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If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. With a parting glance at Melissa that elicited another outbreak of blushing, he headed back towards the door. ‘A bientôt.’ And he left.
As she had predicted, Sarah didn’t even have a lunch break and she preferred it that way, so as to avoid having to meet people. After the cupcakes had done the rounds, she felt sure everybody would now know what had happened to her and she dreaded being asked to talk about it. She spent all morning and most of the afternoon working her way through her emails. She knew she had a reputation in the company as a meticulous stickler for accuracy and she was going to do her best not to let a little thing like being dumped at the altar get in the way of that. Also, the deeper she immersed herself in her job, the less time she had to think about that tall, blue-eyed, handsome bastard, James. At least, that was the plan.
Just before four o’clock, she had a visitor. There was a tap on her door and she looked up to see that it was Paul’s brother, Miles. She hadn’t seen him for a couple of years and, although he looked a whole lot more handsome than she remembered, her first impression wasn’t promising. He was scowling.
‘Hi, Miles, long time no see.’
‘Hello, Sarah. How are you?’ His tone was polite, but she sensed he was just being very English and going through the motions before exploding with rage. What, she asked herself in genuine puzzlement, had she done to put that expression of impending Armageddon on his face? Still, she did her best to sound nonchalant.
‘So, Miles, do you want to come in and sit down?’
‘No.’ His terse answer must have struck even him as rude, so he qualified it. ‘No, thank you. I haven’t got time. Listen, there’s been an accident.’
‘An accident?’
‘It’s Lynnie Green – she’s been knocked off her bike.’
Sarah sat bolt upright. Lynnie was a good friend and one of their very best tour leaders who had started at Hall’s round about the same time as she had. Lynnie had accompanied groups of intrepid tourists to faraway places all around the globe, into jungles, and even across the snowy wastes of the Arctic.
‘We’ve just heard from her. She was knocked off her bike this morning and she’s in hospital with a broken leg. Fortunately, it’s not too bad, but she’ll be on crutches for a few months.’ He paused so that Sarah could realise the ramifications of this development as far as the company was concerned. The penny dropped just as Miles spelt it out. ‘Yes, that’s right. She was all set to lead the charity cycle ride in Italy starting on Sunday, the one I’m going on.’
Sarah didn’t reply immediately, her brain desperately turning over alternative reps for the job. Apart from being such a good, friendly, sociable leader, Lynnie was also an excellent cyclist and, indeed, one of Sarah’s regular companions on longer rides outside London. Finding a replacement wasn’t going to be easy, and the trip was scheduled to start at the weekend, only four and a half days away. It soon became clear that Miles had already worked out a solution.
‘I don’t see any alternative, Sarah; I’m afraid it’ll have to be you.’ His tone brooked no dissent and she felt her hackles rise. ‘There just isn’t anybody else available at such short notice. I’m coming along and I’ll do my best to lend a hand, but I’ve got a million other things to do over the next few weeks so I can’t commit to playing the leading role. You spent a good few years as a tour leader and your results speak for themselves. You were one of the best we’ve ever had.’ Somehow, he even managed to make this compliment sound grudging and Sarah cleared her throat, ready to retort. ‘It has to be you.’
‘Thank you for those kind words, Miles.’ Her tone was dripping with irony. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she was talking to the future head of the company. No good would come of making an enemy of him. ‘But surely there’s somebody else we can call. There must be.’ Her heart sank as she thought it through. He was right; it wasn’t going to be easy to find a replacement at such short notice. Lynnie hadn’t just been a helper on the ride; she had been the leader. Although, as Miles had said, Sarah hadn’t been out on the road with tourists for some years now, she had done a lot in her time and didn’t need Miles to tell her she had been good at her job. Under normal circumstances, particularly as this trip involved cycling, her favourite sport and hobby, and Italy, one of her favourite countries, she would have leapt at it but, the way she was feeling right now, the idea of two weeks of unrelenting cheerfulness and sunny smiles really didn’t appeal. She opened her mouth to tell Miles she just couldn’t do it, but then closed it again. He really was right. She was the only logical choice. With a very heavy heart, she nodded and replied.
‘Of course, you’re right, Miles. I suppose it’ll have to be me.’
