Rachel Does Rome by Nicola Doherty Page B

suggests meeting for drinks because
     Jonny/Jerry/Bill is away.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ says Maggie, laughing. ‘I know you didn’t. I’d love to go somewhere.’
    ‘Really? Great! I know it’s short notice . . .’ Maggie is so sweet-natured that I
     could easily see her agreeing to a weekend away just to be polite, so I’d better give
     her an out.
    ‘No, this is my year of saying yes to things. What about Rome?’
    ‘Rome?’ Instantly my head floods with visions; the Coliseum, the Forum, the Vatican,
     pizza, pasta, sunshine, red wine . . . ‘Yes! Perfect!’
    ‘Oh, wait,’ Maggie says. ‘Sorry. I just remembered, I do have a Valentine’s date
     – with my friend Lily. She’s home for a visit and we said we’d do something that weekend.’
    ‘Do you think she’d like to come to Rome?’ I know this is a bit mad – going away
     with someone I’ve never met. But since my New Year’s impulse holiday with Oliver,
     I’m increasingly open to allowing madness into my life. In small controlled doses
     of course!
    ‘Yes! I do actually. She’d love that.’ There’s a pause while I hear tapping. ‘Rachel.
     Do you realise it’s twenty degrees in Rome right now?’
    ‘Let’s have a look at flights.’ After scanning Kayak for a few minutes, we find a
     reasonable one leaving on Friday afternoon and coming back on Sunday afternoon.
    ‘I can take a half-day on Friday. Where would we stay?’ Maggie asks.
    ‘I don’t know. Do you want me to pick somewhere?’
    ‘Sure, if you don’t mind.’
    As I search on the Internet, I wonder where Oliver would want to stay if we went
     to Rome together. I think he’d be more inclined towards the youth-hostel end of things.
     Our luxurious New Year’s break was an anomaly; Oliver generally has frugal habits
     even though he grew up with money. Whereas I grew up with money being very tight,
     and I’m careful with it – but I also believe in treating myself, and my friends, otherwise
     why the hell am I working all these hours?
    Soon I find what looks like the perfect hotel: Il Palazzetto. It’s in an old building
     with high ceilings and luxurious decor
and
a private terrace that overlooks the Spanish Steps. And best of all, they’ve got
     a last-minute promotion which means it’s within our agreed budget, provided the other
     two are happy to share a room. Maggie emails me back to say that Lily is up for it,
     and they’re going to book flights this evening. We are go!
    On my way to meet the other two at the airport, I’m wondering how we’ll all get on.
     Maggie and I met on holiday, so I know her holiday style; she’s pretty laid-back and
     I’m confident we’ll get along. But Lily is an unknown quantity. All I know is that
     she’s one of Maggie’s oldest friends, that they grew up in the same street and that
     she’s visiting from LA, where she recently moved. I’m hoping that I like her and that
     I won’t feel . . . well, ‘left out’ makes me sound like a teenager, but I suppose
     I do hope I won’t feel left out. I think this is a hangover from age fifteen to eighteen,
     when I was moved to a new school where I had no friends at all and spent all my time
     studying. That was over a decade ago, but old habits die hard – with me at least.
    But as soon as I see them at the airport, any niggling concerns disappear. Maggie
     gives me a big hug and Lily is very friendly, and excited about our trip. ‘This was
     SUCH a good idea,’ she says as we make our way to the departure gate. ‘I’m so glad
     you saved me from a romantic weekend with my dad and his girlfriend, I was dreading
     it.’
    Lily is startlingly pretty. Maggie is pretty too – she’s got a great figure, and
     the kind of bone structure that can carry off a short pixie haircut. But Lily, even
     though she hasn’t brushed her long blond hair and her green eyes have mascara smudged
     under them, is stunning; tall and slim with flawless, tanned skin and a heart-shaped