The Getaway
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Synopsis
Even when you're lost, love can find you . . .
Sometimes it takes losing everything to find the person you need . . .
Most people travel to Croatia for its endless sunshine, pebbly beaches and crystal clear sea.
Kate goes there to disappear.
She needs to escape from a life that has fallen apart in spectacular and public fashion, and no one on the beautiful island of Hvar knows who she is or what she's running away from.
Until she meets another lonely soul.
Alex is different to any man Kate has ever known, yet the connection between them is undeniable. She soon begins to open up in ways she never has before - not even to herself. But Kate is not the only person in Hvar hiding secrets. And, as she is about to discover, it is always only a matter of time before the truth catches up with you . . .
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Praise for Isabelle Broom:
'Gloriously escapist, unashamedly romantic, witty and hugely enjoyable'
Sunday Mirror
'I totally lost myself in this heart-warming, charming tale of love, family and gorgeous Greece. I adored it'
Milly Johnson
'A writing powerhouse'
Carrie Hope Fletcher
'Brilliantly evocative - it's left me longing for a Greek holiday!
Paige Toon
'A gorgeous story of heartbreak, forgiveness and self-discovery. I can't wait to read her future books!'
Giovanna Fletcher
'This book takes you on holiday'
Adele Parks
'Well-written and perfect for a lazy afternoon on the sofa'
Daily Mail
'Combines a wonderful setting with the poignancy of self-discovery and a touching romance'
Katie Fforde
'Brilliant, warm and beautifully judged - I raced through it'
Cathy Kelly
'An evocative and enchanting story'
Cathy Bramley
(P) 2021 Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
Release date: June 10, 2021
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Print pages: 416
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The Getaway
Isabelle Broom
As I sit and write these acknowledgments, it is a year to the day that the country went into lockdown for the first time. I was not actually in the UK to watch Boris “bad thatch” Johnson address the nation. Like any good escapist fiction author, I was away travelling – in New Zealand no less. Not a bad place to be trapped during a global pandemic as it turned out, but I came home anyway. Eventually . . .
I had taken myself abroad to escape for a while. Life had become exhausting, work was relentless and my health – both mental and physical – had borne the brunt. As soon as I reached New Zealand, however, I felt at peace. The multiple tabs that had been open in my mind for so many months began to close one by one, leaving my imagination the space it needed to recalibrate. And while I did not set out on that trip with the view of plotting a novel, I was not surprised when an idea began to flourish.
A story about two lost souls. A love story. A life story.
I feel hugely privileged to have written this novel during lockdown. Not only did it provide me with an often much-needed escape from the everyday doom-scrolling, but it served as a constant reminder that life would return eventually, that we would all be free to set off on adventures again, and that taking the time to focus on yourself can never be a bad thing. I hope you have enjoyed Kate and Alex’s story, and that you have added Croatia to your list of must-visit countries. It genuinely is as beautiful as it sounds. I cannot recommend it more.
And now to my thank yous. I must start, as always, with my readers, without whom I would be a very sad author indeed. Please know that I cherish every single one of you and always will. To all those who read early proofs and shared reviews, it is thanks to you that new readers take a chance on new authors. You are the beating heart of this industry and I love you all.
To my agent Hannah Ferguson and the whole team at Hardman & Swainson, thank you for continuing to champion me and my stories – and for ensuring they find an audience not just here in the UK, but all over the world.
To my editor Kimberley Atkins, I continue to bow down to your brilliance and enthusiasm. Without you, this book would have far more unnecessary adjectives – and far less sex(!). To Myrto Kalavrezou, Alice Morley, Amy Batley and Kay Gale – publicity, marketing, editorial and copy-editing angels respectively – thank you for all you do and for believing in this book. To Catherine Worsley, Sarah Clay, Rich Peters, Iman Khabl and Lucy Howkins – aka Sales Team Extraordinaire – you are all incredible and as soon as I can do so safely, I WILL kiss you! It goes without saying that I am proud beyond measure to be published by Hodder & Stoughton – and I could not be more thrilled to be writing books 9 and 10 for you.
I’m fortunate enough to have far too many author friends to list here, but I would like to send a special thank you to Katie Marsh (for everything), Cathy Bramley (for Corfu and infinite wisdom), Paige Toon (for garden cuppas and laughter), my Book Camp crew Cesca Major, Katy Colins, Holly Martin, Liz Fenwick, Basia Martin, Kirsty Greenwood, Rachael Lucas, Pernille Hughes, Jo Eustace, Emily Kerr, Tasmina Perry, Cressida McLaughlin, Alex Brown and Ali Harris (for WhatsApp heroics), my Nearest and Dearest chums Sara-Jade Virtue, Louise Candlish, Fanny Blake and Claire Frost (for books and LOLs) and Chris Whitaker, Tom Wood and Lisa Howells (for all the love and hilarity). Writing can be a tough and lonely job at times. You all make it much less so.
