sally was the number one favourite, though?’

I sigh. Sally was overjoyed for me, last night. But we all work hard, because with blogging everything is so transient. People click, scan and click away. Your content must grab and engage the reader at first glance and the visuals need to be strong to justify them lingering long enough to read the whole article. And then add you, hopefully, to their favourites or, even better, subscribe so that they receive your posts via email.

‘I can only assume it’s because of my photographic background that my graphics look so professional. Sally says she’s envious of how quickly I pull them together and I always thought she was just being kind.’

Mum shakes her head while I move the trophy out of arm’s reach of Rosie, so she’ll go back to eating her breakfast.

‘You underestimate yourself sometimes, Leah. I don’t know anyone else who works as hard as you do. You don’t just have two jobs, you have two very intensive jobs. You can’t manage on five hours’ sleep each night forever, honey.’

‘I’m done, Mum.’ Rosie pipes up, pushing back on her chair. ‘I’ll be ready in five. Promise.’

She’s such a good girl and a blessing.

‘Don’t forget your homework, Rosie,’ I call out, but she’s running up the stairs two at a time and the noise will, no doubt, drown out my words. ‘I know, Mum. But photography takes me away from home and the website is something that I can work around the school runs. You and Dad can’t keep dropping everything to come over and babysit every time I’m away. It’s difficult being a one-parent family and I want to be here for Rosie all the time. This is our future and this award might tip the scales and increase my income enough to cover all the bills. This could be it, Mum.’

She’s already clearing the dishes from the table, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; it’s no wonder I’m a workaholic. But I’m working to maintain a reasonable standard of living for Rosie and for me. Besides, every trip to review a hotel or feature a resort is a free holiday. It’s quality time for us both and having a job that’s also a lot of fun would be a blessing. Unless you find yourself having to fit everything into weekends, days off and working late into the night to get the reviews and posts written up, as I’ve had to do. Which pretty much sums up my life, now. I yawn, unable to disguise the tiredness that never seems to leave me these days.

‘There. Look at you! The last thing you needed was another late night. Why don’t you let us collect Rosie from school and have her for a mid-week sleepover? I’ll make sure she does her homework. You can invite a friend around, relax for a couple of hours and maybe get an early night for a change.’

Having one’s mother constantly worrying about one’s lack of any sort of a social life can be rather demoralising at times.

‘Mum, we’re happy as we are. Having Rosie makes everything I’ve been through worthwhile. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel complete, really I don’t.’

Mum turns away from loading the dishwasher to look across at me. I know it’s hard for her, too.

‘But what about Rosie, Leah?’

‘We had the conversation several years ago and she never refers to it. Rosie has accepted that her father isn’t coming back and she knows how much she’s loved by the people she does have around her. Her teacher says she’s one of the most well-adjusted kids she’s ever met. Checking that she isn’t having any problems is the first thing I ask at every parents’ evening I attend.’

‘That’s because she’s bubbly, like you. The glass is always half-full and if you both continue through life with that ethos, then you won’t come to any real harm. But the day will come when Rosie will want to spread her wings. What happens when it’s time to let go a little, as she wants to spend more and more time with her friends? It’s a natural progression. If an opportunity to find love comes along, Leah, don’t look in the other direction. Think about it, that’s all I’m saying.’

As we grab coats and don our shoes, it’s a quick hug all round before we head out.

‘Thanks, Mum. You are a star and thank Dad for being the taxi service, yet again.’

‘That’s what we’re here for, honey. And was that a yes to the sleepover?’

Rosie’s eyes light up.

‘A sleepover with Grandma and Granddad, tonight?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Guess it’s a yes, Mum,’ I mutter, as I steer Rosie out of the door. We’re already eight minutes late and it’s going to be impossible to get a parking space anywhere near the school. Oh well, I guess winning a prestigious award doesn’t make you that special, after all!

~

Sally and I are lying at opposite ends of the sofa, a glass of white Grenache in our hands as we toast each other.

‘I really was rooting for you, Sally. I feel awful because you are one of the blogging icons.’

She shakes her head, mid-sip.