‘That’s very good news.’ For a moment, a look of what might almost have been gratitude crossed his face and he even gave Sarah a little smile. ‘Anyway, you never know, you might enjoy yourself. Some fresh air, some exercise and all those lovely little endorphins flooding through your body may be just what you need.’ To her surprise, he added a personal observation. ‘You’re looking a bit pale and wan today. I remembered you as more active, more of an outdoor sort.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was still an active, outdoor sort, when she had the time away from the office. It had been James – miserable, selfish, bloody James – objecting over and over again to her going off for weeks at a time that had made her transfer to a desk job. For the first time since Miles’s arrival at her door, she felt a glimmer of optimism. If she and James had still been together, this situation would have caused a God-Almighty row. At least now, without him whining offstage, she could make her own decisions again. With far less difficulty than she had expected, she found herself smiling back at Miles.
‘You might well be right. The idea of a couple of weeks in sunny Italy is really rather appealing.’ Then she had a thought. ‘But, hang on, I gather your brother’s coming along as well. Couldn’t the two of you manage it without me? Surely he could be of help?’
The smile on Miles’s face disappeared in an instant. ‘Don’t count on Paul for anything. I certainly don’t.’
Sarah had to restrain herself from querying this assertion. Certainly, it didn’t sound very brotherly. Her momentary burst of optimism at the idea of going on this bike ride was suddenly extinguished as she realised it sounded as though she was going to find herself in the middle of a family feud.
She gave a sigh and then changed the subject as another thought occurred to her.
‘Are you and Paul going to be up for the cycling? It’s a thousand kilometres and it’s going to be pretty hilly, isn’t it?’
Miles nodded. ‘I’ll be okay, thanks.’ He didn’t go into detail so Sarah hoped he was right. It would be embarrassing if the future head of the company wasn’t up to the challenge and had to be carted round in the back-up wagon. Mind you, she admitted to herself, he certainly did look fit. There wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on him. ‘As for Paul, he spends more time on his bike than he does in the office.’
‘Office? I thought he’d been doing an MBA.’
For the first time Miles sounded slightly shifty. ‘Yes, well, anyway, now that he’s supposed to be coming into the company, he’ll need to get his priorities right.’ Sarah couldn’t help noticing how he emphasised the word supposed. Clearly, the notion of being joined by Paul didn’t appeal to Miles in the slightest. Once again, Sarah had to bite her tongue. Thankfully, Miles now turned the subject away from his younger brother. ‘And what about you, Sarah? Are you fit enough?’
‘Fitness is the least of my worries. Did you realise that almost all the people on this ride are going to be from the travel trade, mostly our competitors? You can bet your life they’ll be rubbing their hands with glee if I screw up.’
‘You won’t screw up, Sarah.’ For the first time, Miles sounded encouraging. ‘Besides, you’ll have Polly driving the van and a former pro cyclist as a guide on the road. His name’s Gianluca and we haven’t used him before. Let’s hope he works out all right.’
Chapter 3 (#ulink_bf339be2-f0bc-5a04-9442-a35101faddf9)
Sarah’s first sight of Gianluca was not auspicious.
She had deliberately chosen the very early flight on Sunday morning from London to Venice Marco Polo airport, so as to be able to meet the people taking part in the charity ride as they all arrived over the course of the day from different parts of the world. She was travelling with Polly from the adventure tours department, who was an old friend. Polly had worked at the company for a good few years now and spent almost half her year abroad with groups of tourists. It would be her job to drive the back-up vehicle with all the luggage and, if necessary, anybody who got into difficulty on the trip.
It was a bright, sunny day and the Venice lagoon was clearly visible below them in all its beauty as the aircraft came in over the red roofs and domes of Venice and landed on the runway that had been built sticking right out into the water. They had arranged to meet Gianluca first thing in the morning as soon as they stepped off their plane. In consequence, considering they had arrived in Venice just after eight, but the cycle guide didn’t turn up until gone eleven o’clock, Sarah was far from impressed. The fact that he looked as if he had just been pulled through a hedge backwards also didn’t help. In fact, when he sidled up to them as they waited by the Arrivals gate, Sarah took one look at him and very nearly called Security.
‘Signorina Sara?’ It was only the fact that he used her name that convinced her he was who he claimed to be and not a potential mugger.
She answered him in Italian. ‘Yes, are you Gianluca?’
‘Si.’
Sarah groaned inwardly. He was a very slim man, about as tall as she was, maybe in his late thirties or even early forties. He could have been quite good-looking, but for the fact that, this morning, his eyes were more bloodshot than your average vampire and he was quite patently suffering the effects of a hangover of Rabelaisian proportions. Whatever he had been drinking the night before, it was probably more commonly used for cleaning grease-caked derailleurs than as a civilised beverage. Sarah took two steps back and resolved to get the map out tonight and go over the route. From the state of their guide, they could well end up in Croatia otherwise.
