To Rome, with Love

‘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.’