‘I won it the very first year and just sporting that nominee badge again for the next twelve months will boost my income nicely. I’ve already had two very lucrative new clients jump on board since the announcement ten days ago. Besides, you and Rosie have taken it up a notch. I love her little feature, advising kids on what to pack and reviewing games, gadgets and items that will slot nicely into that case of hers. She’s become quite the intrepid little traveller since you began blogging.’

It’s true; we’ve been on over a dozen fully-paid trips abroad already, and five within the UK.

‘It was her idea, actually and although I do proofread her posts, it’s entirely her own work. We talk through what she wants to say but I don’t interfere, I simply steer. She loves the freebies and testing things out is fun. But last night came as a total shock and you’re right, the offers have already started to roll in. This could finally allow me to give up the freelance photography work.’

‘You are a deserving winner, Leah, and you should be proud of what you’ve achieved. If I was going to lose to anyone, I’m delighted that it’s you because it’s about time life gave you a break.’

I turn down the corners of my mouth in mock self-pity. ‘I agree. This abandoned mother, parenting her only child, is in dire need of a lucky break.’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘No, that came out all wrong and you know it. What I mean is that you must stop feeling guilty for walking away with the award, lady. And anyone who works as hard as you do, deserves to reap their rewards. You’ve paid your dues, it wasn’t a lucky break at all. Now this is your time to shine.’

It’s been seven long years, and although those years have been a nightmare, I kept pushing forward.

‘You’re right, of course. I’m tired and I have to head up to North Wales tomorrow to take some shots of a trout farm for a magazine feature.’

Sally gives me a sympathetic look.

‘But that’s a three-and-a-half-hour trip from the Forest of Dean. Up and back in a day?’

I nod. ‘Yep. The photos will probably only take an hour. I’ll drop Rosie off at school and head straight up there. Mum and Dad will collect her in the afternoon and wait here until I get back.’

‘I don’t know how you do it, Leah. Fingers crossed those advertising and sponsorship deals come in thick and fast. What’s the daily hit rate, now?’

‘It eclipsed fifteen thousand unique hits for the first time, yesterday.’

She looks me in the eye.

‘You need to put up your advertising rates in line with your new status as the winner of such a prestigious award.’

Cradling the glass in my hands, I admit that’s not something I’d considered. But Sally is right and that alone could make all the difference. And, yes, there is a little thrill that courses through my veins hearing someone else refer to me as a winner.

‘Anyway, what did you think of the outfit? I didn’t look too dressy, did I? Posh frocks aren’t really my thing.’

‘It was perfect – you looked the business. And that’s quite an ass … et you have going on there now, girl. It suits you; the gaunt look wasn’t really your style.’

I smile. We both agree on that score.

‘Yep. I finally fill out a dress from the front to the back, again. My problem now is that if I’m going to be sitting down in front of the laptop every day from here on in, how am I going to maintain it and not pile on the pounds?’

‘When you’ve cracked that one,’ Sally says, jiggling her growing jelly-belly, ‘let me know.’

A New Routine

The problem with being the sole breadwinner is that you can’t afford to take any risks, whatsoever. There is no safety net. Running this little, two-bed stone cottage in the middle of the Forest of Dean is a modest enough outlay by a lot of people’s standards. However, I do appreciate the fact that we are still luckier than many, because I’m a survivor and Rosie is, too. We have learnt to live quite happily within our means. Yes, I’d love the big house with half an acre and two cars sitting on the drive. Who wouldn’t? But the cottage is pretty, and we’re surrounded by stunning views and forest walks.

To the front of the property is a road which leads on down to a cul-de-sac. We don’t get passing traffic, only neighbours coming and going. While our rear garden is small, it backs onto a swathe of forestry commission land. We have all the benefits of some beautiful, old trees with none of the worry of having to maintain them.

We don’t want for anything and I figure that teaching Rosie to live on a budget is a good discipline. It’s something that has become second nature to her and she’s used to making choices and accepting that she can’t simply ask and have.

I was holidaying in Italy when Antonio Castelli first crossed my path; his dark hair and wide smile was the first thing that attracted me to him. When I returned three months later to meet his parents, Guido and Zita, we had already fallen madly in love – the sort of madness that empties your head of everything else – and life became a waiting game. It was agony being parted and I lived for our evening chats via Skype and the constant stream of texts we exchanged daily. I slept with my phone under my pillow and I know Antonio did the same.

