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TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER

Praise for KATY COLINS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

EXTRACT

ENDPAGES

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

CHAPTER 1

Turbid (adj.) Confused; muddled

The first thing I heard were the keys at the door, scratching and jangling against each other as the lock slowly turned.

Bollocks. I’d done it again.

I whipped my head off my laptop, QWERTY imprinted on my left cheek as I rubbed my tired eyes, probably wiping the residue of clumped, black mascara everywhere. I heard the clanging of the metal bell as the door opened, and quickly hid under my desk, wincing at the pain of cracking my funny bone on my metal chair leg – not so bloody funny at all. Pulling my knees up to my chin I tried to tuck myself in the corner, hoping that he wouldn’t notice my shoes forlornly left at the edge of my desk.

I heard his heavy footsteps slowly clump across the tiled floor, tiles that had been imported from Morocco by the previous owner, once dusted with desert sand but now forever ingrained with Manchester mud and dirt in the narrow cracks. They were beautiful but a bugger to keep clean. He was whistling to himself; I could just make out the tune from that TV series that everyone was talking about but I’d never got around to watching. I mentally slapped myself for being in this position again but there was no way I would let him find me here. No way.

Suddenly his footsteps stopped. My breath caught in my throat. I could make out his smart chestnut-brown shoes from here, the ones that I’d seen in the shop window down the road when they were in the January sales and mentioned how much they would suit him.

The shoes were now facing in my direction. I tried to stay as still as I could. A deep sigh replaced the whistling. Why is he not moving? I could feel my heartbeat hammering through my chest. Why had I done it again? Put myself in this ridiculous situation with only myself to blame. As his feet picked up and started to edge closer to my desk, I heard the door being flung open once more.

‘All right?’ Kelli’s croaky morning voice filled the silent room.

‘Morning, Kel, did you leave the lights on last night before you left?’ he asked.

I heard Kelli groan. I could imagine her rolling her heavily kohled eyes, throwing him her best sarky look, the one she had down to a tee.

‘What? Nah, weren’t me. I left before Georgia did.’ She yawned loudly. I could now see her dirty, battered Converse trainers edge into my view, her once-white laces caked in what looked like brown sludge. I really did need to give this floor a proper going over, something else to add to my forever growing to-do list. Maybe I’d hire one of those super-duper carpet vacs or steam cleaners. I was sure my mum had one that she’d won at the bingo a while back. Focus, Georgia. Focus on staying out of view. I tensed my body once more. My shoulders ached from being hunched over my laptop all night and now pins and needles started tickling my legs.

‘Oh, right,’ Ben said. His feet were out of my eye line now. I heard the wooden sign clang against the pane of glass in the door, turning us from closed to open. ‘Can you just turn Georgia’s lamp off then? I’ll have a word with her when she gets in. Maybe it’s some new security measure she’s put in place,’ he called out.

Shit. I’d forgotten that I’d left that on.

‘Yeah, fine,’ Kelli mumbled, sloping over towards me. Her feet were just next to my chair. I could see her pale white legs through the rips in her faded denim jeans. ‘Can’t she turn her own bloody lights off?’ I heard her grumble under her breath as she reached across my desk. I scrunched my eyes shut. How was I going to get myself out of here without either of them seeing me?

‘Damn. We’re out of milk. Could you go and grab us some coffees? You can take some change from the kitty tin,’ Ben called over from the small kitchen at the back of the room.

‘Fine,’ Kelli huffed, knocking one of my pens to the floor.

‘Careful,’ Ben warned. ‘Don’t mess up her desk.’

‘Yeah, we both know how OCD she is,’ Kelli replied, sniggering.

‘Organised, Kelli. The word you’re looking for is organised,’ Ben said. I could sense a smile in his voice.

‘Hmm, more like psycho control freak if you ask me,’ Kelli muttered quietly.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing. I just said I won’t make a mess.’

I wasn’t a psycho control freak nor did I have OCD. I just liked order. I liked to keep tabs on things, to have a plan, to know that everything was going as it should – so yeah, I did need to have some level of organisation, something Kelli could do well with learning, I silently seethed.

Kelli’s skinny arm dipped down to pick the pen up, her hand fumbling on the floor inches from my feet followed by her blue-streaked hair and anaemically pale face. Her bloodshot eyes clocked mine. ‘Oh!’

I pressed my finger to my lips, wincing.

‘What?’ Ben called out.

I shook my head and pointed to the roof of the desk. A slow smirk broke out on Kelli’s face and she straightened herself up.

‘Nothing. I just, erm, just found that stapler I’ve been looking for.’ Her feet backed out of view. ‘Erm, actually I think you should get the coffees. I’ve got lady problems and shouldn’t be out in the cold air for too long.’

I stifled a laugh. Nicely done, Kelli; every woman knows if you want to get out of doing something then talking about your period is the number one way to spook a man out.

I could sense Ben’s face turning a lovely shade of crimson as I heard him stutter. ‘Right, OK. Not a problem. You just, erm, get to work and I’ll grab us some coffee.’

Kelli dramatically slunked onto the office chair opposite. ‘Thanks, Ben. Really appreciate it. I promise I’ll go when I’m off the blob.’

I heard a rustle of fabric and the bell tingling as the door opened and quickly closed again. Nervously I peeked around my filing cabinet to check the coast was clear.

‘S’all right. He’s gone,’ Kelli said, swinging her feet up. I crawled out from under my desk and picked off large pieces of fluff from my creased skirt. ‘You slept here again then?’

‘I don’t know how it happened. I was working on the European trips and the next thing Ben’s coming through the door waking me up. He really can’t find me like this, not after what happened last time.’ Kelli and I both winced at that memory.

