‘I don’t know what you mean. Look, I’m very, very sorry.’
‘Get out. You’re the worst housekeeper the agency ever sent me. I will make a big complaint with the company.’
‘Housekeeper? I’m not a housekeeper.’
‘I can see you’re no housekeeper! Now take yourmerdeand get out!’
I desperately grab the clothes that are falling all over the place as the lady gets closer and closer, then pushes me towards the door. I may have packed quickly for last-minute holiday offers over the years, but nothing like this. Luckily, I spot my phone on the top of the table by the door and snatch it before she slams the apartment door on me. I stand in the corridor, dazed. What on earth just happened? One minute, I was in a deep sleep, dreaming nice things about Elias, and the next, I’m thrown out of my holiday accommodation.
On my hands and knees, at a safe distance from the apartment, I put everything I managed to grab into my little suitcase. I comb through my hair with my fingertips and try to compose myself as I walk downstairs through the posh reception area. I look like someone doing the walk of shame. I am so confused and slightly panicked. How on earth could this happen? By the time I’m out on the street, I burst into tears.
I search for the nearest cafe so that I can calm my thoughts and consider what I should do next. I suppose the first thing to do is try to get on the next flight home. I could never afford accommodation here.
With my head in my hands, I manage to order a coffee, and then I hear my phone. At least my day can’t get too much worse, as Michael is still blocked. I see it is a voice note from Soraya, who I need to talk to more than anyone right now. I press play to listen to what she has to say.
‘The weirdest thing has happened. Andrew had a message from Gianni, right. He messaged Paulo to let him know you were staying at the apartment a bit longer… And this is really weird, but Paulo said that none of us ever turned up. He said he was at the airport that night, and we didn’t come off the flight. He didn’t think to let Gianni know. He assumed the plans had changed and Gianni was too busy to tell him we weren’t coming. Where are you now?’ I stare at the phone open-mouthed and pick up my phone to ring Soraya.
‘Funny you should ask that. I’m on a streetside cafe, feeling a bit homeless as I’ve just been kicked out of the apartment by a furious French lady who I presume is Gianni’s wife.’
‘But Gianni is gay.’
‘Well, there was a portrait of the woman on the wall in the lounge. Remember?’
‘Yeah, well, I assumed that was his mam or something. Maybe it’s his mam, then? Give me five minutes, and I’ll ask Andrew to clear all of this up. I have no clue what’s happening. Try not to panic. I’m sure there is a very easy way to solve all of this, and you’ll be back in there in no time.’
I drink my latte and bite on the little macaroon that came with it. I have a feeling this is all the breakfast I am going to be having today, thanks to my new status as a vagrant.
Ten minutes later, Soraya calls me back. She clears her throat three times before she speaks, which I know means she doesn’t want to say out loud what she is about to.
‘So… Andrew spoke to Gianni. Oh my god. I feel like I’m to blame for everything. It’s all my fault. I was a bit… let’s say… sozzled when we landed, and I think we got in the wrong car with the wrong driver and stayed in the wrong apartment. It’s not Gianni’s. He doesn’t know where we stayed, and to be honest, neither do I. When he paid for the restaurant, he assumed we were staying in his apartment, but it’s only now he’s spoken to Paulo and found out we didn’t show up there. I did think it was a bit strange, as Gianni is such a perfectionist. I can’t imagine he’d leave his place a bit upside down, and I did wonder where the big engine coffee table he bought from us was. I assumed he’d shipped it to one of his other homes. I’m mortified. The problem is, Gianni doesn’t have anyone there with the keys for his place now, as Paulo’s gone to visit his sick mother in a small village somewhere. So I can’t get you access. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Please forgive me. Shall I try and book your flight home for you? It might be best if you come home right away.’
‘I think that’s a good idea. What time’s the next flight?’
‘I’ll check and see what I can do and look for flights now. Stay where you are.’
‘Well, I’ve got nowhere else to go now, have I?’ I laugh, despite not seeing the funny side of this at all.
I drain the last of my coffee and wait for Soraya to call me back. I am supposed to be going for dinner with Elias this evening and feel disappointed that I will have to let him down, although that’s the least of my concerns in the grand scheme of things.
But then I realise something even worse. My laptop isn’t with me. It’s still inside the apartment, and I can’t possibly leave without it.
How on earth can I convince the screaming French lady to give it back? I can’t afford to leave it there. I feel sick and realise that staying on alone was the worst possible thing I could ever have done. I might have known that fancy, glamorous trips were never meant for me. I attempted to fit myself into a world where I never belonged, and this was the result.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Soraya finds a flight leaving at lunchtime, I decide that I can’t possibly go home without my laptop. I don’t have much choice but to somehow explain my predicament to the owner of the apartment. Could she possibly calm down enough for me to explain that there has been this horrendous misunderstanding? Something tells me she won’t, but I have to give it a shot. Everything is on that laptop, including my emails and my social media; even worse, I need it to write my book. I had planned on spending the day writing after being so inspired by my wonderful day at sea with Elias. How can it be that the moment I am finally brimming with inspiration, I lose my laptop? What a twist of fate!
To make matters worse, a message comes through from Elias thanking me for my company yesterday and telling me how much he enjoyed our time together. He is looking forward to this evening. I am going to have to tell him that dinner is cancelled, and since I could really do with a friend right now, I pick up the phone to call him. I need to hear his caring, friendly voice.
‘Hi, how nice of you to pick up the phone. People never seem to do that any more,’ he says.
‘Oh, I know. My daughters never phone anyone. It’s always got to be messages. Anyway, I just thought it’d be easier to pick up the phone than message you because my trip just became very complicated.’
‘Really? How come?’
‘I have to leave. You won’t believe this, but the girls and I have been staying in the wrong apartment. I honestly couldn’t make it up. A screaming woman came back from a trip to find a strange woman in her bed – me, but she thought I was the housekeeper, and let’s just say she was not best pleased.’
‘How on earth could that happen? Weren’t you picked up at the airport?’