Then we had the agonising decision of where we would settle after the wedding. I felt awful for his family when, after careful consideration, we decided to make the UK our home. Mum and Dad were relieved, but knowing that Antonio’s family were so far away was a little cloud on our new horizon. And the paperwork to make it happen was the next nightmare on our journey.

Little did I know that less than three years later it would all be over, leaving me clutching little Rosie to ease the pain in my heart. But now that’s all firmly in the past and I’m extremely proud of my confident little nine-year-old, who is probably a little bit wiser than her years because of what we’ve been through. I was determined to conquer whatever obstacles life placed in front of us because nothing is going to rob us of the happiness we deserve.

I scan down the emails in my inbox and a smile breaks out on my face. One of the emails is a link to the press release issued by the Traveller Abroad publicity team and there it is – a photo, front and centre, the Caroline Blakely handing little old me the trophy.

When I rang the photographic agency to break the news that I was drastically cutting back on my hours, they were shocked, but for me it’s a step forward. Next on the to-do list is a total re-design of the website, taking out anything related to my photographic work. Then I need to maximise advertising space, add a rolling banner so that I can accommodate a number of premium rate advertisers instead of just the one, and review my schedule of charges.

I reach out for my coffee mug, only to find it empty.

‘Now that’s another thing you need to tackle, Leah,’ I admonish myself.

If I’m going to be sitting here working very long days, and nights, in order to develop The Sun Seeker’s Guide to a Happy Holiday into one of the best blogs out there, I need to stop comfort eating. It’s a habit I’ve developed to get me through those long evenings with only the glow of the computer screen to keep me company. I’m the first to admit that I often find myself reaching out for a biscuit, or four, and after a string of cups of very strong coffee I tell myself it’s wine o’clock. Okay, so I only have the one glass but it’s a large one, as I convince myself I deserve a reward for working such long hours.

All that stops now – no cheating. Also, no biscuits, or cake, or chocolate. One coffee to get me going in the morning and then I’m on the water and herbal teas.

A wicked grin creeps over my face. But think of the upside! No more dashing around the house before breakfast getting suited and booted, spending half an hour on hair and make-up. I can throw on a jumper over my PJs and leave early enough to get that prized parking space right next to the school gates. The only space nestled between the end of the zig-zag lines and the start of the double yellows. The one everyone covets so they can watch their little darlings walk the three strides up to the member of staff on duty who ushers them inside.

I glance across at the sparkly crystal award sitting in pride of place in the middle of the bookshelf. Sally was right: I deserve this and I’m going to make it work.

~

‘Mum, are you really going to be around all the time now?’

‘Mostly. Why?’

‘I’ll still spend time with Grandma and Granddad, won’t I?’

Rosie is sitting opposite me at the kitchen table, her little face crinkled up into a frown.

‘Of course you will. You can still have sleepovers whenever you want and we can pop over after school at any time for a visit.’

I can see she’s putting this together and I know there’s a question coming.

‘When someone dies, where do they go?’

Ah. I suspect someone at school has lost a grandparent and the kids have been talking.

‘Well, your soul goes to another place. Some people call that heaven. But usually people only die after they have had a long and happy life and they leave behind lots of wonderful memories.’

Now she’s toying with the chips on the plate in front of her, aimlessly pushing them around.

‘But what if you don’t want them to go?’

I walk around the table and kneel down next to her, easing the fork out of her hand.

‘When we truly love someone, they remain in here.’ I place my hand over my heart. Rosie’s eyes follow my every move. ‘They are always with us. Grandma and Granddad are fine, darling. There’s nothing at all to worry about.’

She hangs her head.

‘I don’t want anyone to die, Mum. I like things the way they are.’

I wrap my arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head and then smoothing back her long, dark brown hair away from her face.

‘Life is all about change, Rosie, and mostly that’s a good thing. The only thing that’s changing for us right now is that we’re going to have a new routine. Life won’t feel quite so rushed and I’ll be here whenever you need me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’

At last, the smile is back on that pretty little face of hers.

