The True Love Travels Series Box Set

by Poppy Pennington-Smith

  Harry’s desk was opposite Helen’s in the big open plan downstairs office. He was her second in command, and Beth had always been convinced that he had a bit of a crush on her. Not that he’d ever pursue it; Harry wasn’t that kind of guy. But it irritated Beth all the same.

  Helen was tall and athletic. She wore high heels, and bright red lipstick, and when she thought no one was looking she perched on the edge of Harry’s desk and laughed loudly at his jokes.

  The upstairs of Cooper's was nothing like the downstairs. It was dark, low-ceilinged and beige. Beige carpets, beige walls, beige chairs and barely a flicker of natural light. It made Beth feel as if she was living in a hamster cage with a tablecloth draped over it, but Jo didn’t seem to care. Her desk was littered with mugs, fake flowers, photographs and garish ornaments. Beth’s, on the other hand, looked as if it was the desk of a temp rather than an employee of six years.

  Raising her eyebrows in Beth’s direction, Jo waved at her computer screen and said, “Have you ever noticed that you look like you’re ready to walk out of the door at any second?”

  “Hmm?” Beth was frowning at her computer, which was performing its traditional Monday morning longer-than-usual warm up routine.

  “You look like you’re all packed up and ready to leave.”

  Beth grimaced. “I wish I was.”

  “Shhhh.” Jo widened her eyes and lowered her voice. “The powers that be might hear you.”

  Finally, the computer whirred into life and Beth began checking through her bulging inbox. By nine twenty, she’d cleared all of the easy to answer emails and had a list of ten more complex queries that would take the rest of the morning to deal with. Her coffee and oatmeal pot still hadn’t materialised, so she opened her desk drawer and broke into a chocolate bar. She was mid-bite when a shadow crossed her screen and Helen’s crisp, nasal voice said, “Beth, when you’ve finished your… snack. Could you join me downstairs at my desk?” She said ‘snack’ as if Beth was chomping her way through a double cheeseburger and fries, and washing them down with a triple-chocolate milkshake.

  As Helen clip-clopped away, Jo leaned over and whispered, “Uh oh. What did you do?”

  Beth stood up, suddenly lacking the appetite for the chocolate, brushed her hands on her jeans and straightened her mustard-yellow sweater. “No idea.”

  “Well, be careful. The vampire looks hungry…” Jo made pretend-fangs with her index fingers and stuck out her tongue. Beth couldn’t remember where the nickname ‘vampire’ had come from, but she felt like ‘black widow spider’ was probably a more fitting description for Helen Cooper.

  Downstairs, crossing from the elevator towards Helen’s desk, Beth glanced over at Harry. He was mid-conversation with a shiny haired couple who were holding hands and poring over brochures of the Maldives. He was good at talking to happy couples. Somehow, he knew exactly the right things to say to persuade them to add on a few expensive extras without seeming sleazy or as if he was trying too hard.

  Helen didn’t look up when Beth sat down, just carried on clicking her mouse and chewing her lower lip until Beth cleared her throat and said, “You wanted to talk to me, Helen?”

  “Beth, yes.” Helen looked up and pushed her keyboard away from her. “I wanted to give you a heads up because Human Resources are going to be having a word with you.”

  “HR?” Beth felt her buttocks tense as she shifted in her chair.

  “Yes.” Helen paused and pursed her lips. Then, dramatically, as if she was revealing that Beth had been hiding a secret career as an adult film star, she turned her screen outwards. Open in her browser was the home page of Beth’s blog. “You didn’t mention that you were a writer.”

  Beth narrowed her eyes, noticing that the ‘featured’ articles that should display on the right-hand side were, for some reason, not showing and making a mental note to investigate when she got home. “Yes.”

  Helen cleared her throat, turned the screen back, and shook her head. “Did you ask permission from myself or another senior member of staff before starting this venture?” Helen glanced over Beth’s shoulder at Harry.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘venture’– I’m yet to make any money from it.” Beth laughed, but Helen simply blinked slowly at her.

