Praise for KATY COLINS

‘Brilliant, life-affirming story of a jilted bride who heads off to explore Thailand. Perfect escapism.’

– Heat

‘Katy writes with humour and heart. The Lonely Hearts Travel Club is like Bridget Jones goes backpacking.’

– Holly Martin, author of The White Cliff Bay series

‘It is a really enthralling page turner and a brilliant start to a new series. I can’t wait to read the sequels, Destination India and Destination Chile!’

– Splashes into Books

‘I cannot recommend this book enough. It is beautifully written with a brilliant plot and fantastic characters. READ IT!!’

– Blabbering About Books

‘If you’re looking for an escape from the cold, winter nights, the drudgery of day-to-day life and love to read about exotic locations then Katy Colins’ debut novel is the book for you.’

– Ellen Faith

‘Destination Thailand had me hooked from the very first page and kept me up til 2:30am as I was dying to know what happened next. I’m thrilled to have found Katy’s books and cannot wait to see what is in store in the next instalment of the series, Destination India. I want to read it now!’

– Books and Boardies

‘I loved this book.’

– For the Love of Books

KATY COLINS

KATY completed her first novel A Dogs Tale at the age of 11 which received rave reviews … from her Grandad and English teacher. This was just the encouragement she needed to carry on writing.

As a qualified journalist with articles published in Company Magazine and The Daily Star, Katy Colins crossed sides to work in public relations before selling all she owned to backpack solo around South East Asia and finally put her thoughts into words, writing as she travelled. This experience inspired her debut novel Destination Thailand, the first in the Lonely Hearts Travel Club series which is out now.

When she is not writing about romance, travel and adventure, she loves travelling, catching up with family and friends, and convincing herself that her Mr Kipling cake addiction isn’t out of control – just yet.

You can find out more about Katy, her writing and her travels on her blog www.notwedordead.com or via twitter @notwedordead

Available from

KATY COLINS

The Lonely Hearts Travel Club

Destination Thailand

Destination India

Destination Chile

DESTINATION: INDIA
Katy Colins

COPYRIGHT

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2016

Copyright © Katy Colins 2016

Katy Colins asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9781474046718

Version date: 2018-07-23

Darling, I won’t let you fall when I know that you can fly.

Isobel, this is for you.

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.

‘Hey, I’m on my way!’ I said quickly to Ben.

‘Georgia. Are you still in the office?’ he asked. I could sense a sharpness in his tone.

‘Yep but I swear I was just heading out the door then I realised that we hadn’t sent out the itineraries for the Iceland trip, which I know was my job to do but it completely slipped my mind. Anyway I’m leaving right now …’ I babbled.

Ben cut me off; I could hear the disappointment in his voice. ‘Georgia, you promised Kel that you wouldn’t be late.’ His voice grew quieter, smaller against the thrum from the room he was in. ‘She’s counting on us to be there to support her; you know, put this teamwork theory into practice. Also, Jimmy and Shell have been asking where you are.’

‘I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get caught up in work. I’ll be there before you know it –’ My stomach sank. I honestly hadn’t meant to let work get in the way of this evening.

‘Just try your best, please. Listen I need to go. The warm-up act have nearly finished.’ With that he hung up.

Double shit. I kicked the leg of my desk, causing my ticket to the event to flutter gently onto the floor. Picking it up, I glanced at the clock. If I could grab a taxi right now I’d still make it. Yeah, so I’d be the only one dressed for the office but at least I’d be there. I put on my jacket and turned off my laptop, hoping there would be a long queue of black cabs waiting patiently at the side of the main street. I plonked my handbag on my desk to find my keys and accidentally pushed a pile of papers that I hadn’t had time to sort through onto the floor.

‘Bugger.’ I leant down to pick up the loose sheets of paper, scribbled notes and brochures. I scooped them up and dumped them on my desk, trying not to freak out at how disorganised my work space looked when I noticed a pale grey sheet of paper sticking out. This was from Kelli’s pad when she passed us messages.

‘Another one star review. For India tour. Seriously tits up!!’ she’d scrawled.

I hurriedly read the text she’d printed off the internet and felt a little bubble of sick rise up. All the other reviews we had received had been slightly negative but this took it to a whole other level. Personal, vitriolic, scathing and full of detail with not one spelling mistake to be seen. I flicked open my laptop and waited for it to come back to life before quickly typing in the web address where this review was posted; it linked to a travel blog that I’d never read before. This one post had received hundreds of likes and comments and been shared a stupid amount of times. It even came with its own hashtag. This was serious. With our next Indian tour taking place soon and it being one of our biggest earners, I had to do something right now.

I grabbed my phone, jabbing in Kelli’s mobile number to see if she’d seen any more reviews like this without telling us. Her answerphone rang on a few seconds later, reminding me that she would be warming up for her gig. I sighed and went to call Ben when I stopped. If I told him about it now he’d know I was still in the office and would tell me to leave it, that it could wait until tomorrow, but I knew that it couldn’t. I needed to sort this out myself. Right now.

I quickly jabbed a text message to Shelley telling her I was running late but would be with them all soon, shrugged my jacket off and flicked the lights back on. Work had to come first. There would be other gigs; surely Kelli and Ben would understand. Wouldn’t they?

CHAPTER 4

Spontaneous (adj.) Arising from a momentary impulse

I turned my phone off after it started beeping constantly with texts from Shelley asking where I was, telling me how great Kelli’s band actually were, and how there was still enough curry left for me to join them. I needed to concentrate. I couldn’t let my business go the same way that my social life was – down the shitter.

Christmas and new year had been a whirlwind of activity as we wanted to attract the resolution crowds, fired up to make this year the one in which they followed their dreams and travelled. Then Valentine’s Day came and went with a silly amount of bookings for single people determined not to sit at home and sob. It was also the time when I lost the courage I had been building up to ask Ben out for a coffee or maybe even a dinner date as we were both at different networking events. So what if my love life was non-existent? At least our business was going from strength to strength, all because of hard work, determination and sacrifice; tonight was just one of those sacrifices.

The Indian tour guide, Nihal, wasn’t answering any of the numbers we had for him. I let out a deep sigh as I realised that it was silly o’clock in the morning over there so no wonder my emails went unanswered and he wasn’t online on Skype. I was about to draft a firmly worded email to the author of the awful blog post asking them to take it down when the door to the shop was flung open. I must have forgotten to lock it after Ben left.

‘We’re closed,’ I called out, as I tried to work out the best way to start a conversation with an internet troll.

‘Hey! You never close; that’s the problem.’ Shelley beamed at me, holding two bottles of wine in her outstretched arms, her pretty doll-like face looking slightly squiffy.

‘What are you doing here?’ I got up and hugged her; she smelt like a curry house, and my stomach gurgled loudly. ‘Thought you were all at Kelli’s gig?’

‘Well when you said you were running late I figured I’d have to come here and drag you out with the incentive of wine. But the gig finished, the curry ran out and still there was no sign of you. Anyway how are you doing? You look like shit by the way,’ she said in her throaty Australian accent, peering at me through glassy eyes. The gig must have been good.

‘Thanks, Shell, always a pleasure to see you too.’ I half smiled and took the wine from her, locking the shop door behind her. ‘I look like shit because I’ve just found yet another bad review for one of our tours, the nastiest one we’ve ever had. Made worse by the fact it seems to have gone viral and the bloody tour guide has gone AWOL so I can’t get to the bottom of what’s happened.’

‘Ah. Right.’ She nodded along as she rummaged in the kitchen for two clean mugs. ‘What’s that mean?’