‘You’re going to be our mechanic and guide?’
‘Si.’
Clearly he wasn’t given to long sentences. He didn’t hold out his hand in greeting. From the look of him, the effort would have exhausted him. Sarah shot a glance across at Polly and decided to make the best of a bad job. If he was all they’d got, he would have to do. For now.
‘We expected you earlier.’
‘Si. Scusi.’ No explanation offered, but his bloodshot eyes were all the explanation she needed.
‘We want to set off tomorrow morning before nine o’clock, and the rental bikes are being delivered at eight. We need you to be there to check them and fit them. Can you promise me you’ll be at our hotel before eight?’
‘Si.’
Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out a fresh yellow cycling jersey in a plastic bag. ‘Here, will you make sure you’re wearing this tomorrow, please?’
‘Si.’
He took the jersey with what could have been an attempt at a thank you, but his voice didn’t reach as far as Sarah’s ears. She caught his eye.
‘Do you know which hotel we’re staying in?’
‘Si.’
At least that sounded positive, but she decided to put him to the test anyway. ‘What’s it called?’
‘Hotel Internazionale.’ At least he could manage more than single syllables.
‘And you know where it is?’
‘Si.’ Wearily he raised a finger and pointed inland.
Sarah followed the direction of his hand and clearly saw the sign on the roof of the hotel less than half a mile away. Satisfied that he knew where he was to meet them, she decided there was nothing to be gained, and potentially a lot to be lost, by keeping him here at the airport. Much better that he should go home and sober up. She gave him her sternest look and sent him off with a warning. ‘You realise that if you’re not on time tomorrow, there will be consequences?’
‘Si.’
With that, he was off.
‘What a chatterbox. I thought he’d never stop talking.’ Polly had been watching the scene with interest. Her Italian was very much at an elementary level, but even she had understood every word Gianluca had said, all thirteen of them. ‘I’m getting a bad feeling about our friend Gianluca. I think we’d both better work on our navigation skills.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Paul and Miles should be arriving soon. I wonder what they’ll make of Gianluca.’
‘And what are the rest of the group going to think?’ Sarah shook her head miserably. This wasn’t the start she had hoped for. Nevertheless, she decided to put a brave face on it. ‘You never know, maybe he’ll scrub up and emerge a new man at the crack of dawn tomorrow. We live in hope.’ She avoided meeting Polly’s eye and changed the subject. ‘And there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Pol. Could we keep the whole James, wedding thing between ourselves while we’re here in Italy? You’re the only one over here who knows about the marriage that never happened, and I’d like to keep it that way. There’s no need for anybody to know, particularly Miles or Paul, and if nobody’s asking me about James and the wedding, then maybe I stand a better chance of forgetting, or at least not thinking so much about what happened. Or didn’t.’
‘Of course, Sarah. I promise I won’t say a word. Just you try to forget all about it.’
Some hope, Sarah found herself thinking as she changed the subject to something safer. ‘Well, at least the forecast’s good.’
‘And staying good for the next few days, as far as I could see. I think it’s going to be a warm ride. Oh, oh, here we go. It’s show time, folks.’ Polly had spotted a group of three men emerging from the sliding doors and heading towards them. They had clearly recognised the yellow cycling jerseys she and Sarah were wearing. These had the name of the cancer charity and Hall’s Tours plastered all over them and were a garish, bright-yellow colour, so as to be as visible as possible to other road users, as well as reflecting the heat of the sun. Polly gave them a wave. ‘Oh, hi, hello, I’m Polly and this is Sarah. Welcome to Venice. Are you with the Hall’s ride?’
‘We sure are.’ The American accent was unmistakable. ‘Hi, Polly, I’m Chuck and these are Mike and Dan.’ He was a tall man, maybe in his late forties, with short-cropped, light-brown hair and a friendly expression on his face. She reached over and shook hands with all of them and handed out copies of the programme. The other two men were younger, both rather good-looking, one very muscular, and both clearly deferred to Chuck, so Sarah addressed her remarks to him.
‘Have you guys just arrived from the States or have you had a chance to get over the jetlag?’
Chuck grinned. ‘This ride’s going to be tough enough without starting off half dead. No, we’ve been in Europe for a few days, getting acclimatised.’
Sarah smiled back and nodded approvingly. ‘Very sensible.’
‘Only we chose to do our acclimatising in Switzerland. That whole damn country is one big mountain.’ The muscular one, Mike, groaned theatrically. ‘I’m worn out already.’
