Passport to Happiness

The fitted white top I’ve changed into hugs my curves in all the right places, accentuating a hint of my generous bust and small waist. My dark blue skinny jeans are beginning to feel marginally uncomfortable, yet they do a magical trick where they make my legs appear much longer than they really are – something that nearly every five-foot-two woman aspires for. So I decide not to bother changing them, especially since I’m wearing gold ballet flats – I need all the extra leg I can get. I notice that I have a very healthy tanned glow that, thanks to my naturally olive-coloured skin, even my jetlag and slightly dry facial complexion can’t detract from. The overall appearance isn’t the one I was expecting to be greeted with. I look rather passable if I say so myself and briefly wonder if there’s something to be said for the mountainous air and whether I could bottle it to aid in feeling gorgeous in the future – something that hasn’t happened very frequently of late.

Walking through the hotel corridor with its plush red and gold carpeting, the smell of freshly baked bread hits me. I pick up my pace, eager to get stuck into a schnitzel or whatever it is they eat here. By the time I’ve arrived at the almost deserted dining area, I’m beginning to wonder if this was the best of ideas. The huge windows looking out onto the main street on which the hotel is situated shows a buzzing crowd of passers-by and the bright afternoon sunshine reflects off the highly polished cutlery at my lonesome table. There are only three other diners sat at the far end and the strange Morris dancing type music is so low that I can clearly hear their conservation. Plus, there’s no sign of Frederick. I’m about to change tactic as, through the window, my eye catches a little boutique selling semi-precious stone jewellery, when a menu is placed in front of me, making me jump.

I look up in surprise and Frederick stares at me with a broad smile. I immediately notice the perfect bow of his dark upper lip. Despite his shorter stature, his muscular frame is evident from the fabric of his crisp black shirt straining itself across his pectorals and biceps and I can’t draw my eyes away from his smooth, shiny hair-free head. There’s a twinkle in his sparkling gaze and I sense he is aware of me observing him and enjoying the ordeal a little too much.

‘Welcome to the Montana Hotel. And sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ His heavily accented English sounds alluring and seductive and I feel my face flushing with heat. There’s something about him that has me riled up which is rather odd since he’s not my type at all. I’m usually a fan of the tall, blond, chopped hair variety but maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong. I meet his gaze and frown when I see a small smirk forming where his smile was only moments ago.

‘Thank you, but there’s no need to apologise, I was miles away – I didn’t hear you approaching. I just want to grab a light lunch before I head off out to explore.’ I’m feeling slightly flustered as he’s staring at me oddly.

‘Can I ask if you’ve stayed with us previously?’ The way he’s pursing his lips and squinting his eyes at me suddenly makes me wonder whether I’ve misjudged the situation. ‘You remind me of another guest we’ve had here before.’ He places one hand on his hip and bites his bottom lip thoughtfully in an overly exaggerated manner that is reminiscent of my very girly and closest friend, Tilly. ‘Are you Monsieur Eugene Marcel’s partner?’

I’ve absolutely no clue who he’s on about but I’m certain it’s not me. I think I’d know if I had a very French and sexy sounding boyfriend. Trying to hide my disappointment at the prospect that he is either overtly feminine in his ways or – perhaps more likely given the way he is now pouting at me – gay, I politely shake my head.

‘No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m Everly Carter, I’m here alone.’ I make a move to pick up the menu and am taken aback when he breaks into yet another gleaming smile.

‘Oh, your accent is so very English!’ He places one hand on his chest in what appears to be delighted surprise. ‘You’re here alone – for work then, I assume?’

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m here for lunch or the Spanish inquisition, as he’s making no attempt to even acknowledge any food order. Yet, his energy is so infectious that I’m more than happy to entertain him.

‘Well, a holiday actually – I’m a schoolteacher. It’s my first time here in Zurich.’

‘First times are always the most exciting.’ He winks at me with a cheeky grin and finally points to the menu. ‘OK, I’ll give you a few moments to have a look and I’ll come back to take your order.’

He practically dances away, and I marvel at how upbeat everybody seems here so far. Since the minute I stepped off the plane, there hasn’t been a miserable or harassed looking person cross my path which I know is purely coincidental but it’s a far cry from what I’m used to lately. Especially since the news last month that my school failed its bi-annual inspection, with my department picking up flack.

I glance over my shoulder and notice the other diners must have already left during my exchange with Frederick and I’m now totally alone in the high-ceilinged dining room. Quickly scanning the menu, I opt for the enticing combination of Emmental cheese and stewed pear on fruit bread and wait for Frederick to reappear. As if by magic, he’s back beside me within seconds and as I relay my choice, he raises an eyebrow, seemingly impressed.