I sighed and ran my fingers through my knotted hair. ‘It means that I couldn’t make it to Kelli’s gig, that I couldn’t stomach eating a curry as the only Indian thing my brain is processing is how stressed out I am at trying to track Nihal down. It means we have paying customers planning to head to Delhi in two weeks for a Lonely Hearts Indian Tour with an apparently absent tour guide. And it also means that both Ben and Kel are probably really pissed off with me for not making it tonight, especially as I go on so much about the value of teamwork.’ I sighed and massaged my temples.

‘Ah, yup, that is a kick in the balls,’ Shelley said filling up the mugs with wine and passing me one. I took it gratefully. ‘Well, if we’re not going to be leaving here anytime soon then the least I can do is help you figure this out. Sit down and tell me everything.’

So I did, in between filling up our mugs and cracking open bottle number two I told her how important it was that this tour still took place, how hard we had worked to secure Nihal, who had come highly recommended, as well as the other suppliers that I’d personally hand-picked, spent ages interviewing via Skype and God knows how much cash on promoting this route. ‘Crap!’ I slapped my hand to my head, leaving wine residue on my forehead. ‘I’ve just forked out a shit ton of money to Itchy Feet.’

‘Itchy what?’ Shelley laughed.

‘Itchy Feet – it’s, like, the number one travel magazine, and I paid for us to advertise the sodding Indian tour.’ I pounded my fist on my desk. What an idiot. ‘Ben doesn’t know about this yet. I thought I’d try and fix it without bothering him about it.’

‘Hmm, so about Ben. What’s going on with you two?’ She tucked her legs under herself.

‘Nothing,’ I said forcefully before downing the rest of my drink. ‘Pass that wine, would you?’

‘Here, top me up too.’ She leant over and grabbed the bottle, knocking off a stack of brochures to the floor but I felt too stressed even to flinch at the mess. ‘Well here’s the thing, Georgia, and I’m going to tell it to you straight.’ Her eyes had gone even more squiffy as she tried to focus on me, pointing her finger out. ‘You’re a workaholic.’

‘What? No I’m not.’ I pushed her accusing finger away and filled my mug to the brim, spilling some on my trousers.

‘You are. You’re a workaholic who is SO determined to make this business a success that you’ve forgotten everything else in your life, including finding the courage to actually make a move with Ben.’ She sat back with a smug look on her alcohol-flushed cheeks.

I huffed. ‘Shell, I appreciate your opinion but I’m not a workaholic. I’ve just invested a lot of time and cash into the business and I need for it to go well, that’s all. I’m just like any other business owner.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. So where’s Ben then? Your business partner? If you were running this together why isn’t he here working all hours?’

I gave her a look. ‘He works hard.’

‘Yes, but he also knows when to take a break and, you know, live a little. He really missed you tonight,’ she said, making my heart flutter.

‘Really? He said that?’

‘Well, not in so many words.’ The butterflies that had been prancing in my empty stomach stopped doing the conga and played dead. ‘But I know he felt it. You two are made for each other. Everyone can see that apart from the bloody pair of you.’

‘You really think that?’ I asked, feeling the warming glow of the cheap wine kicking in.

She nodded her head. ‘Tsk, course, we all do. But you know, Romeo would never have gone all lovey-dovey for Juliet if he thought she wasn’t interested in him. Instead he’d probably have copped off with some distant Capulet cousin or some shit, got married and had loads of Leo lookalike children whilst Juliet just grew old and shrivelled up, kicking herself that she hadn’t been brave enough to tell him how she felt.’

I laughed. ‘I bet old Shakespeare would be turning in his grave hearing your version of the greatest love story of all time.’

‘I’m serious, Georgia. How do you expect Ben to make a move if he doesn’t even know you have the world’s biggest crush on him? Ain’t no way he’d risk asking you out on a date and be knocked back then have to work together, dying of wounded pride as the business collapsed due to the stale atmosphere that would cause.’

I was beginning to feel like this was the Spanish Inquisition with both Shelley and my parents questioning me about my non-existent love life. ‘I think he knows.’

She let out a throaty laugh. ‘He’s a guy, Georgia. They never know, unless you’re stood butt naked waving a condom in the air.’

‘Well, he comments on my appearance, says I look nice.’ I cringed thinking about the unplanned makeover that Kelli had given me the other day. That wasn’t quite the glamorous look I was going for. ‘I always make sure I put the radiator near him up higher than mine so he stays nice and warm and he notices that.’

She scratched her head, humouring me. ‘Oh wow, and what else?’

‘Well he, erm, he always makes me tea in my favourite mug – the one with our picture on. Oh yeah, and we have this little shared joke … well, we did … where each of us would try to drop random words in on phone calls with suppliers; we haven’t done that for a while actually, but it was really funny,’ I said thinking out loud. I was struggling now. Maybe I wasn’t putting out any please-take-me-to-bed subliminal messages, but then again, neither was he. And I needed to act like I didn’t care. I just wished I could stop my heart whispering that I blatantly did. Shut up and just do your job pumping blood, my brain growled back.

‘Hmm.’ She rolled her eyes, looking majorly unimpressed with my seduction skills. ‘Well if you want my opinion …’

‘Do I want your opinion?’

‘Yes. If you want my opinion, the girl he was crazy for back in Thailand seems to have stayed on that beach.’

‘What?’

‘I’m just saying the fun, carefree, live-for-the-moment Georgia that he first met isn’t here any more.’ She gulped her wine, ignoring my look of surprise. ‘When did you last do something just for fun? And I don’t mean playing lame word bingo on the phone, I mean really fun?’

I took a long sip thinking about it. ‘Drinking wine in the office is fun, risqué even.’ I winked as she tutted.

‘I’m serious, Georgia. Where’s the girl I met who would go skinny-dipping in the Thai ocean, who had the balls to travel solo after being left jilted, who would say only yes to new things, not check if she could fit them into her busy schedule first?’

I mumbled a response. ‘I can do fun …’

‘When did you last do something spontaneous? Really let your hair down?’

‘Shelley, there is no spontaneity in running a business.’ Just then an email pinged through to my inbox. Ignoring her rolling her eyes I leant over to see if it was Nihal explaining the scathing review.

‘Is it that Nihal fella you’re waiting to hear from?’ Shelley asked.

I shook my head. ‘Nope. Just an automatic email saying the Indian visas for the tour group are ready to collect,’ I said sadly. How ironic.

‘That’s it!’ Shelley exclaimed sloshing some wine on her legs as she pointed a finger in the air.

‘What? Visas?’

‘No, you daft sod. This is the answer to your problems.’ She grinned and then took a dramatic pause. ‘We should go to India.’

‘Ha ha very funny,’ I said sarcastically.

‘No. Georgia, I’m serious. We should go together to meet this Nihal bloke in person, see what’s really going on, put an end to these bad reviews once and for all. Why not? I love samosas and I even came first in a vindaloo-eating competition at home,’ she boasted. ‘Plus I’ve always wanted to go to India. And you can go and track down this tour guide. Wait – we can go undercover! Yes, that would be perfect. Get the real scoop on what’s happening. This is the perfect spontaneous thing for you to do!’ She looked like she could burst with excitement.

‘I think you need to start drinking some water,’ I said, shaking my head at the absurdity of the idea. Pfft, I couldn’t just take two weeks off work to jet off to India. How would the business survive without me?

‘I’m not drunk; this is the best idea I’ve ever had. Trust me, it’s a win-win. I mean, you never take any holidays, or days off for that matter. Plus you get to show Ben how you can be fun and daring Georgia again. I get to take a trip with my best friend and your business problem will be all smoothed over.’

‘Really, you think it could work?’ I tilted my head, thinking about what she was suggesting. The alcohol was making my head feel fuzzy and I couldn’t concentrate properly. Maybe it could be a good idea. It was just two little weeks.

