The Holiday Swap. Zara Stoneley

       Chapter 3 – Flo. Paris and back again

      Florence Cortes liked Barcelona best when the fierce heat of the summer sun had mellowed and the crowds had thinned, not that you could ever call the city quiet. But in the autumn it was still warm enough to laze on the beach at weekends, and even the more popular tourist bars had the odd empty seat in the evening.

      She was nursing a very nice glass of red wine, in her favourite El Born bar, when Oli bounced in. Late as usual.

      ‘Evening, gorgeous.’ Oli kissed her, a broad smile on his full lips. ‘Same for me, please.’ He signalled to the guy behind the bar for a glass of wine before settling down on the stool next to hers. He snuggled in closer, so that their knees touched.

      It was like loving a Golden Retriever; hard to be cross when he looked so adorably happy to see you. No, she corrected herself, it was more like loving a cat. A very demanding cat. He might be asking for cuddles right now, but she seemed to be spending an increasingly large chunk of her life trying to please him; he was like a surgeon – he liked having his patients there in the waiting room ready so that he didn’t have to waste any of his own precious time. The fact that she could have written an article for their magazine, or done her nails, instead of sitting in a bar on her own waiting was irrelevant to him.

      At times it niggled her, but it was silly to let his little bad habits annoy her – and as everybody was always telling her (including Oli himself), she had the perfect life. A lovely apartment, great job, and Oli. She shook off her irritation; he was the perfect man, even her parents seemed to think so.

      ‘Sorry I’m late.’ He hadn’t missed the way she’d glanced at her watch. ‘But I’ve been busy.’

      ‘You’re always busy,’ she tried not to sound cross, he was after all working hard for them, both of them, ‘what deal have you been sealing today, Oli?’

      ‘One just for you.’ He grinned. ‘You’re going to love this. Hang on, I need a leak but I’ll be back in a sec.’ He tapped his mobile phone. ‘No peeking. I’m expecting the confirmation any second now.’ He rolled his eyes theatrically. ‘The things I do for you.’

      Flo was staring at his mobile, which for once wasn’t attached to him, and then it pinged. Just like that.

      She wouldn’t normally dare touch his precious phone (in fact, as it was seldom out in the wild on its own, chance would have been a fine thing), but it was for her, wasn’t it? He’d just said so. She hesitated for a nanosecond – to give him time to get back from the toilet, which he didn’t – then grabbed it.

      Oli had always been pretty spontaneous in the early days of their relationship. In the very early days he’d once knocked on her door with a rose between his teeth and tickets for a gig in his hand, and he’d surprised her with a brand new Vespa scooter when it wasn’t even her birthday, but things had got a bit more predictable lately. But that was what happened in relationships, wasn’t it?

      Or maybe not.

      She scanned the email. Then read it again slightly more carefully just to be sure. Then a third time (it was a very short email) and the bubble of excitement burst out just as Oli got back from his visit to the gents.

      ‘What are you doing with my phone?’

      ‘Oh My God,’ she laughed out loud, ignoring the edge to his voice, ‘Oli. Really?’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s that you’re looking at, Flo?’ He put a hand over hers to steady his phone – which she was waving about in front of his face as she jumped up and down – so he could read what was on the screen.

      ‘Christ, what are you doing?’ He paused. ‘Oh that.’ The nervous twitch and flat tone wasn’t quite what she’d expected. Nor was the way his grip tightened on her wrist as he tried to tug the phone from her grasp, while she was busy attempting to re-read the message. Just to make sure it really did say what she thought. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Florence, give me the bloody phone.’

      Flo froze. Oh shit. Now he was cross (that cat thing again), she’d spoiled his surprise, and he so liked to do things his way. Or not at all. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry, you wanted to tell me your—’

      He shrugged, pulled at the phone again in what was getting to be a bit of a tug of war. ‘This is you all over, isn’t it? Why do you always have to interfere and spoil things?’

      ‘I wasn’t interfering, the message just came in, and I thought, you said you were expecting… Oli, I’m sorry, honest.’ She never normally got a chance to be remotely nosey, he was far too good at being in control. ‘I didn’t mean to spoil… it’s just such a wonderful surprise and now I’ve ruined it.’ Even for control-freak Oli it was a bit of an over-reaction. Flo stared at him, wondering if any moment now he was going to storm out and cancel the whole thing.

      There was a moment when he just stood and stared at her, then his normal quirky grin reappeared. ‘It’s fine, never mind. I know you always wanted to go to Paris, so I thought what the hell.’

      ‘You remembered.’ She shrieked, then relinquished control of the phone, as he’d confirmed exactly what he’d done himself, and grabbed him. ‘You remembered, oh Oli, you are amazing. I am so lucky’

      ‘Of course I remembered.’ His expression was a mixture of satisfaction and slight annoyance that she’d doubted him. ‘I always remember important facts like that. You said it was one of the most romantic place on earth.’

      ‘No, well yes, but I meant you remembered our anniversary. Oh Oli, I do love you.’ And if she hadn’t been quite as excited, and convinced that he really, really did love her, she might have noticed there and then that he hadn’t reacted to the word ‘anniversary’ at all. ‘And going on the train; that is so romantic.’

      He wriggled free of her grip and straightened his top. ‘I thought flying was overrated. This way we’re doing it in style, making it part of the trip. Flying first class would have been a bit of a cliché and you can pack your own hamper and bubbly. It’ll save us some cash too, no point throwing it away.’

      Flo didn’t actually mind being clichéd, or being wined and dined in style, but she was being picky and ungrateful. And this was all fabulous, and SO romantic, and this way they’d have some spare money to go out on their actual anniversary. Oh God, maybe he had something special planned. Like a ring. For her third finger. She tried not to grin like a simpleton. One step at a time, she mustn’t just expect it – that would spoil the actual surprise.

      Oli patted her stool, expecting her to behave and sit down again.

      ‘I’m sorry, I…’

      ‘Forget it.’ He pocketed his mobile. ‘But you know I don’t like people messing with my phone.’

      She could have said she wasn’t just ‘people’, but that might have seemed churlish, and at least he seemed to have got over