To all the reviewers, bloggers, influencers, Book Tokkers, tweeters and newsletter subscribers, thank you for all you do and for all your support of this book.
To Edward Oliver (@cgmichaelsillustration), for his beautiful artwork and postcards.
To my friends, you’re all bonkers. But that’s OK, because so am I.
To my family, ditto.
And to Mum – it’s still you I do it all for. Every single word.
Chapter 1
Like most people, Kate Nimble was aware that your life was supposed to flash before your eyes in the moments before you died. But she did not know that the opposite was also true. That when you were perhaps more alive than you ever had been before, everything slowed down to a painful crawl.
Every note of the song you had chosen especially.
Every expression on the upturned faces of your friends and family.
And every second that the man you had just asked to marry you did not reply with a ‘yes’.
Kate forced herself to focus on James. His mouth was open, unhinged no doubt by a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Like her, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. If only this particular affliction had come to her earlier – before she had pulled at that chair, clambered onto it and called the room to attention.
‘I, er . . .’ James gestured around helplessly; his raised arm as flaccid as a sodden flag.
Kate knew that she should move, that she should say something – anything; that she should get down from this pedestal of mortification. But she couldn’t. Her limbs were leaden, her feet stuck fast.
‘I think that . . . What I mean is . . .’ James went on. He sounded helpless.
Kate was beginning to shake. The familiar corners of the pub’s dingy function room felt as if they were closing in. A number of people had their phones raised; the ramifications of this were too awful to contemplate.
‘Excuse me, move aside, coming through.’
Another voice, stern yet soothing. Kate’s best friend Robyn had pushed her way past the semicircle of assembled guests and was approaching at speed.
‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Let’s get you down.’
A sob had wedged itself into Kate’s throat and she forced it free with a laugh.
‘Sorry everyone,’ she called out, catching the heel of her shoes on the hem of her skirt as Robyn half-lifted, half-dragged her off the chair. ‘I was only joking.’
She braved a glance at James, but her boyfriend was staring at the floor.
‘It was just a joke,’ she repeated, her voice cracking as Robyn led her out to the hallway.
‘Don’t cry,’ her friend pleaded.
‘I’m not,’ said Kate, but she could feel the tears building.
‘James must not have heard you properly,’ Robyn went on, in the robust tone of a woman doing her best not only to convince the person she was talking to, but also herself. ‘You just took him by surprise, that’s all. He obviously wasn’t expecting it. Maybe he had a plan of how he wanted to propose to you, so was overwhelmed with a sudden, speechless regret that he hadn’t got there first?’
Kate shivered.
‘The good news,’ her friend said meaningfully, ‘is that he didn’t actually say no, did he?’ She was twisting a strand of her dark hair around on her finger as she spoke, her pale face pinched with concern. ‘Maybe he wanted the moment to be a private one. I mean, he has never been one to draw attention to himself, has he? That must be it – he is simply embarrassed.’
Kate pursed her lips to dam her tears. Horror, like molten lava, was mounting inside her chest.
James had not said no. But he hadn’t said yes either.
‘Shall I go and get him?’ Robyn asked. Then, when Kate did not respond. ‘You’ll both be laughing about this in a mo, you’ll see.’
A leap of faith. That’s what Kate had called her plan. She’d allowed herself to believe she would get what she wanted from James if she could only pluck up enough courage to ask him for it. But she hadn’t done it right; she should have proposed on the final day of February, during a leap year. Not in the middle of a random April. Those were the rules. She hadn’t even been able to get that simple thing right.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The door into the corridor opened and James emerged, a rather pained expression on his face.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ Kate said, folding her arms. ‘You don’t need to look at me like that.’
‘Like what?’ He took a hesitant step closer.
‘Like I’m an unexploded bomb that might go off at any second.’
‘I just thought that yo––’ he began, to which Kate scoffed.
‘I told you, I’m fine. OK, so I just stood on a chair in front of practically everyone we know, on my thirtieth birthday, no less, and asked you if you’d like to marry me. To which you said nothing. Not one single coherent word. So, yeah, I’m just peachy, James; I have never been better.’