‘Yes! Getting that email from the visa agency is a sign. See, the world wants you to go!’ She started to do a little jig. ‘That is, unless you’re too boring to say yes. The old Georgia would have booked her flight straight away …’

I shut my eyes. ‘I’m not too boring. Yes. Fuck it. Let’s do it. Right now!’

‘Yay!’ She began whipping a wet tea towel over her head in excitement then hesitated. ‘Wait, you don’t want to talk to Ben first? Check it’s OK that you’re gone for a few weeks?’

I shook my head – probably a little too dramatically – as spots appeared in front of my eyes. ‘No, we need to seize the moment. He’ll think it’s a great idea being proactive and courageous, trust me!’

‘OMG we’re going to India, baby! Let’s book it!’ Shelley beamed at me.

I looked at my smiling reflection in my black laptop screen. Yes this will help everything. We are a pair of geniuses. Wait, what is the plural of genius? Genii? Whatever it is, that’s what we are.

CHAPTER 5

Repercussion (n.) An effect or result, often indirect or remote, of some event or action

The sound of the bin lorries rumbling down the street woke me with a start. I opened my eyes and immediately felt like I was being stabbed in the corneas with all the sunlight beaming through the office windows. I groggily turned over and nearly chucked up. The room was a complete state. I carefully sat up holding my throbbing head. My mouth was as dry as sandpaper and I reeked of booze. I’d slept in the office again, only this time I had Shelley and her melodic snores for company.

I combed my fingers through my hair and winced as a piece of gristly kebab meat fell onto the sofa that I was spreadeagled over – the sofa that we used as a waiting area for customers to sit and browse our brochures, which was now wet in patches from spilt wine and drool. Easing my weary bones to stand up I grabbed a cloth and half-arsedly wiped the stains before turning my phone back on and giving Shelley a shove to wake up. Missed calls, a drunken voicemail from Jimmy and three texts from Ben beeped through, each of his worried messages growing more disappointed in their tone that I didn’t make Kelli’s gig and hadn’t even bothered to apologise.

‘Shel, Shel, wake up!’ I nudged her.

‘Mdnasudhu’ came from her as she turned and got comfier on the floor cushions.

‘No, I’m serious, Shelley; you need to get up now. Ben and Kelli will be here soon.’

‘What?’ She leant up, rubbed her eyes and let out a dry chesty cough. ‘What time is it?’

‘Time to get up and sort this disaster zone out. Man, what time did we even go to bed? I feel like ass.’

‘Eurgh, I dunno. Maybe about three or could have been four. Whenever we finished that third or was it fourth bottle of wine?’ She unsteadily got to her feet.

‘What? I thought you only brought two with you,’ I said, puffing the sofa cushions back to life and staggering to the bathroom.

‘Yeah I did but then you said we could open this other bottle that someone had bought you.’

I blinked, trying to remember, then suddenly it hit me. ‘Shelley, that wasn’t wine that was rum one of the customers bought us as a thank-you present. No wonder I feel so rough. I hate rum!’

She clapped a hand to her pale face as if burping down vomit threatening to escape. ‘Eurgh, me too. I need sleep, a shower and greasy food, pronto. Do you need me to tidy up first?’

I glanced at the room that smelt like a brewery but judging by her clammy almost-green cheeks it was probably better that she made a speedy exit. ‘Nah, I’ll open all the windows and Febreze the shit out of this place. I’ll call you later.’

She gratefully stumbled out as I collected the empty bottles and greasy kebab boxes and tried to make the room look presentable before Ben and Kelli turned up. I sprayed air freshener everywhere including over my crumpled clothes and quickly washed my face, rubbing the mascara smudges from under my itchy eyes, hoping to wake myself up.

Once I looked as decent as possible, given zero sleep and yesterday’s clothes as I still hadn’t remembered to leave a fresh change under my desk, I sighed and flicked on the kettle; may as well make a start with work. I hadn’t drunk like that in a long time. Why the hell had I opened that bottle of rum? Why had I been guzzling it down like a fish? What had we even been chatting about till four a.m. this morning? Where had the kebabs appeared from? My tired brain refused to wake up and give me the answers I needed. Bastard.

‘Kelli, you do know we have chairs?’ Ben tilted his head and comically raised his eyebrow at our office junior who was sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by plastic wallets, sticky labels and, worryingly, a glue gun. He’d been out at a meeting for most of the morning so thankfully the smell of kebab meat and stale alcohol had faded by the time he returned.

‘Nah, I like it better down here.’ She flicked her multi-coloured hair back and carried on.

‘You know you really did miss out on a good night last night, Georgia,’ Ben said, sitting at his desk and turning his laptop on. ‘Who knew our Kel had so many hidden talents.’ Kelli beamed back at him and avoided my gaze like she had done all morning. She’d barely acknowledged me since she’d arrived. I’d tried to apologise for missing her gig and asked her how her night went but had so far been met with polite but short answers.

‘I promise I’ll be there for the next one; I just got caught up with things here.’ I apologised again. ‘Right, it’s my turn to do the coffee run. The usual, everyone?’ Ben nodded gratefully whilst Kelli just shrugged. ‘OK, I’ll be back in a tick.’ I pulled my jacket on and walked out into the chill of the street. The icy spring wind was just what I needed to help blow away this raging hangover that I was trying to keep hidden from the two of them.

As I came back from Starbucks wobbling a latte, a hot chocolate and a cappuccino in a flimsy cardboard holder I felt the atmosphere in the small room buzz with electric tension. Kelli was sat on the comfy, thankfully stain-free sofa nervously twiddling her thumbs as I breezed in.

‘OK, here’s yours.’ I passed her an extra-large hot chocolate with all the trimmings. She took the cup and gave me a tight smile by way of thanks; I noticed she looked even paler than usual. Maybe I wasn’t the only one suffering in silence.

‘I got the one with the extra small marshmallows you like and, Ben, they asked if you wanted syrup but I took it without as I said you were sweet enough,’ I said cheesily and walked over to Ben who was sat rigidly in his seat glaring at me. ‘Everything OK, guys?’ I tried to keep my tone light whilst placing his steaming cup of coffee on his desk.

‘Kelli, will you give us a moment, please?’ Ben muttered to Kelli, ignoring my question; this seemed to be what she was waiting for as she jumped up like a rat out of a trap, grabbed her creased leather jacket and sprinted out of the shop, leaving her hot chocolate untouched.

‘Ben? Is everything OK?’ I asked, sinking into my seat. A strange prickly sensation rose up my neck.

‘Georgia.’ Ben sighed. ‘You promised me there wouldn’t be any more secrets between us.’

I shook my head, my eyes wide open and hands outstretched. ‘I know. There aren’t.’

He rolled his eyes skywards. His jaw was clenched as he spoke. ‘So now you’re lying to my face?’

‘I’m not lying. What’s going on, Ben?’

He stood up and placed his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. ‘Whilst you were out getting coffee, Kelli took a phone call from Indian Airways asking if you and Shelley would like an upgrade on your upcoming trip.’

My mind was as blank as my face must have been. ‘What trip?’

‘The trip in two weeks to New Delhi,’ he said sharply, unable to keep his cool any longer.

I sat back, stunned. ‘India? There must be some mistake; I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Well that’s what we thought, so Kelli asked them to email me your itinerary and, bingo, you and Shelley are booked on a flight to New Delhi. Apparently the booking was made at one a.m. this morning.’

Oh my holy everything. It was starting to filter back now. Me telling her about the awful reviews of the India tour and Nihal going AWOL and then us … us deciding to go undercover and find him in India. Shit. ‘Oh.’

‘Yep. Do you know how stupid I look as a business partner? Finding out that you’re jetting off when Kelli brings it up? Let alone that you were too busy to go to her gig as you had far more important things to do, like book a girly holiday with Shelley.’

