18. Chapter 18
18
T he taxi stopped sharply, and the driver leaned on the horn. He muttered in Italian before executing a sharp turn around the truck that had stopped in front of them.
Tom braced his arm against the passenger seat headrest and looked across at Katie, who pulled a face and shook her head, holding on to the door handle.
They had slept in and then gone for a late breakfast of cafe lattes and croissants in a little cafe near the Piazza dei Miracoli. Tom was happy anywhere that pushed pastries for breakfast.
They had strolled through the Piazza, taking in the ornate facade of the duomo, the baptistry, and the leaning tower itself in daylight.
Katie was wearing a loose floral sundress that moved in the gentle breeze, and grazed the tops of her knees. Tom had resisted the urge to snap photos of her as she wandered ahead of him, tipping her head back to look at the buildings before dropping her eyes to consult a little guidebook he had bought her. He came to anticipate the moments when, having found something in the guidebook, she would stop, crane her neck to look for him behind her in the crowds, and then wave him towards her.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing up at the Duomo. ‘They started building this in 1064, Tom. 1064!’
And she would shake her head in amazement, then wander on, nose back in the book.
Tom was less struck by the architectural feats of people long dead and more by her infectious enthusiasm. He lingered, walking a few paces behind her, waiting for the next time she would turn and call his name, hoping it wouldn’t be too long. He liked to hear her say, ‘Tom!’
They had had a leisurely lunch and then strolled back to the hotel to pack. As they turned onto the street where the hotel was, he realised the bubble was about to burst. Here in Pisa, it was just the two of them. Nothing of normal life encroached into their time. As the ending neared and it came near time to return home, he suddenly realised how much he had enjoyed it—this time alone with Katie. He didn’t want to fly back to England and not see her for weeks until they had their final pre-agreed event together.
Their flight was at five, so they had left the apartment and hailed a taxi shortly before three o’clock for the short journey to the airport. It felt like an abrupt and clinical end to such a nice day.
Now, they bounced along in the cab in silence, each gazing out of the window. Katie yawned, and Tom found himself following suit.
His pitch meeting was at four o’clock the next day. He was ready. He knew he was. His presentation was done, the financial projections were ready, the handouts were printed. He would run it through one last time when he got home, then leave it alone.
It would be great to go to the Barnsford Business Awards dinner in a few weeks, knowing that it was the last time he’d attend as an employee and that next year, he’d be showing up as CEO of his own company. CEO and founder with a strong client roster and a clutch of employees of his own.
The taxi pulled up in the drop-off zone, and the driver stopped the meter and hopped out to the boot. Tom jumped out and grabbed the bags. Katie, looking a little tired, tried to take her bag from him, but he swung it out of her reach.
‘It’s fine, I’ve got it,’ he said.
She smiled a tired smile and murmured, ‘Thank you.’
The airport was busy, groups of people huddled together around travel reps trying to make themselves heard, and long queues at check-in desks. The seating areas were full, and tired-looking travellers were using suitcases as seats. As they had already checked in online, they made their way directly to security.
Tom was walking a couple of steps ahead when he heard Katie exclaim. ‘Oh no!’
He turned abruptly. She had stopped in the midst of the throng of passengers and was staring at her phone.
‘What is it?’ he asked, walking back to her side.
She raised wide hazel eyes to his. ‘Tom, our flight’s been cancelled.’
‘What?’ He felt a flutter of worry in his stomach. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I’m trying to see it here in the app, but it doesn’t say why. It just says cancelled and to contact an airline representative for assistance.’ Katie was frantically scrolling.
Tom’s stomach sank. He glanced around the airport at the huddles of people, the long queues, the people sitting on suitcases and the floor. He guessed they weren’t the only ones affected.
He spied the check-in desks for their airline. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’d better go and find someone to talk to.’
As they stood in the queue, Katie was searching on her phone.
‘On the news, it says there have been severe summer storms in Eastern Europe that have grounded some planes, so it’s causing widespread disruption as no planes are where they are supposed to be,’ she said, peering at the phone. ‘It says that short-haul flights are worst affected with some long-distance flights also disrupted.’
Tom clenched his jaw. He knew too well what disruption like that could mean - it could be days before flights returned to normal. He thought of his pitch the next afternoon and felt a swell of panic surge in his stomach. He pushed it down. One thing at a time, he told himself.
Beside him, Katie fretted. ‘Oh god, you have your meeting tomorrow, don’t you?’
‘Mm hmm,’ he managed through gritted teeth.
‘We’ll figure this out,’ she said.
Katie rested a hand on his arm, squeezing gently.
He felt calmed by the touch and took a deep breath. Glancing down at her, he took in her anxious expression. Anxious for him, that he get home in time.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we can sort it out, one way or another.’
They shuffled forward in the queue. Everyone ahead of them seemed to be having the same experience. They approached the desk and asked their questions; after a few moments, the check-in clerk started shaking his head. The customers pleaded and remonstrated; the clerk shook his head again and shrugged; the customers moved off looking deflated. Tom held out little hope of anything other than some information.