  “But you hope that one day it will?”

  Suddenly feeling as if she was about to be tricked into saying something she’d regret, Beth shrugged and crossed her left leg over her right knee. “Oh, I doubt it. It’s just for fun, really.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Helen, tightly. “Did you ask permission?”

  “I wasn’t aware I needed to.” Beth looked at Harry, wondering whether he’d be in trouble for not reporting her clandestine blogging activity.

  “Well, yes, I’m afraid so. Your contract clearly states that you’re not to undertake any other kinds of work… I forget how it’s phrased exactly… but you're especially not allowed to do anything related to what we do here at Cooper's.”

  Beth swallowed hard, disbelief rising in her throat. “I’m not starting up a rival agency, Helen. It’s a travel blog. That’s all.” She should be holding her tongue but she’d never been very good at that.

  Helen stretched her lips into a smile that exposed too much gum. “I know. And I'm sure it'll turn out to be perfectly within the rules of your employment but, nevertheless, you understand that I had to pass the matter over to HR. And that they might need to ask for some clarification from you?”

  “Clarification about what?”

  Helen waved her hand as if it was insignificant, already turning back to her computer. “Just making sure you haven’t used any of the company’s time or resources. Like I said, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Beth laced her fingers together and through gritted teeth said, “Will that be all?”

  Helen nodded and made an mmm sound. As Beth crossed back towards the elevator, she tried to catch Harry’s gaze but he didn’t look in her direction and by the time she got back to her desk she was seething.

  “What happened?” Jo mouthed at her, resting the phone on her shoulder mid-conversation and allowing whoever was on the other end to talk to no one.

  Beth shook her head, tucked herself back under her desk and tried to focus on her to-do list but when lunch finally rolled around she practically dragged Jo out of the back of the building.

  “I need to get out of here.”

  “Costa?”

  “No, Harry will come looking for us. Let’s go to Baxter’s.”

  Jo wrinkled her nose. Baxter's was small, cramped, and the coffee was dreadful. But she followed Beth anyway and, as soon as they were safely ensconced in the corner with their limp salads and weak teas, she placed both palms purposefully on the table and said, “Well? What happened?”

  Beth sighed and scraped her fingers through her hair. She repeated what Helen had said, and Jo audibly gasped and clapped her fingers across her mouth. “But they can’t stop you from having a hobby. That’s nonsense.”

  Beth bristled and sat up straighter. “It’s not a hobby–”

  “Yes, but they don’t know that.”

  “She said something about me using the company’s resources.”

  “And have you?”

  Beth shrugged. She’d been wondering about it all morning. “I mean, I’ve worked on it in my lunch breaks. And Charles, from Fitzgerald’s, gave me some samples of their new walking boots to review. But…” she sighed and shovelled a fork full of lettuce into her mouth. “Oh, I don’t know. Helen hates me. So, even if I haven’t done anything wrong, she’ll probably engineer it to look as if I have.”

  “But she can’t fire you, can she?”

  “I suppose it depends on what it says in my contract.”

  “Didn’t you read it?”

  Beth widened her eyes and tutted. “Yes. But I’ve been here six years. I don’t remember what was in it. I don’t even know where it is. Would you know what was in your contract?”

  “Well, no,
” Jo replied. Then, after a pause, she added. “But Harry won’t let her get rid of you. He’d never...”

  “I’m not so sure. He’s desperate for a promotion. He won’t do anything to jeopardise it. And it sounds like he could be in trouble for not telling Helen about it.”

  “But he’d stick up for you, surely? He wouldn’t let Helen…”

  Beth looked down at her plate, then sat back and folded her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t know. He’s not a fan of the blog. He thinks it’s a waste of time.”

  “Well then maybe this is a sign.”

  “A sign?”

  “That it’s about time you decided whether you’re going to go for it and be a famous travel-writer-blog-sensation. Or…”

  “Or?”

