‘Nice try, Michael. I never knew you were such a good actor.’

‘I … I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Flight? Cancelled? The lady at check-in offered me a seat on the six o’clock flight. I presume she made you the same offer so we can travel together after all.’

‘You’re coming to Paris?’

‘Paris? No. Italy.’

‘Italy?’

‘Of course. You can drop the game now.’

Michael looked utterly confused.

‘You sent me a ticket and an invite to Lake Como?’

His expression cleared and changed to embarrassment. ‘Of course, of course. Your mystery lover and his parcels. You’re travelling today?’

Now it was my turn to look confused.

‘Bea, it’s not me,’ said Michael. ‘I’m going to Paris. I … I told you I was going to see a bit of Europe before I went back to Thailand. I did ask if you’d come with me—’

‘You mean it wasn’t you who sent the invite? The tickets to the Italian lakes? Or the gifts?’

‘Not guilty,’ he said, then cocked an ear as an announcement came over the intercom. ‘Last passengers for flight 3312 to Paris please go to Gate Seven immediately as the flight is boarding.’

‘That’s me. I’m so sorry, I have to go. Better dash.’ He hugged me close to him.

‘So it wasn’t you who sent the gifts either?’

Michael looked sheepish. ‘Afraid not.’

‘So why did you insinuate that it might have been you?’

He grinned. ‘Hey, I wasn’t going to give in without a fight.’

‘But you lied.’

‘All is fair in love and war but … it appears someone else will be waiting for you in Italy, lucky man. I’m sorry to leave you like this but,’ he glanced up at the departure board, ‘good luck, hope he’s everything you want and more.’

And he was gone.

I called Marcia and told her what had happened.

‘Meant to be, meant to be,’ she said after she’d stopped laughing. ‘Can’t you see, Bea, it was good that he was there, otherwise you might not ever have realized how you really felt about him.’

‘I guess.’

‘Closure. So what do you want me to do about Sam?’ she asked. ‘How would you feel if it was him? He might already be over there and have heard about the flight delay and be trying to contact you.’

As she talked, I noticed a couple of the people who had been in the queue for the Milan flight were waving at me. ‘Hold on a mo, Marcia.’

I went over to them to see what they wanted.

‘Come on,’ said the lady, ‘the flight’s going after all. They’re boarding now. Gate Thirty-Two.’

‘Marcia, I have to go, flight’s leaving,’ I said into the phone.

‘Oh. OK, but what about giving your number to Sam?’