Sarah found herself smiling at him. ‘Well, you don’t need to do anything too athletic today. We’ve got a bus outside that’ll take you across to the hotel now. Polly will show you the way. You can dump your things at the hotel and then, if you like, there’s either the bus or the water bus to take you across to Venice for a bit of sightseeing. We’ll see you again for dinner this evening when you’ll have a chance to meet the other people on the ride. Meet back at the hotel at eight. The details are all on your programme.’
As Polly disappeared with the three Americans, Sarah ticked off their names on her clipboard and reflected with satisfaction that it hadn’t been so difficult to smile and be pleasant, after all. In fact, it had brought back happy memories of trips she had done in the past, before James had stamped his meddling, selfish foot on her career. She saw from the screen that the BA flight from London had now landed. The bulk of the participants in the group were travelling with Paul and Miles on that flight so she hoped Polly would get back in good time to collect them and see they got to the hotel. She glanced over her shoulder, rather hoping there might be a café close by for a quick espresso, but all she could see were tourist information and incoming travel company desks.
She took a moment to think ahead to what awaited her over the next two weeks. There were so many unknowns. As well as the weather and the quality of the hotels and restaurants along the way, a cycle ride threw up a load of further variables. There was the question of the relative fitness of the participants and whether they would all be able to ride a hundred kilometres a day. Polly would drive the minibus with the luggage and there would be room in there for a few stragglers if it came to it, but not more than a handful. Then there was the make-up of the group and how well they bonded together. She knew from experience that just one or two difficult customers could easily sour a whole trip. And, of course, there was the potentially even bigger problem of having to deal with the future bosses of the company.
A tall, good-looking man in a suit walked past and, much as she had been working hard to suppress the memory of him, she found herself thinking of James. He always wore a suit to work and he travelled a lot. It would be the height of irony if she were to meet him here, today, in Venice. She shook her head angrily. And if she were to meet him, how would she react? It was eight days since what should have been her wedding day, and, in the meantime, she had spent many tough hours going over in her head just what had happened and how she could maybe have prevented it. She found herself still at a loss to explain what had got into him and how she could have missed the signs. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of more than a handful of minor disagreements that could have indicated his dissatisfaction with the relationship and with her. As a rational, very organised person, it was bitterly frustrating to realise just how little she had truly known about the man with whom she had been fully prepared to spend the rest of her life.
The all-too-familiar stinging in the corners of her eyes threatened to develop into tears once more, but she was prevented from any further introspection as the sliding doors opened and her future bosses appeared. Along with them was a group of people, many of them carrying bikes in bags or boxes. At their head was Paul. He gave Sarah a cheery wave and led the others across to her as she surreptitiously wiped her eyes. They made up a group of fifteen people, nine of them men. At first sight, everybody looked pretty fit and Sarah drew heart from this. Maybe Polly’s minibus wouldn’t get too crowded, after all. Bringing up the rear of the group was Miles and she took a good look at him for the first time since his brief appearance in her office earlier that week. He looked leaner than she remembered and there was not even a hint of the sedentary businessman’s paunch she had noted a few years ago. However, her fears were reawakened when she saw that, although all the other members of the group were smiling cheerfully, his face looked serious, maybe even surly. She sighed to herself and hoped he would cheer up as the trip went on. She went across to greet them all, noting with relief, out of the corner of her eye, the reappearance of Polly from the bus.
‘Hi, everybody.’ Sarah put on her brightest smile and introduced herself, realising as she did so that this smile was now going to have to be plastered across her face permanently for the next two weeks. Considering how little smiling she had been doing recently, she had a feeling her face muscles were in for a real workout. ‘Welcome to Venice. I’m Sarah and I’m going to be riding with you. This is Polly, who’ll be with us all the way as well.’ They both passed among the group, shaking hands, exchanging greetings and handing out programmes. As she went round, Sarah ticked off names on her list. When she reached Miles, she stuck out her hand and managed to broaden her smile even wider.
‘Hi, Miles, I’m very glad to see you again.’
To her surprise, he managed to smile back at her and it was as if a wave had washed over his face, changing his appearance from grim to almost cheerful, and taking ten years off him in the process. As she shook hands, she took a closer look at him. Although she had always assumed he was well into his forties, with a smile on his face he looked a good bit younger.
