Читать книгу A Summer to Remember - Victoria Cooke - Страница 15

My second week in Boston is no better. By Wednesday I’m ready to book a flight home. When I get back to the apartment after a day of being practically invisible, I slump on the sofa to ponder my defeat. If nobody is going to pay attention to anything I say, what is the point of me being here? I may as well go back to London and be ignored to a slightly lesser extent there. At least I’d see my friends at the weekend.

Needing to vent, I dial Bridget.

‘Sam!’ she screams, so loud my ears ring.

‘Oh, Bridget.’ My voice is filled with desperation.

‘That’s not the tone of a happy camper. What’s up?’ Her voice vibrates.

‘Are you on the cross trainer?’

‘Yes,’ she puffs. ‘In the words of the great and mighty Elphaba, I want to have my arse defying gravity before I go on holiday.’

‘Can you get off? I can’t talk to you when you’re all breathy. It sounds like you’re having sex. And I don’t think those are quite the right words to the song.’

She giggles. ‘Okay, I’m losing the battle against my saggy arse anyway. So, tell me, what’s up?’

I decide to get straight to the point. ‘I don’t fit in and everyone here is horrible.’

‘Oh, Sam. It can’t be that bad. It’s just settling-in nerves. By next week you’ll be fine.’

I shake my head even though she can’t see me. ‘It’s different here. It’s so male-dominated. They don’t listen to a word I say and they even sent me out for doughnuts. Maybe it’s just the men here. They’re so arrogant, and the UK team seem to lap it up like it’s something to aspire to.’

‘Listen to me, Sam.’ Bridget adopts a stern tone. ‘You’ve waited so long for this opportunity, and you deserve to be there as much as any one of those men. Don’t you dare give up so soon.’

‘I know, you’re right but …’

‘There are no buts about it. You’re going to see the three months through, and you’re going to make yourself heard. Okay?’ I know she’ll have one hand on her hip and her eyebrows raised.

‘Okay.’ I sigh.

‘I know it’s hard.’ She softens her tone. ‘Why don’t you escape the apartment for the weekend and have some you time? You’re near the coast – pick a beach and stay a night or two in a hotel.’

Being near the coast hadn’t really registered with me. Apart from seeing Boston Harbor on my first day and that wasn’t exactly enjoyable. I’ve not thought about anything other than work since but there isn’t really anything to stop me. ‘Do you know, that’s actually a great idea.’

‘I know.’ She laughs.

We say our goodbyes and the idea of going away and having some ‘me’ time makes me feel lighter. Not having to see the four, okay three, buffoons (if I exonerate Tony for being half-alright) from work over the weekend is an added bonus too. When I first arrived, I saw an advertisement for ferries to Provincetown down at the harbour. I don’t really know anything about the place, but if there are enough people wanting to go to justify a big ferry, it must be alright. A quick Google search confirms that it’s perfect. A beachy little town at the tip of Cape Cod, renowned for its artists, tourism and for being a popular holiday spot for the LGBTQ community, which I’m hoping means there’s less room for the Carl, Dave and Steve community. It sounds like the perfect getaway.

I book the ferry for Friday evening.