Читать книгу A Year of Chasing Love - Rosie Chambers - Страница 12

Olivia glanced out of the window of the Boeing 737, listening to the low drone of the aircraft’s engine as they cruised their way towards the southern Mediterranean Sea. As she loosened her seatbelt and settled back into her seat, she realised that it was the first flight she had boarded since her honeymoon in Paris seven years earlier, and the only time she had ever travelled abroad alone.

She experienced a sharp stab of regret when she thought of the surprise trip Nathan had booked for their first wedding anniversary. However, she had been cocooned in a complicated contested hearing in the High Court and unable to extricate herself from its claws in time to catch the train, and their long weekend in Bruges had been cancelled. Nevertheless, it hadn’t prevented him from continuing to schedule time away in the UK – a spa break in the Cotswolds, a jaunt up to Edinburgh, afternoon tea at The Ritz – none of which had actually gone ahead.

And yet still Nathan had continued in his battle to tempt her to spend time with him. Tickets to the theatre, to the cinema, to listen to Hollie play her clarinet in a concert for ‘Help the Heroes’ in the Royal Albert Hall – which she had never forgiven herself for missing even though Hollie had – and those VIP Ed Sheeran tickets. In the end, Nathan had resorted to inviting Matteo and Hollie along in the hope that Olivia wouldn’t feel able to let their friends down as well as him. Sadly, he’d been proved wrong. Even Hollie, who was regularly ‘on duty’ for police station callouts, managed to make it in time to take up her seat at Les Misérables!

Then she cringed, and the needle-sharp incisors of guilt skewered her chest when she remembered the expression of hurt on Nathan’s face as he watched her sprint towards him as the Venice-Simplon Orient Express’s last Pullman carriage disappeared from the end of the beautifully restored station platform. The trip had been arranged at the beginning of December as part of his fortieth birthday celebrations; it was one of the items that featured high on his bucket list and they’d missed it and it was her fault. Looking back, she should have realised that that was the final candle of hope to be extinguished on the cake of their marriage.

She thanked the smiling air steward for her milky coffee, and continued with her internal monologue of self-reproach, aware that she was prodding a fresh bruise, but she couldn’t help herself. She had been a dreadful spouse – not only that, but a neglectful partner and friend to Nathan. What surprised her was that he had tried for so long. How had it ended like this when their relationship, and their marriage, had started out so well? She had to concede Rachel was right when she’d thought they would be one of the lucky ones whose marriage endured. They were ideally suited. She had adored Nathan, still did. He had been her soulmate, and, in the years they had spent together before their careers had intervened, they’d been happy.

Nathan worked hard. He travelled extensively for his job as in-house counsel for a large pharmaceuticals company, yet he always found space in his busy schedule for her. ‘A golden couple’, her father had called them on their wedding day. They may have been well-paid, able to live in an apartment overlooking the river and take exotic holidays, but they hadn’t been rich in that priceless commodity that everyone wished they had more of – time. Nathan’s recent posting to Singapore was the ultimate recognition of his career success: promotion to General Counsel for the whole company. By rights, he should be enjoying his moment in the limelight with his wife by his side, but he’d had the misfortune to choose a partner who couldn’t even spare the time to celebrate his achievement.

No wonder he had taken such a drastic step.

And would it have been easier to accept the ending of their marriage if there had been someone else? Someone delighted to share in his success, someone who would holler his accolades from the rooftops with pride in her voice and devotion in her heart? Or maybe he had found someone and was just too considerate to tell her. Ironically, she had spent more time thinking about Nathan, what he was doing, what he was thinking, where he was at any given moment, and who with, since receiving the divorce petition than she had in the month leading up to that fateful moment.

A wave of anguish and desolation engulfed her body as she realised that she had inadvertently stumbled upon the second item for Hollie’s list before even setting foot on Maltese soil.

Olivia Hamilton’s Lessons in Love: No 2. “To stay together, you have to be together.”