‘So what do you have planned for today?’ He seems rather disappointed when I stare at him blankly. ‘Zurich is a beautiful city that you should be out enjoying! It’s a beautiful day to take a cruise down the Limmat river and see views of the old town and city.’ He lowers his voice to a whisper. ‘Don’t sit in here too long. There’s so much else to see.’

River cruise. Now there’s a good suggestion. ‘That sounds good – I’ll look into it and I might do a little shopping too.’ At the mention of shopping, his face lights up and I finally get my confirmation that my suspicion is correct.

‘Oh, there’s no end to the fabulous shops here – especially on Bahnhofstrasse. My partner, Enriquo, works as an assistant at Cartier if you’re passing and thinking of buying anything.’

I stifle a snigger as I realise he’s very serious. I’d love to tell him that of course I’m going to be popping into Cartier for some new jewellery – I’m just waiting for my helicopter to arrive to collect me from lunch first. Still, at least I must look like I’m capable of buying nice things, even if the price of what is essentially a cheese and fruit sandwich has just given me a rude awakening. The problem is, once upon a time Jay would have treated me to such luxuries and our combined income meant I could often splurge on niceties. Now, what with living alone, my teaching salary just isn’t extendable to many luxuries. And I know life isn’t about handbags and watches, but I can’t help feeling like I’m missing out. I’m not living life to the max – I’m financially scraping by and that would be OK if I was enjoying it. But I realise with a jolt that the past hour and quarter since I landed in Zurich has been the most unscheduled excitement I’ve had in ages. And I want more of it.

‘I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for Enriquo as I’m passing,’ I say, knowing full well that there’s no chance I’ll be stepping inside the plush doors of Cartier anytime soon, unless my lottery numbers come up.

Frederick seems satisfied and nods, his dark lashes fluttering as he appears to consider an idea. Gosh, why does he have to be gay and taken? It’s not like I’d have been able to start a full-blown relationship with him what with me living in Essex and knowing precisely five words of high German, three of which are numbers. But as far as a little holiday fling goes … he would have been perfect. He goes to walk away and then stops and turns.

‘I’m going to Lugano tomorrow – it’s my day off. I’m visiting family there. It’s a place every tourist should see. You should check it out too.’

He’s looking at me keenly and despite having absolutely no idea where Lugano even is or whether Fred is a nutcase that could be planning to kidnap me and keep me as a sex slave, I nod my head in agreement.

‘Well, that would be fantastic if you don’t mind? Sure, I’d really like that.’

‘Huh?’ He looks at me blankly, before biting down on his bottom lip and pulling an awkward face. ‘Ooh, I see you … you thought…’ He lets the sentence linger and I feel my face flood with colour, a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach. I burn with embarrassment as realisation hits. He totally wasn’t inviting me, was he? He was simply saying I should check it out.

His face creases into a warm smile and he claps his hands together. ‘But of course, you must come. It’ll be nice to have some company on the train.’

I know his overzealousness is purely to make me feel better for my humiliating misunderstanding and I can’t help but be grateful, even if I am still dying a little inside. ‘I can always check it out another day…’ I offer up lightly, tailing off.

‘No, it’s settled. I’ll meet you outside the hotel at ten in the morning. And I don’t usually do this, you know. Mixing with the hotel clients, I mean.’ I notice how uncomfortable his expression suddenly is. ‘But, anyway. you seem a little…’ He pauses and looks at me awkwardly. ‘Well, you seem a little lonely. And I hope you don’t mind me saying that but don’t worry – we will have you smiling in no time. Leave it to me.’

My cheeks burn, and I feel the tears instantly building behind my eyes. Mortified, I manage a wobbly nod as he squeezes my shoulder. God, what was I thinking inviting myself along to his day out! He clearly pities me. Miss Everly-no-mates.

‘OK, back to work for me.’

With a weak smile I watch him disappear and am left wondering why the idea of being told I look lonely hurts so much. I know it’s mostly likely because I am lonely. He’s hit the nail on the head. But to invite myself along? Isn’t that more desperate than lonely…

Sighing, I stare at my reflection in the shiny surface of the knife on the table beneath me and it makes wonder where the hell my knight in shining armour has gotten to. I realised shortly after Jay shacked up with Sarah that there must be another man out there meant for me … but shouldn’t he have been here by now? I can only assume he must be lost on his way somewhere. Knowing my luck, he probably broke down before he even started out. Still, I make a promise to myself that they’ll be no more tears on this holiday. Yes, less self-pity and more shopping, thank you very much.

