Page 83 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

Except it wasn’t an afterthought. She wanted this younger woman’s respect and approval. Flick had met her at her lowest. She’d seen her not as the woman she used to be, but as the woman she’d been reduced to. And watching Flick’s eyes light up, Maggie felt a curious flicker of pleasure. There was something satisfying about seeing yourself cast in a different role. To prove something, to herself, to Flick, to both of them? She wasn’t sure.

‘Yes. He wanted to send me a photo.’

Flick raised her eyebrows, teasing.

‘Not that kind of photo.’ Maggie blushed. ‘The photo he took of me on his phone.’

‘You want to be careful; he’ll be sending you a dick pic next.’

With her broad accent, Flick was never one to whisper and several guests around the pool turned round and stared. It was a discreet, adults-only hotel, the kind of place people talked in hushed voices and wore stylish outfits. Apart from Maggie and Flick, who’d only packed for one night away and were wearing the clothes they’d been travelling in which, after several long car journeys, were crumpled, stained and in desperate need of washing.

‘Wow, you’re a dark horse.’

‘It was nothing. There was a nice view. That’s all.’

‘So, let’s see the photo, then.’

Flick gestured for Maggie’s phone and she felt herself freeze, reminded of the text from Theo. She didn’t want Flick looking at her phone and seeing it.

‘Well, actually, that’s the thing. He never sent it.’

She was telling the truth about the photo, but not about the text. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench with anxiety. Her phone lay beside her on the towel and she reached for it, squeezing her fingers tightly around it as if somehow she could keep the genie in the bottle.

‘Huh. Strange. Maybe this Sander guy got your number wrong.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

Or maybe he’d had second thoughts and decided she was a weirdo. Maybe he’d deleted her photo and gone to chat to a nice, normal woman who didn’t go around pretending to be something she wasn’t, because she’d ruined her own life and lost all her confidence.

Their conversation was interrupted by one of the hotel staff who came to inform them that their room was ready and, gathering their things, they followed them through the gardens, with their lemon trees and mosaic paths, to a beautiful light-filled room, with twin beds and a small terrace. Not for the first time did Maggie feel grateful for their winnings. A hotel like this didn’t come cheap, and they’d been lucky to find a room in town, due to a late cancellation.

Kicking off her trainers, Flick padded barefoot out onto the terrace. It felt a world away from the industrial northern town where she’d grown up and still lived. ‘I never knew places like this existed.’

‘There’s a whole world out there.’

‘Yeah.’ Flick nodded, her face thoughtful. ‘Have you been to Sicily before?’

‘No. It’s my first time too.’

‘See. Told you we had to make our own romance.’

Maggie laughed at the joke.

‘So what shall we do now? We’ve got the rest of the day off. I’ve been googling and there’s so much to see and do.’

Now. Now was the time to show her the text, thought Maggie. After all, the two of them were in this together. Except, they weren’t. Not really. She was the one who’d fallen in love with a fraudster. Who’d discovered everything she thought was true was a lie. Who’d beaten herself up for months with shame and guilt and self-loathing. She needed some answers for herself first. Ever since he’d disappeared she’d been having furious, tearful, anguished conversations with him in her head, and now was the chance to have one for real. She wanted to know how this had happened to her; she needed to know why.

And then she’d tell Flick.

‘Let’s do what everyone does when they’re on holiday,’ she suggested, her mind made up. ‘Let’s go to the beach.’

‘Really?’ Flick looked thrilled. For a moment there she assumed she was going to be dragged around Greek amphitheatres. Not that there was anything wrong with Greek amphitheatres, but she really wouldn’t mind just lying on a beach and getting a bit of a tan. Which she knew was terribly bad for her, what with the ozone and skin cancer rates and importance of wearing SPF50 and sitting in the shade. But sometimes, once in a while, doing something terribly bad for you felt terribly good. ‘OK, great, but there’s just one problem.’

‘What is it?’

‘To get there we need to catch a gondola.’ Reading her phone, Flick frowned. ‘I thought they were only in Venice.’

‘It’s not that kind of gondola.’ Maggie stifled a smile. ‘It means a cable car.’