However, dwelling for too long on the reasons for her break-up with Nathan threatened to stretch the guy ropes that were holding her emotions in check to breaking point and she had no wish to succumb to a torrent of tears in the public arena of the inside of an aircraft with rows of bored passengers watching on. So she resolved, for the time being at least, to push her heartache into the deep, dark crevices of her mind and instead to savour her first aerial glimpse of the island of Malta, the great outdoor museum of the Mediterranean.

It wasn’t long before they had landed at Luqa airport, and as soon as the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign was switched off, she slung her holdall over her shoulder and joined the scrum in the aisle of pasty-faced holidaymakers, all eager to escape from their three-hour confinement, taste their first blast of warm sunshine and indulge in a few glasses of the local red wine.

It was the last week of February so thankfully there had been very few squabbling children on board the early morning flight from Gatwick. However, many of the travellers exhibited exuberant spirits for the start of their annual break from the minutiae of normal life or a visit to much-loved family. Couples held hands in the queue at Passport Control, overjoyed at being able to spend time together away from their day-to-day struggles and Olivia found herself adding a third discovery to the email she intended to send to Hollie.

Olivia Hamilton’s Lessons in Love: No 3. “Time away from the usual routine is essential to reconnect and replenish togetherness.”

As she held her passport open at the photograph page in front of the handsome immigration officer, a shard of pain sliced across her right temple. She put it down to the early morning start, mingled with the effects of her persistent battle with insomnia, which meant she was granted only snatches of respite from the contemplation of the ruins of her marriage. The last thing she wanted to do was socialise with a Maltese stranger sent to collect her from Arrivals. If it had been up to her, she would have preferred to grab a taxi to Valletta, check in to her hotel overlooking the harbour, dump her bag in her room and then plunge straight into the hotel’s huge infinity pool.

She loved Rachel, but she couldn’t stem the feelings of regret that she had succumbed so easily to her persuasion to get involved in her project. And yet she knew her friend hadn’t done it for selfish reasons but so that she wouldn’t have time to wallow in self-pity over her lost relationship or worry about what Miles was doing to her clients’ files. She hadn’t told Rachel, but Henry had already blasted her for calling Katrina, and he had extracted a begrudging promise from her not to contact the office unless the matter was of the utmost urgency. He had then used the rest of the telephone call to regale her with a long and detailed itinerary of his world cruise’s ports of call – one of which just happened to be the ancient city of Valletta – and he’d insisted she report back with a list of the best fish restaurants and ‘must-see’ attractions that he could share with Jean.

How on earth had she ended up wearing three badges? Which was she? Research assistant, love guru, or tour guide? And a trip every two months was too much – Valletta, Honolulu, Singapore, Copenhagen, Paris – especially as she also had a home to sell and a whole life to dismantle and store in her parents’ garage in Yorkshire.

But it was the trip to Paris at the end of November that concerned Olivia the most because in a cruel twist of fate, it was around that time their decree nisi would be pronounced. Would she hear about the formal dissolution of her marriage when she was visiting the same city she had honeymooned in?

However, there was one thing she was certain of – despite the heartache she was going through now, she didn’t want to live the rest of her life alone. The night before, she had woken up in a cold sweat when a dream had conjured up an image of her as a lonely old spinster in a care home with no family to visit her. In fact, as she’d had more time than usual to think about her future, she came to realise that a life without children in it was unthinkable.

Had Nathan been right when he had asked his solicitor to put those allegations in the divorce petition?

The realisation that he was rushed at her and almost knocked her backwards. Perhaps these bulletins she had been tasked with sending home to Hollie and Matteo would not only benefit her close friends but would serve to teach her some valuable lessons in love as well.

With that decision made, she grabbed her suitcase from the carousel and made her way into the arrivals hall to be met by a barrage of uniformed, tanned holiday reps and locals meeting their families. She spotted a card scrawled with “Ms O. Hamilton” and she surprised herself when, despite her emotional turmoil, an involuntary gasp of delight escaped her lips as she met the eyes of the Adonis holding it between his olive-skinned fingers.