He watched the departure boards as they waited. More and more flights came up as cancelled. The huddles of people in the airport grew larger. The queue behind them got longer.
Katie was on her phone. ‘There’s a flight from here at seven o’clock to London,’ she said. ‘Maybe you can get a seat on that, stay in London overnight, and then get a train back in the morning? You could make it.’
‘Okay, that’s an option.’ He nodded, feeling a little of the tension ease in his body. They took a few steps forward, nearly at the counter now. ‘How much are the flights?’
Just one more person in front of them now, then it was their turn.
‘I’m just looking,’ Katie said, typing into the little screen.
Another announcement came over the tannoy. Tom sighed.
‘It’s okay, don’t worry about looking. They just cancelled that one too. Fuck.’
He thought of his presentation at home, of his printouts sitting on his desk. It would all be for nothing, all that work and effort down the drain. He didn’t have any words in that moment. If he missed this grant application meeting, it would be another year before he could apply again, and there was no guarantee he’d even make it to the presentation stage.
‘Tom,’ Katie was gripping his arm. ‘We are going to get you back to Barnsford for that meeting if I have to drive across Europe myself.’
The clerk beckoned them forwards, and Tom strode up, Katie hurrying beside him. After a few minutes of rapid-fire Italian, which tested his language skills to the limit and during which he had to ask the clerk to repeat things a few times, Tom had established the extent of the situation.
As they made way for the next person to receive the bad news, he filled Katie in.
‘So the storms in Eastern Europe are ongoing, and the high winds mean they don’t yet know when those airports will even reopen,’ he said. ‘We just have to check in again in the morning and see what the availability is for a flight home. But it could be a few days.’ He broke out in a cold sweat and raked a hand through his hair.
‘Oh Jesus.’ He dropped their bags at his feet and ran his hands over his face. ‘My meeting…’ he said to no one in particular. ‘I have to get back… my grant meeting…’
Katie grabbed the bags and pulled him to one side and into a quiet spot away from the rush of other stranded passengers.
‘Can you do a video call with them, present remotely?’
Tom shook his head. ‘They specifically state that it’s an in-person meeting, a chance for the panel to meet all candidates as part of the process.’
‘Okay,’ she put her hands on her hips. ‘If tomorrow is the earliest we can get a flight, we can’t stay here. What did they say about accommodation?’
Tom looked at her, all take charge, eyes wide and questioning.
‘That we should sort it ourselves and claim it back from the airline later.’
‘Right, let me see then,’ she said, pulling out her phone. Tom leaned back against the wall and pressed a hand to his forehead. He felt the days and weeks of work for this opportunity crumble to nothing.
Katie’s fingers tapped furiously into her phone. ‘Looks like we can go back to the pensione we just left, which might be the easiest thing to do,’ she glanced up at him.
Tom nodded and shrugged, thoughts elsewhere. ‘Sure, might as well.’
‘Come on then,’ she grabbed her bag and reached for his, but Tom stopped her and took it.
‘Let’s get out of here and come up with a plan,’ Katie said as she looked around for the exit. ‘There has to be a way to get from Pisa to Barnsford by tomorrow afternoon. By plane or train or…by bus.’
Katie marched off in the direction of the taxi rank, the very embodiment of determination.
Tom gave a small smile and strode after her.
Within the hour they were back at their little pensione building. The old man was behind the desk once again. He looked up in surprise as they stepped into the lobby with their luggage.
‘Si, si,’ he said when Tom asked him about a reservation.
He commiserated with them about their cancelled flight, shaking his head sorrowfully before handing them their keys.
A few moments later, they were standing in the living room of the apartment they had left only a few hours before. Cleaned and prepped for new guests, just as it had been when they had arrived the day before.
‘Well,’ Tom said, dropping his bag. ‘Right back where we started.’
Katie brushed past him and dropped her bag on the sofa. ‘My turn on the sofa bed,’ she said brightly. ‘You have your presentation tomorrow. You need your sleep.’
Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Katie marched over and steered him and his luggage into the freshly made-up bedroom. He plopped down on the bed.
‘Take a moment,’ she said, standing in the door way, leaning on the door frame. ‘Take a moment to feel fed up and stressed and pissed off. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll go for some food and make a plan to get you home.’
‘Just me?’ Tom said, looking up at her from his seat on the bed. ‘You living in Pisa now?’
Katie gave a wry grin. ‘The priority is getting you home. If there are two seats, great. If there’s one, it’s yours.’
He felt a pull in his chest at her generosity, admiring the determined expression on her face as she gave him a reassuring nod.
She slipped out into the corridor, and the door clicked shut behind her. Tom took a deep breath and caught the scent of her lingering perfume.
He lay back on the bed, his feet still on the floor and stretched out. The noisy thoughts in his head calmed, like someone had turned the volume down. Shards of light sliced in through the half-closed shutters, and the dim, cool room soothed his agitated energy. He lay still, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths. His pulse slowed to a steady beat. After a while, he stood up, slung his bag in the bottom of the wardrobe, and opened the door.
