Destination Chile. Katy Colins

best friend was soon to give life to another human being, my other best friend was starting a new life down under with her doting boyfriend, whereas mine was currently on a date with his stunning ex-girlfriend. Plus, he knew Shelley’s Australian bombshell and hadn’t prewarned me. But then again I’d found the ring he was going to propose to me with, so why did this matter? Even in my happiest moments, when I knew I had achieved and experienced things not a lot of people would do in a lifetime, I would still feel those crushing dark thoughts tap at my mind that I was missing out on what others had. That I had been left behind in some way. I always thought that – if things had previously gone to plan – by now I would have had a baby with Alex, that we would have celebrated our wedding anniversary and maybe even added an en-suite bathroom to our house.

      When he’d called it off I’d been faced with an alternative to what I guess is the ‘pre-packaged’ idea of how you are supposed to live your life with the husband, children and mortgage. My life was now focused on growing my business, getting to see the world, building a future with Ben and doing the things that made me happy. I fluctuated between feeling unsure that I wanted to follow the traditional path, as it hurt me so much last time, yet eager not to miss out on what deep down I desperately wanted – a loving husband, a healthy child and a place to call home. I guess settling down doesn’t mean you have to settle. I felt an excitable tickle in my stomach when I thought about the upcoming proposal from Ben and how honoured I would feel at him getting down on one knee. So then why was I suddenly so unsure? And how could he be on a date with his ex if he was about to ask me to marry him? What was he playing at? It was all so confusing, and my strong cocktail wasn’t helping me think straight.

      Once I’d drank all the booze, including two more special Georgia cocktails, and decided it would be hilarious to use Marie’s birthing ball as a prop in my version of Miley Cyrus’s Wrecking Ball video, it was time to call it a night. Shelley was meeting Jimmy at his gym once he’d finished his late night class so I left Marie’s in a fug of hugs and cocktail breath, and ordered an Uber to take me home.

      ‘All right, love? Good night?’ The shaven-headed, plump driver asked as I slipped into the back of his Corsa.

      ‘No. Not really. I’ve just found out that my best friend is moving ten thousand miles away and my other friend knew and didn’t warn me. Plus, my boyfriend has been hanging out with his ex-girlfriend on the sly and I drank some nasty cocktails and now have heartburn to go with my heartache.’

      ‘Oh.’ He drew in a breath and sucked his teeth; he turned down the radio station he’d been listening to. ‘That’s going to hurt.’

      Realising that I had an impartial and sympathetic listener I then proceeded to tell him everything that had happened over the past few hours in drunken, inane detail. By the time he pulled up at my flat I felt like that old woman from Titanic who’d taken a four-hour film to explain one life event.

      ‘And that is why, even with all this going on,’ I slurred, waving my hand into thin air and whacking my wrist into his headrest by accident. ‘Even with this, I’m still going to be fine. Fine.’

      He flashed me a look of relief as I stumbled out of his car. I eventually made it inside my flat after struggling to get my key in my front door and turn the handle at the same time. But when I realised Ben wasn’t home yet, I felt a heavy weight press on my shoulders.

      I was going to be fine, but today, today was not that day.

CHAPTER 5

       Auspicious (adj.) – Attended by good fortune; prosperous

      I was battling through storm Bertha, or whatever the weather presenters had named this one, as I made my way from the warmth of our shop to go to a lunch meeting. Luckily, I knew the person I was meeting quite well, otherwise they would have taken one glance at the drowned rat look I seemed to have adopted and called off any business arrangement right then and there. My umbrella was probably doing more harm than good as I gripped the handle with my icy hands, finding it hard to breathe as cold gusts choked my throat.

      I’d called him earlier as I glanced out of the window at the apocalyptic street scene to see about changing the date of this meeting, but he was adamant that we had to meet today, the sooner the better he’d said. I was now rushing behind schedule to meet Rahul, the part-time tour guide who I’d met when I’d travelled to India. He was back in Manchester and had booked us a table in Rocco, a fancy Spanish restaurant that had recently opened not far from the bank, so at least I could nip in there and do some business admin and not feel so guilty about being out of the office for what would basically be a gossip session with a friend.

      I half tumbled into the elegant room, which was full of white, starched-linen tablecloths, industrial steel and exposed brickwork, with splashes of deep red and blood orange. It was less quaint, Mediterranean tapas, and more hipster, Brooklyn loft. The large glass door slammed shut behind me, making the other diners turn and tut at the wild-haired woman with watering eyes and wind-slapped cheeks who’d stumbled in with all the grace of a charging rhino.

      ‘Good afternoon, do you have a reservation?’ The maître d’ asked, able to hide his look of disgust on his Botoxed features.

      ‘Georgia!’

      I was saved from having to reply as Rahul strode over and pulled me into an enveloping hug, filling my nose with citrus aftershave.

      ‘You made it! Come in and let’s get you warmed up.’ He nodded his thanks to the maître d’ whose face lit up like the Blackpool Illuminations at being so close to this demi god. Subtle, mate, real subtle. Although, to be fair, Rahul was a hottie. There was no denying it. Wearing a tight but perfectly fitted pale grey suit and white shirt that could have been starched along with the tablecloths, he was a sight for sore eyes. His head of thick, dark hair only offset his tanned complexion and made his light-olive eyes appear even brighter. He did not look like he had been out in the same weather that I just had, more like he had teleported himself in, as not a hair was out of place.

      ‘Sit down, sit down.’ He pulled out a chair for me as I flinched at the heat coming back to my frozen body. My fingertips started to tingle and I felt the colour rush to my glacial cheeks. ‘So, how are you?’

      ‘Cold, windswept, but happy to see you again! It’s been ages,’ I said, winding my scarf from around my neck, managing to almost choke myself in the process. Classy, Georgia, really classy.

      ‘I know I know, but better late than never, hey?’ He flashed a pearly white smile. ‘So how’s everything going at work? The last time I saw you was when that article about you and what happened with the Indian tour had just come out.’ He shook his head in disbelief at how much time had passed since then. ‘What was it? Farting during a yoga class?’

      ‘Yeah, my “unusual management technique”,’ I said, indicating air quotes with my fingers and laughing. ‘Although it seems to have paid off, as we’re doing really well, thanks.’

      I still couldn’t believe just how much our profits had risen since that, and subsequent, media coverage. The power of the press. At the time I had been beside myself, preparing for the absolute worst, thinking the stinging poison pen of journalist Chris Kennings would damage our brand beyond recognition and put us out of business. I mean, I did fart on the poor fella; what else did I expect from a ruthless national journalist to get his own back?

      Thankfully, the review was mostly positive and had since led to increased bookings in nearly all of our tours. If I was honest, it really had been the catalyst for our sudden growth, allowing us to take on Conrad and, seeing our healthy bank balance, had planted the seed of the potential London expansion in Ben’s mind.

      ‘Crazy how things work out. The moments you dread the most can turn out to be the ones that make you,’ I mused, shaking my head.

      ‘Well, however it came about, it is still amazing news!’ He chinked his glass to mine.

      We ordered from