The property was jointly owned by MoonStar and two local businessmen who were determined on rebuilding their city. The success of this property rested on ensuring every guest felt the same way here as they did in other MoonStar properties around the world. This was a task far easier printed on a brochure than accomplished. Feeling an urgent need to compensate for its location, the owners had built 380 guest rooms in an expansive area of more than eight hundred acres of land. There were eight buildings and each was thematically associated with a different country like France, USA, South Africa, England, China, India, Germany and Australia. All of these buildings were connected to one colourful reception area. It was their belief that highlighting attractions from around the world would encourage locals as well as foreign tourists to stay at the property, a theory that had thus far engaged in more costs than any profit.
Aside from the usual sales ventures and travel agent offers, regional sales had made it compulsory for other properties to cross-promote MoonStar Rabaul. They had formulated a super saver promotion which included return flight tickets, water sports, travel insurance and meals for the entire stay. So far it had worked like a charm. For more than seven months, the property had seen an average occupancy rate of 60%, with groups arriving from as far away as Russia and England. It was during one of these trips that a particular incident would threaten the property's already fragile state.
A male figure lay sound asleep, his loud snores filled every corner of the room. Rick and Emily had arrived two days ago and had spent every possible minute they could exploring the various water sports offered by the property. Their first long holiday in almost a decade, they considered every minute that was absent of activity, was pleasure wasted.
Earlier in the day, they had spent most of their time snorkeling and were to attend the beach barbecue with other hotel guests but Rick had felt queasy. He knew full well the excitement of the trip was starting to take its toll on him and had changed his mind. While Emily made her way to a host of seafood dishes, he ordered a club sandwich, watched an in-house movie and was in bed by 9:00 p.m. A few hours later, a loud knock at the door woke him up from a deep sleep.
Uncertain of whether he was dreaming, he attempted to pull himself together, fumbled with the bedside clock and got out of bed. The knocking continued.
“Ah Em, you forgot your key again," he muttered as he made his way to the door.
He swung it open and expected to see a slightly tipsy Emily, his wife of ten years, but instead was taken aback at the sight of a little girl. Obviously one of the locals, with long jet black hair, dressed in an orange t-shirt with denim shorts, she could not have been more than ten years old and looked up at him with big bright eyes.
"Sir, would you like a key chain?" she said in a sing song voice.
"Haaaaa! What?! Do you know what time it is? Its 2:00 a.m. Did the hotel send you?" Rick was doing his best to stay calm but could not mask his irritation.
The girl shook her head and held out a little hand with a seashell key chain.
"No ... no I don’t want it."
Unperturbed by his annoyance, she giggled and skipped her way to the next room. Rick closed the door, bewildered that any hotel, let alone a five-star luxury holiday spot allowed such disturbances at such a God-forsaken hour. He turned to make his way back to bed but curiosity gripped him. He yanked the door open again, wondering how other guests on his floor were reacting to the little girl. Rick peeped out to find the entire stretch of corridor, empty. There was no sign of the little girl.
He stepped out into the corridor, turned left and right but it seemed she had simply vanished. With only one elevator, which would have taken her at least two minutes to get to, he was not sure where else she could have gone. Maybe, someone had decided to make a purchase. Maybe, she was another guest's child playing a prank while her parents got drunk at the twenty-four hour bar.
"Hon, I know I'm late but you don’t have to stand out here in your boxers waiting for me. What would the other guests think?" Emily's voice sneaked up behind him in a loud whisper.
"Oh, hey. It was the strangest thing ... she was just here."
"Who was? One evening alone and you are already fantasizing about other women?"
"Very funny. No, there was this little girl selling key chains. It was weird."
"A little girl? Selling key chains? I think the heat must be really getting to you. Come on now, let’s get to bed. I'm exhausted and oh so full. You missed out on a fantastic spread Rick," Emily said as she made her way through the doorway.
"Hmmm okay ... I'm coming."
A sudden feeling of discomfort washed over him. Something about the incident made his hair stand on end, he watched as Emily sauntered into their room and thought maybe he had dreamt it after all. Regardless, he made up his mind to check with reception in the morning, just to be sure.
