A summer of second chances…

Just a week before her big day, Sarah returns home to find a note from her husband-to-be – the wedding’s off! So when her boss decides to send her on an epic cycling trip, from Venice to Rome, it seems like the perfect distraction…

Although she never expected the distraction to come in the form of her oh-so-handsome, but slightly serious, cycling companion, Miles. And with six hundred miles of beautiful scenery, mouthwatering food and delicious wine still to cover, anything could happen!

Escape to Italy this summer with this fabulously feel-good beach read from T. A. Williams. Perfect for fans of Zara Stoneley, Mandy Baggot and Caroline Roberts.

Also by T. A. Williams

When Alice Met Danny

What Happens in Tuscany…

What Happens in Cornwall…

What Happens at Christmas…

What Happens in the Alps…

What Happens at the Beach…

Dirty Minds

The Room on the Second Floor

To Rome, with Love

T. A. Williams

TREVOR WILLIAMS

lives in Devon with his Italian wife. He lived and worked in Switzerland, France and Italy, before returning to run one of the best-known language schools in the UK. He has taught people from all over the world, among them Arab princes, Brazilian beauty queens and Italian billionaires. He speaks a number of languages and has travelled extensively. He has eaten snake, live fish and alligator. A Spanish dog, a Russian bug and a Korean parasite have done their best to eat him in return. He has written historical novels, romantic comedies and thrillers. His hobby is long-distance cycling, but his passion is writing.

You can follow him on Twitter, @TAWilliamsBooks, find him on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TrevorWilliamsBooks or visit his website: www.tawilliamsbooks.com.

To my lovely editor at HQ Digital, Charlotte Mursell

To Mariangela, as ever with love

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Excerpt

Endpages

Copyright

Chapter 1

As hen parties go, it was remarkably restrained. Apart from Polly kissing the policeman, and Cath from the front desk pouring the best part of a bottle of Prosecco all down her front, nothing much happened. Sarah had promised herself she wouldn’t drink too much as she knew how busy the rest of the week was going to be and, in consequence, she got back to the flat really remarkably sober. What she found when she got home, however, was the most sobering experience of her thirty years of life so far.

She let herself in quietly in case James had already gone to bed. His stag do was scheduled for the following night and he had indicated he would try to get a good night’s sleep in advance of it. When she peeked round the bedroom door, however, she found the bed not slept in and no sign of him. She checked the other rooms, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Then she went into the kitchen.

On the kitchen table was an envelope. He had propped it up against the brown sauce bottle so it was pointing straight at the door and she wouldn’t be able to miss it as she walked in. On it, he had just written her name.

She picked it up and tore it open. It wasn’t a long letter, but its message was brutally clear. She read it through in disbelief, unable at first to take in the significance of what he had to say. It was only when she reached the final lines that her befuddled brain started to react.

I’m afraid I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m too young to be tied down to one woman for the rest of my life. I want to enjoy life with other people, have other experiences, meet other girls. I’m sorry it’s taken me until now to make up my mind, and I’m really sorry to hurt you this way, but my mind is made up. The wedding’s off. I can’t go through with it.

Sarah dropped the letter on the table and sank down onto a chair, trying to digest his words as her whole world crumbled around her. She pushed a dirty plate away from her and swept up the crumbs from where it looked as if he had made himself beans on toast before leaving. She rested her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands, eyes closed, as much to hold back the tears as to help her concentrate. The recurring thought going through her brain was, why? Why had he chosen this moment, only a week before their wedding, to call it off? They had known each other since university and had been living together for seven years now. The wedding had been his idea, after all, and it wasn’t even as if it was going to be a big event. And yet, for him, it must have marked some kind of watershed. The finality of the wedding must have tipped him over the edge.

For a moment she wondered if he had maybe panicked and got drunk and that this was just a crazy moment he would bitterly regret next morning. But, after all these years, she knew him too well. James didn’t work like that. It took him a long time to make a decision, whether about the choice of a new computer or where to go on holiday, but once he made up his mind, that was that. This letter hadn’t been written in a moment of madness or insobriety. He meant it.

Chapter 2

‘Hi, Sarah. How did it go?’ Catherine on the front desk looked up with a sheepish smile as she heard the doors swish open. ‘Sorry I got a bit plastered on Monday night. What’s in the box?’

Sarah had been dreading this moment for the past week. She was determined not to cry and, as she felt the telltale stinging in the corners of her eyes, she hastily glanced in the mirror behind Catherine with Hall’s Tours, The Very Best in Travel etched in it, composed her face, and took a few deep breaths. Hopefully, getting back to work would help sort her out again after all that had happened, but first she had to get through today. She returned her attention to Catherine and, in spite of her best efforts, managed just one single word.

‘Cupcakes.’

Catherine looked puzzled. ‘Cupcakes?’

There was no doubt about it; Sarah knew there was no chance of her being able to say more without bursting into tears, so she gave a little wave of the hand and headed for the lift. Mercifully, there was nobody in it. Instead of pressing the button for the seventh floor, she pressed -1 and felt a huge sense of relief as the doors hissed shut behind her and the lift dropped downwards to the basement. Stepping out into the subdued, orange glow of the lights on the floor that housed the janitors, cleaning supplies and storage bays, she made her way down the corridor to the brochure storeroom and opened the door with her key. She walked inside, flicked on the light and closed the door behind her, turning the key in the lock. She sat down on a pile of last year’s skiing brochures and dumped the cardboard box on the floor beside her. Only then did she give in. Dropping her head into her hands, she cried her eyes out.

She must have stayed like that for a good ten minutes before finally managing to regain control of her emotions. At last, as she wiped her eyes, blew her nose and tried to restore some semblance of normality to her appearance, her overriding feeling was one of anger; anger with herself for being so weak. She had insisted that she wanted to come back to work straightaway, even when Polly and her mother had told her she was crazy. ‘Take some time off,’ they had said. ‘They’ll understand at work. Time’s a great healer. That’s all you need: time.’ But she had been adamant. She had felt sure a speedy return to work would help her get over what had happened, but she hadn’t expected to fall at the very first hurdle.

In fact, this sense of anger probably helped. She was not, she told herself firmly, going to give up and scuttle off home. She was coming back to work and that was that. She took a few deep breaths and looked down at the box at her feet. It had toppled over on its side, the lid had come open and a cupcake had rolled out. The wedding had been planned as just a quiet family affair; she had ordered the cupcakes so as to have something to distribute to everybody at work, and it had been too late to cancel the order. The initials S&J leapt out at her from the icing on top of the one that had escaped and she bent down to pick it up. Holding it in her hand, she scrabbled at the icing with her fingernails, trying to remove the initials that just underlined how disastrous the last week had been. The trouble was that the letters were set well in and, as she tried to scrape them off, all she did was remove great chunks of icing, making a terrible mess. She dropped the cupcake on top of a glossy photo of a snowboarder and snorted with disgust. It looked as though the mice had been eating it.

She glanced at her watch. It was gone nine o’clock. She was normally at her desk long before this, often one of the first into the building. She gave her eyes a final wipe and used the tissue to wrap the remains of the cupcake. Picking up the box, she let herself out, locking the door behind her, and walked back to the lift, depositing the tissue with its contents in a bin by the lift door. She pressed the call button and waited. Fortunately, the lift arrived empty and she managed to get up to the seventh floor without having to talk to anybody. All was going well until she bumped into Adam from Sales and Marketing. He gave her a big smile.