‘Sarah, hi, good to see you again.’ His grip was firm and, for the first time, she saw his eyes close up. Although dark-ringed and surrounded by care lines, they were an amazing deep royal blue and strangely hypnotic. She felt a quite unexpected surge of physical attraction, which disappeared in an instant as the memory of the other man in her life with amazing blue eyes made its unwelcome return. It must have shown on her face as Miles’s smile vanished as suddenly as it had come. Sarah hastily turned her attention to the others and supervised them as they loaded their luggage onto trolleys and headed out to the bus. It was only when they had all disappeared with Polly that Sarah had a few moments to analyse her first impressions.
Paul was undeniably handsome and he knew it. Miles wasn’t as gloomy as she had feared, although she hadn’t missed the lines on his careworn face. Hopefully, he would manage to relax as the trip unfolded, if relaxation was a word to be used by people about to cycle a thousand kilometres. The other members of the group all looked as if they were up for it, and one of the women in particular was very pretty indeed. From previous experience, Sarah wondered how that might affect the dynamics of the group, particularly if Paul was still in predatory mode. She determined to keep a close eye on him. It would reflect badly on Hall’s Tours if the son of the proprietor were to start playing fast and loose with the customers.
‘Hello, are you part of the cycle ride?’ She raised her eyes from her clipboard and found herself confronted by a very tall blond man, probably her age, with the lightest blue eyes she had ever seen. Where Miles had cobalt-blue eyes, these were like the blue of an iceberg in the sun. His eyes and mouth were smiling and she had no difficulty in giving him a big smile in return. From his accent, he was Scandinavian, and there was only one of these on her list. He had to be Lars from Sweden.
‘Hi, you must be Lars.’ She saw him nod. ‘Welcome to Venice, Lars. Did you have a good flight?’
His smile was infectious and she was still chatting happily to him when Polly returned from dropping the others off. When Lars disappeared with Polly, Sarah felt quite sorry. Talking to him had been remarkably easy and this had really cheered her. Maybe two weeks of being nice wasn’t going to be too hard, after all.
By two o’clock, almost all the participants had turned up and nobody had lost any luggage or suffered a significant delay. The last to arrive were three women whose flight from Cardiff had arrived over an hour ago. Sarah was just beginning to get worried when the automatic doors swished open and the girls appeared, pushing a trolley full of bags. They all looked flustered, the redhead in the middle particularly so. She spotted Sarah’s yellow shirt and the clipboard and came rushing across to explain.
‘Hi, I’m Glynis Phillips. I’m terribly sorry, but I lost my phone.’
Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You lost it? What, on board the aircraft or after you got off?’
Glynis nodded, the embarrassed look on her face now more evident. ‘I turned it off for the flight and was going to turn it back on again once we got off, and it was then that I realised I’d lost it, just before passport control. I searched all my stuff, but I couldn’t find it. I was just starting to explain to the policemen when it turned up.’
One of her companions, a pretty, dark-haired girl, supplied the explanation. ‘I managed to find a girl who works for the airline and she made a call.’ She shot a long-suffering glance across at Glynis. ‘It was in the aircraft, tucked into the seat pocket.’
Glynis nodded miserably. ‘I must have dropped it in there by accident. I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Jo.’ She gave Sarah an apologetic look. ‘I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.’
Sarah gave her a grin, determined to reassure her and calm her down. ‘Not at all. I’m just glad you found it.’ She smiled at all three of them. ‘Well, you’ve arrived now. If you’d like to come with me, there’s a bus outside to ferry you to the hotel.’
As they made their way out of the terminal building, Jo, the girl who had saved the day, fell in alongside Sarah and whispered to her. ‘Glynis is a sweetie, but I’m afraid she can be a bit scatty at times. Naomi and I’ll do our best to keep an eye on her.’ She was an attractive girl and, by the sound of it, a bright one. Somehow, Sarah had a feeling Paul was going to like her a lot. Surreptitiously, she crossed her fingers, hoping he would behave himself. Anyway, she told herself, everybody had turned up and she could breathe a sigh of relief. So far, so good. As long as she didn’t think too hard about Gianluca.
***
Dinner was set for half past eight in a restaurant a few kilometres inland of the airport and the hotel. They had booked a coach to ferry everybody there and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when everybody was safely on board. As they started off on the fifteen minute journey, she walked down through the bus, chatting to everybody and checking they were all satisfied with their accommodation. Everybody seemed happy and those who had taken the water bus into Venice were singing the praises of that wonderful city. Paul and Miles were sitting halfway down the bus and Paul was chatting volubly with the trio of girls from Cardiff, his eyes very much on Jo. Miles was sitting on his own, engrossed in a call on his phone. Sarah remembered his reputation for being a workaholic and hoped this wouldn’t be how he spent all his free time. Mind you, she thought to herself, she had been branded a workaholic herself so many times, she felt a sense of sympathy for him. At least, she thought to herself, it would be hard for him to carry on a telephone conversation while riding a bike.
