‘He lives there?’

Luciano had seemed so pleased with himself, until the moment he registered my horror. I could see a moment of regret flicker in his eyes, an awkward shift in his feet.

‘Well, yeah, that’s how Hotel Luce del Sole became the choice for the tour group to stay; Marcello recommended it to Maria, as she stays with him when she’s in Rome.’

I found myself leaving the conversation abruptly, my attention so focused on the green door that I knocked into strangers’ shoulders without apology and ignored their shouts. I don’t know what made me madder, the fact that he wasn’t honest, or that of all the hotels in Rome, he had to choose the worst so that he and Maria could have a comfortable commute? Now I was really mad, madder than hell. I didn’t care if he thought I was crazy, because after this morning I wasn’t completely convinced I wasn’t.

If I were to bang on his door like a mad woman, all wild eyes and flushed cheeks, he’d probably think I had forgone the trip to stay here, hunt him down and offer to bear his children, which I must admit I’d fantasised about in the wee hours of this morning. I had been excited at finding his business card, thinking I had found one person to turn to for help when I needed it most. I had envisioned crying on his shoulder, maybe even for him to rescue me. But after Luciano’s insights, I wondered why I thought I could get help from a person whom I couldn’t entirely trust, who had kept the most ridiculous secrets. About his sister, about his address?

After bunk beds, bed bugs and cold showers, I was over it. Over Rome, over Bellissimo Tours and over him! As much as I wanted to back away—the memory of how we parted last night fresh and raw—desperate times called for desperate measures. Slamming the side of my fist against the door in a series of unrelenting thuds, I stood and waited, my heart racing, my patience threadbare as I stepped forward and banged again. I glanced back towards the hotel and saw Luciano standing with his hands on his head, watching on as if he couldn’t believe what I was doing. His look of terrified wonder did little to deter me, however, and I spun around, ready to knock again, only this time the door opened.

My stomach dropped as I finally began to think through the possible ramifications of my actions; what if he had a wife, a couple of kids? But as the door swung open there was only him standing before me. He didn’t look unhappy; surprised, yes, but not as if he’d been caught out. He just looked like Marcello—warm and lovely, a small smile spreading across his beautiful face as he leant against his doorway and those dark eyes drank me in.

‘Sammi?’ It was like he was seeing things, like I couldn’t possibly be standing there, my fists clenched at my side, my brows pinched together, my face unsmiling. And yet, despite what my façade conveyed, my traitorous heart skipped a beat and I could feel my rage simmer down just from witnessing his smile. All the anger that had driven me here dimmed, and for a fleeting moment I simply wanted to forget it all and leap into his arms, have an almighty meltdown and tell him everything that had gone wrong. How I was homeless and trapped, with no idea what to do or where to go. Marcello must have sensed my despair—surely it was rolling off me in waves—but when he stepped out of his doorway and into the street, it was as if he was checking me over for signs of injury. He reached out for me. ‘Are you okay?’

I stepped back, out of reach of his touch, wrapping my arms around myself. I shut down any whimsical, romantic thoughts I had about him and instead channelled my reality, which was enough for the anger to rise once more.

‘I need to speak to your sister,’ I said, my eyes boring into his.

Marcello slowly let his outstretched hand fall. ‘What did she do?’

I scoffed. ‘What did she do? She left me fucking behind, that’s what.’

Marcello’s brows rose, as if he couldn’t have foreseen a delicate little flower like me using such language. But God, I was mad, so damn mad, even more so when he asked, ‘Were you late? I told you she won’t wait for anyone.’ Instead of simply nodding, being a little empathetic or, God forbid, cursing her on my behalf, he chose to defend her. My vision flashed red.

‘Just because you put up with people letting you down and breaking their word doesn’t mean it’s something that I will let slide. Maria took second-hand information from Jodie, who told her that I had cancelled the second part of my trip to meet up with my sister.’

Marcello remained silent.

‘And to be left behind is one thing, but when Jodie takes my passport along for the ride—’

‘She what?’

‘She took my passport, and now I have no way of getting home, no hotel booking and no way of finding them to tell them I am stranded.’ My voice broke—the last thing I wanted to happen. I just wanted to yell at him and then, I don’t even know, maybe go and have a bit of a sook in the hotel lounge area.

Still he didn’t invite me in, choosing instead to just stand there, his brows knitted together like he hadn’t understood a single thing I had said. And just as I was ready to turn and head back to I-don’t-know-where, Marcello laughed, forcing my eyes to snap up at him.