‘I don’t remember doing this! It happened late last night; we’d had a few drinks.’ I paused to try and assemble my thoughts. ‘You know the India tour isn’t doing very well –’

Ben cut me off. ‘Yes and we spoke about this. You can’t control everything, Georgia.’

‘I know that. But then I found this blog that had posted the worst review about the trip, like really bad, and I just got caught up in the moment. You know what Shelley’s like …’ I paused. ‘I wanted to do something spontaneous.’

Ben took a deep breath. ‘Georgia, I don’t mind you going on holiday; that isn’t the point. The point is you didn’t think to tell me this before Kelli found out and you didn’t even check that it might be convenient at such short notice. Why didn’t you tell me about this review?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you about it,’ I said quietly.

‘But that’s the thing – I’m your partner; if you worry, I worry.’ Ben’s expression softened slightly.

‘I swear I don’t remember booking this trip. It was a silly spur-of-the-moment idea, but I’ll call up and cancel straight away,’ I said picking up my phone.

He sighed loudly. ‘No.’

‘What?’ I stopped dialling and stared at him.

‘No, don’t cancel it. You deserve a holiday to let your hair down and not get so stressed about the business. You’ve always wanted to go to India plus it will cost nearly as much to cancel. Maybe this is what you need, what we need. To have a little break from the office and each other.’

‘A break f-from us?’ I stuttered. I felt as though someone had pressed an icy palm to the back of my neck.

‘No, you know what I mean. Just a break from here.’ He waved his arms around the room. ‘Go, Georgia. I think actually this might be a good thing, a bloody shock, but a good thing.’ He gave me a weak smile and picked up the phone that had started to ring next to him.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. So much for Shelley’s bright idea at making Ben more interested in me. I had imagined him giving me a look of admiration for being so ballsy and taking control, not being unable to look at me at all as I’d let him down – again.

I opened my emails and typed furiously to check with Shelley that she knew we were actually going to India. We had to make this work.

CHAPTER 6

Tremulous (adj.) Exceedingly sensitive; easily shaken or disordered

I hadn’t really had time to let the rash decision that I was going to India on one of my own tours sink in. I was too busy making sure that my handover would be as simple as possible for Ben and Kelli. I’d cleared my diary, rearranged meetings that I was meant to have and politely declined networking events, asking to be emailed the presentation notes instead.

The most urgent thing of all was to get our visas sorted, as without those the whole trip wouldn’t take place. I’d put a call in to Sanjay, who worked for Visa Express, to see if he could take care of it like he did for our customers. However, word had got round that I was planning on breaking ties with his company as I wanted to bring it all in-house so he politely but firmly told me to bugger off.

So, here I was one wet morning waiting for the visa office to open, huddled under a shop front as I’d forgotten to bring an umbrella in my rush to leave my flat and be the first one here when the doors opened. Only, it was like the whole of Manchester had had the same idea. At least thirty other tired-looking people were patiently waiting in the queue ahead of me, and Shelley being Shelley was running late. The minutes ticked past and the doors still weren’t opening; I was cold, miserable and really didn’t have time for this. Where the hell was Shelley?

‘This your first time?’ the tall Indian man in front of me asked as I strained my neck past his shoulder for the umpteenth time to see what the hold-up was. It was now two minutes past nine and there was no sign of the rusty shutters being raised.

‘Oh, erm, yep,’ I replied not wanting to get into conversation with anyone.

His pale, hazel-coloured eyes circled with a ring of olive green creased as he laughed. ‘I could tell. You know they say that this is the first step in your preparation for going to India.’ He paused, half smiling at me.

‘What’s that then?’ I stared at him, taking in how good-looking he was. His brooding eyes seemed to pop from his light brown skin and designer stubble; his thick mane of black hair screamed tug me and his crooked smile was bashful but playful at the same time.

‘Patience.’ He laughed.

Despite how absolutely gorgeous this guy was, I was in no mood to fall under his spell; I had far too much I needed to be getting on with to even think about what his body looked like under his classic, well-fitted suit.

I huffed. ‘We’re not in India; we’re in Manchester where things open at the time they’re supposed to.’

He just shook his head in mirth. ‘If you think this is testing, wait till you get over there. You will learn things about yourself that you never would have discovered in a million years. Oh, and you’re going to love it.’

I knew his type: fit but he knew it, full of condescending arrogance thinking because he fell from heaven he was somehow better than you.

‘I think I know myself pretty well, thank you,’ I retorted with a tight smile, wishing this queue would hurry up and move so I didn’t have to look at his annoying, smug face. I was going to be fine in India. Fine.

‘Georgia! I’m here!’ Shelley called out, running over red-faced and waving at me. ‘Excuse me; my friend’s saved me a place.’ She pushed her way down the line, pretending not to see the looks of disgust and hear the irritated huffs and puffs from the queue. ‘Sorry I’m late, hon,’ she said breathlessly, fanning her flushed cheeks with her phone. ‘God look at this queue. Could you not have got one of your contacts to sort this out for us?’

‘If I could have I would have, trust me.’

She nodded, seemingly picking up on my pissed-off tones. I had so much I needed to be doing thanks to our spontaneous holiday; waiting in line to get a stamp in my passport was not one of them. After realising that our rash, drunken decision didn’t just affect the two of us I’d been trying to make my unplanned leave as seamless as possible, including looking into getting an extra pair of hands to help Ben and Kelli out whilst I was gone. Ben had said that they would be fine but I wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced so thought it would be better if I hired a temp just in case. Ben would thank me; I was sure of it.

The only problem was that out of the many applicants the local temp agency had emailed over, hardly any seemed suitable. I had made two piles – one of potentials and one of absolute no-nos but I needed to get someone lined up soonish.

‘Ah, I see. Well hopefully we’ll be in and out before you know it.’ She smiled. ‘So, how are things? No regrets?’

‘No regrets. Apart from I’m never drinking rum again.’ I noticed that buff Bollywood guy had suddenly become engrossed in his phone, thankfully.

Shelley pulled a face. ‘Me neither. So, how was Ben? Did he mind that you’ve booked this trip? He must be pleased that you’re taking the initiative in sorting out these negative reviews?’

I hadn’t had time to call her properly since he’d found out. ‘Let’s just say he wasn’t super impressed with my spontaneous decision to go all undercover boss in India. He was more disappointed that I hadn’t mentioned this idea to him first.’

‘Oh. Bugger.’ I nodded in agreement. ‘Hey, don’t worry. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Plus, when he realises that this idea was brilliant and we are a pair of masterminds I’m sure he’ll change his mind.’

‘I hope so.’ I smiled sadly.

Suddenly a small pathetic cheer broke out as the doors were finally opened and the throng of people gently pushed forward and filed in. The visa office was as drab on the inside as it was on the outside. A table propped up with a wedge of yellowing newspaper under one wonky leg held leaflets and biro pens tied on with scratty pieces of string to stop anyone from stealing them. Three musky pink coloured counters stood at the back of the cold room and tired-looking employees plodded around putting out plastic chairs for customers to sit on.

I took a ticket, like at the delicatessen counter in Tesco, and waited our turn, far away from smug Mr India know-it-all, tapping my feet impatiently and hoping they would hurry up and call our number.

‘I still can’t believe we’re going to India,’ I said nodding at the large, albeit tatty, poster of the Taj Mahal on the wall opposite.

‘I know! It’s going to be amazing.’ Shelley grinned.

‘How was Jimmy about it? Not going to be pining for you for too long?’ I teased.

‘Probably.’ She let out a throaty laugh. ‘Like I said, absence makes the heart grow fonder.’

‘Number thirty-two,’ a robotic voice buzzed over the intercom.

‘That’s us!’ I jumped up out of my seat and we rushed over to the booth where a middle-aged woman with thick glasses looked at us expectantly. ‘Hi, we need to get visas for India, please.’ I slid our passports under the grubby glass screen and checked my watch.

