To Rome, with Love

***

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.