‘Please don’t get upset,’ he said, as Kate was again forced to fight a treacherous trembling in her upper lip. ‘I just wish you’d told me that you were planning this; then I could have—’
‘The whole point of a surprise proposal is that it’s supposed to come as a surprise,’ she countered. ‘I wanted it to be romantic.’
‘I know, I know.’ James seemed unable to look at her; his eyes were darting from the ground, to the radiator on the wall, to his own fingers twisting together in agitation. ‘I didn’t want to do this now,’ he muttered. ‘But maybe I should. I don’t know.’
Kate couldn’t tell if he was addressing her or talking to himself, so she remained silent, studying him as he fought to make sense of whatever internal battle was raging inside him.
‘Maybe it’s a good thing this has happened,’ he said eventually.
‘It is?’
Hope bobbed up like a balloon in the space between them.
‘Yes,’ he replied carefully. ‘Because it’s made me realise that I need to be honest with you about what’s been going on. You know, about how things are with us.’
‘What about us?’ Kate’s stomach churned unpleasantly.
‘Well . . .’ James paused to inhale deeply. ‘Things haven’t been right for a while now. Not since we found out abo–– Well, the thing is, we’ve been growing apart since before then.’ He was looking not at Kate as he spoke, but at his shoes – those whiter-than-white trainers that he cleaned after every wear, more often than not raiding the bathroom cabinet for her face wipes in order to do so.
‘Growing apart?’ Kate pulled a face. ‘No, we haven’t.’
‘Come on, Kate – you know we have.’
‘And so this is, what?’ she countered. ‘Your way of saying we need to work on a few things? Of course we do, James – all couples have issues from time to time, and after everything we’ve been through recently, it’s understandable that you might be feeling, I don’t know, disconnected from me. Is that it? Because we can fix that.’
James did not say anything; he merely winced.
‘Oh my god.’ Kate raised a hand to her mouth. ‘You’re not? This isn’t? You’re not dumping me?’
A grimace.
‘Don’t say it like that. You make it sound as if I’m taking you out with the bins.’
‘You may as well be.’
Kate’s tone was becoming increasingly shrill, but she could no longer control it – no longer wanted to control it. She felt strangely as though she had left her body and was now perched up on the radiator beside them instead, watching but not partaking in this charade. Because that is what it must be. James could not actually be saying these things.
‘I’m concerned that neither of us will get the things we want if we stay together,’ he said, glancing up when she did not immediately reply. ‘You know that as well as I do.’
‘I do not. I know no such thing.’
Her disgruntlement might well be as tough as tarmac, but now the anxiety was bulldozing through. Kate found herself abruptly overcome by an unsteadying wave of nausea.
‘We don’t have to get married,’ she hastened, making a grab for his hand. ‘We’re fine as we are – I just got carried away, what with freaking out about turning thirty and losing another bloody job. I only decided to propose to you about half an hour ago. It didn’t even occur to me before then. And I’m honestly happy as we are,’ she insisted, cutting across him as he began to interrupt. ‘We can work on all the things you think are broken. We can’t just give up, James,’ she said firmly, squeezing his fingers between her own. ‘We’ve come this far, haven’t we? Eight years must count for something.’
‘It’s not giving up,’ he said, removing one of his hands from hers to fuss unconsciously at the rapidly thinning hair on his crown. His ‘Prince William patch’, Kate called it. It was the only part of her boyfriend that hinted at vulnerability and she loved it – loved him.
‘All I’m saying is that I think it’s time we accept the facts,’ he continued. ‘I know you’ve been trying – we both have; we’ve both tried really hard for a really long time now. But that’s the thing: we shouldn’t have to try. It shouldn’t be this hard.’
He was speaking so quietly that Kate had to lean forward in order to hear him. The party had continued apparently, despite all the drama she had caused.
‘It’s not as if either of us has done anything to hurt the other,’ James said, sounding as much as if he was trying to persuade himself as he was Kate. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t stay friends.’
He eased his other hand out from her grasp, leaving Kate’s cold and clammy.
Who was this man standing here in front of her, saying these things, striking these blows? He looked and sounded and even smelled like James, but how could it be the same person?
‘But you are hurting me; you’re hurting me right now,’ she whispered, thinking in miserable desolation of the plans they had made and of the home they shared, with its collection of framed movie posters, harmonious scatter cushions and colourful spread of kitchen tiles. She pictured the photo on their living-room wall; saw the smiling couple inside the frame – him tall, lean and serious; her round-edged, wild haired and smiling. That captured moment was already becoming less substantial than a memory, their shared love relegated to a past tense.
