Destination India. Katy Colins

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      ‘I will, I promise. So how have you spent the rest of your birthday? Get any nice presents?’ I asked my dad, wanting to change the conversation and quickly. There was something about being around my parents that made me revert to being a sulky teenager, not wanting to talk about boys – or at least this one boy in particular.

      ‘Well yes. Your mother here outdid herself this year with this top-of-the-range digital radio.’ The laughter lines around my dad’s eyes crinkled as he spoke. ‘You should see it, Georgie. I can tune into radio shows I never even knew existed before. I mean, what will they think of next?’

      I was listening to him tell me about how he was listening to a gardening talk show hosted by a man called Wayne in Dorset, when my phone buzzed. ‘Sorry, I need to take this. Hold that thought; I’ll only be a minute.’ I got up, trying not to bang my head on the eaves we were sat under to answer it.

      ‘Oh right, OK.’ My dad nodded sadly.

      I quickly headed outside, walking out of the warm cosy restaurant into the chill of the spring wind so I could hear the caller better. I had completely forgotten I’d scheduled a late call with Dan Milligan, head of sales for the leading travel magazine Itchy Feet. I’d been working on trying to secure some advertising space with them as I’d noticed all our competitors had super-snazzy, full-paged ads and whatever they could do we could do better.

      ‘Evening. Georgia Green speaking,’ I said in my poshest phone voice, hoping the fading sound of sirens wouldn’t be too noticeable.

      ‘Hey, Georgia, Dan here. I wanted to give you a call ‘cause, as you know, today’s the last day for advertisers to bag space in the next issue. I’ve got a cracking deal that I may be able to sort out for you.’

      He then launched into a rehearsed sales pitch covering readership numbers and other figures I didn’t fully understand but that sounded impressive before taking a dramatic pause.

      ‘So … as we’re really keen to include up-and-coming tour operators in the mag, keep it fresh and bang up to date you know, we could do you a half- or full-page ad for …’ he paused again ‘… forty per cent less than the usual price.’

      ‘Wow, that’s a lot less than I’d expected.’ I coughed in surprise.

      He let out a cheesy, game-show-host-style laugh. ‘The thing is, I can offer it to you at this price as we are literally down to the wire, meaning I will need that information, like, pronto. It has to get off to the printers ASAP, if you know what I mean?’

      ‘Tonight? It can’t wait until tomorrow?’ I glanced at my watch. I’d have to leave my dad’s birthday dinner to rush back and quickly knock something up. Plus it would mean not running this past Ben first. Surely they could wait until tomorrow morning?

      ‘No can do. I’m already stalling things ‘cause I wanted to offer this heavily discounted rate to you. We’re basically giving this away!’

      I stayed silent thinking it through; even with the cheaper price it was still a huge chunk of our advertising budget.

      Dan must have sensed my apprehension. ‘You know, I do have Totally Awesome Adventours waiting to hear from me too. I wanted to offer you first refusal but I know as soon as I get off the phone to you they’ll snap this offer up.’

      Usually Ben was in charge of the advertising budget but this was too good a deal to resist; I’d have to apologise to my dad but I was sure he’d understand. I took a deep breath.

      ‘Yeah, great, let’s go for it. Count us in.’

      ‘Excellent. Let me make some calls and I’ll bell you back to confirm. Once that’s done then I’ll need your copy in the next hour.’

      ‘You have my word.’ I smiled to myself and hung up.

      I’d lost track of time. My arms were covered in goosebumps and my teeth were chattering, but I’d managed to bag us a full-page coloured ad in the next issue. I couldn’t wait to tell Ben. OK, so he may go a little mental at how much of the advertising budget I’d just blown in the space of five minutes, but I was convinced it was the right thing to do.

      Things were really taking off with Lonely Hearts Travels, our bespoke travel tours designed to help broken-hearted singles go from lost to wanderlust with like-minded people. Since we launched back in November I’d lived, eaten and slept the business, desperate for it to become a success and amazingly it seemed to be working. I rubbed my arms and headed back into the restaurant.

      ‘I’m so sorry. That took longer than I thought …’ I faded out once I took in my mum’s pissed-off, tight face and my dad’s disappointed, creased forehead. Their dinner plates were empty whilst my spaghetti carbonara had congealed into a disgusting buttercup-yellow sticky mound.

      ‘We couldn’t wait any longer.’ My mum pursed her lips.

      ‘Oh, right – course. Sorry,’ I mumbled, trying to get my fork into the dried-out sauce, after scraping a layer of skin off the top. I couldn’t stomach it so pushed the plate away. ‘So, tell me what else you got for your birthday,’ I said to my dad who was struggling to make eye contact with me.

      ‘Well, the lads down the local clubbed together and bought me a new –’

      The sound of my ringtone cut him off. ‘Sorry.’ I winced. ‘I won’t be long.’ I picked up my mobile and headed back outside once more.

      ‘Georgia!’ Dan said cheerfully on the other end. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal!’

      ‘Wow, erm, great.’ Was it strange that a slight nugget of worry was dancing in my stomach? No, this was too good to let pass, especially not to those Totally Awesome Adventours bastards.

      ‘The only thing is I’ll need your copy in, like, the next hour or so. That going to be a problem?’

      I shook my head. ‘Nope. I’ll get onto it right away.’

      I hung up and was just about to go back inside, working out how quickly I could get away and back to my office, when the main door of the restaurant opened and out came my parents, wrapped up in their winter coats.

      ‘Mum, Dad? Where are you going?’ I called out and jogged over to them. ‘We’ve not had dessert yet,’ I said, rubbing my arms for warmth.

      ‘Georgia. We’re going home. We came here to see you, not to sit staring at an empty third chair and being gassed by strange men’s farts,’ my mum snapped. ‘Have you forgotten it’s your dad’s birthday? That all he wanted was to see you and spend some family time together?’

      Even though I did need to be making a move myself I didn’t want tonight to end like this. My stomach dropped and my cheeks grew flushed. ‘I told you I was sorry; I’m just caught up in the middle of something that I needed to get sorted. But it’s done now. I’ve managed to get us into Itchy Feet; you know that magazine I mentioned a few weeks ago?’

      My dad cleared his throat before giving me a weak smile. ‘That’s nice, love. Sorry to be a party pooper but I’m just feeling a little tired – you know how it is getting older and all that. Another time?’

      I nodded and bit my lip. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

      ‘Georgia, СКАЧАТЬ