A few weeks ago I’d been burning the candle at both ends to get a pitch presentation finished for a new tour operator we were hoping to partner with when I’d fallen asleep at my desk. Ben had found me drooling on one of the slides and when he’d woken me so abruptly I’d accidently spilt a whole mug of cold tea over my laptop. The laptop where I’d collated all our hard work and hadn’t saved a copy, meaning all that effort was for nothing. The technicians hadn’t been able to save anything as brown drips puddled around my keyboard. Ben had shrugged that it was just one of those things, a lesson in the importance of backing up our work, but I knew he was pissed off.

When we first started this business I had visions of us spending our days working hard but having fun with it, and our evenings wrapped around each other in bed. I hadn’t realised how much this company had pushed us away from each other. The come-to-bed eyes had been replaced with looks of disappointment.

I glanced at the clock; it was gone nine a.m. I wouldn’t have time to get home and change without Ben wondering why I was so late. I’d just have to hand iron the crumples in my skirt and hope he wouldn’t notice I was wearing the same blouse as the day before. I pulled on my black, scuffed heels and scurried to the bathroom to try and sort out the bird’s nest masquerading as my hair.

‘I’ve got some make-up you can borrow if you want?’ Kelli called out behind me. Glancing at the purple bags under my bloodshot brown eyes, my sallow, almost greyish skin and the furry coating on my teeth, I accepted. Moments later I resembled less the night of the walking dead and more the morning of the walking dead. Heavy powder caked my cheeks, a smear of maroon lipstick and a flick of thick kohl completed the look. I wasn’t sure if it was an improvement but at least I’d got the crusty sleep from my eyes and rubbed the creases from my face. My hair was another matter – in desperate need of some TLC I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d managed to visit a hairdresser, let alone had some home hair care. Wiry, dull and sticking up in tufts, it looked a mess.

‘’Ere, just try and pin it back.’ Kelli handed me some grips.

‘Thanks, Kel, I really appreciate this.’ I took them and smiled at her, hurriedly pulling strands of hair from my face and prising a hairgrip in.

‘No probs, boss. I, erm, didn’t mean what I said about you being a psycho control freak either.’ She scuffed her shoes on the floor.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said with a half-smile. The dinging of the bell caught us both.

‘Kel?’ Ben called out. ‘They didn’t have your half-fat, extra-tall, two-shot latte so I got you a normal filter coffee that’s apparently for someone called Heyli.’

Kelli left me to continue sorting myself out. ‘Right, fine, thanks.’

‘Is Georgia here? Why is her coat on the floor?’ I heard his trousers rustle as he bent down to pick up my jacket that I’d dropped in the hurry to make myself presentable.

‘Erm, well, er …’ Kelli mumbled.

‘I’m here!’ I walked out smiling, trying to look as fresh and well slept as I could. ‘Sorry, I must have knocked my jacket over as I nipped to the loo.’

‘Hey, morning,’ Ben said looking slightly bemused by the new look I was rocking on my face. ‘You … erm … look nice today. Here, they didn’t mess up on your order.’

‘Thanks.’ I blushed and quickly sat at my desk, acting as normal as I could. I gratefully took the steaming coffee from Ben, trying to ignore his furrowed brow that suggested he was trying to work out what was different about me. ‘So, you ready for our staff meeting?’

‘Yep.’ He pulled himself together and headed over to his desk.

Staff meetings were in all the business management books I’d been trying to read; OK, well, I’d downloaded the audio books onto my iPhone as they helped drown out the noise of rowdy school kids getting the same bus as me to town every morning. Apparently staff meetings were vital in ensuring that all tasks are evenly distributed, targeted and have measurable results, as well as checking in with your colleagues in a bid to strengthen team relations … or something like that. I never could concentrate on the droning voice on 1001 ways to improve your business when some spotty teen was playing Justin Bieber out of their tinny phone speakers.

When I’d suggested we hold weekly staff meetings both Kelli and Ben had tried not to laugh at me. With just the three of us working here, plus the occasional visit from Ben’s godmother and previous owner Trisha, they’d scoffed that we didn’t need them but I’d insisted. Mostly because I needed to make sure that every ball we were juggling wasn’t being dropped.

‘Kel? You ready?’ I called out.

‘Yeah.’ She grabbed a notepad, mostly full of her angst-ridden scribbles, and sat on the edge of the sofa, ignoring my pursed look when she flipped her feet onto one of the chenille cushions.

‘Great, so …’ I scanned my tired eyes down my to-do list, mentally reminding myself to add steam clean the floor and bring in a spare change of clothes that I could leave under my desk, in case I pulled an all-nighter again. Just in case. ‘We’ve got the visuals back for the summer campaign that I sent both of you. I didn’t have time for your feedback so signed it off but trust me it looks really good. Then coming up this week we’ve got the tour going to Iceland; Kelli, will you make sure that you email the tour guide with everyone’s passport details?’ She nodded. ‘Actually, I can just do that; it’ll only take two minutes. We also need to send the updated itinerary out. I’ve started that so may as well finish it,’ I said, crossing a line through it.

I ignored Ben’s quizzical look and continued to scan down my list.

‘OK, so next on the agenda is the Indian tour leaving in a couple of weeks. As you know this is proving to be one of our bestsellers and definitely where we need to be focusing our energy, so although the demand is there I really think we need to question our relationship with the visa company that we’ve been using.’

‘What’s wrong with them?’ Ben asked.

‘Well, nothing. I just think we could do a better job if it was all in-house. Apparently streamlining a business’s services only adds value.’ I ignored them both raising an eyebrow at me. ‘I’ll look into that –’

‘Georgia,’ Ben cut me off.

‘Yep?’ I looked up from my list.

‘Is there anything you want Kelli and me to do?’