  Jo shrugged and raised her thick dark eyebrows. “Or accept your fate, grovel to Helen, marry Harry, and work at Cooper's for the rest of your life.”

  Beth laughed nervously. But, although she knew Jo was exaggerating, she really did feel as if she was being pushed towards making a decision. A decision she wasn't anywhere near ready to make.

  “Well?” Jo was still looking at her with both eyebrows tweaked comically upwards, the way she did when she wasn’t going to give in.

  “What? You want me to decide now?” Beth laughed and shook her head.

  Jo slurped her tea. Then reached for her phone and slid it across the table. “Maybe this will help you decide. It’s a competition. I think you should enter.”

  Before even looking, Beth knew what Jo was showing her: Nomad, one of the biggest names in the business – a travel agency with offices all over the world – were just about to close a competition that had been plastered all over social media for months. Every year for as long as Beth could remember, they offered the chance for one lucky travel writer to win sponsorship from Nomad, and a ticket to travel around the world, all expenses paid, for an entire year. Blake O’Brien had entered it and he’d posted his piece on his blog, although Beth had no idea why he even needed to when he was already making a living from his work and travelling all over the place.

  Blake O’Brien’s article was the precise reason Beth had decided not to enter; against writers like him, she had absolutely no chance of winning.

  “It’s made for you. It says right here, the judging is anonymous so it’s not about how many stupid followers you have or how big your platform is, it’s just about the writing. And you,” Jo reached out and squeezed Beth’s hand, “are an amazing writer, Beth Greenwood.”

  Beth shook her head, but despite herself she was already wondering, What if?

  “It closes tomorrow. I don’t have time,” she said weakly.

  “So? I’ll tell the girls in the office that you got a stomach-ache. Go home. Write something this afternoon. One thousand words about what inspired you to be a travel writer. That’s all you need.”

  Beth breathed in sharply through her nose. “My dad inspired me.”

  Jo smiled. “Then it shouldn’t be too hard to write, should it?”

  3

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  Beth’s phone was buzzing. Buzzing. Buzzing. She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even five-thirty in the morning. Without looking at the caller ID, she held her phone to her ear and mumbled, “Harry? It’s way too early...”

  “Miss Greenwood?” A smooth, female voice. “My name’s Emily and I’m calling from Nomad World Travel.”

  Beth blinked hard and pushed herself up on her pillows. “Yes, this is Beth.” Her chest felt tight. A little tiny jumping-up-and-down voice in her head was whispering:

  They don’t telephone runners up. This means something. Hold on tight...

  “I’m sorry to call so early. The time difference is tricky.”

  “It’s no problem, honestly.”

  “Great, so you’ve got a minute to chat?”

  “Of course.” Usually it took at least two coffees for Beth to feel awake, but all of a sudden she was tingling and wide-eyed.

  “Excellent. Well, I’m sure you’ve guessed that I’m calling about our travel writing competition?”

  Beth swallowed hard but couldn’t make any sounds come out of her mouth.

  “Usually, we narrow the entries down to three finalists and then we get them to write another, commissioned, piece. But, as you know, this year we’re doing things a little differently.”

  “Differently?” Beth hadn’t even read as far as the ‘What Happens Next’ section in the entry guidelines. She’d just typed her one-thousand words, said a prayer, and emailed it off into cyber space, assuming that would be the end of it.

  “This year, we’re only selecting two finalists and, this is the really exciting part, those two finalists are going to be sent on a very special trip. They’re going to be asked to blog about their journey and, at the end of it, the best blogger will win.” Emily really did sound excited.

  “That’s...” Beth’s heart was pounding.

  “Beth?”

  “Mm hmm?”

  “We’ve selected you as one of our finalists.”

  “I...”

  “Congratulations!”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, what I need you to say is that you’re going to be available for a two-week trip across Canada, leaving in a month’s time. May 1st. Can you do that?”

  “Canada?” Beth could hardly believe what was happening, and she couldn’t sit still any longer. Leaping out of bed, she started to hop up and down. “Yes! Absolutely! Of course!”