After returning to her seat, satisfied that all was going well so far, she was reminded that one of the people who had accused her of working too hard had been James. Had her appetite for her job contributed to his decision not to go ahead with the wedding? In the wake of the impact of his decision, she had been conducting a post-mortem in her head, asking herself just why he had made up his mind to dump her and whether it really was the disaster she had initially thought. Certainly, he would have objected to her participation in this trip, even though she had found herself faced with little or no choice in the matter. She had always known he had a very selfish, controlling side to his character and it was only just occurring to her now that his insistence they get married might have been in order to further cement his hold over her. Maybe, tough as it was, his decision had been the right one, after all. She found herself feeling very confused. She shook her head miserably and sighed as the coach drove across the dead flat countryside, criss-crossed by little waterways, through which they would be riding the following day. The thought of two weeks on a bike should have cheered her, but she knew she was still bleeding internally and it would take a lot to cheer her up.
‘Can I join you, Sarah?’
Miles’s voice dragged her out of her introspection. ‘Of course. All well?’
She was referring to his telephone conversation, which had been going on for a good ten or fifteen minutes, but he chose to interpret her query as referring to the trip. ‘You tell me – you’re in charge, after all. Now, what do you want me to do tonight?’
He was sitting close beside her and she could feel the hairs of his bare forearm resting against her arm. It was a not unpleasant sensation and, yet again, she had to remind herself that the very last thing she wanted right now was any kind of involvement with another man. She eased her arm away from him and replied.
‘I want you to turn on the charm, Miles. Plonk yourself at table and dazzle everybody with your bonhomie and friendliness. Line one, page one of the tour guides’ manual: “Keep a smile on your face at all times and this will ensure a smile on the faces of the clients.” So, big smiles all round, all right?’ She shot him a quick glance to see how he was reacting and was relieved to see a smile forming on his lips.
‘Of course, you’re right.’ He met her eyes for a few seconds and she read something more serious that belied his words. ‘Do me a favour, Sarah; remind me of that from time to time. I know I should smile more.’
‘Normally, all that’s needed is to be happy and the smile comes automatically. Are you happy, Miles?’ She looked over at his face again, but his eyes were now trained down at his hands.
‘I’ll work on that, too, Sarah.’ His voice now sounded bleak and she felt a surge of compassion. Clearly, things weren’t all right and she wondered if the cause was work, the conflict with his brother, or something more personal. Then he looked up, out of the window. ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, we’re here.’ He turned back towards her, his smile firmly in place. ‘See, Sarah, I’m smiling.’
It almost looked convincing.
The restaurant was called La Stalla and had pretty evidently been converted from an old stable block. Just in case anybody failed to get the connection, there were saddles and sundry horsey paraphernalia all around the walls to make the point. The walls were exposed stone and brick, the high ceilings supported by hefty wooden beams, and the floors were ancient, worn terracotta tiles. It was a charming place and she sensed the approval of the guests as they walked inside. They were escorted to a private room at one end of the building where a long table had been set up for all thirty of them. Sarah, as mistress of ceremonies, sat right in the middle on one side and the others helped themselves to seats around her. As everybody settled down she noticed that Miles had taken up position right opposite her and she wondered whether this was a deliberate move to keep an eye on her, presumably so as to assess her performance at firsthand. For a moment, Sarah remembered what Melissa had said about possible redundancies and she suppressed a shiver. She loved her job and really didn’t want to lose it.
‘What a fabulous place.’ Lars the Swede had taken his place at her right hand and was looking around admiringly. On the other side of her, Sarah had made sure to put one of the two women who had come on their own, as she was determined to see they were made welcome by the others in the group as soon as possible. She turned towards Lars and nodded.
‘And the food’s supposed to be even better.’ She glanced across the table at Miles and was relieved to see him looking, by his standards, relatively relaxed, a reasonably convincing smile still on his face, chatting to the very pretty girl who had arrived with the others on the flight from London. Sarah had now identified her as Diana from a big tour operator based in Bristol. Ominously, Paul, looking very smart in a sky-blue polo shirt, had taken up position on the other side of her and was clearly waiting until his brother tired so that he could leap in and start a conversation with her. As Sarah was watching Paul, he suddenly looked up and his eyes caught hers. He gave her a big smile and a wink.
