Page 57 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘We’ve been sightseeing all day!’

‘Maggie’s been giving me the grand tour!’

Maggie, not Mom. So that wasn’t her daughter, thought Birdy, as the younger woman spoke.

‘We must have walked miles.’

‘In this heat?’ Birdy raised an eyebrow. Well, as best she could. She’d had Botox just before the trip. ‘Is that wise?’

‘We had a lot of places to visit.’

‘The Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain . . .’ The younger woman was ticking them off on her fingers.

‘And did you find what you were looking for?’

It was meant to be tongue in cheek, a gentle tease, so she was surprised when she saw the look that passed between the two women. As if she’d touched a nerve. She couldn’t place it; they seemed nervous, guilty – but what on earth could these two have to hide? The older one especially. She looked so unassuming.

‘Um . . . not really.’

‘We saw lots, but there’s so much to see, you can’t do it in one day.’

Birdy waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh, I don’t bother with all that, you can see all the sights you want to see sitting right here. Once you’ve seen one fusty old church, you’ve seen them all.’

She smiled broadly and while the older woman looked unsure, the younger girl let out a hoot of laughter.

‘Forgive me. I’m forgetting my manners. My Southern mama would kill me.’ She extended a hand in greeting. ‘I’m Birdy with a “y”.’

There were a couple of blank expressions.

‘As opposed to “ie”,’ she added, in explanation. ‘No one wants “die” at the end of their name, cuts a little close to the bone at my age, don’t you think?’

‘Hi, I’m Flick . . . with a “k”,’ added Flick, smiling.

‘I can see you and me are going to get on just fine.’ She gave a wink.

‘Maggie – nothing so exotic, I’m afraid.’

‘I disagree; doesn’t it have Greek origins meaning pearl?’ Birdy smiled. ‘And next to diamonds, pearls are my weakness. Something I share with the great, late Elizabeth Taylor. La Peregrina, now that was some pearl.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know. I’d always thought Margaret was quite boring, not that anyone ever called me Margaret. I’ve always been Maggie, or Mags . . .’

But Birdy was gesturing to the waiter and not listening.

‘What are you having?’

‘Just sparkling water and maybe a bite to eat—’

‘Another negroni, and two more for the ladies.’

‘Oh, no, we couldn’t possibly—’

‘Relax. You’re in Italy. Embrace la dolce vita.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t speak Italian,’ confessed Flick with a shrug.

‘It means the sweet life,’ translated Maggie, helpfully.

‘It means exactly what we’re doing right now, sugar,’ smiled Birdy, her eyes twinkling. ‘To pause and appreciate the sweet moments. To not stress. To chat to strangers.’