‘Hi, Sarah. So, how was the wedding?’

She took a firm grip, on both the box of cupcakes and her emotions, and did her unsuccessful best to smile. ‘I’ll tell you all about it one of these days.’

Hastily, she set off along the corridor towards her office. As she walked through the open-plan part of the floor, she heard a few voices calling out and even a whistle, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop and face the music. She kept her head down and walked as fast as she could. The door to her office at the far end was open and she dived in gratefully. She would ask somebody else to do the rounds with the cupcakes. She really didn’t feel she could face it for now.

She put the box down on the table in the corner and looked around the room. Nothing had changed. The blinds were open and she could see right across London to the towers of Canary Wharf, glittering in the clear June sunshine. It felt reassuringly normal to be back here and, for a moment, her mood of despair lightened. Then, returning her attention to her desk, her eyes alighted on the photo in its silver frame of her and James at the Grand Canyon. She reached across and picked it up, dumping it face down into one of the drawers.

‘Hi, Sarah, so how did it all go?’ Sarah looked up and saw Melissa at the door. Hastily closing the drawer, she straightened up, hoping her PA hadn’t witnessed the unceremonious disposal of her former fiancé’s picture. She had promised herself she was going to try to act as normally as possible, and throwing picture frames around wasn’t something she did normally.

‘Hi, Mel. It didn’t, I’m afraid.’

‘It didn’t?’ Melissa sounded as bemused as she looked. For the second time in only a few minutes, Sarah felt her eyes fill with tears. She was scrabbling for another tissue in her bag when she heard Melissa’s voice again. ‘What on earth? What do you mean, Sarah? What didn’t happen? Not the wedding, surely?’

It took a little while longer before Sarah regained some precarious hold over her emotions. She nodded and managed to offer a brief explanation. ‘Yes, the wedding, Mel. James decided he didn’t want to go through with it, so it didn’t happen.’ She took another deep breath and attempted a little smile that would have been more convincing if her voice hadn’t descended into a croak. She cleared her throat before continuing. ‘Anyway, it could have been worse. Look, cupcakes!’ She took out a few and set them on her desk before pushing the box across. ‘Why don’t you go and share them out. There are loads of them.’

Melissa was still standing there, stunned. After a struggle she managed a few words. ‘Of course, but are you sure you’re all right? It must have been simply awful for you.’

Just for a moment, Sarah thought her resolve was going to break, but she surprised herself by managing to reply with only the faintest tremor in her voice. ‘It was, Mel, but I’ll get over it.’ She caught Melissa’s eye as she repeated her words. ‘Sooner or later I’ll get over it. I have to.’

An expression of sadness and sympathy replaced the astonishment on Melissa’s face, and it looked for a moment as though she was about to return to the subject; but, to Sarah’s infinite relief, she took the box of cupcakes and disappeared into the corridor. Sarah ran the back of her hand across her eyes and sat down. She could feel her heart pounding and the tingling sensation of tears once more welling in the corners of her eyes. She dug out a tissue and wiped her face and blew her nose. She risked a quick glance in the mirror and was unsurprised to see her eyes looking very red. She blinked a few times, but there was nothing much she could do except wait for everything to calm down again. She didn’t even have a pair of sunglasses with her. She had known today was going to be hard. Maybe not as hard as that moment only a week ago when she had opened James’s letter, but hard all the same.

She flicked through the papers on her desk, glancing idly at the June copy of the Travel Trade Gazette before setting it to one side for future reference. Somehow, the idea of losing herself in her work had considerable appeal. If she could.

‘I brought you some coffee, Sarah.’ She didn’t hear Melissa’s footsteps until she came in and put the two cups down on the desk. Sarah was relieved to see that the box of cupcakes had not reappeared with her. Melissa pulled up a chair. She almost looked as if she was going to cry. ‘Oh, Sarah, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and what you’ve been through.’

‘Just leave it now, please, Mel. What’s done’s done and I’d really rather not talk about it.’ Sarah took a deep breath and did her best to forget the tattered remains of her personal life and concentrate on the job. ‘We’ll start with the charity bike ride, I think. Venice to Rome. That all kicks off this coming weekend, doesn’t it? Is everything booked?’

Melissa checked her pad. ‘It’s all booked and fixed.’ She looked up and tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘I bet you wish you were going, too, don’t you? Cycling’s sort of your thing, isn’t it?’

Sarah nodded, glad of the distraction. ‘I’d enjoy the cycling, but I really don’t feel like being charming and helpful to a bunch of people just now. No, I’m going to be just fine here in the office, with my head down, sorting out what’s going to be on offer to the travelling public next year.’

‘Paul made the last of the bookings for the bike ride.’ There was something in Melissa’s voice that made Sarah glance up. She wasn’t mistaken. There was definitely a dreamy look in her PA’s eyes. Somehow this served to lighten her mood a little.

‘Paul… you mean Paul Hall? I thought he was still over in the States.’

‘No, he’s back in London now, as is his big brother, Miles. They came back last week while you were away. And apparently, they’re both going on the Italian bike ride. We had to book two more rooms in the hotels. Something about familiarising themselves with the sharp end of the travel business.’ Melissa glanced over her shoulder at the open door and lowered her voice. ‘The word is that old Mr Hall’s finally retiring and handing it all over to the boys.’ Her expression darkened. ‘From what people are saying, Miles might well be planning some major changes.’ She was looking worried now. ‘And if that leads to redundancies, I’m sure I’d be one of the first to go. You’ve been at Hall’s for ages, haven’t you, but I only started last year.’

Sarah was reaching across the desk for her coffee, but she switched direction, caught Melissa’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘I’m sure you’d be the last to go, Mel. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ She managed an encouraging smile and saw the relief on Melissa’s face. She picked up her coffee and took a mouthful, murmuring appreciatively. Melissa had obviously gone all the way to the cafeteria to get the good stuff. That was something that had definitely improved over the nine years she had been working here. When she’d first started at Hall’s, the coffee had been undrinkable. ‘Here, have a cupcake. At least they weren’t ruined.’ In spite of her resolve, she couldn’t help the note of bitterness in her voice.

‘Oh, Sarah…’ Luckily, Melissa was prevented from saying more as a tall figure appeared at the door, leaning casually against the frame.

‘Knock, knock. Hi, Sarah, welcome back.’ As he walked into the room, Sarah couldn’t miss the expression of adoration on Melissa’s face, not dissimilar to the look their old dog used to produce every time food appeared in his vicinity. This thought also helped her to adopt what she hoped would sound like a normal tone.

‘Hello, Paul. Long time, no see. How was Harvard, or was it Yale?’

He came over to her desk and extended his hand, leaning towards her with a winning smile. As he did so, he shot a sideways glance at Melissa, who blushed and choked on her cupcake. He looked as if he had been working out while in the States. Sarah didn’t remember his shoulders being quite so broad.

‘Right first time. Harvard Business School, and it was good. What about you?’ He took a closer look at her. ‘You’ve got awfully red eyes. Are you all right?’

‘Hay fever, I’m afraid.’ It wasn’t very inspired, but it would have to do.