Was this her taxi driver? Or perhaps it was Nikolai Garzia, Rachel’s contact in Malta? She chastised herself for sending up a prayer for the latter.

‘Olivia Hamilton?’

To Olivia’s uninitiated ears, the way the man wrapped his voice around the syllables of her name sounded like he was rehearsing an Italian aria. His dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners, and the tang of his cologne injected a shock to her pulse. Despite the ambient warmth, he wore buttock-enhancing black jeans and a pink and white linen shirt, fastened at the cuffs with golden links depicting the Maltese cross. His boldly drawn eyebrows were raised in question behind his long mahogany fringe, enhancing his matinee idol looks as he swept the hair from his face over his forehead. Ignoring the pounding across her brow, when he held out his palm to introduce himself, Olivia delved deep to replicate his welcoming smile.

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘Hello, Olivia, welcome to Malta. I’m Nikolai Garzia, but my friends call me Niko and I hope you will, too.’

‘Hi, Niko, it’s good to meet you,’ said Olivia, relishing the pleasurable tingle of electricity that shot out from her fingertips as she shook his hand.

‘Likewise, Olivia.’

Niko smiled straight into her eyes before grabbing the bag from her shoulder and tucking her arm through his to guide her out into the Maltese sunshine. The heat hit her like a blast from her hairdryer, the welcome warmth caressing her skin and seeping down into her stiffened bones. She scrabbled around in her handbag for her sunglasses whilst Niko directed their route to the car park.

‘Rachel has briefed me on your requirements.’

Niko’s thick, Mediterranean accent made it sound as though her requirements were not even remotely connected to the academic and she was grateful she had managed to obscure her eyes behind dark lenses. The guy possessed a smile that would be more at home in an American toothpaste commercial, and the air of a young, hip Spanish teacher – one all the teenage schoolgirls swooned over and the boys grabbed to coach the football team.

‘Our time together is limited, so we must get straight down to business. I will deliver you to your hotel in Valletta, allow you to freshen up, and then return to collect you at 7 p.m. to take you to meet my family.’

Olivia smirked at the way his arrangements sounded as a waft of fresh lemony green fern scent met her nostrils, causing a surprise curl of attraction to invade her abdomen. Good grief, Olivia, get a grip – this is not a date!

‘You have been invited to help celebrate my grandparents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary,’ added Niko as he slung Olivia’s holdall into the back seat of his tiny red Fiat 500 and slammed the door.

‘Oh gosh, no, I don’t want to intrude on your family’s celebrations.’

Olivia balked at the thought of spending her first evening in the intimate company of Niko’s extended family. She would prefer to stick to the itinerary Rachel had devised and to interview Mr and Mrs Garzia senior in the lobby of her hotel the following morning, then spend the rest of the day indulging in the facilities of the hotel, specifically the expansive infinity pool. She could already feel the cool ripples lapping around the crevices of her body, massaging away the knots of stress that had built up over the last few months.

‘My grandmother does not travel to the city now, I’m afraid, Olivia. This is the better solution. Anyway, isn’t this what Rachel’s research is all about?’ Niko asked, flicking a shrewd glance in her direction as he navigated the narrow roads out of the airport. ‘Visiting a couple who have been together for over half a century in their home environment to ascertain the factors that contribute to such an enduring partnership? My parents also will be present, of course. They have been married for forty years.’

‘Well, in that case, it’s very kind of your family to invite me. Thank you.’

‘You are welcome. Perhaps this would be a good time to warn you in advance that my mother takes a huge amount of pleasure in complaining about the fact I have yet to settle down and enter the honourable institution of matrimony. Until now, I have preferred to focus firstly on my education and establishing my career as a lawyer. I’ve fought for years against their expectations that I would follow their example, marry early and produce grandchildren for them. But I will be thirty-four in December and I concede it’s time. Our life goals morph with the passage of time, do they not, Olivia?’