‘You got your forms?’ Glasses Lady asked in a bored, nasally tone.

I jerked my head up to face hers. ‘Forms?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Your forms – we need them to process your application.’ She sighed. ‘All this information was on our website.’

Bloody hell.

With our customers we simply put them in touch with Sanjay’s visa services and he got on with sorting that aspect out. I didn’t know that there were forms involved.

‘Erm, no, we don’t have any forms.’

The woman sighed and looked at the queue of people behind me. I could feel Mr Smug India’s eyes on me; bet he had bloody forms.

‘What’s the matter?’ Shelley piped up.

‘We were meant to bring some forms,’ I grumbled.

‘Forms? I thought we just got a stamp in our passports and we were on our way?’

‘Me too.’ I let out a deep breath and turned to Glasses Lady. ‘Do you have any forms here we could fill in?’

‘All the forms are online.’ She was loving the power; you could tell.

I tried to stay calm. ‘So we need to go home, download the forms, fill them in and print them off then come back here? To join that queue again?’ I was so behind I just didn’t have the time for this.

‘Well, they’re the rules.’

‘Seriously?’ I gave her my best begging look but she just continued to stare blankly at us.

‘Come back with the forms and your passport-sized photos. You do have your passport-sized photos, don’t you?’ I bit my lip and shook my head. ‘Well then, I’d be getting a move on if I was you. We shut in two hours.’

I flashed her an insincere smile. ‘Great, well thanks for your help. Come on, Shell.’ I turned on my heel and walked to the front door.

‘Wait? She can’t be serious?’ Shelley gasped. ‘Seems a bit over the top if you ask me. What did she say about passport photos?’

‘We need some, pronto.’

Shelley nodded, then added quietly, ‘Thought you knew about this sort of stuff.’

‘Please don’t start.’

‘You ladies OK?’ Smug, gorgeous Mr India know-it-all sidled up to us as I shoved my passport back in my bag.

‘Fine,’ I muttered.

‘You don’t know where there’s a photo booth near here, do you? Or an Internet café? We need to download some forms.’ Shelley flashed him her most dazzling smile.

‘It’s fine. We’ll find somewhere.’ I placed my hand on her shoulder, trying to steer her past this irritating guy.

‘I’ve got some spare forms here that you can use.’ He rustled in his black leather man-bag. Course he did.

‘Wow, that’s really nice. Isn’t it, Georgia?’ Shelley beamed.

‘Hmm. Got a mini camera in there too to take our photos?’ I said sarkily. Why was I being so obtuse with this man? There was just something about him that got on my nerves.

Mr India laughed. ‘Nope, but there’s an ASDA not too far from here where you can get some printed. If you want, I’ll save you a place in the queue.’

I was just about to tell him that we didn’t need his help when Shelley clapped her hands and thanked him profusely before tugging me out of the doors to the supermarket.

‘He was so nice!’ she mused as we trudged over the slippery pavements. ‘And bloody gorgeous.’

‘You’re too trusting,’ I said, narrowly avoiding stepping into a pile of fresh dog turd.

‘Pfft. And you’re too cautious. You can trust people, even strangers; sometimes they really do just want to help a girl out.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ I muttered. I wanted to add that I spoke from experience of misreading people who I thought I could trust, but I stayed quiet, as in a weird way I wanted to be proved wrong.

True to his word, Mr India was indeed waiting patiently for our return holding out forms and even a stick of glue to attach our admittedly awful-looking passport photos.

‘Here you go, ladies.’ He handed them over, stifling a laugh at my photo. ‘So, Georgia Green and Shelley Robinson,’ he said, reading our names off the forms. ‘I hope you have an excellent time in India. Right, I’d better be off. Oh, my name’s Rahul, by the way.’

‘Thank you so much, Rahul!’ Shelley called out behind him just as our number was called. ‘God, what a nice guy. Shame we’re both taken; well your heart is taken, as otherwise this trip could be getting a lot hotter – and I don’t mean the spicy curries.’ She laughed, pretending to fan her face as Rahul walked off.

I mumbled a response. ‘Come on, let’s get this sorted.’

‘That was quick,’ Glasses Lady murmured as she took our forms. ‘OK, these look all right.’ I let out a sigh of relief. ‘I’ll get them processed and let you know if you’ve been successful.’

‘Wait – if we’ve been successful? So even after wasting our whole morning here it still isn’t guaranteed that we’ll be granted a visa?’ She shook her head, making her dangly earrings jangle loudly. ‘Well how long is that decision going to take?’

‘If you’ve been approved then you’ll receive your passport back with visa in ten business days.’

‘Ten days!’ I screeched. ‘I thought you just gave us a stamp in our passports? We’re leaving in ten days!’

She gave me a look that screamed not my problem and pointed to a small notice taped to her booth that said verbal abuse towards staff would not be tolerated. I tried to calm down. ‘You’d better hope it arrives in time then.’ She glared at me and hollered for the next customer. ‘Number fifty-nine.’

‘So much for being spontaneous,’ I grumbled as we walked out of the soulless visa office into a torrential rainstorm. The heavens had opened and the wind whipped our cheeks as we trudged to the bus stop. Shelley stayed silent during the whole bus journey to the other side of town.

I walked through the door of our shop, dripping wet and covered in goosebumps, which did not improve my mood. It felt like this trip was doomed before it had even started. Although, I did cheer up drastically when I realised that we had a visitor. Sat in my chair cradling a cup of tea was Trisha, Ben’s godmother and my friend; I couldn’t stop the grin taking over my wet face.

‘What are you doing here?’ I said as I pulled her in for a hug.

‘Hello, dear, got caught up in that storm did you?’ She nodded at my soaked trousers. ‘Well, I hear the weather in Delhi is much nicer this time of year.’ She winked.

‘Ah, so Ben told you.’

‘Yes, oh how exciting! You are going to love India. Every time I’ve been I swear I’ve ended up leaving feeling like a changed woman,’ she gushed. ‘It is the birthplace of spirituality after all and just has this aura about it. India inspires, thrills and frustrates like no other country.’

‘You can say frustrates again,’ I grumbled, hanging up my jacket that was dripping on the floor. ‘I’ve spent all morning waiting in line at the visa office and still might not get it in time before we fly.’ I sighed, trying not to panic about what would be the alternative if my passport didn’t arrive back before our flight. I could picture smug Rahul shaking his head at how late we had left it to sort out.

‘Ah yes, I know it is a pain but it will be worth it once you step off that plane in such a wonderful land. It’s an enigma; nowhere stirs the soul like India does. You’ll see.’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure I want my soul stirring.’ I winced.

‘Oh but you don’t get a say in the matter.’ Trisha chuckled. ‘Mother India will do what she wants.’

I nodded as if I knew what the hell she was going on about. ‘Anyway, how are you?’

‘Fine fine, getting used to this retired life has been a bit of an adjustment.’ She flashed a bright smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

‘You know you could have stayed working here?’ I said.

When we first decided to launch Lonely Hearts Travels, Trisha had still been running her Making Memories tours but we quickly overtook her loyal base of clients and merged the two together to create Young At Heart. Pitched as small groups to European destinations where solo mature men and women could experience one of our less lively but still as wonderful tours that Kelli liked to call Randy Retirees. So far it had really taken off with retired over sixties looking to spend their children’s inheritance on treating themselves to travel. Trisha still popped in every so often but her visits were a rare and delightful surprise rather than routine.

She patted my hand; I was taken aback by how translucent her wrinkled hands were next to mine. ‘I know, but this is yours and Ben’s baby now.’ I blushed. ‘You know what I mean!’ She laughed. ‘It is looking so good in here; Kelli was just telling me how busy you have all been. I think she was hoping for a pay rise.’ Trisha winked.