‘Oh yep, sorry,’ I replied sheepishly. ‘Kel, if you could sort out getting a steam cleaner as these tiles need a good going over?’ She wouldn’t be able to mess that task up. ‘And, Ben, you’ve got enough to worry about with preparing for the Travel Trade Convention and getting the copy finalised for the website. You said you’d have the new “what’s happening” page live by last week … and well … it’s still not gone up.’

‘It was yesterday that you asked me to do that. Not last week,’ he said with a slight frown.

‘Oh really?’ God had it only been yesterday? ‘Well, either way it needs to be sorted, please.’

‘Consider it done,’ he replied with a wink that made my lady parts do a funny wiggle.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself back on track. ‘Thanks, and finally I was also thinking that we should look into each learning a new language? Take a class over lunch or something like that? It would really help with attracting new clients and in building relationships with foreign guides if we can speak their language.’

Looking expectantly at their faces I could tell my new idea had fallen on deaf ears.

‘I think that might be one for the future maybe?’ Ben said softly, trying not to laugh as Kelli yawned dramatically.

‘Yeah, maybe we can re-visit that soon, although I’ve read that Mandarin is the most widely spoken language in the world, so we really should be hitting that market. Oh and then last but not least, I’ve managed to get a meeting with Hostel Planners later this week to see if we could tie in some of our tours with them.’

‘You didn’t say.’ Ben’s deep brown eyes caught mine. A flash of confusion and hurt flickered across his face.

‘I only found out this morning, I-I mean last night,’ I stuttered.

‘You want me to come with you to that? You know your list is sounding pretty heavy – it might be best to share the load a little, Georgia?’ He tilted his head at me.

‘It’s all under control. Trust me.’ I smiled weakly, not wanting to look at Kelli who I could feel was giving me a look that said she knew things weren’t under control.

‘If you’re sure.’ Ben wasn’t letting this go.

‘Ben, I’m sure,’ I said, a little more forthrightly than I’d meant to. I softened my tone. ‘Sorry, I think you’ve got enough to look after with preparing for the convention. How’s your speech coming on? Do you want to practise it with us? Maybe you could send it over so I can check it before you go?’ I tried to say it as lightly as I could, hoping to sound like a caring colleague, not a control freak who needed to keep tabs on exactly what it was he would be saying.

‘It’s all under control.’ He grinned, tapping a finger to the side of his head.

‘But you have written it down?’

Ben smiled and waved his hands around. ‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’

He hadn’t written it down. He always said that he preferred to speak off the cuff, but just the thought of that made me physically shiver. I nodded and added write Ben’s speech onto my notepad. I’d just try and sneak it into his pocket so it would be there if, sorry when he needed it and he’d come back thanking me for helping him.

‘Right, so, anyone else got anything to add?’

Ben shook his head but Kelli raised a skinny arm. ‘It’s not really work-related but my band are playing at the Academy tomorrow night.’

‘Wow, that’s amazing!’ Ben said.

Kelli blushed. ‘Nah, it ain’t the real Academy, it’s the one in Rusholme above a curry house but still it’s a gig. I guess.’ She paused collecting her thoughts. ‘So, I wondered if you both wanted to come? I’ll put you on the guest list if you fancy it. You know, if you weren’t too busy or anythin’?’ She nibbled her thin bottom lip.

‘Course we’ll be there. Won’t we, Georgia?’ Ben said, interrupting me from scrolling through the calendar on my phone.

‘It might not be your kinda vibe but the booze is cheap and you get ten per cent off any curry and free poppadums if you come.’

‘Georgia? You in?’ Ben persisted.

‘Yeah, yeah sounds good,’ I said distractedly giving them both a tight smile. ‘Right, let’s get down to work.’

It had turned out to be a good day actually, minus the dramatic, unprofessional start. We’d had four walk-ins who booked tours on the spot and another six who took brochures away, making all the positive noises of coming back to pay a deposit. I was just in the middle of my emails when my phone buzzed: Mother calling.

‘Hi, Mum, I haven’t got long. I’m pretty snowed under,’ I answered quickly.

‘You always say that,’ she tutted, and I rolled my eyes. ‘Well, I won’t keep you, it was just to check that you haven’t forgotten about tonight.’

Tonight? Tonight? My mind raced through my mental to-do list. What was tonight?

‘Erm … Yep. It’s all under control,’ I lied.

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Great. Your dad is so excited to see you. We’ll let the rush-hour traffic die down before we head out. You know he doesn’t like to drive when all the maniacs fill the roads,’ she babbled. ‘What time is the restaurant booked for again?’

I paused. Then suddenly it all came rushing back. I quickly glanced at my calendar to check I was right. Yup. Shit. Today was my dad’s birthday and weeks ago I’d promised my mum I’d get us a table at Chez Laurent’s, the fancy French bistro that the Manchester glitterati raved about, the place where you needed to reserve stupidly far in advance.

‘Erm, nine p.m.,’ I lied.

‘Perfect. Right, well I’ll let you get on. See you later, love.’

I said goodbye and hung up, my stomach in knots. I forgot what I was doing and hurriedly found the phone number for the restaurant, crossing everything that there would be by some miracle a last-minute cancellation for tonight.

No such luck.

The snooty receptionist, talking in a blatantly fake French accent, told me that ‘eet just wasn’t posseeeble’.

I told her to leave it and focused my attention on scouring the net for other possible options, my workload suddenly seeming less important. I’d set alarms on both my phone and email reminding me to buy my dad a gift and book this place but every time they’d pinged I’d cancelled them as I was always in the middle of doing something else. I could kick myself now. After the stressful end of last year, I’d planned to really treat him for his birthday, to celebrate in style that he was still here with us when we had so nearly lost him. I sighed, mentally slapping myself in the face for being such a terrible daughter.