‘How awful for you. You’ve just been away for a week, haven’t you? I thought you were going to be off for longer. What’ve you been doing? Did you go somewhere nice?’

‘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-Almighty 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.’

As Polly disappeared with the three Americans, Sarah ticked off their names on her clipboard and reflected with satisfaction that it hadn’t been so difficult to smile and be pleasant, after all. In fact, it had brought back happy memories of trips she had done in the past, before James had stamped his meddling, selfish foot on her career. She saw from the screen that the BA flight from London had now landed. The bulk of the participants in the group were travelling with Paul and Miles on that flight so she hoped Polly would get back in good time to collect them and see they got to the hotel. She glanced over her shoulder, rather hoping there might be a café close by for a quick espresso, but all she could see were tourist information and incoming travel company desks.

She took a moment to think ahead to what awaited her over the next two weeks. There were so many unknowns. As well as the weather and the quality of the hotels and restaurants along the way, a cycle ride threw up a load of further variables. There was the question of the relative fitness of the participants and whether they would all be able to ride a hundred kilometres a day. Polly would drive the minibus with the luggage and there would be room in there for a few stragglers if it came to it, but not more than a handful. Then there was the make-up of the group and how well they bonded together. She knew from experience that just one or two difficult customers could easily sour a whole trip. And, of course, there was the potentially even bigger problem of having to deal with the future bosses of the company.

A tall, good-looking man in a suit walked past and, much as she had been working hard to suppress the memory of him, she found herself thinking of James. He always wore a suit to work and he travelled a lot. It would be the height of irony if she were to meet him here, today, in Venice. She shook her head angrily. And if she were to meet him, how would she react? It was eight days since what should have been her wedding day, and, in the meantime, she had spent many tough hours going over in her head just what had happened and how she could maybe have prevented it. She found herself still at a loss to explain what had got into him and how she could have missed the signs. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of more than a handful of minor disagreements that could have indicated his dissatisfaction with the relationship and with her. As a rational, very organised person, it was bitterly frustrating to realise just how little she had truly known about the man with whom she had been fully prepared to spend the rest of her life.

The all-too-familiar stinging in the corners of her eyes threatened to develop into tears once more, but she was prevented from any further introspection as the sliding doors opened and her future bosses appeared. Along with them was a group of people, many of them carrying bikes in bags or boxes. At their head was Paul. He gave Sarah a cheery wave and led the others across to her as she surreptitiously wiped her eyes. They made up a group of fifteen people, nine of them men. At first sight, everybody looked pretty fit and Sarah drew heart from this. Maybe Polly’s minibus wouldn’t get too crowded, after all. Bringing up the rear of the group was Miles and she took a good look at him for the first time since his brief appearance in her office earlier that week. He looked leaner than she remembered and there was not even a hint of the sedentary businessman’s paunch she had noted a few years ago. However, her fears were reawakened when she saw that, although all the other members of the group were smiling cheerfully, his face looked serious, maybe even surly. She sighed to herself and hoped he would cheer up as the trip went on. She went across to greet them all, noting with relief, out of the corner of her eye, the reappearance of Polly from the bus.

‘Hi, everybody.’ Sarah put on her brightest smile and introduced herself, realising as she did so that this smile was now going to have to be plastered across her face permanently for the next two weeks. Considering how little smiling she had been doing recently, she had a feeling her face muscles were in for a real workout. ‘Welcome to Venice. I’m Sarah and I’m going to be riding with you. This is Polly, who’ll be with us all the way as well.’ They both passed among the group, shaking hands, exchanging greetings and handing out programmes. As she went round, Sarah ticked off names on her list. When she reached Miles, she stuck out her hand and managed to broaden her smile even wider.

‘Hi, Miles, I’m very glad to see you again.’

To her surprise, he managed to smile back at her and it was as if a wave had washed over his face, changing his appearance from grim to almost cheerful, and taking ten years off him in the process. As she shook hands, she took a closer look at him. Although she had always assumed he was well into his forties, with a smile on his face he looked a good bit younger.

‘Sarah, hi, good to see you again.’ His grip was firm and, for the first time, she saw his eyes close up. Although dark-ringed and surrounded by care lines, they were an amazing deep royal blue and strangely hypnotic. She felt a quite unexpected surge of physical attraction, which disappeared in an instant as the memory of the other man in her life with amazing blue eyes made its unwelcome return. It must have shown on her face as Miles’s smile vanished as suddenly as it had come. Sarah hastily turned her attention to the others and supervised them as they loaded their luggage onto trolleys and headed out to the bus. It was only when they had all disappeared with Polly that Sarah had a few moments to analyse her first impressions.

Paul was undeniably handsome and he knew it. Miles wasn’t as gloomy as she had feared, although she hadn’t missed the lines on his careworn face. Hopefully, he would manage to relax as the trip unfolded, if relaxation was a word to be used by people about to cycle a thousand kilometres. The other members of the group all looked as if they were up for it, and one of the women in particular was very pretty indeed. From previous experience, Sarah wondered how that might affect the dynamics of the group, particularly if Paul was still in predatory mode. She determined to keep a close eye on him. It would reflect badly on Hall’s Tours if the son of the proprietor were to start playing fast and loose with the customers.

‘Hello, are you part of the cycle ride?’ She raised her eyes from her clipboard and found herself confronted by a very tall blond man, probably her age, with the lightest blue eyes she had ever seen. Where Miles had cobalt-blue eyes, these were like the blue of an iceberg in the sun. His eyes and mouth were smiling and she had no difficulty in giving him a big smile in return. From his accent, he was Scandinavian, and there was only one of these on her list. He had to be Lars from Sweden.

‘Hi, you must be Lars.’ She saw him nod. ‘Welcome to Venice, Lars. Did you have a good flight?’

His smile was infectious and she was still chatting happily to him when Polly returned from dropping the others off. When Lars disappeared with Polly, Sarah felt quite sorry. Talking to him had been remarkably easy and this had really cheered her. Maybe two weeks of being nice wasn’t going to be too hard, after all.

By two o’clock, almost all the participants had turned up and nobody had lost any luggage or suffered a significant delay. The last to arrive were three women whose flight from Cardiff had arrived over an hour ago. Sarah was just beginning to get worried when the automatic doors swished open and the girls appeared, pushing a trolley full of bags. They all looked flustered, the redhead in the middle particularly so. She spotted Sarah’s yellow shirt and the clipboard and came rushing across to explain.

‘Hi, I’m Glynis Phillips. I’m terribly sorry, but I lost my phone.’

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You lost it? What, on board the aircraft or after you got off?’

Glynis nodded, the embarrassed look on her face now more evident. ‘I turned it off for the flight and was going to turn it back on again once we got off, and it was then that I realised I’d lost it, just before passport control. I searched all my stuff, but I couldn’t find it. I was just starting to explain to the policemen when it turned up.’

One of her companions, a pretty, dark-haired girl, supplied the explanation. ‘I managed to find a girl who works for the airline and she made a call.’ She shot a long-suffering glance across at Glynis. ‘It was in the aircraft, tucked into the seat pocket.’

Glynis nodded miserably. ‘I must have dropped it in there by accident. I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Jo.’ She gave Sarah an apologetic look. ‘I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.’

