Page 40 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

Maggie took a sip and grimaced. It wasn’t coffee. It was some horrible-flavoured syrup thing.

‘So, like I was saying, we need a plan of action. I’ve been out already and found out about the cruise ship, and I’ve managed to get online and pull up the itinerary of all the destinations.’

‘Hang on. Rewind. Itinerary?’

‘Last night. I thought we agreed. We’re going to go after him.’

Somewhere in the dark recesses of Maggie’s alcohol-sodden mind, she had a vague memory of Flick saying something along those lines if they won at roulette.

‘That was just the alcohol and the adrenaline talking, wasn’t it? We didn’t really mean it—’ she began to protest, then broke off as Flick’s face fell in dismay. She changed tack. ‘And anyway, how can we? We’re going home today. Our flight leaves in a few hours.’

‘But that’s just it. We don’t have to. I’ve emailed my editor, Seymour, and told him I’m going to take the two weeks’ paid holiday he’s been nagging me to take for ages. And it’s not like you’ve got a job to go back to,’ she pointed out.

Maggie’s face clouded.

‘I didn’t mean . . . what I meant is . . . I was just saying.’

Like a car that’s stuck in the mud and turning its wheels, only to make them go deeper, Flick’s attempts at explanation were only making things worse.

‘It’s OK. No offence taken. You’re right. I don’t have job. I lost the gallery, along with everything else.’

‘Well, then, what’s stopping us?’

‘What about your boyfriend Rory? What have you told him?’

Flick faltered momentarily at the mention of Rory. Reminded of his texts which she’d been responding to with vague replies and emojis, she felt a moment of doubt. ‘I’m sure he’ll understand when I explain,’ she replied unconvincingly.

‘Or what about the small fact that the man we came here to catch is now on a luxury cruise ship in the middle of the Mediterranean?’ continued Maggie.

Actually, this coffee wasn’t so bad.

‘Ah, but that’s just it. I know where it’s headed. Apparently the first stop is Rome.’

‘And?’

‘With the money we can rent a car, drive to Rome.’

‘Drive to Rome?’

Maggie couldn’t work out if Flick was joking or being serious.

‘And what happens if we don’t find him in Rome?’

‘Then we go to the next destination, the next port, until we do.’

Flick leaned back and folded her arms. She looked very pleased with herself.

Maggie observed her. ‘Is writing about local charity fundraisers and headbutting sheep so bad?’ she said after a moment.

‘Huh?’

‘So bad that you want to chase around Europe after The Man Whose Name I Cannot Mention.’

‘We need an acronym for that.’

‘That’s what George says. Not my cat, my best friend,’ explained Maggie, sensing the confusion. ‘Though he just calls him The Wanker.’

‘Come on, Maggie,’ Flick sighed. ‘We were so bummed when he gave us the slip and got away, but now with our winnings we can go after him.’