‘But it’s my birthday,’ she said in a small voice. ‘You can’t break up with me on my birthday.’
James was looking sheepish. ‘I didn’t exactly plan this, you know. I was going to wait a few weeks before I said anything.’
Kate watched in silence as he chewed over the next few words.
‘But then you got up in there and . . . you know. I definitely didn’t see that coming. I mean, how could I? I thought if a woman proposes, she’s supposed to do it in a leap year.’
Kate pushed her bottom lip upwards morosely.
‘Whatever, anyway,’ he went on. ‘The point is, I knew as soon as you said the words that I couldn’t lie to you anymore. Things just suddenly became very clear.’
‘Things?’ she prompted faintly, staring with unseeing eyes at a patch of peeling wallpaper.
‘All our friends’ lives are moving forward and I feel as if we’re being left behind,’ James said. He seemed to be choosing his words now with delicate care and kept pausing to clear his throat.
Kate was struck by an absurd compulsion to shout at him for not covering his mouth, but knew that if she started yelling, she might never stop.
‘I’m not blaming you.’
But he was. Because it was her fault. Of the two of them, it was she who was the failure.
Kate had begun to shake; she could no longer stand still and began to pace up and down the narrow corridor in agitation. There was a window at the far end, the sky beyond the glass as black as ash.
‘I think I should stay with my folks tonight,’ James said, moving slowly away from her.
Kate swallowed another sob. ‘Please don’t. Let’s at least sleep on it. This isn’t the time or place for this conversation – our parents are in the next room, for god’s sake. All our friends are here.’
James paused at the door to the function room. The fact that the party was still ongoing felt to Kate like a betrayal. The wider world should have stopped spinning, just as her own had.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began, but Kate shook her head, dismissing his words. Moistening the tip of her index finger, she began rubbing furiously at a sticky splatter on the windowsill, thinking that if she stayed here in this spot, cleaning this stain, she would not have to watch him leave; would not see him tell their guests what had happened, or know when he headed down the stairs and out into the night without her.
Only when she heard the click of the door closing did Kate stop; only when the muffled sound of voices followed did she crumple, and only when she felt Robyn’s arms wrap around her did she finally give in to the tears.
Chapter 10
By late afternoon, Kate was beginning to droop.
Alex had constructed an impressive six bunks since that morning, and she had varnished every one of them. Her elbows throbbed, her back ached and she had a pain in her head that two paracetamols had done little more than wave a white flag at. Putting down her brush and stretching out her arms until her shoulders cracked, she set off in search of Toby. The last time she’d seen him was in one of the en suite bathrooms upstairs, laying tiles with Filippo, but when she pushed open the door, there was no sign of either of them.
‘Any idea where my brother is?’ she asked Alex, who was measuring up wood for another of his beautiful wardrobes in the next-door bedroom. There was a pink band across his forehead, a souvenir from the visor he’d been wearing most of the day, and the chewed end of a pencil poked out from behind his ear.
‘Yeah, he mentioned something about going to see a second-hand coffee machine – did he not tell you he was going?’
‘He did not.’ Kate sighed. ‘To be fair, he probably needed a break from me. I’ve not exactly been the best company this past week or so.’
‘Oh?’
Alex wiped the dust off his wristwatch and looked at her expectantly.
‘I’ve just had, you know, stuff going on. And no couple genuinely enjoys a third wheeler tagging along with them all the time, even if they pretend otherwise.’
‘I reckon I’m about done here for the day,’ said Alex, surveying the mess of wood chippings that littered the floor. ‘I can get out of your way if you want—’
‘Oh no,’ Kate hastened. ‘I wasn’t hinting or anything like that. I was actually going to head out myself soon. I haven’t been for a walk yet today and I’m about ready to start climbing the peeling wallpaper.’
‘Right you are.’ Alex folded his arms. ‘I guess it is about that time. I’ll walk down into town with you – if that’s all right with you, like?’
‘Er.’ Kate looked down at her varnish-stained leggings. ‘Sure. Great. I just need ten minutes or so to get changed.’
In the end, it was closer to an hour before she re-emerged, having washed and tamed her dark-red curls, scrubbed the grime off her hands and carefully applied the barest trace of make-up. Kate had yet to venture down into town after dark, having learned that it was hard to separate Filippo from his rooftop barbecue or encourage him to mingle with the tourists.
‘They may be my bread and butter,’ he had told her the previous evening, ‘but that does not mean I have to toast them.’