Sarah gave her a grin, determined to reassure her and calm her down. ‘Not at all. I’m just glad you found it.’ She smiled at all three of them. ‘Well, you’ve arrived now. If you’d like to come with me, there’s a bus outside to ferry you to the hotel.’

As they made their way out of the terminal building, Jo, the girl who had saved the day, fell in alongside Sarah and whispered to her. ‘Glynis is a sweetie, but I’m afraid she can be a bit scatty at times. Naomi and I’ll do our best to keep an eye on her.’ She was an attractive girl and, by the sound of it, a bright one. Somehow, Sarah had a feeling Paul was going to like her a lot. Surreptitiously, she crossed her fingers, hoping he would behave himself. Anyway, she told herself, everybody had turned up and she could breathe a sigh of relief. So far, so good. As long as she didn’t think too hard about Gianluca.

***

Dinner was set for half past eight in a restaurant a few kilometres inland of the airport and the hotel. They had booked a coach to ferry everybody there and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when everybody was safely on board. As they started off on the fifteen minute journey, she walked down through the bus, chatting to everybody and checking they were all satisfied with their accommodation. Everybody seemed happy and those who had taken the water bus into Venice were singing the praises of that wonderful city. Paul and Miles were sitting halfway down the bus and Paul was chatting volubly with the trio of girls from Cardiff, his eyes very much on Jo. Miles was sitting on his own, engrossed in a call on his phone. Sarah remembered his reputation for being a workaholic and hoped this wouldn’t be how he spent all his free time. Mind you, she thought to herself, she had been branded a workaholic herself so many times, she felt a sense of sympathy for him. At least, she thought to herself, it would be hard for him to carry on a telephone conversation while riding a bike.

After returning to her seat, satisfied that all was going well so far, she was reminded that one of the people who had accused her of working too hard had been James. Had her appetite for her job contributed to his decision not to go ahead with the wedding? In the wake of the impact of his decision, she had been conducting a post-mortem in her head, asking herself just why he had made up his mind to dump her and whether it really was the disaster she had initially thought. Certainly, he would have objected to her participation in this trip, even though she had found herself faced with little or no choice in the matter. She had always known he had a very selfish, controlling side to his character and it was only just occurring to her now that his insistence they get married might have been in order to further cement his hold over her. Maybe, tough as it was, his decision had been the right one, after all. She found herself feeling very confused. She shook her head miserably and sighed as the coach drove across the dead flat countryside, criss-crossed by little waterways, through which they would be riding the following day. The thought of two weeks on a bike should have cheered her, but she knew she was still bleeding internally and it would take a lot to cheer her up.

‘Can I join you, Sarah?’

Miles’s voice dragged her out of her introspection. ‘Of course. All well?’

She was referring to his telephone conversation, which had been going on for a good ten or fifteen minutes, but he chose to interpret her query as referring to the trip. ‘You tell me – you’re in charge, after all. Now, what do you want me to do tonight?’

He was sitting close beside her and she could feel the hairs of his bare forearm resting against her arm. It was a not unpleasant sensation and, yet again, she had to remind herself that the very last thing she wanted right now was any kind of involvement with another man. She eased her arm away from him and replied.

‘I want you to turn on the charm, Miles. Plonk yourself at table and dazzle everybody with your bonhomie and friendliness. Line one, page one of the tour guides’ manual: “Keep a smile on your face at all times and this will ensure a smile on the faces of the clients.” So, big smiles all round, all right?’ She shot him a quick glance to see how he was reacting and was relieved to see a smile forming on his lips.

‘Of course, you’re right.’ He met her eyes for a few seconds and she read something more serious that belied his words. ‘Do me a favour, Sarah; remind me of that from time to time. I know I should smile more.’

‘Normally, all that’s needed is to be happy and the smile comes automatically. Are you happy, Miles?’ She looked over at his face again, but his eyes were now trained down at his hands.

‘I’ll work on that, too, Sarah.’ His voice now sounded bleak and she felt a surge of compassion. Clearly, things weren’t all right and she wondered if the cause was work, the conflict with his brother, or something more personal. Then he looked up, out of the window. ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, we’re here.’ He turned back towards her, his smile firmly in place. ‘See, Sarah, I’m smiling.’

It almost looked convincing.

The restaurant was called La Stalla and had pretty evidently been converted from an old stable block. Just in case anybody failed to get the connection, there were saddles and sundry horsey paraphernalia all around the walls to make the point. The walls were exposed stone and brick, the high ceilings supported by hefty wooden beams, and the floors were ancient, worn terracotta tiles. It was a charming place and she sensed the approval of the guests as they walked inside. They were escorted to a private room at one end of the building where a long table had been set up for all thirty of them. Sarah, as mistress of ceremonies, sat right in the middle on one side and the others helped themselves to seats around her. As everybody settled down she noticed that Miles had taken up position right opposite her and she wondered whether this was a deliberate move to keep an eye on her, presumably so as to assess her performance at firsthand. For a moment, Sarah remembered what Melissa had said about possible redundancies and she suppressed a shiver. She loved her job and really didn’t want to lose it.

‘What a fabulous place.’ Lars the Swede had taken his place at her right hand and was looking around admiringly. On the other side of her, Sarah had made sure to put one of the two women who had come on their own, as she was determined to see they were made welcome by the others in the group as soon as possible. She turned towards Lars and nodded.

‘And the food’s supposed to be even better.’ She glanced across the table at Miles and was relieved to see him looking, by his standards, relatively relaxed, a reasonably convincing smile still on his face, chatting to the very pretty girl who had arrived with the others on the flight from London. Sarah had now identified her as Diana from a big tour operator based in Bristol. Ominously, Paul, looking very smart in a sky-blue polo shirt, had taken up position on the other side of her and was clearly waiting until his brother tired so that he could leap in and start a conversation with her. As Sarah was watching Paul, he suddenly looked up and his eyes caught hers. He gave her a big smile and a wink.

‘All well, Sarah?’

‘I’ll tell you at the end of the meal.’

‘It’s going to be good. I can feel it.’

Sarah was reminded of numerous other group dinners back in the days when she had still been accompanying groups of tourists. She knew full well that first impressions count and so she really hoped tonight’s food would be suitably impressive. ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed, Paul.’ She turned her attention to the girl beside her.

‘Is this your first time in Italy, Terri?’

‘Pretty much. I visited Naples with my mum and dad when I was quite little, but I haven’t been back since. I suppose you must have been here loads of times. I’ve heard you speaking Italian and you sound really good.’ Terri was really quite tiny. Although Sarah wasn’t the tallest girl in the world, she found herself having to look down when talking to Terri, whose hands were like a child’s. Sarah hoped she’d be strong enough to manage the bike ride. She did, however, look very friendly and they were soon chatting together.

‘Are you from the travel trade as well? Most of the others are.’

Terri nodded. ‘Yes, I work for Total Tours in Reading, but I’m originally from Cornwall.’

Just then the waiters appeared with bottles of Prosecco and came round, filling glasses. When everybody had been served, Sarah clinked her knife against her glass and, as a hush descended, took a deep breath, broadened her smile and said a few words. ‘Hi, again, everybody. I’m very pleased to welcome you here, and I’d like to thank you all for being brave enough to join us on this ride for a really worthwhile cause.’