All the finest five-star restaurants were either fully booked, didn’t answer the phone, or only had tables at five p.m. in two weeks’ time. Now I was really behind. By this rate I’d be pulling another all-nighter just to catch up on what I’d not got done today.

I sighed loudly, which caught Ben’s attention. ‘You OK, Georgia?’

‘You don’t happen to know any Michelin-starred chefs who could come and cook dinner tonight, do you?’ I asked, with my head in my hands.

‘Sorry?’

‘It’s my dad’s birthday and I promised him a fancy dinner but completely forgot all about it,’ I half moaned.

Kelli looked up from her paper-strewn desk. ‘My mate Sticky Shaun works at TGI Fridays. I could try and bag you a table there? Nah, scrap that – he got his name for a reason.’

Ben grimaced and turned to face me. ‘Why don’t you have a change of plan and cook for them at yours?’

I laughed. ‘I want to treat him, not kill him. Do you not remember how bad I was at cooking when we were in Thailand?’

Memories of being in the spicy, steamy kitchen in Koh Lanta flooded my mind. I blushed slightly thinking back to how close we’d been then, how I was convinced something would have happened between us by now other than swapping secret-Santa gifts and sharing business ideas in a friendly yet professional manner.

Ben smiled at the memory. ‘Yeah, maybe stick with the restaurant idea.’

I went back to my laptop, wanting to focus on work instead of what could have been between us when Ben called out. ‘Wait, didn’t you go to some networking event or something at Verde, that new Italian place? You could call whoever organised it and see if they could fit you in.’

‘Genius idea! Thanks.’ I flipped through the stack of business cards on my desk; note to self, must get round to organising these one day. I thought back to that utterly boring evening where my restless mind had wandered away from death by PowerPoint to the fresh flowers and walnut fittings in the restaurant. I’d spent the rest of the dull meeting wondering whether we should redecorate the shop in similar hues.

I found the business card for Luigi, the restaurant manager, a no-nonsense Italian man with gelled-back hair and heavy musky aftershave who’d been very keen on sharing his advice on the best places to visit in Rome when I’d told him about our Italian tours. Five minutes later and I’d bagged us a table for three at nine p.m. tonight. Bingo. Maybe I could pull this back after all.

CHAPTER 2

Disillusion (n.) A freeing or a being freed from illusion

‘It’s very fancy, isn’t it?’ my mum exclaimed, picking up the creamy porcelain salt and pepper pots from the starched linen tablecloth. ‘But, weren’t we meant to be at that French place? Viv always goes on about it since her son Adam took her when he visited from London that one time. I swear I’ve heard more about the bloody crème brûlée they serve than I have about Viv’s sciatic nerves, and trust me, she never shuts up about them.’

‘It did sound pretty good though. The pudding, not Viv’s backache,’ my dad chimed in before clocking my face.

‘I tried to get us in there, but it was fully booked,’ I apologised, ignoring my mum pursing her lips that Adam had managed to get his mum in. ‘This place is meant to be really good though. It’s the number one Italian in Manchester, or something like that.’

‘Hmmm,’ my mum said. ‘It’s a little on the poky side.’

‘Or you could say cosy?’ I tried putting a positive spin on the large faux-marble pillar that we were tucked away behind. Luigi had come true on offering us a table; he just hadn’t specified that we would be sardined behind the Roman coliseum next to the toilets. The comforting garlic and rosemary smell of the busy restaurant was sliced by regular wafts of strong bleach every time the door opened.

‘Well I think it’s great and makes a change from watching the evening news as I tuck into your mum’s famous corned-beef hash.’ My dad chuckled. After ordering from a harassed-looking waitress, who’d obviously forgotten about us judging by the look on her shiny red face, we tucked into the free, salty breadsticks.

‘So, you’ve come straight from work, Georgia?’ My mum nodded at what I was wearing: my creased work skirt, two-day-old blouse that now had both an ink stain and a coffee stain on the cuff and my Kelli-inspired, emo make-up.

‘Yeah, sorry. I’d planned to go home first but I –’

‘You were running late,’ she butted in, and then sighed. ‘Well it’s so nice to finally get to have a proper catch-up with you. Although, I have to say, you are looking a little peaky, love.’

‘I, erm, tried out a new make-up look today; don’t think I’ll be doing it again,’ I said, brushing crumbs from my lap. ‘So anyway, happy birthday, Dad.’ I raised my glass of Chianti and pecked him on the cheek, smelling his familiar scent of clean linen and tomato plants. ‘Your present’s in the post,’ I lied. Well, half lied. As soon as I got home I’d order something super-duper online to be delivered as soon as possible.

‘Seeing you is the only gift I need.’ He ruffled my hair. ‘Now tell us everything. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you, pet; how’s it all going? You’re not working too hard I hope?’

‘Well, you know the first year of any new business is always a little tough, but we’re fighting our corner of the travel market and even making a small profit.’ I winked, feeling a warm glow inside of me. This was why I worked my bloody socks off: to get results.

‘That’s excellent news.’ My dad grinned and chinked his glass to mine.

‘What about outside of work? Any men on the scene we should know about? I always thought you and Ben would make such a lovely couple. With your intelligence and his dark brown eyes the children would be like genius supermodels.’

‘Mum!’ I hurriedly wiped the dribble of crimson wine from my chin.

‘What?’ She innocently shrugged. ‘Don’t be so busy working that you forget to have fun, Georgia.’

‘I do have fun.’ I half pouted, ignoring her as well as trying not to gag at the smell trailing an overweight man who’d just squeezed past us coming out of the toilets. ‘I’m having fun right now.’

‘Coming out tonight for your dad’s birthday doesn’t count. It’s not like you’re going to meet the man of your dreams in here,’ my mum tutted.

