Finding Claire on any given day was always a process of elimination. Useless at answering her phone, she could be anywhere between her and Louis’ apartment, Louis’ restaurant, Noire, and Hotel Trocadero, where Claire spent a lot of her time. I opted for the last; with a little help from the operator, I was put through to the Hotel Trocadero, as I had been a million times before.

‘Bonjour, Hotel Trocadero, how can I help you?’

I smiled, feeling better already at hearing Cecile’s friendly voice.

‘Bonjour, Cecile, it’s Sammi.’

‘Ah, oui, Sammi, but of course, I would know that voice anywhere.’

‘What gave it away? The hideous Aussie accent?’

‘Oh, Sammi, your voice could never be hideous.’

I breathed out a laugh, loving the way she pronounced hideous with her accent.

Idious.

‘How can I help you?’

‘I am trying to track down my sister. Is she with you guys today?’

There was a pause at the other end of the line, so long that I wondered if I had been cut off.

‘Hello?’

‘Oh, sorry, Sammi, I am here.’ Cecile sounded a little panicked.

‘Oh, so is Claire there? It’s kind of important I speak with her.’

‘Is it an emergency?’ Cecile sounded cagey. I half expected her to ask for a secret password next.

‘Very much so. I am in Rome at the moment and I just really need to speak to her.’

‘Oh, Sammi, don’t you know? Well, of course not—she told me not to say anything. It was meant to be a surprise. Oh, I am confused.’ Cecile definitely sounded panicked, which only made my heart beat faster.

‘Told you what?’

‘It was meant to be a surprise.’

‘Cecile, please, I’m about two seconds away from booking a plane ticket to come to Paris.’

‘No!’ Cecile blurted out. ‘No, you mustn’t do that.’

‘Cecile, what is going on?’ I gripped the phone so hard that I feared I might snap it in two; I glanced at Gabriello, who was watching me with interest. I pulled at the cord, though it had very little slack from behind the desk, and turned away for some privacy.

‘Cecile, please,’ I begged.

Again with the silence, followed by a sigh. ‘Okay, but you never heard it from me.’

‘Heard what?’ I snapped, my patience now paper-thin.

‘Claire wanted to surprise you when you got home from Italy. She didn’t want to interrupt your holiday, seeing as you were having such a good time.’

I scoffed. Trust Mum and Dad to pass that on; oh, how wrong they were.

‘So Claire and Louis decided to fly home to Australia and be there when you got back; oh, please don’t tell them I told you, please act surprised when you see them. They were even going to pick you up from the airport.’

‘Australia? You mean they’re home?’

‘Well, almost; they left last night.’

I closed my eyes; of all the times for Claire to be spontaneous, I really wished it hadn’t been now.

‘Sammi, are you there?’

The silence was now my fault. I faked a laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for telling me. I will act surprised, I promise.’

‘Of course, if you want to come to Paris we would be more than happy to help you.’

‘Thanks, Cecile, but I better wait until Claire is there to show me around. She would never forgive me if she couldn’t take me to her favourite patisserie.’

‘Oh, but of course.’ Cecile laughed, understanding the passion Claire had for baked goods.

Thanking Cecile and bidding her goodbye, I hung up the phone with an even clearer, if somewhat deflated, purpose.

I might as well go home. There was nothing for me here, now; the thought of booking another tour made me shudder, and the idea of exploring in the footsteps of the Bellissimo tour in order to discover Italy left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Nope, Italy was tainted alright, thanks to Jodie. I dialled the operator, motioning for a pen and paper from Gabriello. No, my mind was clear. I let the fact of my sister’s sweet act numb the pain of me going home; at least I’d be able to see and hug her, the true comfort I needed after this disastrous holiday. I could feel my nerves stilling, just thinking of it.

Home.

I pulled the cap off the pen with my teeth as I spoke to a sales consultant at Alitalia, asking to book the next flight to Melbourne. I felt good about it; with every click on the other end of the line and the helpful woman rattling off times and dates, I felt in control again, a step closer to home and ready to leave this place once and for all.

‘Passport number? Hang on a second, I just have to …’ I clamped the phone between my ear and shoulder, delving into the side pocket of my bag, rummaging and scraping through the interior, much as I had when trying to find the key with Marcello. A memory of his dark eyes momentarily distracted me from my mission.

Not now, Sammi, focus!

Finally my fingers skimmed over the familiar rectangular passport holder.

‘Eureka! Okay, sorry about that, my passport number is … oh, God.’

‘Signora?’ The voice on the other end of the phone suddenly sounded faint, and very far away.

‘I’ll have to call you back,’ I said, leaving the phone sitting on its side on the counter as I rummaged more violently through my bag. ‘No, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.’

Gabriello placed the receiver gently back on the hook. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘My passport, I can’t find my passport!’ I shouted, upending my bag onto the floor and sifting through the pile.

Just breathe, Sammi, it has to be here somewhere. It just has to be.

Gabriello was by my side in a flash, probably more concerned about calming me down and stopping me from frightening the other guests.

‘Stay calm, you will find it. Have you checked your suitcase, your room?’

‘I keep it in this bag, in this cover. I always keep it here, it couldn’t possibly be anywhere else.’

‘Is there anything else missing from your bag?’

I ran my fingers through my hair, before searching more violently through my bag’s contents, now strewn all over the floor. ‘No, no, everything else is here, just not my passport,’ I said, flicking up the navy-blue cover, triple-checking in case I had made a mistake.

‘I’ll check with housekeeping to see if they have come across anything; Luciano!’ Gabriello called out to the front door where he stood. ‘Come, help Sammi retrace her steps—she can’t find her passport.’

But as Luciano came to my side, reeking again of cigarettes but ready to offer a helping hand, I was resigned to the fact, shaking my head and holding up my hands. ‘It’s no use, it’s gone,’ I said, my voice trembling. My eyes welled with hot tears; it was all too much.

‘Come on, Sammi, you can’t give up like that. People lose their things all the time, even passports, and we always end up finding them,’ said Luciano.

‘That’s right, always slipping down the sides of furniture, or falling onto the floor or under a bed. I will get the entire staff to tear this place apart until we find it,’ said Gabriello.

It should have given me hope, but it didn’t because I knew it was futile. I knew with a deep-seated bitterness that they would never find it, because I knew exactly where it was—or, more importantly, who had it. I could picture her right now, sitting on a bus winding along the Amalfi Coast, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Jodie had wanted to destroy me, so well done to her.

She had finally succeeded.