‘Brave or stupid?’ A voice from the end of the table caused a few nervous laughs.

‘Definitely brave. A thousand kilometres is a good ride and, although the next couple of days are going to be fairly flat, it definitely ramps up into the hills after that. But don’t worry; you’ll all be fighting fit by then.’ She was surprised to find that she was managing to smile without too much difficulty. Somehow, returning to her original first love of getting out with groups of tourists was proving beneficial to her mood. ‘Anyway, I won’t spoil your evening by rabbiting on, so just let me tell you the forecast’s good for tomorrow, so it should be warm and dry. Polly will be driving the van with your luggage and, if anybody has a problem, she and Gianluca, our guide, will be on hand to help.’ She raised her glass, doing her best to dismiss the memory of the Italian’s bloodshot eyes from her head. ‘Now, let’s drink a toast to ourselves for raising money for a great cause and trying to make a difference. To us.’

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 Miles, 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 ferry, 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.’

This time he didn’t reply.

Soon they reached their first ferry and pushed their bikes on board, stacking them against the sides of the open car deck. From the upper deck, they got their first really good view of the city of Venice itself as it hove into view on their right, a packed mass of tall palazzi with all manner of spires and domes reaching up through the roofs into the hazy blue sky.

Sarah was leaning against the rail, chatting to some of the others and watching as the outline of the city came ever closer, when she felt a touch on her arm. It was Paul.

‘Not a bad view, eh, Sarah?’

She nodded. ‘You can say that again.’ The sun was reflecting on the tiny wavelets that sparkled cheerfully across the water of the lagoon. Paul also looked cheerful this morning and, for a moment, Sarah remembered the previous night and wondered about asking him if there was some sort of antipathy between him and his brother, but thought better of it. The only thing worse than getting involved in a family feud was when that family happened to be her employers.

The ferry took them to the Lido and by the time they stopped for a late lunch break they had already racked up almost sixty kilometres and the mood of the group was buoyant. Sarah hoped this would still be the case when the terrain started getting hilly in a few days’ time.

The café restaurant alongside the road that ran round the edge of the lagoon had tables outside in the shade of an awning. As they sat down, directly in front of them across the water was Venice, now revealed in all its majesty. Hefty wooden posts, arranged in tripods, marked the channel through the shallow waters of the lagoon towards the city, which was now clearly visible in the middle of the broad expanse of water. From where they were sitting, the city was a complex pink and white mass of buildings with, rising from their midst, the pointed red and white tower of St Mark’s Basilica. Everywhere they looked there were boats, ranging from what looked like a huge cruise liner, to the utilitarian green and white vaporetti – the water buses – to numerous smaller craft, with what might have been a handful of gondolas in the far distance at the entrance to the Grand Canal. As views went, this one was something very special.

Some of the riders chose to have a full meal with wine, but most people, including Sarah, just opted for a sandwich and a soft drink, followed by a coffee, deciding that two big Italian meals a day might be excessive. She had just sat down when Paul came along. ‘All right if I join you?’

‘Of course, help yourself.’

He pulled out a chair and sat down at right angles to her, side on to the water. They chatted a bit as they both relaxed and admired the view. He took off his sunglasses and gloves and ran his fingers through his hair. He had nice hair, Sarah had to give him that. It had evidently been freshly cut in preparation for the bike ride, and, even after a hot day crammed into a helmet, it sprang back into place obediently. Sarah envied him that. Her hair inevitably looked bedraggled when she removed her helmet. Although they had been riding along on the flat, the temperature had climbed steadily and all of them were sweating. She hoped it would cool down a bit by the time they reached the hills in three days’ time.

When the waitress came along, Paul ordered the same as Sarah and then sat back. ‘So, you’ll have to tell me how I can help out. It’s pretty clear you’ve got it all under control, but I’m here and I’d like to make myself useful.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘In spite of what my brother says, I do know how to work.’

Sarah decided not to follow up on that particular topic, choosing to let the brothers sort out their own differences. ‘Thanks, Paul. There’s nothing very specific, really. Just keep an eye on the group, encourage anybody who looks to be having trouble, try to get everybody talking and any lone wolves integrated into the pack.’ She gave him a smile. ‘Just turn on the charm.’ She hesitated, before adopting a more serious expression. ‘But not too much charm, all right?’

‘Yes, boss, leave it to me.’ He was still smiling and Sarah realised she rather liked him. He had definitely matured over the past couple of years and, although she was still quite sure she wasn’t interested in getting involved with another man under any circumstances, she was enjoying his company. However, his next remark made her realise that this particular leopard hadn’t totally changed its spots. He looked round at the rest of the group. ‘So, who’s going to be bonking who, then?’

‘Who’s going to be doing what?’

He grinned across the table at her. ‘Which of our companions are going to take advantage of this break from home, work and family to indulge in a bit of howsyourfather? You know, the chance to enjoy themselves with other people, have other experiences.’ As he spoke, the image of James’s letter appeared in Sarah’s head, every word indelibly burnt into her memory. Paul’s choice of language was almost exactly the same. She felt a strong sense of indignation growing, but Paul hadn’t finished. He leant across the table towards her and dropped his voice. ‘My money’s on our French friends.’ He nodded across to the table where the couple from a big Parisian tour operator were sitting. Jean-Pierre was a charming man in his early fifties, while slim, dark Véronique had to be a good ten, maybe fifteen, years younger. She had told Sarah they worked together, and it was pretty clear they were close friends, but that didn’t make them lovers. Besides, Sarah told herself, so what if they were? Paul looked back across the table and winked. ‘Fancy a bet. Shall we say a tenner?’

‘What they do in their private life is up to them, Paul.’ Sarah took a deep, calming breath before continuing. ‘And there’s nothing funny about infidelity. I wouldn’t dream of betting on something like that.’

‘All right, all right, the bet’s off, but I still reckon they’re not just here for the cycling.’ The arrival of the waitress with their drinks interrupted him and gave Sarah a bit more time to regain her composure. She picked up her glass and drank deeply, letting a couple of ice cubes slowly melt in her mouth. This further settled her and she was able to reply in quite normal tones.

‘Like I say, their private life’s their own. As long as they don’t cause trouble or hold the group back, it’s up to them how they spend their time.’ She now decided it was better to change the subject. ‘So, how do you think our guide’s working out?’

‘Gianluca? He’s great. He’s been telling us a few of his tales about riding on the professional circuit. They have to be phenomenally fit. To guys like him, a short training ride is a hundred miles.’

Sarah had done a few hundred-mile rides in her time and she knew she would never be able to consider any of them short. ‘And the other members of the group? Any potential troublemakers? Anybody been grumbling about anything?’

‘Nope, they all sound happy. Touch wood, I think this looks set to become another Hall’s Tours success. Well done, you.’

Sarah soaked up the compliment and hoped Paul would say something of the sort to his big brother to help convince him she really was good at her job. She glanced to her left and spotted Miles walking slowly up and down the waterside, his phone glued to his ear. She shook her head sadly. Some things never changed.

***

They arrived at their destination at four-thirty. It had been a long, hot day, although everybody had been enchanted by the views. Their hotel, a large, modern construction, was right by the beach at Chioggia, the town that marked the southernmost limit of the Venetian lagoon. From tomorrow, they would be moving inland. They dumped their bikes in the underground garage and went up into the lovely, air-conditioned interior of the hotel. Once she had supervised the allocation of the rooms, Sarah, like most of the others, went upstairs, slipped into her bikini, grabbed a towel and headed for the beach across the road.

