Sarah soaked up the compliment and hoped Paul would say something of the sort to his big brother to help convince him she really was good at her job. She glanced to her left and spotted Miles walking slowly up and down the waterside, his phone glued to his ear. She shook her head sadly. Some things never changed.
***
They arrived at their destination at four-thirty. It had been a long, hot day, although everybody had been enchanted by the views. Their hotel, a large, modern construction, was right by the beach at Chioggia, the town that marked the southernmost limit of the Venetian lagoon. From tomorrow, they would be moving inland. They dumped their bikes in the underground garage and went up into the lovely, air-conditioned interior of the hotel. Once she had supervised the allocation of the rooms, Sarah, like most of the others, went upstairs, slipped into her bikini, grabbed a towel and headed for the beach across the road.
First, she had to fight her way through a massive funfair under construction, complete with roundabouts, bouncy castles and what might have been a fortune teller’s stall. She saw a heavily tattooed man juggling brightly coloured clubs while a pretty, dark-haired girl sat on a bench combing what looked like a clown’s unruly wig. Occasional bursts of cacophonous music told her they were testing the sound system, which looked as though it was all still being set up and wasn’t fully functioning. As her bedroom looked out directly across the road to the funfair, she was thankful for that. She really didn’t want to be kept awake until the small hours by hurdy-gurdy music.
In common with most of the hotels strung out along the coast road, theirs had its own piece of private beach beyond the fairground, fenced off and meticulously raked, furnished with stripy sun beds. There were changing rooms along with showers, and even a bar serving drinks. Sarah dumped her towel on a sunbed and slipped out of her shorts and T-shirt, heading for the sea. The sand was hot under her feet and she ended up running the last few metres to the shallows. She found American Mike and his companion, Dan, standing in the water up to their thighs. She splashed up to them.
‘Hi, guys, had a good day?’
Mike was quick to reply. ‘Great. We were just saying what a great ride it’s been. Fabulous views, easy riding and wonderful weather.’
‘Couldn’t have been better.’ Dan sounded equally enthusiastic. ‘A lot of organisation for you, though. How did you manage to rent that boat?’
‘It was surprisingly easy. Boats are to Venice what coaches are to the rest of the world. A few phone calls and that was it.’ She glanced around. ‘Where’s your boss?’ Her initial assumption that Chuck was calling the shots had been confirmed that morning in conversation. Mike grinned.
‘He’s feeling a bit sore and he didn’t think the salt water would be too comfortable on the raw areas.’
‘Saddle sores already? That’s tough.’ Sarah was surprised. ‘Has he got some cream?’
‘Yeh, loads of it. Apparently it always happens to him.’
‘Poor guy.’ Sarah bent her knees and dropped down until the water covered her shoulders, before straightening up again, loving the cool sensation as the water ran over her skin. In spite of the hot sun, the temperature of the water wasn’t very high, presumably as they were just at the start of the warm season, but it was just what she needed after a day in the saddle. She decided to head on out a bit.
‘I’m going for a swim. See you later.’ She spotted a raft a little way out, with a figure sitting on it, and headed for it, using a slow, gentle breaststroke. The seabed sloped very gradually and she found that her feet could still touch the bottom even after almost a hundred metres. This reminded her of the last holiday she had had with James, in Cancun at the end of the previous year. If everything had gone to plan, she should have been back there with him now, on her honeymoon. She gave a sigh and ducked her face into the water to clear her head before rolling over onto her back, staring up at the pale blue sky. This, she told herself, had been a great day, just like old times. And, she reminded herself, old times meant the days before she had finally given in to James’s constant moaning and had transferred to an office job. She had been on some amazing trips and had made lasting friendships with people from all over the world. Now James had removed himself from her life, she found herself free to pursue her chosen career once more. Somehow, this thought cheered her a lot. Maybe James’s cowardly little letter really had done her a favour.
A few minutes later she looked up and discovered that the figure already on the raft ahead of her was Miles. Not really keen to talk shop, she would have turned round and headed back to shore, but for a sense of fatigue brought on by the exertions of the day. Reluctantly, she swam the last few metres and climbed out up the conveniently located stainless-steel ladder, finding it remarkably hard work to haul herself out of the water. She gave Miles a sweet smile and sat down a discreet distance from him, her feet dangling in the water.
‘You feeling all right, Sarah? You look tired.’ His expression wasn’t unfriendly, but he wasn’t smiling. Presumably, she thought to herself, as no tourists were around, he felt there was no need. She took a deep breath and ensured that the smile on her face remained sweet.
‘I’m fine, Miles. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.’
To her surprise, he nodded. ‘Join the club. I haven’t slept well for months, years.’
‘Something on your mind?’
He didn’t answer for a while. When he did, his voice sounded as tired as she was feeling. ‘Just thinking about stuff, you know.’
‘Work stuff?’ She wondered if the anticipated restructuring of the company might be playing on his mind, but he wasn’t prepared to admit that, if indeed it was the case.
‘Just stuff. Anyway, what about you? Everybody says you never stop working. That’s not good for your health, you know.’
Sarah was secretly pleased he had heard of her efforts. ‘The bush telegraph says the same about you.’
‘Sometimes it’s the best thing to do.’ The way he said it, and the grim expression on his face, made her turn and glance at him, wondering if this was the time to repeat her offer of a shoulder to cry on, if indeed that was what he needed. Instead, she did her best to cheer him up.
‘Well, you’ve got the best part of two weeks ahead of you now to relax.’
He managed a grin that transformed his whole face. ‘Relax? Aren’t you forgetting the small matter of cycling a thousand kilometres?’
In spite of herself, Sarah’s eyes flicked across his muscular torso and powerful thighs. ‘Somehow, Miles, I don’t see you having any trouble on that front.’
He didn’t respond to the compliment, his face returning to its usual undemonstrative state. There was an uncomfortable silence before he changed the subject ‘So, are we going to have a good dinner tonight?’
‘I certainly hope so. Maybe not quite as good as last night, but it should still be good. Seeing as we’re right by the sea, we’ll hopefully get some fish.’
‘And the hotel manager tells me there’s going to be a dance band here tonight after dinner. Did you organise that?’
Sarah’s heart sank. She had forgotten about the dance. The last thing she felt like was dancing. Yes, she had surprised herself with how easily she had managed to slip into her jolly, tour leader persona today, but dancing was a step too far, pun or no pun. All the same, she slid the smile back into place and answered as cheerfully as she could. ‘No, that was the hotel. Anyway, I’m sure the group will love it.’ She glanced at Miles and risked a bit of familiarity. ‘What about you, Miles? Are you going to strut your stuff for us this evening?’
Miles glanced at her and gave a shake of the head. To underline this non-verbal statement, he wagged his finger at her, just touching her elbow briefly as he did so. This had a very unexpected effect on Sarah. As she felt his touch, a tingle ran up and down her arm. Unsure what was going on, she decided