  “Fantastic! Well, listen, I’ll let you go shout about the good news and I’ll email you over our terms and conditions, the itinerary, and the contact details of the other finalist in case you guys want to be in touch before you set off.”

  “Thank you. So much.”

  “Beth, it’s our pleasure. Your piece was fantastic. And I wish you lots of luck with the final phase of the competition.”

  After putting down the phone, Beth got ready for work in a daze. Mum was already at the hospital for an early shift and without someone to squeal and shout with, she felt suddenly overwhelmingly nervous. This was huge. The biggest thing that had ever happened to her. It could change her entire life – but was she ready?

  All the way to the office, she barely spoke. And Harry watched her intently, constantly glancing at her from the corner of his eyes, clearly convinced she was having some kind of breakdown.

  Finally at her desk, she quickly opened up her emails and there at the very top of the list of unread mail was the message Emily had promised her.

  Instructions For Finalists.

  Congratulations!

  You have been selected as one of just two finalists in this year’s Round the World Travel Writer’s Competition.

  You and your fellow finalist will be competing to win an all-expenses paid round the world trip (you will be permitted to take a friend or family member of your choice), sponsorship for your blog, and $10,000 spending money.

  For this final part of the competition, you will embark on a two-week train journey across the beautiful country of Canada, starting in Vancouver and ending in Toronto. You will be accompanied by a Nomad member of staff, all food and accommodation will be paid for, and we’ll give you a daily allowance of one-hundred Canadian dollars for the duration of the trip. We will be asking you to submit one blog entry every two days, talking about your experiences. You will be judged on your blog’s popularity, the strength of your writing, and your personal style.

  Full instructions, terms and conditions, itinerary and competition rules are attached to this email. Please confirm within 24 hours that you are able to travel to Vancouver on May 1st.

  Best wishes,

  Emily

  Beth was re-reading the email with her mouth slightly open when Jo pinched her shoulder and whispered, “What on earth are you reading? You’ve barely looked up since you got here...”

  Beth, still speechless, tilted her screen towards Jo and allowed her fingernai
ls to grip the desk in front of her. Twenty-four hours. She had twenty-four hours to decide.

  As Jo read the email, Beth watched her friend’s face become more and more flushed and eventually Jo let out a tiny squeak, grabbed Beth by the arms, hauled her up out of her seat and yelled across the office, “This woman, ladies and gentleman, is a genius!”

  All around her, colleagues looked up from their desks with raised eyebrows and curious grins.

  “She’s only gone and made the final of the Nomad competition!” Jo said it before Beth could stop her, and suddenly the entire office was crowding around, peering at the email, hugging, jostling, congratulating.

  “Well, I haven’t decided if I’m going to...” Beth began to speak but Jo pressed a finger to her lips and said, “Don’t you dare. Of course you’re going.”

  “But...”

  “Beth Greenwood, this is the chance of a lifetime. There’s no way I’m letting you turn it down.”

  “You really think I should...?”

  “Beth. You could win this. It could change your life.” Jo was grinning – a true, ecstatic, so wide it was probably hurting her cheeks kind of grin.

  Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Beth’s nerves started to melt away, replaced by a tingling sense of pride and excitement. Then, just as she was about to shoo everyone away, sit down and reply to Emily with a big fat YES I ACCEPT, the room started to hush.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Helen.

  Beth’s colleagues instantly started to scurry back to their desks, until it was just her and Jo lingering in the middle of the room.

  “Helen...” Beth glanced at Jo, and Jo nodded at her. She had no choice. She had to tell her boss what was going on.

  Beth swallowed hard. “Helen, I have some news. I’ve been selected as a finalist in Nomad’s travel writing competition.”

  Helen’s eyebrow twitched. “A finalist? This is with your blog I assume?”

  Beth nodded. “Well, sort of.” She paused and then, like ripping off a band-aid, as quickly as possible she said, “I’d have to travel to Canada for two weeks on May 1st.”