First, she had to fight her way through a massive funfair under construction, complete with roundabouts, bouncy castles and what might have been a fortune teller’s stall. She saw a heavily tattooed man juggling brightly coloured clubs while a pretty, dark-haired girl sat on a bench combing what looked like a clown’s unruly wig. Occasional bursts of cacophonous music told her they were testing the sound system, which looked as though it was all still being set up and wasn’t fully functioning. As her bedroom looked out directly across the road to the funfair, she was thankful for that. She really didn’t want to be kept awake until the small hours by hurdy-gurdy music.

In common with most of the hotels strung out along the coast road, theirs had its own piece of private beach beyond the fairground, fenced off and meticulously raked, furnished with stripy sun beds. There were changing rooms along with showers, and even a bar serving drinks. Sarah dumped her towel on a sunbed and slipped out of her shorts and T-shirt, heading for the sea. The sand was hot under her feet and she ended up running the last few metres to the shallows. She found American Mike and his companion, Dan, standing in the water up to their thighs. She splashed up to them.

‘Hi, guys, had a good day?’

Mike was quick to reply. ‘Great. We were just saying what a great ride it’s been. Fabulous views, easy riding and wonderful weather.’

‘Couldn’t have been better.’ Dan sounded equally enthusiastic. ‘A lot of organisation for you, though. How did you manage to rent that boat?’

‘It was surprisingly easy. Boats are to Venice what coaches are to the rest of the world. A few phone calls and that was it.’ She glanced around. ‘Where’s your boss?’ Her initial assumption that Chuck was calling the shots had been confirmed that morning in conversation. Mike grinned.

‘He’s feeling a bit sore and he didn’t think the salt water would be too comfortable on the raw areas.’

‘Saddle sores already? That’s tough.’ Sarah was surprised. ‘Has he got some cream?’

‘Yeh, loads of it. Apparently it always happens to him.’

‘Poor guy.’ Sarah bent her knees and dropped down until the water covered her shoulders, before straightening up again, loving the cool sensation as the water ran over her skin. In spite of the hot sun, the temperature of the water wasn’t very high, presumably as they were just at the start of the warm season, but it was just what she needed after a day in the saddle. She decided to head on out a bit.

‘I’m going for a swim. See you later.’ She spotted a raft a little way out, with a figure sitting on it, and headed for it, using a slow, gentle breaststroke. The seabed sloped very gradually and she found that her feet could still touch the bottom even after almost a hundred metres. This reminded her of the last holiday she had had with James, in Cancun at the end of the previous year. If everything had gone to plan, she should have been back there with him now, on her honeymoon. She gave a sigh and ducked her face into the water to clear her head before rolling over onto her back, staring up at the pale blue sky. This, she told herself, had been a great day, just like old times. And, she reminded herself, old times meant the days before she had finally given in to James’s constant moaning and had transferred to an office job. She had been on some amazing trips and had made lasting friendships with people from all over the world. Now James had removed himself from her life, she found herself free to pursue her chosen career once more. Somehow, this thought cheered her a lot. Maybe James’s cowardly little letter really had done her a favour.

A few minutes later she looked up and discovered that the figure already on the raft ahead of her was Miles. Not really keen to talk shop, she would have turned round and headed back to shore, but for a sense of fatigue brought on by the exertions of the day. Reluctantly, she swam the last few metres and climbed out up the conveniently located stainless-steel ladder, finding it remarkably hard work to haul herself out of the water. She gave Miles a sweet smile and sat down a discreet distance from him, her feet dangling in the water.

‘You feeling all right, Sarah? You look tired.’ His expression wasn’t unfriendly, but he wasn’t smiling. Presumably, she thought to herself, as no tourists were around, he felt there was no need. She took a deep breath and ensured that the smile on her face remained sweet.

‘I’m fine, Miles. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.’

To her surprise, he nodded. ‘Join the club. I haven’t slept well for months, years.’

‘Something on your mind?’

He didn’t answer for a while. When he did, his voice sounded as tired as she was feeling. ‘Just thinking about stuff, you know.’

‘Work stuff?’ She wondered if the anticipated restructuring of the company might be playing on his mind, but he wasn’t prepared to admit that, if indeed it was the case.

‘Just stuff. Anyway, what about you? Everybody says you never stop working. That’s not good for your health, you know.’

Sarah was secretly pleased he had heard of her efforts. ‘The bush telegraph says the same about you.’

‘Sometimes it’s the best thing to do.’ The way he said it, and the grim expression on his face, made her turn and glance at him, wondering if this was the time to repeat her offer of a shoulder to cry on, if indeed that was what he needed. Instead, she did her best to cheer him up.

‘Well, you’ve got the best part of two weeks ahead of you now to relax.’

He managed a grin that transformed his whole face. ‘Relax? Aren’t you forgetting the small matter of cycling a thousand kilometres?’

In spite of herself, Sarah’s eyes flicked across his muscular torso and powerful thighs. ‘Somehow, Miles, I don’t see you having any trouble on that front.’

He didn’t respond to the compliment, his face returning to its usual undemonstrative state. There was an uncomfortable silence before he changed the subject ‘So, are we going to have a good dinner tonight?’

‘I certainly hope so. Maybe not quite as good as last night, but it should still be good. Seeing as we’re right by the sea, we’ll hopefully get some fish.’

‘And the hotel manager tells me there’s going to be a dance band here tonight after dinner. Did you organise that?’

Sarah’s heart sank. She had forgotten about the dance. The last thing she felt like was dancing. Yes, she had surprised herself with how easily she had managed to slip into her jolly, tour leader persona today, but dancing was a step too far, pun or no pun. All the same, she slid the smile back into place and answered as cheerfully as she could. ‘No, that was the hotel. Anyway, I’m sure the group will love it.’ She glanced at Miles and risked a bit of familiarity. ‘What about you, Miles? Are you going to strut your stuff for us this evening?’

Miles glanced at her and gave a shake of the head. To underline this non-verbal statement, he wagged his finger at her, just touching her elbow briefly as he did so. This had a very unexpected effect on Sarah. As she felt his touch, a tingle ran up and down her arm. Unsure what was going on, she decided this would be a good time to leave. She turned towards him, doing her best to sound normal. ‘Now I’ve got to go back and talk to Gianluca about the route for tomorrow. See you at dinner.’ With that, she slipped forward, dropped into the cool water, and set off back to the shore, still trying to work out why Miles’s touch had affected her in that way, not least as she could still feel it when she reached the sandy beach. It was only when she was rubbing herself dry after coming out of the warm shower that the sensation finally disappeared, but her bewilderment didn’t go away.

***

The dance band put in an appearance at nine o’clock, just as dessert was being served. The dining room was surprisingly full and their group was spread over half a dozen tables, but there must have been at least fifty or sixty other diners in there as well. The meal, while not quite in the same league as the previous night, was still very good and there were a lot of clean plates at the end of it. As she had hoped, there was some excellent fish and the tuna steaks proved very popular, as did the plaice with asparagus and vine tomatoes that she’d chosen for herself.