‘I have to say I agree, pet.’ My dad jerked his head to the male bogs before laughing.

‘I haven’t got time for all that at the moment.’ I wafted my hands around, wishing the waitress would hurry up with our mains and take the attention away from what a failure I was in every area other than my career. No way did I want my feelings about Ben bubbling to the surface, not when I’d tried so hard over the last few months to keep them neatly locked in a box marked do not open.

‘Hmm, well we’re worried about you, that’s all,’ my mum said, gently placing a hand on mine. ‘When you came back from your travels you were so fired up about this business idea and it is great it’s working so well. Really it is.’ She sighed. ‘But, Georgia, you need to be careful it isn’t taking up all of your time.’

I pulled my hand away, took a big gulp of wine, and smiled at her. ‘I told you I’m fine.’

My mum kept her eye on me and raised an eyebrow before slowly nodding. ‘So, how’s Marie? And little Cole? It’s been ages since we’ve seen him; I bet he’s growing up so fast.’

‘They’re fine …’ I said, thinking about my best friend and her son. ‘I’ve not seen them for a while but you know how it is, she’s doing her thing and I’m doing mine. I’ll give her a call soon.’

‘Well when you do please say that your dad and I said hi.’

‘I will, I promise. So how have you spent the rest of your birthday? Get any nice presents?’ I asked my dad, wanting to change the conversation and quickly. There was something about being around my parents that made me revert to being a sulky teenager, not wanting to talk about boys – or at least this one boy in particular.

‘Well yes. Your mother here outdid herself this year with this top-of-the-range digital radio.’ The laughter lines around my dad’s eyes crinkled as he spoke. ‘You should see it, Georgie. I can tune into radio shows I never even knew existed before. I mean, what will they think of next?’

I was listening to him tell me about how he was listening to a gardening talk show hosted by a man called Wayne in Dorset, when my phone buzzed. ‘Sorry, I need to take this. Hold that thought; I’ll only be a minute.’ I got up, trying not to bang my head on the eaves we were sat under to answer it.

‘Oh right, OK.’ My dad nodded sadly.

I quickly headed outside, walking out of the warm cosy restaurant into the chill of the spring wind so I could hear the caller better. I had completely forgotten I’d scheduled a late call with Dan Milligan, head of sales for the leading travel magazine Itchy Feet. I’d been working on trying to secure some advertising space with them as I’d noticed all our competitors had super-snazzy, full-paged ads and whatever they could do we could do better.

‘Evening. Georgia Green speaking,’ I said in my poshest phone voice, hoping the fading sound of sirens wouldn’t be too noticeable.

‘Hey, Georgia, Dan here. I wanted to give you a call ‘cause, as you know, today’s the last day for advertisers to bag space in the next issue. I’ve got a cracking deal that I may be able to sort out for you.’

He then launched into a rehearsed sales pitch covering readership numbers and other figures I didn’t fully understand but that sounded impressive before taking a dramatic pause.

‘So … as we’re really keen to include up-and-coming tour operators in the mag, keep it fresh and bang up to date you know, we could do you a half- or full-page ad for …’ he paused again ‘… forty per cent less than the usual price.’

‘Wow, that’s a lot less than I’d expected.’ I coughed in surprise.

He let out a cheesy, game-show-host-style laugh. ‘The thing is, I can offer it to you at this price as we are literally down to the wire, meaning I will need that information, like, pronto. It has to get off to the printers ASAP, if you know what I mean?’

‘Tonight? It can’t wait until tomorrow?’ I glanced at my watch. I’d have to leave my dad’s birthday dinner to rush back and quickly knock something up. Plus it would mean not running this past Ben first. Surely they could wait until tomorrow morning?

‘No can do. I’m already stalling things ‘cause I wanted to offer this heavily discounted rate to you. We’re basically giving this away!’

I stayed silent thinking it through; even with the cheaper price it was still a huge chunk of our advertising budget.

Dan must have sensed my apprehension. ‘You know, I do have Totally Awesome Adventours waiting to hear from me too. I wanted to offer you first refusal but I know as soon as I get off the phone to you they’ll snap this offer up.’

Usually Ben was in charge of the advertising budget but this was too good a deal to resist; I’d have to apologise to my dad but I was sure he’d understand. I took a deep breath.

‘Yeah, great, let’s go for it. Count us in.’

‘Excellent. Let me make some calls and I’ll bell you back to confirm. Once that’s done then I’ll need your copy in the next hour.’

‘You have my word.’ I smiled to myself and hung up.

I’d lost track of time. My arms were covered in goosebumps and my teeth were chattering, but I’d managed to bag us a full-page coloured ad in the next issue. I couldn’t wait to tell Ben. OK, so he may go a little mental at how much of the advertising budget I’d just blown in the space of five minutes, but I was convinced it was the right thing to do.

Things were really taking off with Lonely Hearts Travels, our bespoke travel tours designed to help broken-hearted singles go from lost to wanderlust with like-minded people. Since we launched back in November I’d lived, eaten and slept the business, desperate for it to become a success and amazingly it seemed to be working. I rubbed my arms and headed back into the restaurant.

‘I’m so sorry. That took longer than I thought …’ I faded out once I took in my mum’s pissed-off, tight face and my dad’s disappointed, creased forehead. Their dinner plates were empty whilst my spaghetti carbonara had congealed into a disgusting buttercup-yellow sticky mound.

‘We couldn’t wait any longer.’ My mum pursed her lips.

‘Oh, right – course. Sorry,’ I mumbled, trying to get my fork into the dried-out sauce, after scraping a layer of skin off the top. I couldn’t stomach it so pushed the plate away. ‘So, tell me what else you got for your birthday,’ I said to my dad who was struggling to make eye contact with me.