Katie was curled up on the sofa, her feet tucked under her hips. She was looking at her phone and scribbling on a piece of paper. She had changed into an emerald green sun dress that nipped in at the waist and buttoned up the front. The top button was undone, revealing a glimpse of cleavage. The contrast of her red hair, pale skin, and green dress mesmerised Tom for a moment. He tore his eyes away when she glanced up at him.
She smiled and unfurled her long legs. ‘Want to get some food?’
Tom ran a hand through his hair. He felt stressed and couldn’t imagine eating at that moment. His brain tried to formulate an answer, but when his mouth opened, nothing came out.
Katie looked at him and stood. ‘Sorry, what I meant was—come on, we’re going to get some food.’
She grabbed his hand in one of hers, picked up her bag with the other, and propelled them both out of the apartment.
An hour later, seated in a tiny trattoria, Tom felt a bit better. They had polished off a plate of olives and bread, and he was nursing his second beer.
‘So,’ Katie said, as she consulted between her phone and the piece of paper, which now had scribbles covering every area of white space available. She glanced at him, a warm look on her face. ‘There might be an option.’
Taking a swig of beer, Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘Might be?’
Katie consulted the scribbles. ‘Yes, there’s a train from Pisa to Milan at six-thirty tomorrow morning, takes about three and a half hours. Then there’s a flight out of Milan airport to Birmingham at twelve-thirty. It’s a different airline. They don’t seem as badly affected. If that leaves on time, you’ll have,’ she reviewed her calculations on the last corner of the paper, then glanced up at him. ’Two hours to get back from the airport to Barnsford and the meeting.’
Tom felt his initial surge of optimism fade as Katie outlined the series of events that all had to work out for him to make it back in time, and then he repeated it back to be sure he had it correctly.
‘Providing I make the connection on the train, make it from the train station in central Milan to the airport in time for the flight, provided the flight doesn’t get cancelled, and then provided the flight lands on time at two o’clock and then I can pretty much teleport out of the airport to the taxi rank to make the seventy-five-minute drive back to the office to grab the paperwork…’ he looked down glumly at his chinos and shirt. ‘And present like this.’
He glanced at her face, her head tipped to one side, no judgement in her eyes even as he heard his grumbling ingratitude for the help she was offering. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, placing his palms together as if in prayer and leaning his forehead against them briefly. He looked up. ‘I know you’re trying to help. This is just so important. I’ve put so much work in. So much depends on tomorrow going well… If it goes ahead at all.’
‘Look,’ she said, nodding at the waiter who topped up her wine glass. ‘Be honest with them. Business is usually all about bullshitting people, isn’t it? Trying to put on a front, give people what we want them to hear. I should know.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I write the stuff companies push out to employees and customers. I am the woman behind the messaging.’ She smiled. ‘Tell them the truth. They’ll appreciate it.’
Tom snorted. ‘What, that I missed a flight?’
‘Tell them all of it,’ she urged. ‘Tell them you were away for the weekend, helping a friend and got stuck in Pisa when the flight chaos happened. It’s been all over the news—they’ll know about it. Email them tonight,’ she urged, grabbing his hand. ‘Tell them you expect to be back but might be coming straight from the airport.’
‘Why are you being so helpful?’ he asked.
She shrugged one shoulder, and her cheeks flushed. ‘Guilt.’
Tom shook his head.
‘Seriously,’ Katie said. ‘I’m just trying to make sure you helping me doesn’t mean you miss out on what you want. You wouldn’t be out here this weekend if it wasn’t for me.’
‘As part of a pact we both agreed to,’ Tom said.
‘Yes, and although I suffered through that awful spa hotel,’ Tom laughed as she grimaced. ‘That hardly compares to this. So, do you want me to book these tickets or not?’
He wanted the tickets but was still in his head, caught up in thought.
‘What if I don’t make it, and I lose my chance, and I’m back to square one?’
Katie held his gaze. ‘What if you do make it and they say yes?’
Tom paused. He was holding onto a thread of hope that he could be there to give the presentation. Tell the truth about why he looked dishevelled instead of in a smartly pressed suit. He looked again at Katie, her eyes urging him on, finger poised above her phone.
‘Do it,’ he said.
Katie began typing furiously into the phone and firing questions at him like an interrogator.
‘Name,’ ‘Date of birth,’ ‘passport number.’
Twenty minutes later, she announced, ‘Done. You’re all booked.’ She sipped the last of her wine, let out a long breath, and placed her glass on her napkin. ‘You should probably get an early night.’
‘Wait, aren’t you coming with me?’
She shook her head, her eyes soft in the evening light. ‘Only one seat left on the flight.’
Tom sat very still, watching her, as his heart filled with gratitude.
She shrugged. ‘There’s a later flight out of Milan that still has seats. I’ll see how things are at Pisa airport tomorrow morning, then if necessary, I’ll try to get to Milan for the evening flight home.’
‘I hope you know how grateful I am,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s get something to eat, then head back.’