She had resolved to try to sit down with all the members of the group early on in the trip so as to gauge reaction and iron out any problems before they developed into anything bigger. The only problem to surface at her table tonight had been Chuck’s backside. He arrived with a fleece that he folded and then proceeded to use as a cushion as he sat down.

‘If you’ll pardon my bringing the subject up at table, I’m afraid I’ve got a sore ass.’ He looked around with an embarrassed grin. The other two on Sarah’s table were Véronique, this time separated from Jean-Pierre, and Terri. As it turned out, Terri was able to use her experience of pro cycling to help resolve Chuck’s problem.

‘Tell, me, Chuck, what sort of shorts have you got?’ She, like Sarah and all the others, had opted for padded cycling shorts. Chuck was quick to confirm that he had done the same.

‘I spent a fortune before I came away buying a couple of pairs of really good, padded shorts, just like the professionals use, but it’s no good. I start sweating, my boxers get all ruckled up and then it all starts hurting.’ He looked even more embarrassed, as well as apologetic. ‘Sorry, you guys, I’m sure there are better things to talk about at table than my ass.’

‘Did you say you wear underpants?’ Terri looked aghast. Chuck nodded and Terri nodded sagely in her turn. ‘Well, that’s your problem. Take your pants off and you’ll be fine.’ Her comment coincided with a slight lull in conversation and her voice carried to the next table. Sarah saw Mike and Dan crease up with laughter. Mike looked back over his shoulder towards their table.

‘What, here? Get a room, will you.’

Terri waved him away and explained for Chuck’s benefit. ‘You should never wear any kind of pants under your shorts, especially anything cotton that’s going to get soggy and do exactly what happened to you today.’ She tapped him on the arm with her minute forefinger. ‘Promise me you’ll go commando tomorrow, and from here on in. You’ll be amazed at the difference.’

Chuck glanced round at the others and noticed their nods of agreement. ‘No underwear?’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I’ll try anything to make that damn saddle feel more comfortable. All right, Terri, I promise. And thanks for your advice.’ He was smiling now. ‘When a woman tells me to take my pants off, I take my pants off.’

He didn’t get a chance to say any more as he suddenly and unexpectedly leapt to his feet, banging the table with his knee as he did so and tipping over a couple of, fortunately empty, glasses in the process. There was an expression of agony on his face as he clutched his right thigh and started hopping about like a man possessed, swearing under his breath. Terri and Sarah both recognised the symptoms.

‘Cramp?’

‘Jee… romino, and how! Wow, that hurts.’ It took him a full minute of dancing like a dervish before the muscles relaxed and he sank back down onto his chair again. Unfortunately, this produced another grimace as his bottom reminded him of his saddle sores. He composed himself, looked round the table and apologised. ‘Sorry, ladies. It appears I started the dancing all by myself.’

As if on cue, the band struck up and Chuck immediately persuaded Terri to join him on the dance floor. Sarah looked across at Véronique. ‘You going to be dancing, Véronique?’

‘I reckon so. Jean-Pierre loves to dance.’

Just at that moment, Sarah intercepted an exchange of glances between Véronique and Jean-Pierre on the next table. ‘I get the impression Jean-Pierre likes you a lot.’

Véronique blushed. ‘I’ve worked with him for years. He’s a lovely guy.’ She leant across the table towards Sarah. ‘He went through a horrible divorce a while back and this is just about the first time I’ve seen him relaxed and happy for ages.’

‘That’s the thing about fresh air, exercise and good food. Somehow, you can’t avoid feeling happy under these circumstances.’ As she spoke, Sarah found herself wondering if her boss would also begin to reap the benefits of the open-air life. Certainly, he needed to.

Gradually a few more people began to get up and dance and it wasn’t long before all the women, Sarah, Terri and Véronique included, found themselves in demand. Very reluctantly, Sarah accepted Chuck’s invitation and made her way out onto the dance floor. In fact, her first dance with Chuck was so hilarious, it put her in a good mood for the rest of the evening. As he threw himself enthusiastically into his dancing, it was difficult to work out whether his grimaces and jerky movements were an attempt to follow the rhythm or a painful reaction to the discomfort he was feeling in his nether regions. Sarah had a fit of the giggles and, from then on, actually started to enjoy herself. Almost everybody came out onto the dance floor and Sarah noticed Polly spending a lot of time dancing with Dan, the quietest of the trio of Americans. Glynis was well away, dancing with, as far as Sarah could see, every man in the group. Paul was much in demand and, in particular, she noticed that Diana spent a lot of time with him.

Sarah danced with almost all the men in the room, even waltzing with a couple of elderly Italian gentlemen who were dining there that night. There was no doubt in her mind that the best dancer of all was Lars. He had a way of moving that looked so natural and his sense of rhythm was infectious. Sarah danced with him more than with anybody else.

The one person who didn’t ask her to dance and, as far as she could see, didn’t ask any of the others either, was Miles. In fact, although Sarah and most of the others were still dancing right up to just before midnight, by then she realised she hadn’t seen Miles for well over an hour, maybe longer. Presumably he had disappeared up to his room to carry on working. At least, she hoped he was working. There had been one moment, early on, passing near his table in search of a drink, when her eyes had met his and, just for a second, she had again read something on his face that bothered her. What she had seen, she now felt sure, was sadness.

Chapter 5

Sarah didn’t sleep well that night either. Part of the reason was probably that her air-conditioning wasn’t working properly and also, to begin with, she had been thinking over the route for the next day. She, Polly and Gianluca had sat down together before dinner and worked out a way of avoiding all major roads, preferring to stick to quieter country roads, even though this inevitably lengthened the distance travelled. Their route to Rome wasn’t a direct one, anyway, as they planned to zigzag through the hills of the regions of Marche, Umbria and Lazio, crossing the peninsula to the opposite coast, and one of the main reasons for this had been to avoid busy roads as far as possible. But the route wasn’t the only thing that kept her from falling asleep.

First, inevitably, there were the unwanted images of what she was now coming to refer to in her head as her previous life. The evening of music and dancing had awakened memories of her and James in happier times. He had been a great dancer, maybe as good as Lars, and they had spent many hours on the dance floor together. The thought of dancing with him brought memories of more intimate moments with him and she found herself shaking her head in annoyance, throwing off the single sheet covering her and getting up for a drink of water to take her mind off him. She took a big mouthful of tepid water, but it didn’t help.

Infuriated by the noisy, inefficient air-conditioning unit, she turned it off and opened the window in the hope of letting in some cooler air. She wandered round the room for a bit, peeking out of the shutters at the deserted promenade and the skeleton of what would probably become a big dipper. Through the open window she could hear the distant whisper of the sea on the sand and, at last, she found that it had a soporific effect on her. After a while, she got back into bed and gradually drifted off to sleep. It was then that things got more complicated.

