Chasing the Sun: The laugh-out-loud summer romance you need on your holiday!

‘A row about what?’

‘The wedding, yet again.’ She tried to catch her breath. ‘He told me that he hates the table centres I’ve picked out and that he really doesn’t want us to have a photo booth, even though I told him that this was the one thing I wanted.’ With that, she was off again, sniffing and wiping her snotty nose.

‘Wait.’ I paused, trying to understand correctly. ‘Table centres and photo booths?’ I repeated slowly, just to make sure I’d heard her. These two innocent things were the reason that her patient and loving fiancé had dumped her and called off their wedding? I didn’t get it.

‘Yes! But that was just the start. I feel like he’s not supporting me with the whole thing. I feel so stressed out. I mean just look at me, Georgia. LOOK AT ME!’

I winced and hoped the quality of this call wasn’t good enough for her to see my reaction.

‘I need about a year of sleep. I’ve never felt so stressed out before. If it’s not wedding planning, it’s managing everyone’s expectations, treading carefully between the views of his mum and my mum. Oh my God, we’ve got less than a fortnight to go and there’s still so much to do, it’s just a complete nightmare!’

I pinched the bridge of my nose, still trying to make sense of it all. ‘Hang on – so the wedding is still on?’

She jolted back in her chair, looking confused. ‘Of course. Why? You’re still coming, aren’t you? Oh God, don’t tell me there’s been a problem with your flight. I knew you should have come out here earlier!’ she wailed.

‘So where has Jimmy gone? You said that he’d gone?’ I asked, through slightly gritted teeth.

‘He’s gone to see about getting a photo booth, like I asked him to do weeks ago.’

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was desperate to bark that she could have ruined a really important meeting for me, but judging by how on edge she seemed, it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t her fault; I was the one who should have turned my phone to silent and not jumped to conclusions, remembering that she’d been struck down with a case of bridezillaitis meaning rational decisions were few and far between. I sighed and tried to be the supportive best friend, grateful that she hadn’t suffered the same fate I had.

‘Why don’t you just take a break from it all for a bit?’ I said soothingly. ‘Then we’ve got our hen-do road trip to look forward to!’

Originally, Shelley had insisted that she didn’t need a hen do, despite me reasoning that with all the stress she felt she was under, a night out to let her hair down was exactly what she needed. Then one day, out of the blue, she’d announced that she wanted us to go on a road trip. She’d suggested starting in Melbourne and ending in Adelaide. We’d take a few days to drive up the coast, stopping at cool little beaches and quaint coastal towns as a sort of hen-do/pre-wedding relax time. She was then further insistent that she would plan out the exact route, ignoring my offer to help.

‘It can’t come soon enough.’ She’d caught her breath now and seemed a lot brighter as she was back on her favourite topic of conversation.

‘You know, I really wish you’d let me help you organise that; you need to let others in to take some of the burden off you doing it all.’

She wafted her hand at the screen. ‘It made sense for me to plan the route, being an Aussie and all, plus Cara has helped.’ Cara was a wannabe pro-wedding planner by the sounds of it. She was only trying to help, but whenever I’d mentioned ideas they never seemed to be as good as her suggestions. ‘I’m leaving the fun festivities up to you though!’

‘Don’t you worry about that.’ I’d already stocked up on everything and anything penis-shaped as hen-do props.

‘God, Georgia, there’s so much to do and so little time to do it.’ She shook her head skywards, as if hoping for divine intervention to help her with making favours and finalising seating plans.

‘Well, maybe explain to Jimmy how much you’d appreciate his help. A job shared is a job halved, or whatever that saying is?’

She sniffed. ‘He is good, well, most of the time.’ She plastered on a smile that was more like the Shelley I knew. ‘Sorry, Georgia, for just unloading then!’

I smiled kindly, hoping that her mini freak-out hadn’t messed up our pitch. ‘Hey, that’s what I’m here for.’

‘Well, I appreciate it. I can’t bloody wait to see you. Listen, I’d better go and try and get more sleep like you suggested. Speak soon!’

With that she hung up, leaving me looking into the black of my phone screen, wondering how I was going to get through Planet Wedding once I got over there.

CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_9ddf572d-4ac7-5938-a1e3-f8beff91b522)

Temerity (n.) – Excessive confidence or boldness

‘Ah, here she is!’ Conrad smiled as the bell dinged my arrival into my small but beautiful travel tour agency in Manchester. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today; thought you’d be out celebrating still. I heard your pitch went really bloody well.’

‘News travels fast then.’ I grinned. ‘I’m just waiting for their call with the final answer, but I was going mad trying to work from home, surrounded by all our boxes. Plus, I feel like I’m hardly ever in this store nowadays.’