‘Well, the lads down the local clubbed together and bought me a new –’

The sound of my ringtone cut him off. ‘Sorry.’ I winced. ‘I won’t be long.’ I picked up my mobile and headed back outside once more.

‘Georgia!’ Dan said cheerfully on the other end. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal!’

‘Wow, erm, great.’ Was it strange that a slight nugget of worry was dancing in my stomach? No, this was too good to let pass, especially not to those Totally Awesome Adventours bastards.

‘The only thing is I’ll need your copy in, like, the next hour or so. That going to be a problem?’

I shook my head. ‘Nope. I’ll get onto it right away.’

I hung up and was just about to go back inside, working out how quickly I could get away and back to my office, when the main door of the restaurant opened and out came my parents, wrapped up in their winter coats.

‘Mum, Dad? Where are you going?’ I called out and jogged over to them. ‘We’ve not had dessert yet,’ I said, rubbing my arms for warmth.

‘Georgia. We’re going home. We came here to see you, not to sit staring at an empty third chair and being gassed by strange men’s farts,’ my mum snapped. ‘Have you forgotten it’s your dad’s birthday? That all he wanted was to see you and spend some family time together?’

Even though I did need to be making a move myself I didn’t want tonight to end like this. My stomach dropped and my cheeks grew flushed. ‘I told you I was sorry; I’m just caught up in the middle of something that I needed to get sorted. But it’s done now. I’ve managed to get us into Itchy Feet; you know that magazine I mentioned a few weeks ago?’

My dad cleared his throat before giving me a weak smile. ‘That’s nice, love. Sorry to be a party pooper but I’m just feeling a little tired – you know how it is getting older and all that. Another time?’

I nodded and bit my lip. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

‘Georgia, it’s late. Let’s just call it a night. You can get back to your work and we’ll see you soon,’ my mum said, fastening up her coat before giving me a peck on the cheek.

‘Well call me soon! Oh and happy birthday, Dad,’ I called out behind them.

I was about to head back inside the restaurant to grab my jacket and pay the bill when I heard my mum talking to my dad in a not very hushed whisper. ‘Also, have you seen how tired she looks? I swear owning this business is getting too much for her.’

‘I think she just needs a good sleep and a little TLC, Sheila,’ my dad replied.

‘Hmm, I hope you’re right. It’s not normal how hard she is pushing herself, trying to prove something that doesn’t need to be proved. I’m worried about her – that’s all, Len.’

‘I know you are, we both are but she’ll be OK. She’ll figure it out. She’s a Green after all.’

I trudged into the restaurant. Did everyone think I was a complete failure? I was doing fine. More than fine.

CHAPTER 3

Workaholic (n.) A person who works compulsively at the expense of other pursuits

‘I heard that you help people like me? I just came in on a whim really as I don’t know if anyone can really help me.’ The woman sat opposite me spoke in a whisper of barely audible breath that seemed to come in bursts from her rattling chest.

She was slowly shredding a Kleenex apart between her long thin fingers, not realising what she was doing as she spoke. She was getting ripped bits of tissue everywhere, all over the floor and her knee-length, plum-coloured cord skirt. I noticed her fingernails were impeccably painted, a deep red that shone against her pale trembling hands. I remembered doing that when I was in her position, thinking that if my nails were perfect then everything else in my jumbled-up life would follow suit, that somehow a lick of nail lacquer would make it all OK. It was only when the tiny flecks started to chip away that you were brought back to reality.

I looked down at my own hands as she sipped her cup of tea. My fingernails were bare, my cuticles ravaged and the thinnest line of white kept trying to break through before I bit it off again, not through sadness this time but through stress. Going for a manicure was on my to-do list, one of many I had on the go. Go to the gym, join a gym, learn how to use the smoothie maker my mum bought me at Christmas, be home enough to have time to use the smoothie maker, make a date with my best friend, call my parents more; all these things including go and get a manicure had been long forgotten. Tomorrow, I always seemed to tell myself. Tomorrow.

‘So he packed everything whilst I was away at a work team-building weekend and just left. I came back to find our flat half empty and a note explaining what he’d done,’ Nice-Nails Lady whispered.

I winced. ‘God, I’m sorry.’

I tilted my head and passed her a fresh tissue, whilst at the same time trying to keep an eye on Kelli who was chatting to an equally unsure-looking man in the corner of the shop.

I hadn’t realised how much of my time would be spent acting as a counsellor to customers. Fresh from messy break-ups they would wobble in here looking for a calming place to talk to people who understood that love doesn’t always go to plan. My experience of being a jilted bride had kick-started the idea of the business as I had been in the exact same position as they were now – feeling unsure, scared, but desperate to make changes to my life – when I first donned a backpack and went off to travel. These customers today were still coming to terms with what had happened in their lives but I knew that booking into one of our travel tours would soon cure them of pining for their exes.

‘He had been having an affair with our neighbour.’ Nice-Nails Lady sniffed loudly, grabbing another tissue to wipe her chapped nose. My heart ached for her. I knew this pain. And not to seem too heartless I also knew it did get better. I wanted to shake her thin shoulders, to rattle the plastic beads across her neck and sing out loud that it would get easier, that he had probably done her a favour, that she would look back at this in a few years’ time shaking her head at how upset she’d been over something that now seemed so insignificant. For me, going travelling – having that time and space away from everything I knew back home – fixed so many of my problems, gave me the confidence to believe in myself once more and inspired me to create this business. Plus, I met Ben and reignited the hope and desire to love again. If only I could move us past this flirtationship stage we had found ourselves in, where we were surely out of the friend zone but nowhere near to being in a proper relationship.

