Page 93 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

Maggie blanched. After deciding their next destination was going to be Palma, in Mallorca, they’d soon realized they were going to have to fly to the Spanish island. Which meant saying goodbye to their rental car. As luck would have it, the company had an office at Catania Airport, so they could drive there, leave the Fiat, and get straight on a flight. Perfect!

Except, have you ever tried to do a one-way rental? Worse still, picking up in one country and dropping off in another? Last-minute? No, neither had Flick and Maggie and they nearly fell on the floor when the salesman gave them their bill.

‘It would have been cheaper to buy a Fiat 500,’ Maggie was saying now.

‘Good job we won at Monte Carlo.’

‘You won at Monte Carlo?’ The cab driver’s ears pricked up. It was the first time he’d spoken during the journey, other than to ask them the name of their hotel.

‘Yes, we did,’ replied Flick. Only now, saying it out loud, did she realize how crazy it sounded. He probably thought they were millionaires.

‘Wowee.’ He let out a low whistle. ‘What did you spend your winnings on?’

The two women looked at each other. How to answer that?

‘A trip of a lifetime,’ replied Maggie, catching his eye in the rear-view and giving a wry smile.

‘Man, I need a holiday.’ Shaking his head wistfully, his face split into a grin. ‘So, c’mon, tell me, where’ve you been?’

‘Well, we started in Monaco.’ Flick began playing along. Well, it felt rude not to. ‘Then drove to the French Riviera, Rome, the Amalfi Coast, Taormina.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Sicily.’

‘You drove all the way to Sicily?’

Said like that it did sound a bit mad.

‘And what’s been the best bit so far?’

Flick and Maggie glanced at each other, their minds flicking back. Walking through the backstreets of Rome. Time standing still in the Sistine Chapel. Watching the sunset on the Amalfi Coast. Dancing in the square at midnight. The negronis. The pizza. The view from the crater of the volcano. That first cold shower when they’d been driving for hours.

It was different for both of them, and yet it was the same.

Until now they’d been so focused on finding him, and on all their private fears and frustrations, that they hadn’t given it much thought. But suddenly there it all was, like a highlights reel thrown up by their iPhone.

‘The gaps in between,’ replied Flick.

The driver frowned. ‘Huh, I don’t get it?’

But the two women did. Because it wasn’t about any of the highlights. And as Maggie looked at Flick across the back of the taxi, they both made the same gesture with their forefingers. Almost, but not quite touching. Because that’s where life truly happens.

‘OK, we’re here.’

A few moments later, the taxi pulled up in front of a large, high-rise hotel. Surrounded by palm trees and with several flags flying above the entrance, it was a world away from their first Airbnb in Monte Carlo.

‘Wow, this looks swanky,’ said Maggie, as the taxi driver left with a large tip and an instruction to enjoy the rest of their trip. ‘It must have cost a fortune.’

‘No, it was on special. I booked it a few days ago on my app,’ said Flick, as they stood on the pavement outside with their wheelie suitcases. ‘I thought I’d try to be organized and not leave it to the last minute.’

‘You’ve got an app for booking hotels?’

‘Of course. There’s an app for everything.’

‘Everything?’ Maggie raised an eyebrow.

‘Pretty much.’