Was he serious? Did he actually find this funny?

He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, as if he was taking it all in.

‘And all this before lunchtime; you have had one hell of a morning,’ he said, looking at me earnestly.

I squared my shoulders. ‘Yes, it’s been rather …’

‘Shit?’

‘Yes, shit. Really, really shit,’ I said, feeling myself falter, because, try as I might, I couldn’t stay mad at him, not with the way he was looking at me now. ‘How do you say shit in Italian?’ I asked.

‘Merda,’ he said, rolling the word on the tip of his tongue.

‘You make even that sound pretty. Why does everything sound better when you say it?’

He smiled and, damn him, those dimples were back. That was clearly unfair. I tried to remain focused, clearing my throat and sticking to the business at hand.

‘So if you can get Maria to call me …’ I paused.

Where? On what number, genius? You have no place to go.

‘I need to tell her what happened, and that she better check with Jodie about my passport; if nothing else, I need that back.’

‘She won’t have her phone on until tonight.’

Yeah, because she’s so professional, I thought bitterly.

I sighed. ‘Whatever—just get her to call the hotel,’ I said, turning away.

‘I thought you said you were homeless?’ Marcello called out after me.

But I kept walking; this time rage didn’t carry me back. All I felt was complete and utter disappointment.

The cold, hard facts of life were that you couldn’t rely on anyone other than yourself, so as I set up my makeshift office in the lounge area of Hotel Luce del Sole, I drew on an even deeper well of determination—or whatever you call three espressos on an empty stomach.

I had studied the itinerary, phoning each hotel that was listed and leaving a message for Maria at every location. She may have her phone switched off but there would be no avoiding me when the front desk staff handed her a note to call the crazed Aussie tourist at Hotel Luce del Sole as a matter of emergency. I had even left a message at the travel agency, so the first thing they would be hearing Monday morning was a diatribe about the failings of humankind, what were we all doing on this crazy, mixed-up planet, and I how really needed to cut down on the caffeine. Gabriello was kindly going to look after all of my incoming messages, should Maria call after I had left; my next port of call was to find alternative accommodation for however long it took to sort this all out. As much as I hated staying here, I had taken comfort in the kindness of the staff, and in a strange way I had become accustomed to the less-than-glamorous lifestyle: did that make me a true backpacker?

By lunch I was sick with hunger, wired from all the caffeine and calling, yet strangely impressed with myself. I hadn’t spoken to my parents once, never alerted anyone back home to the fact that anything was amiss, I was simply getting on with it.

‘Sammi, I have booked you a room at the Scalinta di Spagna. It’s not far from here and I know Mario, who works there—he will take care of you. Check-in is at two.’ Gabriello handed me a folded-up piece of paper.

‘Grazie, Gabriello—you have been such a lifesaver. I’m sorry I’ve tied up your phone line.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ He waved my words away. ‘You could probably walk to the hotel but Luciano can take you and your luggage; in the meantime you can stay here as long as you need.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, trying to not let the emotion flood me as I looked up at the kind man. ‘If there’s a cancellation, please still let me know.’

Gabriello chuckled. ‘Once you check into your new hotel, I don’t think you’re going to want to come back here.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, it has its charm,’ I said, thinking only of the hospitality.

Regardless, Gabriello straightened with pride. Maybe he didn’t hear many nice things from people around here, so seeing his face light up kind of made me feel sorry for the way I had behaved.

‘Did you want another coffee?

‘Oh, no, grazie, I am done,’ I said, pushing my empty cup towards him.

He smiled, taking it from me and walking back to his station; this time I swear he had a spring in his step. I, on the other hand, despite all the caffeine, felt utterly spent. I slumped back in my wingback chair, studying the strewn papers covered with the mad scribblings of a woman on a mission. For all my running around I still hadn’t got very far, and I didn’t feel all that hopeful. What if Jodie had flung my passport out the window somewhere along the Amalfi Coast? I wouldn’t put it past her. No, I would not feel at ease until Maria and the group returned to Rome, and a week felt like a lifetime away. I only hoped that I could make the best of a bad situation and last the remaining days. I breathed out a laugh; how ironic that, since arriving, all I had wanted was to be on my own, away from the giggling girls and the woo-hooing boys. Now I had got my wish: I had woken up and they had disappeared.

I guess it’s really true what they say.

Be careful what you wish for.