‘And I thought you were only here for my rugged good looks.’ He acted mock-offended. ‘Speaking of ugly men, Ben not around to entertain you?’

I shook my head. ‘He’s in the London office today, overseeing a recruitment drive.’

‘Didn’t he just get back from Finland?’

‘You know there’s no rest for the wicked.’

‘Then you both must have been terrible in a past life.’

‘Maybe next time I’ll be reincarnated as a pampered house cat or something, but right now there’s too much to do, so sleep can wait.’ I smiled at him and shrugged off my jacket. ‘I’m guessing you’ve spoken to Kelli then?’

He shook his head. ‘I doubt she’s surfaced yet, judging by the photos she was tagged in on Facebook in some very swanky-looking wine bar quaffing on champagne last night. I figured she was out toasting your success.’

‘Well, technically we still haven’t got it all signed off.’ I hoped we weren’t all getting carried away with ourselves. ‘Their decision should be coming through any moment now.’ I pulled my phone from my bag and checked I hadn’t missed any calls since I last looked, three minutes ago.

‘Pfft,’ Conrad blew out through his lips. ‘I read the pitch, remember. Solid gold.’

‘Let’s hope they think so too.’ Why was I doubting myself this morning? We had this in the bag. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing that a strong cup of coffee won’t fix.’

‘I guess I’d better stick the kettle on then, shall I?’

‘You superstar.’

The Manchester store had flourished in the hands of Conrad, a brusque but brilliant Yorkshire man who had taken to our company like a duck to water. Having him on board meant less stress for me, though I did miss the old days of us all squished into this room, as well as the daily banter, office gossip and the camaraderie that came with it. Because we had expanded so rapidly, Ben and I had hired Felix to oversee the day-to-day running of the London store; he was perfectly lovely and still learning the ropes, but in my opinion lacked the charm and likeability that Conrad had in bagfuls. Flitting between the two places, as well as trips away, networking events, conferences and everything else that filled my hectic diary, it was the people I missed the most.

‘I’ve got everything crossed, not that I need to. I just know that this is what we’ve been waiting for.’ He gave a knowing smile and generously poured coffee granules into matching mugs. Since the start of the year we’d been obsessing over what the business was missing, this spark of an idea, a revelation, an X-factor decision that would push us further than our competitors. ‘Lord knows we need something, as yesterday’s meet-up was not our answer.’

‘Oh, what happened?’ I asked, flicking through my diary to check that I had time for a quick catch-up before my next call, which Erin had set up. Realising I had an unexpected free half an hour, I settled onto the comfy sofa next to the bookcase, stacked with glossy brochures advertising exotic destinations and trips that we offered.

‘Well, I mean, we had a few new clients interested, but most of them just wanted to eat Val’s cakes and nick a few of our pens,’ he grumbled.

‘Maybe it will be one of those things that takes a little time to pick up?’ I offered, sensing how disappointed he was that his latest idea hadn’t taken off exactly as planned. Conrad was always coming up with ways we could increase our client base and spread the word about what we do, from holding Thai cooking classes to promote our Southeast Asia trips, which ended in two people getting food poisoning, to an outside Australian barbecue that fell victim to the unpredictable Manchester weather.

‘Hmm, maybe. I think we’ll have to shelve the “pin the tail on the llama” game for the Chile trip – almost took a poor lassie’s eye out,’ he confessed, cringing. ‘But, I’ll keep trying. You know the sales figures speak for themselves, but I can’t help thinking there’s something that we’re missing out on,’ Conrad said, as he poured in milk, his face growing serious for a moment. ‘I haven’t quite put my finger on what it is yet, but I’ve been sending my spies into our rivals’ businesses and hopefully they’ll be back with ideas. I just have this sense that there’s some trick we’re missing, something we could offer our customers that would knock the competition out of the park.’

He was right. As great as our reviews were, the profits healthy and customers going home happy, I often had this niggle in my head too. To keep moving the company forward, we needed to make sure we moved with the times and offered over and above what other travel agents or tour companies did.

‘Well, we can only keep trying.’ I gratefully took the steaming mug he handed me.

‘Aye, that we will do.’

I glanced around the small room as Conrad picked up his ringing phone and smiled. In the corner, they’d set up a snack station for customers with hot drinks and complimentary cookies, which came from Val’s café over the road. This had gone down well, but it wasn’t like a free slice of banana bread or homemade Eccles cake was going to be the trailblazing idea we’d imagined.

‘So, how are things with the lovely Val?’ I asked, absent-mindedly picking up a cookie and breaking a piece of buttery biscuit off as he got off the phone. ‘She could put Mary Berry to shame.’