She found Alex waiting for her on the steps outside, simultaneously reading a battered paperback and tossing a coin up in the air, which he caught without so much as a sideways glance. When he heard Kate approaching, he stood, and she realised he was still wearing the same tattered vest and shorts that he had been all day. His dreadlocked hair, which he had now released from its elastic band, was coated in the same sawdust that she had just spent the past three-quarters of an hour washing off.
‘Sorry I took so long,’ she said, as Alex slid his book into his back pocket. ‘I’m glad you had a something to keep you occupied – is it a good read?’
‘Pretty good,’ he said, not elaborating. Then, almost as an afterthought, ‘You smell nice.’
Kate smiled. ‘Much as I like eau de garden fence,’ she joked, ‘I thought eau de actual perfume might be kinder on the inhabitants of Hvar.’
The sun had long ago vanished and the evening sky above them was a rich navy blue. It was so quiet now that the crickets had fallen silent, and the air that drifted around them carried a faint scent of lavender. Kate led the way and Alex fell into step beside her, apparently content to let her choose the route, even though he must know these backstreets far better than she did.
‘So, you’re staying for the summer, are you?’ he asked, standing to one side to let a thickset Croatian man pass by them.
‘I’m not sure . . .’ Kate trailed off, unsure for a moment how to continue. ‘How much did the guys tell you about why I’m here?’
Alex scratched at his beard. ‘Well, let’s see. Filippo mentioned that things at home had gone a bit south. Something about you needing a break from it all. Is that about right?’
‘I lost my job,’ Kate told him. They had reached the point of the journey where she had met the little black cat, but there was no sign of it now. She hoped it had a house to go to.
‘And I lost my home,’ she went on.
‘Right. That doesn’t sound ideal.’
‘That’s not the worst of it.’ Kate sighed, debating whether or not to tell him the next part. She didn’t want to overshare, but she also desperately wanted an excuse to talk about it – to talk about James in particular.
‘I lost my boyfriend, too. I mean, he’s not dead or anything,’ she said quickly, punctuating her words with a strangled sort of laugh. ‘We split up; he dumped me.’
‘Right.’
Kate waited for him to say the thing that people always said. The platitudes varied, but in the end they were just empty words, meaningless phrases. But Alex did not express sympathy, or tell her she was ‘better off’, he merely asked if they had been together long.
‘Ages,’ she said glumly, punctuating the word with a sigh.
As they started down the long, sloping road that would lead them to the water’s edge, Kate filled him in loosely on how she and James had got together, but left out the part about her disastrous proposal. The last thing she wanted was another person watching that bloody video.
‘I didn’t see it coming,’ she said morosely. ‘I was blindsided, and I think – no, I hope he’s going to change his mind; that he’s just freaking out about things. Everyone does that, right? We’re all supposed to be settling down in our thirties, buying houses and picking out wedding dresses. It is a lot of pressure. I can understand why he’s scared,’ she rattled on. ‘I’m not exactly the best wife material.’
She trailed off yet again, her words mingling now with tears that she was adamant would not fall. Alex had not commented at all, merely listened, the hand that was nearest her buried deep in his pocket. Now that they were approaching the hub of Hvar Town, there were more signs of life – strings of yellow bulbs and notes of music. Kate could hear mumbled chatter coming from the restaurants they passed, the clink of cutlery and the soft pop of a cork being eased from a bottle. The sun’s warmth had lingered and the stars were out in its place. She lifted her face to stare upwards, drawing resolve from the world’s very own light show.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry to drone on about myself.’
‘Don’t be.’
She could feel the weight of Alex’s gaze and dropped her chin towards her chest before braving a look at him. The pale-blue eyes had been turned dark green by the night, but the intensity behind them was the same. It was as if he was trying to tell her something without saying anything at all. Kate did not know him well enough to guess what, but she sensed it would be kind. There was an inherent compassion to Alex; a quality about him that made her feel able to open up as she just had. Or perhaps she was kidding herself and it was purely that she wanted so much to discuss her own life.
‘I don’t even know where I’m going,’ she said, and although she had meant it more figuratively than literally, Alex took it as the latter.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
‘Starving,’ she admitted, giving in to a smile as her stomach emitted a serendipitous growl.
‘Do you like pizza?’
‘Yes!’
‘In that case,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’
Instead of going along the Riva, which Alex told her would be packed with tourists, they turned off the main street and made their way through a complicated jungle of narrow lanes, some of which went up, while others took them down. Within a few minutes, Kate had completely lost her bearings and was trotting to keep up.