She was swimming in the sea and the sun was setting right in front of her, half blinding her with its red glow. Behind her was a long, sandy beach, covered in deckchairs, while ahead of her was a raft, bobbing up and down as little waves came through. Sitting on the raft were four or five people, but she was too far away to recognise them. She swam and she swam, getting more and more tired, but it took an age to get close enough to see who they were. At last she got within range and made out five familiar faces. They were all men, sitting there, sunning themselves and dangling their legs in the water. She immediately recognised Lars. Being so tall, he stood out from the crowd. Alongside him, of all people, was James; hunky, handsome, self-centred James. Both of them looked relaxed and happy and they were chatting amicably, unaware of her presence. Stranger still, sitting along the side of the raft were three other figures. There was Paul, chatting to a heavily tattooed man holding three silver clubs, and to their left, all on his own, she recognised the brooding presence of Miles, his eyes trained on her as she swam up to the raft.

She was feeling more and more tired now but none of the men noticed her. She tried to touch the seabed with her toes, but it was too deep. She called out, but only Miles saw her. She held out her hands towards him, but he didn’t make any kind of move to help her.

As the waves broke in her face, she woke up again, bathed in perspiration.

She lay in the darkened room, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling cast by a lone street light, doing her best to slow her spinning mind. It took a long time, but she finally managed to get back to sleep; but it was a broken, uncomfortable night. When she finally surfaced next morning, it was barely light outside, but she didn’t feel like dropping off and struggling with her subconscious again for a while, so she took her now bone-dry bikini from the towel rail and went out for an early morning swim. The coast road was deserted, all but a dust cart noisily hoisting bins into the air and emptying them into its capacious bowels. The sun was now above the horizon, but still a deep orange colour, shining directly into her eyes. She made her way blindly through the surreal landscape of the deserted funfair and across the sand to the water. When she got there, she found she wasn’t alone. A lone swimmer was already in the water, heading towards the raft with an easy front crawl. She waded out into the water, its touch cold against her superheated body after the stuffy night she had just passed, lowered herself in and started swimming.

Partway out towards the raft, she rolled over onto her back and looked back inland. The beach was still almost deserted, apart from a couple of big dogs racing each other through the shallows, while their owner sat on his haunches and smoked his first cigarette of the day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun on the top of her head was already warm. She rolled back round again until she was looking out to sea. The lone swimmer had reached the raft by now and was standing on it, looking back towards the beach. She carried on, out towards the raft, and, as she approached, she struggled to recognise who it was, the sun directly behind him casting a deep shadow across his face. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms and looked familiar. She swam closer and then heard his voice.

‘You’re up early, Sarah. Couldn’t you sleep either?’

‘Hi, Miles, still not sleeping?’ She felt suddenly very pleased to see him. Whether this was just a result of her dream or something else was difficult to decide so, in her usual pragmatic way, she did her best to dismiss the problem. She pulled herself up the steps onto the raft and stood beside him.

‘It’s going to be one hell of a fine day.’ She noticed he didn’t answer her question. ‘Sunscreen definitely essential.’

‘Yes, indeed. So you didn’t sleep well? Was your aircon broken as well?’

He shook his head. ‘No, the temperature was fine. It’s just my head. I kept waking myself up.’

Sarah very nearly told him the same had happened to her, but stopped herself in case he wanted to know what sort of dreams she’d had. She looked at him. ‘You did manage to get some sleep, though, right, Miles? There’s a space in the minibus with Polly if you feel tired.’

‘Thanks, Sarah, but I’ll be fine. It’s mainly just the usual work stuff that keeps me awake. You know my dad’s retiring soon?’

‘Yes, I had heard that. And you’re taking over from him?’ Miles nodded. ‘And what about Paul? Is he going to be working alongside you?’

His expression hardened. ‘Perish the thought. No, he’s going to the States to take over the US operation where I’ve been for the past five years.’

Seeing as they were surrounded by water and nearly naked, Sarah felt she could ask a more personal question. ‘And you aren’t too happy about that?’

Miles turned towards her and shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’ll all work out.’ Probably realising that he shouldn’t be talking about family matters with a member of staff, albeit quite a senior one, Miles changed the subject. He glanced at her, his eyes briefly flicking across her body. ‘You’re looking good for seven o’clock in the morning.’

‘You should have seen me at six-thirty…’ She gave him a big smile, surprisingly pleased he had been looking at her.

‘And you’re looking more cheerful. Tell me, Sarah, has there been something wrong? When I saw you in your office the other day, you looked awful.’

‘You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself, don’t you, Miles?’ Sarah was doing her best to keep it light.

‘I’m sorry, you know what I mean. You looked… I don’t know, sad.’

Sarah really didn’t want the story of her aborted marriage to get out so she just shook her head. ‘Just a bit of boyfriend trouble. I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. And surprised. I should have thought he was a lucky man.’ No sooner had he spoken than he looked as if he regretted his words. Springing to his feet, he patted her lightly on the arm. Once again, puzzlingly, his touch made her tingle. ‘Anyway, that’s your business. I’d better get back. Breakfast’s in half an hour.’

He turned and executed a very tidy dive into the water. Sarah didn’t quite feel up to diving so she just slipped back in and followed him to the shore.

***

Their route took them inland, heading for the historic city of Ferrara. Sarah had never visited the city and was looking forward to it. As predicted, the cycling was flat and easy, with just a hint of a light headwind, but not enough to make things difficult. Gianluca, accompanied by Terri, took the lead, while Sarah brought up the rear. Polly, driving what Gianluca referred to as the Broom Wagon to sweep up stragglers, followed some distance behind. Unsurprisingly on such a flat, easy route, there were no takers. As they rode along a very straight, very narrow back road through low-lying, swampy terrain, Sarah was joined at the back by Paul.

‘Hi, Sarah. Another lovely day in prospect.’

‘I hope you’re all creamed up. That sun’s hot.’

‘Certainly is. I’m plastered with factor fifty.’ He gave her a grin. ‘I hope our friend Chuck’s all creamed up where the sun don’t shine. Fancy wearing boxers under cycling shorts…’

‘Saddle sores are the worst. I hope he’s all right. He was looking good on the bike yesterday otherwise.’

‘And you were looking good on the dance floor yesterday as well.’

She shook her head. ‘Save the flattery for somebody more receptive, Paul. Anyway, you and your brother are looking fit, too. What’s your secret? Diet, maybe?’

Now it was his time to shake his head. ‘The day they invent a food that gives you a six-pack, those guys’ll make a fortune. No, I’ve just been hitting the gym as often as possible. As for Miles, I bullied him into it. I saw him a year ago looking a bit paunchy, a bit puffy, like he’d been letting himself go, and I managed to persuade him to follow my example. Watch out, car coming.’ He braked and dropped in behind her as a rusty old three-wheeled vehicle that looked as if somebody had grafted a box onto a motorbike came chugging past, belching out blue smoke. As it disappeared behind them, Paul reappeared at Sarah’s elbow. ‘Anyway, Miles being Miles, he doesn’t just go to the gym a few times a week. He’s been in there almost every day, working out and lifting weights. You’d think he was training for the Olympics. He even had a treadmill installed in his office in New York, apparently.’

Seeing as Paul had brought up the subject of his brother, Sarah risked a direct question. ‘Is he a bit obsessive about work as well? He seems to be on his phone an awful lot.’

Paul didn’t reply straightaway. Finally he nodded. ‘The old expression about losing yourself in your work comes to mind. He’s always been a hard worker, far more than me, but he’s had it pretty rough over the past couple of years and he’s thrown himself into his work probably as a means of escape. People often do that, you know. Work is a sort of therapy to some folk; it can be a useful anaesthetic.’

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