‘Wouldn’t we all.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘So have you started any new hobbies then? When my dad retired it seemed like he suddenly sprouted green fingers.’

Trisha shook her head. ‘Not me, I can barely keep cacti alive. I have been reading a lot more and catching up with friends now that I have more time on my hands.’ The way she said this was as if it was more a chore than a freedom. ‘I’m sure I’ll find my feet soon.’

She smiled brightly and began flicking through one of our brochures when a thought suddenly came to me.

‘Trisha, what are you doing on the twenty-seventh?’

She looked up. ‘Nothing. Why?’

‘How about coming out of retirement for a while?’

CHAPTER 7

Nescience (n.) Lack of knowledge; ignorance

‘So, did you say a fond farewell to lover boy?’ Shelley pretended to smooch a cushion as she watched me repack my backpack in my small lounge.

‘Hmm, more of a see-you-in-a-few-weeks-oh-colleague,’ I replied, thinking how tense the past two weeks of work had been. I’d purposely tried to avoid any conversations about India, knowing I’d overstepped some invisible line between us. ‘I don’t get it. OK so yeah, I did spring this whole travelling to India idea on him, thanks to you.’ I shot Shelley a look. ‘But he was the one who said he thought I should go. That it was for the best we had a break from each other.’ My stomach skipped remembering the look in his eyes as he’d told me that, disappointment etched on his tired features.

‘Well, he’s probably feeling slightly jealous.’ Shelley shrugged.

I looked up at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He loves to travel; you knew that from the moment you met him.’ I thought back to the collection of postcards sent from exotic destinations all around the world when I first stepped foot in Trisha’s travel agency. I’d nosily read these postcards written by a guy called Stevie, Trisha’s godson, without knowing Stevie was Ben Stevens. ‘He’s probably just sulking that he can’t go to India with you,’ she offered.

‘Maybe,’ I said slowly. It was true he probably did feel like his wings had been clipped since taking on the business. There were times when I’d spot him looking through our brochures and gazing at pictures of idyllic beaches and remote jungles, but whenever I asked him about it he would snap his head up, plaster on a smile and tell me he didn’t regret a thing about starting the business. I just wished that he’d added ‘with you’ on the end of that sentence.

‘Right, I reckon we finish up here and head to the pub,’ Shelley said jumping to her feet.

‘I dunno, I’ve still not checked I’ve got everything I need.’ I nodded at my half-filled bag.

‘Pfft, we’re going for two weeks. All you need is a couple of pairs of knickers, a toothbrush and your passport.’ Our passports had been returned just this morning, complete with Indian tourist visas; I could have cried with happiness when Kelli signed for them. ‘Come on, Miss Spontaneous, let’s go and have a drink – get us in the mood for tomorrow’s journey!’

Walking into the dim light of my local pub, hearing the jingly tones of the fruit machine and breathing in stale cigarette air masked by bleach, I remembered why I hardly ever came here. But it was cheap, close to home and the locals were friendly enough. With Shelley putting our order in at the bar, I sat down on one of the grubby seats and got my phone out. Trisha had been thrilled to be back working in the shop whilst I was away, and Ben had seemed pretty happy too. It solved the problem of finding a temp and meant I knew everything would be looked after in Trisha’s very capable hands. I know I was only going to be away for two weeks, but a lot could change in that time. I was just scrolling through my emails, making sure I’d forwarded everything I needed over to the pair of them, when someone called my name.

‘Georgia?’ I looked up to see Mike, Marie’s boyfriend, grinning down at me.

‘Oh hi! How are you?’ I said, smiling at his paint-splattered overalls. ‘You just finished work?’

‘Yep, nothing gets past you, does it!’ He smiled as Shelley walked over holding two pints of cider. ‘Oh hiya, Shelley, how are you?’

‘Ah, it’s Mike right?’ Shelley asked, carefully placing the pints on the rickety table. Mike nodded. ‘It’s great to see you again; God, the last time was at Georgia’s launch party, wasn’t it?’

‘Time flies hey?’ Mike laughed.

‘You can say that again; so how’s little Cole doing?’

‘Great, thanks. He’s slowly learning the joys of using a potty.’ Mike grimaced and sat down sloshing some of his pint on the floor as we moved our chairs around the table. ‘Anyway, what are you both up to? Georgia, you never come in here!’

‘Well we’re off to India tomorrow so thought we’d get in the mood and have a quick drink,’ Shelley said proudly. I still hadn’t told anyone; it wasn’t like when I jetted off backpacking round Thailand last year. This trip was purely business. Get in, find Nihal, sort out the problem and get out again.

Mike’s eyes widened. ‘Whoa, Marie never told me that. How exciting!’

‘Yeah, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing,’ I said, not adding the fact that we’d been pissed on expensive, super-strength rum at the time. ‘Is she about?’ I craned my neck around the empty pub to try and track down my best friend.

‘She’s just dropping Cole at her mum’s; we’re having a night off from scooping up poo and wiping wet patches from the floor, thank God.’ Mike laughed and glanced at his watch. ‘She should be here any sec –’

Right on cue, Marie walked in – her green eyes darted around the gloom of the pub until they found us. ‘Oh my God, Georgia!’ A huge grin broke on her face as she ran over and squeezed me tight. ‘You never come out; what are you doing here? I haven’t heard from you in ages.’

I winced. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve just been …’

‘Busy, yeah, yeah, I know. Well the odd text back would be nice,’ she said before shaking her head. ‘Anyway, how are things?’

‘Marie!’ Shelley’s voice boomed making Marie jump. ‘How you doing, chick?’

Marie almost stumbled back in surprise. ‘Shelley, what are you doing here? I thought you were going round Europe?’

‘Yeah, I was. Managed to Interrail round a few places but then Manchester sort of stole my heart.’

‘Yeah, Manchester and Jimmy,’ I teased.

‘Ben’s best mate? The beefcake?’ Marie asked.

‘Yep, that’s the one.’ I laughed.

‘So what are you up to? Having a girly night in the pub together?’ The question was light enough but I could sense Marie bristling slightly.

‘Yeah kinda. We decided to sod the packing and come and get a few drinks in us in preparation for tomorrow.’ Shelley grinned.

‘Packing? Tomorrow?’ Marie repeated.

‘Did Georgia not tell you? We’re off to India!’ Shelley wrapped her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me.

‘India?’ Marie echoed. I nodded. ‘Ah, great,’ she said in a tone that sounded very un-great. ‘No, erm, she didn’t say.’

Shelley didn’t pick up on the faux-friendly tones and continued to babble on. ‘Yeah, flying into Delhi and then maybe have a little trip around, take in the sights, head over to Bollywood before catching some sun on a beach in Goa. Lord knows this Aussie bird needs a good dose of vitamin D.’ She laughed, rubbing her freckled forearms.

Mike stood up to give Marie a peck on the cheek and a small glass of wine, which she almost necked in one.

‘You … you’re going to Bollywood?’ Marie faced me.

‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Mike chipped in.

Marie turned to him. ‘So you knew about this?’

‘Only just heard before you got here, babe,’ Mike said, putting his hands up defensively and making a speedy exit back to the bar, mumbling something about buying a bag of pork scratchings.

‘Right, great, well I hope you have a fantastic time,’ Marie said through gritted teeth. Shelley must have picked up on the tension between us and hurried off to the fruit machines.

‘I’m sorry for not calling you before now. I’ve been meaning to call you for ages,’ I said quietly.

‘Mmmm.’ Marie gulped her drink and avoided eye contact. ‘Well my number’s not changed.’

An old man hacking up a load of phlegm and the repetitive tinny music from the fruit machines were the only sounds breaking this awkward silence that had settled around us.

‘So, Bollywood, huh?’

‘Marie, it’s not like that.’