‘This was all six months ago and since then I’ve just been in some awful nightmare, hoping I’ll feel happy and like my old self again. I visited Spain on a foreign exchange programme when I was younger and I just remember having such a carefree, happy time. That girl, that version of me feels like she has died but I’m desperate to get her back, which is why I’m here today.’ She blew her nose and gave me a sad smile, before telling me about her hazy student days in a small Spanish village teaching English to adorable children, drinking cold sangria outside on heady evenings, longing for the neighbour of the homestay she was staying in to notice her.

‘Juan.’ She smiled. ‘Funny how the neighbour seems to have such an impact on my life.’ Well at least she could see the ironic side. It was the first time in the twenty minutes since she’d been sitting opposite me that she’d smiled, the worry lines on her pale thin face receding as she was instantly taken back to her youth. ‘I saw an advert about the tours you organise, with people like me I guess, and just hoped you would have something for me?’ She looked so lost I wanted to give her a hug, but I noticed the guy talking to Kelli kept staring over at us – breaking the intimate moment with a strange cold glance.

I nodded and patted her hand. ‘We will do our best to get you back to that happy young woman. I’m positive about that.’

I started to tap on my keyboard, looking for tours that would suit her. We had had an amazing success rate of matching people with countries and challenges that seemed to pull them out of their comfort zone and fix them back together again. The wall of the office behind me was tacked with so many thank-you cards and postcards from other customers who had once been sitting in the exact same chair as her. This was why I loved my job. The satisfaction from helping people get back on their feet was immeasurable – so what if it meant other things in my life may have been slipping?

Not long later, Nice-Nails Lady was booked to go to Barcelona, looking to reignite her Spanish youth. She would be in a small group dusting off her language skills, joining fun nights out and soaking up the architecture all around her. She left the shop clutching the information to her bony chest, beaming. I couldn’t help but smile too.

I noticed that the strange man Kelli had been talking to had also left. ‘What was he after?’ I asked her, picking up shreds of tissue from the floor.

Kelli shrugged. ‘Was a right weirdo. I asked him what he was looking for but all he was bothered about were boring facts about the business.’ She popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed it loudly.

‘Did you speak to him like how we told you?’ I shuddered thinking back to when we’d first hired her, a favour to Trisha who was friends with Kelli’s aunt. A few weeks after she’d started, a new customer had walked in, someone in a similar position to the lady I’d just helped: red ringed eyes and chapped nose from the constant wiping of tears and snot. Ben and I were both on the phone at the time so Kelli had bounded over to her, thrusting our brochures into this poor woman’s sad face. She had started crying almost immediately seeing the faded band T-shirt that Kelli was wearing and explained mid-sobs how her ex loved that band. Instead of consoling her, offering her a cup of tea and a seat in a comfy chair, Kelli burst out laughing, exclaiming that she wore that T-shirt ironically as their music was utter shite. A true believer in tough love was our Kelli; let’s just say the client made a quick exit and never returned.

She always used to rock up late with pillow creases down her pale cheeks and no apology, she never wore suitable clothes and barely brushed her hair but Ben was adamant we keep her on to please her aunt and said that with a little encouragement she would blossom. He was right. Ben had spent a lot of time patiently explaining to Kelli how she needed to listen to the customers before judging them on the music their ex liked or chucking our tours down their throats. Some customers were just not ready to go off and explore the world; they were still grieving their relationship and not yet ready to turn the page and start a new life.

Kelli’s hunched-up shoulders had gradually softened, her timekeeping had improved and that sulky teen attitude that she’d had when she first walked in here had evolved into a sort of vulnerable confidence. She wasn’t the perfect employee but she had a heart of gold and got what we were trying to achieve here, even if she did still have as much tact as a heavy-handed butcher at times.

‘Err yeah.’ Kelli rolled her kohl-heavy eyes at me. ‘Even if he was acting shifty I still offered him a brew. He said no though.’

I chucked the tissue in the bin and looked at her. ‘What do you mean shifty?’

‘I dunno. Just asking about how the shop was doing … something about turning?’

‘Turnover? Money?’

She shrugged, bored with this conversation. ‘Maybe. I said you were doin’ all right, although you could pay me a little more.’ She said this so matter-of-factly I wanted to laugh.

‘If I could, you know I would.’ I smiled at her as she rolled her eyes. ‘Did he look like he was going to book a tour?’

‘Er, he was asking about that India one, you know the one that’s going tits up.’ She yawned.

‘It’s not going tits up.’ I pursed my lips at her. ‘It’s just had a few not so great reviews, that’s all.’ Getting to the bottom of why was high on my to-do list. We had been lucky to receive almost five stars for every other trip we offered, and the India trip had initially received similar reviews, but now it just felt like the black sheep of the family.

She nodded slowly. ‘Well anyway, I gave him the brochure.’

‘OK, good,’ I mumbled distractedly. There was another Indian tour leaving in a few weeks and I was determined to make sure this one was the best ever.

‘Hey, what’s with that face?’ Ben asked as he put his phone down and got up to flick on the kettle.

‘Nothing. Just thinking about those Indian reviews again.’ I sighed. ‘Kelli was just with a customer asking about going to India with us. I can’t face another set of one stars.’

Ben got the milk out of the fridge. ‘Don’t worry, Georgia. Our winning streak was bound to come to an end one day. I’m amazed we’ve managed to notch up so many five stars already. It’s only normal that we’re not going to please everyone.’

‘But we should! We work hard in picking the best tour guides, the nicest hotels, the funnest activities,’ I half cried. ‘Every tour should go without a hitch.’

‘Yeah and My Chemical Romance should get back together and tour again, but not everything we want works out,’ Kelli piped up.

‘Thanks for that, Kel, really helpful,’ I said sarcastically.