The food arrives, and I tuck into the scrumptious concoction. Fred, as he tells me to call him, returns to clear my now empty plate and places in front of me a hand-drawn map of nearby points of interest. I thank him again as I sign the bill and reconfirm the arrangement for tomorrow’s outing, silently musing that the men I seem to come across of late in the UK aren’t even half as considerate. Making my way back to my room, I grab my bag and a cardigan before heading back out of the hotel onto the backstreets of Zurich.

It’s buzzing around me as I weave between throngs of locals and tourists alike, passing designer shop after shop with window displays that make me squeal inwardly with longing and blanch outwardly at the hefty price tags. I come to the very quick conclusion that everyone living here must be extremely wealthy. I dread to think of the living costs. By the time I reach a pedestrian and road bridge crossing the river, I feel as if I’ve been transported into a serene reality. The sunshine reflects off the shimmering, gently rippling water that flows beneath me, as buildings both colourful and stone-walled, medieval and modern, line the riverbank as far as my eye can see. I stand with my elbows resting on the bridge ledge, gazing out across the water as the heat of the sun prickles against my skin.

‘So beautiful.’ I muse at how such a short flight can bring me to a place so very different to that which I’d imagined. It’s so refined and steeped in history, yet magnificently chic at the same time. I’m already in awe of the vibe of the city – from the tram that runs through the main roads, to the cleanliness, to the lack of high-rise buildings, to the swarms of well-heeled people that flit around me. It feels much less rushed than the fast pace of London that I’m used to and more efficient.

‘It is.’

Startled, I turn with a confused expression to come face to face with a man standing beside me. His tailored navy pinstripe suit and pink tie immediately make me think ‘banking.’ He has an air about him very similar to Jay and I shiver involuntarily.

‘I’m sorry, are you talking to me?’ Bewildered, I quickly scan behind me wondering if I’m mistaken but he grins and holds my confused stare. His dark, almost black eyes twinkle at me.

‘Yes, you said it’s so beautiful and I’m agreeing.’ He gestures to the view and turns, facing the water, his tall, muscular frame leaning itself against the bridge. ‘I come here sometimes after meetings.’

I take in his cropped black hair and dark olive skin. He doesn’t scream typical ‘Swiss’ to me. ‘Are you from here then?’ I ask before I can stop myself, suddenly self-conscious of my appearance. It hits me that he’s rather handsome with his square stubbled jawline and long dark eyelashes. He has large, masculine hands that I can’t help but admire and as he turns to me with a puzzled expression, oozing a charm and rawness I know he isn’t aware of, I feel my face flush. Damn. This is the type of man I usually avoid like the plague. The dangerous type that’ll have my knickers off in a flash, never to be seen again.

‘No, I grew up in Morocco. My mother is Spanish, my father’s from Tangier. But I live in a nearby canton, Zug and work for an investment company.’

Interesting. His ancestry explains his dark features. And I was almost on point with the job role.

‘And you? You’re here on vacation?’ His grin is subtle but the twinkle in his eye tells me all I need to know. He’s got me sussed out.

‘Yes, I’ve just arrived. Just a week’s holiday.’ I point across the water to where the river cruises are visible in the distance. ‘That’s where I’m headed now.’

‘Good choice. You’ll enjoy it. I’m Emir by the way.’ He holds out his hand to me and I notice the way his pink shirt strains across his taut chest with the gesture.

‘Everly,’ I reply, shaking it. ‘Any other tips on places I should check out?’ I’m feeling brazen and the fact he’s reached into his trouser pocket for a cigarette, assures me that he isn’t desperate to get away from me. Always a good sign. I watch as he lights up and inhales deeply, his face pensive.

‘How about dinner with me one night? I can show you around Zug. It’s pretty and there’s a great Italian that serves truffle pasta?’

Just the thought of pasta has my mouth watering and it’s not like I’m going to turn down a suave, handsome man offering to take me out. I shrug flippantly. ‘Yes, why not? Sounds nice.’

‘Where are you staying? I’ll come and collect you after I finish work tomorrow.’

‘I’m at the Hotel Montana.’ I point in an easterly direction. ‘But I’m not free tomorrow – I already have a day trip planned.’ It doesn’t escape me that this startling situation of offers from two men in barely one afternoon is frankly, unheard of. Even if the Fred situation was mainly of my doing. Still, I usually go months without a whiff of interest but here I am; it’s nothing short of a miracle and my stomach does an excited flip.

‘No problem. Let’s do the following night. I think I know where your hotel is but if not, I’ll find it. So, I’ll collect you from there at six?’