‘Yes, Mum. I like it when we can have dinner together and watch TV before bed.’

It’s always the small things that children miss when life gets hectic. There have been too many nights when I’ve missed dinner entirely, barely arriving back in time to put her to bed. It hasn’t been fair on Mum and Dad, and it hasn’t been fair on Rosie.

‘Well, I like that too and if you’ve finished here let’s quickly clear this away and curl up on the sofa, together.’

Her smile broadens enthusiastically and I find myself taking in every little detail. My little girl is growing up so very quickly and I wonder, fleetingly, how different life would have been for her if Antonio hadn’t left us. But he did, and I’ll never forgive him for that.

I’m in the News

It’s the start of week two of the new regime and I’ve made two new discoveries, already. Firstly, that living in PJs isn’t quite me and the postman was beginning to wonder what was going on. One morning when I also happened to be having a particularly bad hair day, he asked me if I was feeling any better! The other discovery is that sitting in the same position for hours on end isn’t good for you. Even if you can avoid the snacks and sugary drinks, your body starts to rebel. I’ve invested in some track suits and after being caught lusting over a fitness tracker, Mum and Dad turned up at the weekend with two neatly wrapped little parcels. Mine was a Vivofit with a gorgeous red strap and Rosie’s present was a watch.

‘Just a little congratulatory gift,’ Dad said, as we opened the boxes.

I couldn’t protest, but it did bring a tear to my eye as we had a group hug.

Suddenly, my mobile kicks into life and I see that it’s Sally.

‘Morning. I’ve just retweeted you and shared your latest post,’ I inform her.

‘Thanks, I’m running behind this morning. I’ll be online shortly to reciprocate. I’ve only just had time to glance at the free paper. Did you know there’s an article about you?’

I gulp. ‘No. What, in Saturday’s paper?’

‘Yes. It’s a nice little article, actually. Well done, you! Anyway, must make a start but I have that Monday morning feeling. Maybe I need a little sugar fix.’

‘Well, I’ve just done my first walk of the day and am about to make a chamomile tea.’

Sally groans. ‘Okay. Point taken. It’s mind over matter and I’ll have a cup of tea instead. You’re beginning to sound like a health nut, but I do hope some of it rubs off on me. I need to get back to the gym, that’s for sure. Catch you later.’

I rummage around in the sitting room for the paper and when I can’t find it, I ring Mum.

‘Only me. Do you have a copy of the local paper? I can’t find ours and Sally says there’s something in there about the award.’ I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.

‘Oh, that will be Keith. Dad said he bumped into him in the supermarket. He’s one of their reporters and Dad told him all about your success. Roger?’ Mum calls out to Dad and I wince, as she hasn’t pulled the phone away from her mouth. ‘Leah’s on the phone. She says Roger did an article on her – what fun!’

Fun?

‘Um … Mum, can you find it for me? What exactly did Dad say?’

‘Only how proud we were that you’d won an award. He’s found the paper. Oh, my!’

It’s a positive exclamation but a chill runs down my back.

‘Gosh, there’s even a photo of you. How wonderful! Roger, ask next door if they’ll let us have their copy. I’m going to frame this one and we need a copy for Leah to show Rosie.’

I feel like a bystander.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll go online to read it. Must go.’

‘Don’t forget you’re both here for dinner on Wednesday night. I’m making spaghetti bolognaise.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for anything.’

My phone is already nestled between my shoulder and my chin, as I Google the paper’s website.

It’s probably a quarter of a page in total judging by the length of it and the headline is Leah Castelli Brings Home a Top Travel Award. I breathe out a small sigh of relief. Clearly this is based on the press release circulated by the Traveller Abroad publicity people and not merely the gushy words of a proud father. It’s all good publicity, just rather unexpected.

It’s time to head out for my second walk of the day and when I leave the house my head is buzzing. I up the pace a little, gradually calming down, and my thoughts return to the latest changes I’m making to the website. Then inspiration strikes and I come up with a way of cramming in more sponsored ads by including them in posts. I want the website itself to look informative, rather than to be covered with adverts and this solution would solve that problem.

Walking might be healthy but it’s also uninterrupted thinking and planning time.

