Page 58 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

The waiter brought menus and a breadbasket. Birdy watched with astonishment as both women dived upon it. Carbs hadn’t passed her lips since 1972.

‘You have amazing jewellery.’

She turned back to see the young girl looking at her rings, fascinated.

‘Why, thank you. They’re not real.’

‘They’re not?’

‘Oh no.’ Birdy laughed. ‘In this town? I’d be a fool! What with all the pickpockets. No, the real diamonds are in the safe at home in New York. Trust me, no one can tell the difference.’

‘Wow.’

The waiter came and took their food orders.

‘Would you care to join us for something to eat?’ asked Maggie.

‘Thank you, but I prefer a liquid lunch.’ She raised her almost empty glass as proof. ‘Though it’s a little too late for that,’ she said, noticing the time on her wristwatch, a gift from an old amour, who’d collected expensive watches and taught her to be quite the expert when it came to timepieces. She’d wanted a Patek Philippe, so had been somewhat disappointed to open the box and discover it was your basic Cartier. Cheap fucker.

‘Ah, and there’s my car, right on time.’ She smiled as a sleek black Mercedes pulled up. ‘Apologies, but I must go.’

Reaching into her Chanel handbag, she drew out a wad of euros and placed them on the table before standing up.

‘Well, my darlings, wonderful to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your trip.’

And waving farewell, she sashayed across the cobbles to where her driver was holding open the door, waiting to take her bags, and slid onto the cool, air-conditioned leather upholstery, where she kicked off her wedges. They didn’t call them killer heels for nothing. Her feet were fucking killing her. Well, no one ever said looking this good didn’t come at a price.

But then, didn’t everything?

The Amalfi Coast

Day Four

Ten more days to go

The Next Morning

‘OK, so where are we headed? Where’s our next stop?’

‘Positano, on the Amalfi Coast.’

‘And how long’s the drive?’

‘Four hours without traffic. According to my phone,’ added Flick, looking slightly sheepish and wanting to quickly shift any blame ahead of today’s drive. On their last car journey, her navigational skills had left much to be desired, resulting in it taking far longer than first thought. And Maggie nearly killing her.

But if she was expecting a sarcastic reply, she was surprised when Maggie turned the ignition and announced, ‘Driving the Amalfi Coast’s always been on my bucket list.’

‘You have a bucket list?’

‘Yes, don’t you?’

‘No, I don’t believe in them. It’s always things like jumping out of planes or swimming with dolphins. Can’t we leave the poor dolphins alone? I’m sure they don’t want to swim with us idiots.’

‘Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine this morning?’

Flick caught herself at Maggie’s quip, but doubled down.

‘It just all feels like too much pressure. What happens when you tick them all off? Do you die? And what happens if you don’t? Do you spend your life in regret?’