To Rome, with Love

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 (#ulink_aa1d4f56-2173-5d1e-9d07-5703259492cb)

‘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.