‘Will this bring us out near the water?’ she asked hopefully, as they nipped around some outside tables and descended another flight of wide stone steps. Kate had swapped her heels for flats just before leaving the hostel and was grateful that she had.
‘Not the harbour, no,’ he called back. ‘The restaurants down there are nice, you see, but none of the pizzas you’d get there would be as good as from Lovro’s.’
‘Is Lovro the name of a place or a person?’ Kate queried.
‘Both,’ he replied. ‘Best pizza in Hvar – you can trust me on that.’
Lunch felt like it had been ages ago and Kate’s headache, which had retreated temporarily after her shower, was back banging cymbals together in her brain. She needed food. Or sugar. Or preferably both at once.
‘Here we are.’ Alex had stopped so abruptly that Kate almost walked straight into the back of him. They were on a cobbled lane thrown into shadow by the tall buildings on either side, each one with crumbling wooden shutters behind narrow balconies. Glancing up, Kate saw a red, white and green triangular sign with the word ‘Lovro’s’ scrawled across it in black letters and below it a propped-open doorway from which oozed the most delicious smell of warm cheese. Like many of the eateries in Hvar, it was tiny inside – a single room with space for little more than a tall fridge and a serving counter, behind which were large wheels of pizza cut into gargantuan slices.
As they approached the till, a man bustled out through a door set into the back wall. He was grey-haired, red-cheeked, crinkle-eyed and wearing an apron that bore large smears of tomato sauce. When he saw the two of them standing there, he beamed.
‘Zdravo. Alex, my friend, how are you? I have not seen you in a very long time.’
As he spoke, he extended both hands over the counter towards them.
‘Hello,’ muttered Kate, unsure what to do next; whether it was customary to shake Lovro’s hand or go in for a kiss on each cheek. She opted for a smile instead.
Alex started chatting away in Croatian, only breaking off when he turned back to find Kate staring at him with incomprehension.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Rude of me. I was just asking Lovro which pizza he recommends.’
For some reason, Lovro seemed to find this comment hilarious and bellowed with laughter, his rotund middle bobbing up and down underneath his apron.
‘Am I missing something?’ Kate asked, worried suddenly that this Croatian stranger had somehow viewed the #WannabeWife video and recognised her as its star.
‘Lovro thinks we are on a date,’ Alex explained, as the older man readied two paper bags. ‘He was teasing me for bringing such a pretty woman to such a nondescript restaurant.’
‘But it’s his restaurant,’ exclaimed Kate, to which Lovro laughed again. ‘We’re definitely not on a date,’ she told him, reddening as both men turned to her. ‘I mean, not because I wouldn’t be, just because I have a boyfriend. Or I did. I have someone,’ she said with finality. ‘Someone I love. A man.’
For a split second, she was sure she saw Lovro’s face fall with disappointment, but he quickly recovered, nodding at her and smiling as she followed Alex’s lead and selected a slice of the seafood pizza, as well as two bottles of Coke from the fridge.
‘I’ll get this,’ she insisted, scrabbling for her purse before Alex could argue. ‘May as well put the redundancy money to good use.’
Alex let her go through the open door ahead of him as Lovro waved them off from behind the counter, and Kate, wishing she knew how to thank him in his own language, asked Alex to teach her the right word.
‘It’s hvala,’ he said. ‘You say it like the French say voilà, only with an “H”.’
Kate gave it a try, but only managed an odd mumbling sound.
‘Just keep practising – you’ll get it.’
‘How long did it take you to learn the language?’ she asked, peeling back the corner of her paper bag and taking a generous bite of pizza. She had never eaten one topped with octopus tentacles before and spluttered as one of the curly fronds tickled the inside of her nose.
Alex waited until she’d wiped tomato sauce off her face, then said, ‘I’m still learning.’
‘I was terrible at languages at school,’ she confessed. ‘Dropped German and failed French with aplomb.’
‘Isn’t “aplomb” a French word?’
‘Touché.’
‘And that one?’
‘Oui, monsieur.’
‘Now you’re just showing off.’
Kate laughed at that. Really laughed. Not at herself for a change, or because she thought she should, but because she had found something genuinely funny. And because right now, in this moment, eating pizza with this man she had just met, in a country that was almost entirely new to her, she experienced a feeling that had been absent for quite some time.
Happiness.
Chapter 11
‘So, what was it you did before you were made redundant?’ asked Alex, as he led Kate through yet another warre
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