~

At gym club, I watch enthralled as Rosie executes a perfect back-flip. She lands with apparent ease and both feet planted firmly on the ground. Throwing up her arms, she arches her back and maintains a dignified pose. Her face is beaming.

‘Good work, Rosie. Nicely done.’ Miriam Peterson’s approval is enough to make Rosie’s cheeks glow.

That was certainly a shining example of a perfect landing but every time I watch her perform my stomach does its own involuntary flip.

Miriam waves out to me and heads across the mats in my direction. Even so, her eyes are everywhere and she doesn’t miss a thing.

‘Liesel, relax those shoulders!’ Her voice booms out across the studio floor.

‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ Miriam says, with a gush. ‘I read the article and that’s quite something.’

I can feel my cheeks reddening, as this has caught me off–guard.

‘Yes, it was a bit of a surprise, though.’

‘Ah, well, it’s nice to have an interesting hobby and all those free holidays. I’m envious!’

I try not to frown.

‘It’s a bit more than a hobby,’ I add, but my voice begins to trail off.

‘A hobby with benefits,’ Miriam laughs, totally missing the point.

‘It is very hard work, actually.’

Why am I feeling so defensive? Miriam doesn’t understand any more about my industry, than I do about hers.

‘Nice, though. Guess you’ll be flying here, there and everywhere, now.’ It’s dismissive and her tone is beginning to irritate me.

‘I only blog about places I’m happy to endorse one hundred per cent. Being a critic isn’t always easy but it’s gratifying when a client invites me back after making improvements.’

Even her smile is now annoying me; it’s patronising.

‘You get a second trip? Amazing. And all those freebies for you and Rosie to test. I bet you never have to buy anything holiday-related.’

I give up.

‘Rarely,’ I concede, deciding it’s simply better to agree and change the subject. ‘That was a perfect back-flip Rosie performed there.’

‘If she worked harder, she’d make the team.’ Miriam’s gaze doesn’t falter and I can see she feels I don’t push Rosie hard enough. But Rosie is happy attending two classes a week and taking part in demonstrations; the fact that she isn’t interested in competing is entirely her own decision.

And that’s where Miriam and I differ so greatly. You can’t force someone into doing something and I’m not going to put pressure on Rosie for simply wanting to take part for the sheer fun of it. Much to the annoyance of the sometimes scary Miriam Peterson.

The Word is Spreading

I modelled my approach to evaluating a holiday venue on the iconic hotel inspector, Yolanda Jackson. I figured from the outset that whilst I didn’t have the scathing tone and quick-to-anger attitude I’ve witnessed her dishing out so often on her TV programme, I do admire her integrity. And the way she is simply trying to help owners to raise their standards so that visitors get value for money. That’s essential if they want to stay in business.

Today’s post contains several parcels addressed to Rosie, and I always leave her to open them herself. Aside from that, now I’m back from my walk it’s time to hit the emails.

With Easter only ten days away we already have a day trip to a theme park and a visit to a children’s petting zoo in the diary. It looks like our next trip abroad isn’t until the summer half-term holiday, at the end of May. So even if the UK turns out to be wet and windy, which is often the case for bank holidays, hopefully we’ll be basking in sunshine.

Surely it can’t get any better that that?

~

‘Rosie, can you see who’s at the door please? I’ll be there in a second.’

I press ‘send’ on the email I’ve just finished and a little frisson of excitement makes my stomach do a dip.

‘Mum, it’s Naomi and Callie.’

There’s a lot of laughter coming from the hallway as they all barrel into the kitchen.

‘Well, this is a nice surprise, neighbour. Shall I pop the kettle on?’

Naomi shakes her head, still laughing at whatever the girls found funny, as she walks over to give me a hug.

‘No, sadly we can’t stay. We’re on a mission.’ She looks across at Callie, her eleven-year-old daughter.

‘I’m doing a walk for charity, Leah. Will you sponsor me? It’s five miles and I’ve been training, so I know I can do it.’

‘Ah, that’s great, Callie. When is it?’

‘Saturday morning.’

She hands me the form and I take it, grabbing a pen. It’s for childhood cancer and who wouldn’t want to give to that cause?