‘Oh really?’ She whipped her flaming red hair towards me, put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. ‘Tell me, Georgia, what is it like?’

‘Well, you’d actually laugh about it,’ I said, rolling my eyes at how the trip to India had even come about.

‘You think this is funny?’ I stopped smiling and looked to the floor. ‘You want to know something funny?’ By the look of her pinched mouth I wasn’t sure that I did. ‘I encourage my best friend to go off backpacking after being a jilted bride; I was there fully supporting her, helping her to get over the really shitty thing that had happened to her. And what do I get in return?’

‘Wait I –’

‘No you wait. If I don’t say this now when will I get the chance again?’ I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat that had suddenly risen.

‘I understand that you’re busy with work but I never hear from you; you never return my calls or answer my texts. Then I randomly walk in here for a drink with my boyfriend and see you and your cool backpacking friend sitting here laughing. Only to find out that you and her are jetting off to India tomorrow, to a place I’ve always wanted to go. I mean, fucking Bollywood! Did it not occur to you that maybe, just maybe, your actress friend would want to experience that with you? Or are you too busy being backpacker businesswoman Georgia to notice?’ Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them back.

‘Marie, I’m sorry. I understand that it might look like this from your perspective, but trust me, it’s nothing like that.’ I placed my hand on my chest feeling like I wanted to cry too.

‘Is this because I’ve got a kid? Or because I’m just working as a mobile hairdresser? Not cultured enough or fancy enough for you now?’

‘No!! Of course it’s nothing to do with that. I’m sorry for being a crap friend; I’ve just had a lot going on but as soon as I get back I’ll make this up to you, I promise.’

She continued to glare at me. ‘It might be too late then.’ With that she turned on her heel and got lost in the pub.

I should have raced after her, apologising to her for being a shitty friend recently, but the truth was I was tired. Tired of messing things up, tired of having people tell me they were worried about me, tired of letting people down and feeling their disappointment.

I was tired of it all.

CHAPTER 8

Drawn (adj.) Tense; fatigued

We’d overslept. I must have cancelled the three alarms I’d set on my phone as the sound of the pre-booked taxi impatiently beeping its horn woke me with a start.

‘Shit! Shell, get up; we are really fucking late!’ I jumped from my bed and flung on some clothes before hopping into my shoes.

‘What?! Ah man,’ Shelley cried, tumbling from the sofa to her unsteady feet.

After the bust-up with Marie we’d stayed in the pub until closing time, nursing a bottle of wine as I’d resolved that this trip would be the solution to all my problems. I’d be like Trisha and come back a changed woman. That plan had seemed possible at eleven o’clock last night but wasn’t going quite so well this morning.

My small flat turned into a hive of activity as I raced from room to room chucking last-minute bits and bobs into my bag. I triple checked I’d turned off the heating, locked the windows and hadn’t left the oven on. Not that I could even remember the last time I’d used it but you never could be too careful.

‘We have to go; this taxi fella’s not happy,’ Shelley called from the front door as I did a final scan that I’d unplugged everything. ‘Georgia, come on!’

‘Coming!’ I called back, lugging my backpack onto my back. I had to admit that it did feel nice having it back on.

In the taxi to the airport, driven by the world’s most pissed-off driver, my empty stomach fizzed with anticipation and excitement. Working in tourism I thought I’d always be jetting away to exotic places but I had just been too busy to take any time off. Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal for this trip, at least I got to add another stamp to my passport.

We paid the driver and raced through the packed departures hall, scanning the large boards for our flight. We were so behind schedule it wasn’t even funny.

‘There!’ I pointed. ‘New Delhi – desk twenty-nine to forty-one. Shit, it says the desks are closing in like five minutes! Hurry!’ I raced off as fast as I could with a lumpy, heavy backpack on, leaving a tufted-haired yawning Shelley staggering after me.

‘Good morning. Can I have your passports and tickets please,’ the overly made-up woman at check-in asked. We looked like bedraggled rats compared to her. ‘You’re leaving it a little late, ladies.’ She pursed her glossy, plump lips.

‘Here and here.’ I wheezed and smiled apologetically before passing over my documents as Shelley rustled in her bag for hers.

‘OK, my ticket is here –’ Shelley slapped the piece of A4 paper on the desk ‘– and my passport is …’ Her thin hand rummaged around her slouchy hobo bag. ‘Wait, it’s in here somewhere …’

‘Shelley?’ Watching her arm frantically searching amongst the folds of multi-coloured cotton I felt my stomach clench.

‘It’s in here somewhere. God these bloody bags. Jimmy is always calling me Mary Poppins for the amount of crap that gets swallowed up in here.’ She smiled tightly and continued to force her hand deep into the inside pockets.

The check-in lady raised a thick, painted-on eyebrow at us – they were painfully on fleek – before peering at Shelley’s ticket. ‘Everything OK, Miss Robinson?’

‘Fine,’ Shelley said more breezily than she looked.

‘Shell? You packed it, right?’ A taste of bile caught at the back of my throat watching her grow more panicked with every second that passed without finding it.

‘Miss Robinson, I’m afraid if you do not have your passport you will be unable to travel today,’ the check-in lady unhelpfully reminded us before glancing at a silver watch on her tanned wrist.

‘I understand that.’ Shelley flashed a tight, fake smile at the woman whilst looking as if she was desperately trying to restrain herself from lurching across the desk and punching her.

‘We overslept,’ I said, wanting to fill this tense wait. She nodded and looked us up and down as if that explained everything.

A few moments later Shelley glanced up. The colour had completely faded from her face. ‘It’s … it’s … not here.’

My stomach lurched. ‘No!’ I gasped. I stared at her, desperate for her to break into a huge grin and pull it out of her bag, waving it around saying: ‘Ha gotcha!’ But instead Shelley looked like she was about to cry or pass out or both.

‘Shell? You’re a hundred per cent sure you haven’t got it?’ I started rooting around my own bag in case I had picked it up by mistake. ‘Empty everything out and let’s check again,’ I ordered, much to the disgust of the check-in lady. It had to be here. We simply didn’t have time to head home to search for it and make our flight.

‘Ladies. Please hurry. I should have closed check-in five minutes ago,’ Check-in lady hissed, trying to ignore the mess we were making on the cold, hard floor of the departures hall.

‘It must be here!’ I cried, shaking my bag out as pens and spare socks tumbled to the floor. It was becoming very obvious that Shelley’s passport wasn’t in either of our bags. ‘Check your pockets. Wait – maybe we left it in the taxi? Are you sure you even had it?’

Shelley turned her empty pockets inside out and roughly wiped her eyes. ‘Positive. I put it in the inside pocket of my bag before we went to the pub. I even took this bag with me last night as I was paranoid I’d lose it …’ She trailed off as if thinking about something before jerking her head up. ‘Marie.’

‘What?’ I stopped scrambling on my knees and stared at her. ‘What do you mean Marie?’

‘I mean, I left my bag at the table when you two were talking, well, arguing – remember? Then you both left it unattended after your fight,’ she whispered, biting her bottom lip.

‘What? Well then it could have been anyone in there, couldn’t it?’ I said, feeling faint with the worry bubbling up inside of me. Marie wouldn’t sabotage this trip, would she? Would she?

‘Excuse me, Miss Green?’ Check-in lady barked, pulling me back to the immediate crisis we were dealing with. ‘I need you to go through security right now; your flight will be boarding imminently. Miss Robinson, if you don’t have your passport then you will be unable to fly today.’

I held up a hand to stall for time. ‘Maybe it’s still at the flat? Maybe it fell out of your bag in the pub? Maybe someone’s handed it in? Maybe it’s in the taxi?’ I was clutching at straws and I knew it.

Shelley shook her head sadly. ‘I had it last night and now I don’t.’