‘She’s right, you know,’ Ben said, passing me a full-to-the-brim cup of tea. I took the mug and smiled gratefully. On the front was a photo of us from the local paper when we opened our business just last year. We looked so happy, unaware of what we were getting ourselves into and the adventures that lay ahead. I still cherished this mug even if the dishwasher had smeared off most of the colour and my smile had faded half away.

‘Cheers,’ I said and he winked back. ‘What do you mean she’s right?’

‘Well, I know we want to offer the best tours to our customers and make everyone who comes in this shop or travels with us happier than they were before they met us, but it doesn’t always work like that, Georgia. We can’t fix everyone’s problems. Getting some duff reviews is just part and parcel of this business, especially when we’re working with some very heartbroken people. It’s just the way it is.’ He shrugged and sat back at his desk.

I sighed. Maybe he was right. Maybe the perfectionist in me needed to just chill out. ‘But don’t you think it’s weird that a lot of these reviews are coming from the Indian tour?’

‘I’ve been to India a few times. That is one crazy place.’ Ben shook his head, lost in some memory. ‘I bet those people struggled with the country rather than our tour. It’s a whole other world over there, far removed from the life we live here and for some that culture shock is too much to take. Come on, please don’t get stressed about it. Like you say, we have the best guides, the best trips planned and we give it one hundred per cent, but we can’t control everything.’

I nodded slowly. ‘I guess.’

‘So, how was your dad’s birthday meal? Did they like the restaurant?’ Ben asked, changing the subject.

I tapped my forehead. ‘Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you.’

‘Tell me what?’

‘OK, well you know that sales guy Dan at Itchy Feet?’ Ben nodded slowly. ‘Well, I managed to negotiate a very good rate on us getting some advertising space with them. Forty per cent off!’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow, how did you manage that?’

‘My womanly charms.’ I grinned. ‘I sent the copy over last night and we should be in the next issue coming out in a few weeks.’

Ben’s smile faded in a second. ‘What?’

‘I needed to act quickly on this offer as Dan had others waiting and there was no way I was going to let Totally Awesome Adventours take it.’

‘Wait – so you signed off on this and sent over copy without speaking to me first?’

I nodded, my bubble of excitement popping. ‘Yeah, ‘cause if I didn’t we would have lost it,’ I said quietly, feeling the atmosphere close in around me. Kelli sensed the mood and nipped to the loo, mumbling something on her way past.

‘Georgia,’ Ben snapped. ‘You promised me that big decisions like this, decisions that cost money, would always be made together. Even with the discount this has probably wiped out our advertising budget.’

‘I’m sorry; I just didn’t want us to lose out.’

‘That’s the oldest trick in the book: say you’ve got others interested to make the first shmuck agree to the sale before thinking it over.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yep, oh.’ He rubbed his face. He seemed a lot more tired these days. ‘I thought we had an agreement that we didn’t make any big decisions without checking with each other first.’

My cheeks felt flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing; you’ll see, this will bring in loads of business.’ I laughed weakly, hoping that I would be proved right.

The afternoon flew by and before I knew it Kelli had clocked off in a whirlwind of nerves for her gig tonight, leaving just Ben and me finally alone.

‘I am sorry about the advert thing,’ I said as I emptied my waste-paper bin.

‘It’s fine. I’m sorry for flying off the handle.’ Ben flashed a genuine smile. ‘I just want you to know that I’m here to help. I want this business to work just as much as you do.’ He placed a warm hand on my shoulder that gave me a tingle of excitement. My body just seemed to melt at his touch, no matter how small or infrequently it happened.

‘I know.’ I smiled at him, hoping I didn’t have any poppy seeds stuck in my teeth after inhaling a bagel at my desk earlier.

‘Right, well I’d better be making a move; I said I’d go and get changed and then help Kel set up,’ he said, taking his hand away and breaking the moment. ‘Did you know Jimmy and Shelley are coming too?’

‘Yeah, she sent me an email about it earlier. Something about how there was no way she would refuse the offer of curry no matter how bad Kelli’s band might be.’ I hadn’t seen Ben’s best mate Jimmy and his girlfriend, my backpacker friend Shelley, for ages, even though we lived in the same city now. As much as the sound of Kel’s emo band wasn’t getting me excited I did have to admit it would be nice to actually be out in the real world with real friends and to be hanging out with Ben away from work. This had been the first ‘date’ that Ben had asked me on. OK, so officially it wasn’t a date when I’d be stood in a sea of faces in close proximity to Ben, cringing as Jimmy did his best Bez impression but still it was a chance to socialise outside of this place.

‘Cool, well. I’ll see you later then, Georgia. You sure you’re OK to lock up by yourself?’

I shooed him away. ‘Tsk. Course I am. I’ll see you all soon; save me a spot in the crowd.’

Ben looked as if he was going to say something else but stopped himself and gave me a quick wave as he left the shop. I was going to tie up some loose ends and be on my way. I was definitely going to be out of here at a reasonable hour, proving to my parents that I had more going on in my life than just work.

Only sending one email became ten and now I was late. Very late. I’d planned to go home, take a soak in the bath, maybe even paint my nails and leisurely get ready. I used to love the whole prep part of a night out. Me and Marie would crank up the stereo, pour huge glugs of cold white wine and dance around as we preened ourselves before falling into a taxi in a fit of giggles and excitement at what the night could hold. Most of the time getting ready was the best part. I’d never really got into the whole clubbing scene and hated feeling like I was on show as nameless strangers wandered past unsteadily holding a pint of lager and looking us up and down. We’d eventually return home with our purses lighter and feet heavy, telling ourselves we were too old for this until the next time when the ritual would start all over again. I really did need to get in touch with Marie; how long had it been since I’d seen her? My mobile phone buzzed on my messy desk, breaking my thoughts.