‘That’s very kind, Leah. Every little bit helps.’

‘My pleasure and way to go, Callie – that’s awesome. Well done, you!’

‘Can I give some money too?’ Rosie pipes up. We all turn to look at her.

Naomi flashes me a glance and I nod.

‘Of course, Rosie. You can spend your savings on anything you want and I can’t think of a more deserving cause.’

As Callie and Rosie lean over the form on the table, Naomi gives me a look of ‘ahh!’

‘Sorry I’ve been absent lately, I had meant to pop down now I’m around a little more.’ I do feel guilty and I miss our interaction since Callie moved to the senior school last September. Her school is the other side of town and it’s not possible to do both trips and car share anymore.

‘I understand, Leah. Besides, judging from the papers, you’ve been very busy. First the local and now the national papers.’

‘What?’ It comes out like a pistol crack. Why am I always the last to know about these things?

‘I saw it in the Daily News, this morning. It was a big spread about the travel industry and some sort of awards ceremony. I didn’t know your blog was so popular. I mean, I knew you had a website for your photography business, but I had no idea! And is that your award?’

She looks over to the bookshelf and I nod, thinking maybe I should move it somewhere slightly less noticeable. But I work from the kitchen table and it’s the hub of the cottage.

‘Yes. It was unexpected news but very welcome. I’ll be focusing on that in future and the Rosie’s Suitcase feature is a big part of it.’

Rosie’s smile extends from ear to ear, as Callie gives her a gentle nudge.

‘You’re practically famous,’ she grins. Rosie blushes.

‘Can I give Callie one of those sun protector sprays? They’re brilliant, Mum, they don’t feel gluey on your skin.’

I laugh and Naomi joins in.

‘Of course. How about one of the inflatable cool bags, too? They’re next to your wardrobe in the black bag.’

The girls head off upstairs and even though there’s a two-year age gap between them, I ponder on the fact that only a couple of inches in height separates them. In terms of maturity, Rosie is ahead of her years. Should I be sad about that?

‘Thanks for your donation, and Rosie’s. We have a lot to be proud of with our girls, don’t we? I’d heard on the grapevine that you were working from home full-time now, but didn’t want to barge in and break up your working day. That must be a real relief, though,’ Naomi says.

‘It is, to be honest. You were brilliant with the car sharing. And Mum and Dad have lived their lives around my schedule but now, finally, I can ease the pressure on them. The award has made all the difference but, ironically, I didn’t give winning a moment’s thought because I was nominated alongside the best bloggers I know.’

I indicate for Naomi to take a seat while we wait for the girls to return.

‘Rosie will, no doubt, ask Callie for feedback on the freebies for her next review. She’s turning into a right little journalist.’

Naomi’s eyes widen. ‘She’s an old head on young shoulders, that’s for sure. Anyway, share the rest of your news – what trips do you have coming up?’

I try to contain my excitement.

‘Well, today I’ve been offered a chance to be flown out to a cruise ship for forty-eight hours. And a family-run hotel in Athens are keen for me to feature them and are offering Rosie and me a five-day stay during half term.’

Naomi’s jaw drops.

‘Don’t say anything when the girls get back as I haven’t told Rosie about Athens yet and for the cruise I’ll have to go on my own as it’s in term time.’

‘Wow! Now I understand why you’ve been working yourself into the ground. You’ve made it happen, Leah, and no one deserves it more.’ Callie looks suitably impressed. It gives me a warm glow for a moment and then I stop to think about her words.

Am I being a tad oversensitive here, or does everyone around me feel that I’m a bit of a sad, and therefore deserving, case?

‘I guess, but maybe it’s my turn for a little boost from the universe.’ I mean, everyone is due a little good luck every so often, aren’t they?

‘Well, when you’re constantly sending out good karma, you gotta eventually get some back!’

Is Naomi right? Or is the residue of my anger and resentment still festering in the pit of my stomach, waiting to be unleashed? Sometimes I feel like there are two of me, the good Leah and the bad Leah. The bad one wants to scream, but the good one won’t let it. That’s negative, Leah, and it’s not a road you want to travel down.

‘Let’s see what the girls have discovered, shall we?’