Page 67 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘Please, sir, if you’d like to come this way.’

And quickly escorting him to the front of the queue, she unhooked the rope and waved him onto the boat.

‘Have a pleasant journey. I hope you feel better soon.’

‘Oh, I will . . . just as soon as I get that shot . . .’ He mimed giving himself an injection, then glanced at her name tag. ‘Grazie, Veronica.’

‘Prego.’

Briefly, he wondered about asking for her number, then quickly discounted it. She was just a tour guide. He was here to catch much bigger fish. This cruise was costing him a fucking fortune and that was after the weekend spent in Monte Carlo. Fifteen euros for a beer! And don’t get him started on the price of the hotel. Shoving his sunglasses back up his nose, he looked around for a place to sit. The boat was pretty full inside already, but there were a couple of empty seats on top on the open deck. He climbed the stairs, holding down his hat as the breeze threatened to remove it, took one of the few empty seats and gazed back at the shore, waiting for the last few remaining passengers to board.

And that’s when he felt it. A strange feeling like he was being watched. He turned around, glancing back up from the shoreline to the line of cafes and restaurants, bathed in the golden evening light, his gaze sweeping over the tourists enjoying an evening cocktail. He adjusted his sunglasses. He had a sixth sense for these things. You do when you’re on the run.

‘Excuse me, honey, but is this seat taken?’

He heard the drawl of an American accent and turned to see an attractive older woman, gesturing at the seat beside him. Wide-brimmed sunhat, red lipstick, lots of cleavage. What must she be. Sixties? Seventies, maybe?

‘Please, be my guest.’ He smiled politely, distracted.

As she squeezed in beside him, she held out her hand in introduction. ‘Hi, I’m Birdy, pleased to meet you.’

Which is when he noticed the huge diamonds on her fingers and everything changed.

Including his name.

‘Hi.’ His eyes flicked to her Louis Vuitton handbag covered in its famous logo. ‘I’m Louis,’ he smiled, taking inspiration from the brand of her handbag and holding her hand in his just a fraction longer than necessary. ‘And trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.’

The engines started and as she laughed at his flirtation he felt that familiar rush of pleasure, the kind he always thought hunters must feel when they spot their prey, an exhilaration mixed with a quiet, calculating resolve.

‘Hold on to your hat,’ he yelled, above the roar of the engines and, as the boat pulled away from the shore, he turned for one final look back at Positano.

And that’s when he saw her. Amongst the crowds of tourists left behind, a face he never thought he’d see again.

Maggie.

Missed Connections

Was that him? The man in the Panama? Maggie squinted, the sun in her eyes. But she couldn’t see properly – his face was hidden and she was too far away – and now he’d disappeared. No, she must have been mistaken, she decided, taking a sip of her wine.

Back on dry land, the cafes were gearing up to their busiest period of the day: the Golden Hour. That magical time when the sun began its slow descent into the sea, bathing everything in a warm, Mediterranean glow, including the tourists who were fast trying to locate an empty seat at one of the many pavement cafes. To sit, drink in hand, and watch Positano’s pastel-coloured buildings silhouetted against what was going to be another incredible sunset.

One of whom was Maggie, who was feeling very pleased with herself. By sheer fluke she’d bagged two of the best seats in the house. After leaving the hotel and walking around town, on the lookout for You Know Who, she and Flick had found themselves down by the harbour where the boats were ferrying passengers back to Amalfi and the various cruise ships anchored offshore. It was the perfect vantage point and, when she’d seen a couple asking for the bill at a nearby cafe, she’d pounced.

Are you leaving? Yes, they were on a cruise and had to get back to the ship. A cruise? Was it the same one as their friend? Friend, that made her choke, a bit, but what was Flick supposed to say? No, theirs was a different cruise. They were heading to Greece, but sorry, they mustn’t be late. They’d heard stories of passengers being left behind. There were videos on YouTube. Have you seen them? One couple spent thousands chasing a cruise ship around the Med. Can you imagine? OK, well, bye, enjoy your drink.

‘We should’ve told them we don’t need to imagine,’ said Maggie, tilting her face to the evening sunshine. ‘But they’d think we were crazy.’

‘Depends how you define crazy.’ Flick shrugged, drinking a beer. ‘I think working five days a week for forty years in the same job is crazy, but some people think it’s perfectly normal. Same goes for living for ever in the same town you were born, or getting excited over what sandwich filling you’re having for lunch.’

‘Sandwich filling?’ Maggie raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses.

‘A work colleague at the newspaper,’ explained Flick, but it was pretty obvious to Maggie this wasn’t about her work colleague; this was about Flick and how she saw her future.

‘You only get one short life. Look at my mum.’

Maggie turned to her then, but Flick was gazing off into the distance, her eyes fixed on the horizon. ‘Not taking a risk in life,’ she continued, speaking almost to herself. ‘That’s what seems crazy.’

The waiter came and they ordered more drinks. And there they sat. Front row, with a great view of the harbour – it was the perfect lookout. But there were so many people, so many different tours and cruise companies, it was hard to distinguish anyone in the crowds. Once or twice, Maggie thought she might have spotted Him.