Olivia saw Niko grin in her direction with a blast of such intense suggestion in his ‘come-to-bed’ eyes that she felt her cheeks redden – and he was clearly delighted with the reaction. She ignored his question and settled into her seat to enjoy the ride into Valletta, the crumbling capital city of the Maltese islands.

Every village they drove through emerged as though seen through a sepia lens. The honey-coloured façades of the architecture, bathed in the early afternoon’s golden hue, appeared like dwellings from a bygone era. Dogs roamed the cobbled alleyways, sampling offerings in steel bowls placed on the worn stone steps by thoughtful store owners. Cats squinted on windowsills they shared with scarlet geraniums tumbling from terracotta pots.

She saw no evidence of spotty youths hanging around street corners displaying blank expressions of intense boredom. On the contrary, the adolescents she saw were helping their grandmothers with their shopping carts or zipping by on Vespas dressed in their all-black waiter’s uniform. There was also a distinct absence of the mass migration of exhausted office workers, their faces set in a grimace of determination, up against the clock, every minute to be accounted for.

Niko swung the ancient Fiat deftly through the city walls so fast that Olivia had to cling onto the side of her seat. There seemed to be no speed restrictions in place, nor any obligation to give way or use indicators, and road courtesy was regarded as a sign of weakness to be exploited, especially by the drivers of the ubiquitous snub-nosed buses who treated all other road users as either invisible or irritating flies.

As they screeched to a halt at the front steps of the magnificent Phoenicia Hotel overlooking the cinematic Grand Harbour, a whiff of salty sea breeze tickled at Olivia’s nostrils. She allowed her eyes to rest for a moment on the colourful local fishing boats, jostling for attention alongside their sleek luxury yacht cousins and cruise liner rivals, all set against a backdrop of golden spires and fortified bastions.

‘Until later, Olivia.’

Niko deposited her holdall at her feet, then seized her shoulders in a strong, vice-like grip to plant a fragrant kiss on each of her cheeks. Stunned, she watched in silence as he folded his long legs back into the tiny car and sped away, dust billowing up in his slipstream. To her surprise, a sharp blast of homesickness attacked her chest until she realised why – Niko reminded her of Matteo.

Was that why she had felt so comfortable in his company?

Collecting her bag, she strode through the hotel’s columned portico into the impressive lobby, taking in its mosaic floor, the stupendously elaborate chandelier overhead, and the sweeping split staircase that had been carpeted in crimson. The room even housed a grand piano, its keys currently silent.

Check-in was swift and efficient. When she got to her room, she swallowed two painkillers, dragged out the Caribbean-inspired bikini she had purchased especially for the trip, tied up her hair and made her way to the Bastion Pool deck. As she pushed through the wrought-iron gates fashioned in the shape of a peacock and caught her first glimpse of the twinkling aquamarine-blue of the pool set against the cobalt of the Mediterranean Sea, and the island of Manoel beyond, her headache drained from her temples.

She had taken only three steps into the pool area when the pool guy rushed over to place a mattress and drape the thickest, fluffiest, whitest towel she’d ever seen over a sun-lounger, before offering her a cocktail from the well-stocked bar. On impulse, she ordered a tall glass of rosé and soda with plenty of ice in honour of Hollie and Matteo, tossed her paperback onto the plastic table, dropped her kaftan to the floor and dived into the crystal-clear water.

Ah, pure unadulterated heaven!

After twenty lengths in the deserted pool she felt the compacted muscles at the back of her neck and shoulders loosen and her body relax. Thirty minutes later she’d completed her session of water therapy and flopped onto the sun-lounger, totally rejuvenated. She took a couple of sips of the waiting spritzer, lay back, closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. When she woke, she had a throbbing head and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Glancing at the watch she had forgotten to remove, she shot up from her recliner. Six o’clock! No way! She only had an hour before Niko would be back to collect her.