‘And you didn’t think to check you still had it this morning?’ I was half screeching now as waves of hysteria washed over me. Shelley had to come with me; I couldn’t do this trip alone.

‘I’m so sorry, Georgia. You’re going to have to go without me.’

‘Miss Green, please, if you do not go straight to security I will have to let them know to close the flight without you, without either of you.’

‘OK!’ I snapped. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just I can’t believe Marie would do something like that.’

Shelley sniffed loudly. ‘I can. She was so pissed off with you. Maybe this way you would finally remember her and not leave her out in the future.’

I shook my head violently. ‘No, Marie would never do something so crazy and spiteful as this. No way.’

‘Excuse me, Miss Green.’ The check-in lady seethed. ‘Are you travelling today or not?’

‘Is there another flight, maybe a later one that we could get booked onto?’ The woman huffed but looked down at her screen and started angrily tapping at her keyboard.

Shelley turned to me. ‘I really hope you’re right about Marie. At least this way I can go back to yours, do a proper search for it, head to the pub and ask them, call the taxi firm and …’ She trailed off listing all the options we had for her to make this trip and for my best friend not to be responsible for this fuck-up.

‘Yes, good idea. Retrace your steps, find your passport, then fly out later to join me.’

‘Sorry,’ the check in lady interrupted, not looking sorry in the slightest. ‘The later flight is all booked up. The next available flight I could get you on would be next Thursday but it’s coming up at almost double the cost of the flight you had booked today. That is, if you find your passport by then.’

My heart sank.

Shelley’s face drained of colour. ‘Well that’s that then.’ She sighed, blinking away tears. ‘We’ll have to leave it. I’m so sorry. Will you be OK going by yourself?’

I didn’t have time to answer as the check-in lady had now stood up and logged off her computer. ‘Miss Green, please follow me or neither of you will be heading to India.’

‘I’m going to have to be.’ I sniffed and quickly pulled Shelley into a hug. ‘Call me as soon as you find your passport.’

She nodded. ‘Be safe, Georgia, and good luck!’ she called behind me as I raced to keep up with the woman striding ahead in her shiny black court shoes.

This would be fine. Fine. I swallowed back the bile that burned my throat. Wouldn’t it?

I was rushed through security, raced down the never-ending bright corridors and half tumbled into my seat, wheezing and out of breath. I nervously stared out of the small aircraft window as they ran through the safety announcement, hoping beyond hope that Shelley would miraculously turn up and take the seat next to me. However, once the doors were pulled shut there was no chance. I was now on my own. There was no turning back.

All the other passengers around me were excitedly chatting about their travels, the friends and family they were meeting or the places they were going, but all I could think was how I was going to survive. I let myself cry thinking of what lay ahead of me, ignoring the strange looks I was receiving. How was I going to face travelling round this enormous country by myself? Being spontaneous comes with its downsides. This was all Shelley’s idea and now she wasn’t even here to help me.

I thought back to the way Marie had looked at me last night, how hurt and angry she was. She couldn’t have hidden Shelley’s passport; she would never do something so spiteful and stupid, would she? A small voice piped up in my head: She would if she wanted to teach you a lesson, let you be this fearless backpacker that she thinks you are.

But the truth is, I’m not fearless at all.

CHAPTER 9

Trepid (adj.) Timorous; fearful

Fifteen hours later I landed at New Delhi airport. You can do this, I repeated in my head, giving myself a pep talk as I traipsed through immigration and headed to the baggage carousel. Steeling myself I grabbed my backpack, wiped my red-rimmed, teary eyes and followed the large crowd to the arrival doors. Come on, get a grip; you’re in India, not on Mars. It will be fine. You can do this.

However, if I thought arriving into Bangkok airport was overwhelming it was nothing compared to here. I stepped foot from the safety of the air-conditioned terminal building into what felt like a wall of noise. People were shouting, smells of spicy, fried food and cow poo mixed in the stuffy, oven-like heat and intimidating stares from strange men made me want to flee back onto the next flight home.

There are more than a billion people living in India and it felt like they had all congregated in this small space to welcome my flight. A pulsating energy was constrained by a weak wire fence just in front of me. Thin brown arms poked through holes, swiping at the air. Voices yelled out ‘taxi’, each competing for the best fare. The knackered-looking railings seemed to surge forward as other passengers walked past. ‘Taxi?’ ‘Madam, good price, taxi?’

My tired eyes stung from the sunlight. I felt like I was in the middle of the stock exchange with people bartering all around me, pushing and shoving for business. I jumped, feeling something touch my arm and looked down to see a small street boy grinning at me with half his teeth missing. He placed his tiny, dirty palm out – wanting cash – but all my money was safely stored away in my unsexy, beige travel belt, which was currently sweating against my stomach.

‘Oh, sorry, erm, no money,’ I apologised and pulled out a handful of boiled sweets from my pocket that I’d been given on the plane. ‘Here, take these.’

‘Bitch,’ he said, chucking the sweets on the floor and spitting at my dusty feet. I gawped back in shock as I watched him scurry off to find someone else to ask.

My head was spinning with all the people milling around me, relentlessly pushing and shoving me. I tried to focus on the many handwritten signs bobbing up and down in front of me, looking for my name or Shelley’s, but they were nowhere to be seen. We expected all the guides on our Lonely Hearts tours to be at the airport meeting and greeting guests as they arrive in their country, to provide safe and preferably air-conditioned transport that takes them to the hotel where they meet the other guests and get their adventure started. I couldn’t even find my way to get from this cattle market section of arrivals over to where an official taxi stand might be. Looking at the chaos before me I was reminded of a quote from one of the awful reviews: I was left stranded at the airport like an unwanted sales phone call when you’re just about to eat dinner. After a long-haul flight and already feeling emotional it was not the welcome I had expected or paid for. Little did I know that this was a taste of things to come …

Suddenly someone grabbed my bag, almost toppling me over with the force.

‘Madam, I am very sorry but your hotel has burnt down. They sent me here to take you to other hotel,’ a gangly Indian man with surprising strength said, bobbing his head as fast as he was tugging my bag straps.

‘What? Wait. Can you just let go of my bag, please?’ I replied in shock. My hotel had burnt down? Oh my God! I needed him to let go of me so I could breathe and think, impossible to do with the ceaseless caterwauling noise around me.

‘Miss, we need to go now – come, come.’ He had a firm grip on one of my straps and started to lead me away like a dog on a leash when I heard someone else shout out.

‘Miss Green?’ I spun my head to face where I thought the voice had come from.

An old man with peppered grey hair holding a scratty piece of paper with my name scrawled on was waving a thick arm to get my attention. The guy pulling my bag straps instantly let go and scampered off. What the …? I elbowed my way over to the tired-looking man with the sign.

‘Miss Green?’ he asked again.

I nodded. ‘Yes, that’s me. Are you Nihal?’ Things must be bad as I was positive the guy I’d spoken to briefly on Skype a few months ago was a lot younger and fresh-faced.

The old man chuckled. ‘No, I’m Deepak; Nihal is much uglier than I am. So, welcome to Delhi!’ His wrinkled face broke into a warm grin, flashing his blackened gums.

I smiled back, wiping a layer of sweat and grime from my flustered face. ‘Thank you. Erm, I’ve heard that the hotel has burnt down?’ I asked, wide-eyed.

Deepak huffed and muttered something under his breath. ‘No, Miss Green, that is a scam. They tell you that so they can take you to their hotel. Please don’t worry; everything is as it should be.’

I smiled weakly. Great. Five minutes after arriving and I’d almost fallen for a classic rookie scam. I bet Shelley would have heard about that one.

‘Oh OK. So, please, how do we get out of here?’

‘Wait, I have here that I need to pick up two women?’ He unfolded a piece of notepaper with Shelley’s name on.

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