"I'm absolutely certain, Sir. Any little girl would have had to walk past us in order to get to your room and I was working last night. I didn’t see anyone."
"There is only one entrance to the hotel?" Rick asked still certain that all was not right.
"Well no, you can also come in through the beach but it is a private beach with no other hotels for about twenty kilometers, and whichever way she came in, she would have had to walk pass the counter. I'm sorry you were disturbed but we know nothing of it."
Rick stared hard at the Front Office Assistant speaking to him. Her name tag indicated that her name was Arianna and she had a pleasant, smiling face. Though reassuring, at the same time, she looked like she hid vital information that could explain the entire situation. As if she wanted to tell him more but could not. Maybe, he was not asking the right questions.
"Right, hon forget it. Maybe it was like you said ... some kid on our floor or another floor was trying to be funny. Let's eat, I'm starving again," Emily said as she nudged him.
Arianna watched the couple walk away, waited till they were well out of earshot then motioned for the Front Office Manager, Jarod.
"They saw it too. The little girl. It's happening again. The fifteenth of every month for the last five months. Something is not right. What do you want us to do?"
Jarod grimaced. It was one thing to have an intruder lurking at corners, peddling local souvenirs and iron out security problems, but the fact that this little girl knocked on doors at 2:00 a.m. intruding on single male occupants, worried him more. In recent months, other complaints had been made. One particular couple had heard a loud knock at dinner time and when they had opened their door, found wet seaweed placed at the entrance of their room with no one in sight. Prior to that, a group of students had been scared out of their wits. One night, when they had been taking group pictures on the balcony of their apartment suite, someone spotted a dark figure peering at them from the bathroom door.
An older Housekeeping associate mentioned that the property needed spiritual cleansing, but Jarod knew if the guests or the media ever caught wind of it, the property's reservations would spiral downwards and they just could not afford that at the moment. It was a week later when Cathy stood and looked around the lobby. It was 3:00 a.m. and all guests had made their way back to their rooms. She had arrived three hours earlier and was still skeptical about what they were about to allow. After much discussion and numerous emails, the Vice President of Operations, Peter had agreed for the property to contact a local medium.
Any ceremony had to be done on a day when occupancy was at its lowest. Now, Peter and Cathy watched as the medium started the ceremony of "calling" the spirits out and sending them on their way. They had both insisted on being present, for the simple reason that if the matter was leaked to the media, they would be informed and know how to react. No other MoonStar property had experienced paranormal disturbances or at least none that made its presence known to guests before. So, this was a definite first, for all concerned.
"What do you think? Is all of this really happening or are we just falling prey to unwelcoming locals?" ask
ed an exhausted Peter.
"Where there is good, there must be evil. So I'm really not sure about the presence of bad spirits but it is important for the locals to believe that we are doing all we can. They work here, most of them even live here, they are taught to see and believe these things. Let it take its course, that's all we can do," Cathy remarked thoughtfully.
"Indeed. What fascinating jobs we have," Peter snickered.
As the medium chanted, incense sticks in his hands, they stood in silence. Some of the local associates were also seen offering prayers. Three hours passed before the medium signalled that he was finished. He said he had spoken to a little girl who had drowned at a nearby beach and was now looking for her parents. He assured them there would be no more disturbances. He claimed that he had transported her away from the property. Peter and Cathy lingered in the lobby as the older man received his payment of $3000 cash and made his way to the breakfast buffet already looking content.
"I really want to believe it, Cathy. But for all you know the little girl selling key chains is his daughter and this was all an elaborate scam ... Ahh well, only time will tell," said Peter, still unconvinced of the entire situation.
BODENSEE, GERMANY
September 2009
One of the only lakes in the world running deep between the borders of Germany, Switzerland and Austria, Lake Constance or better known by its German name, Bodensee is a holiday spot enjoyed by people of all three countries and beyond. Dotted with numerous small islands and three bigger ones named Mainau Island, Reichenau Island and Lindau, Bodensee is collectively home to approximately six million people. With regular passenger and cargo ferries that commute between the three islands, tourism is a booming business in Bodensee. Although no specific border line separates the three countries, no major incidences have been reported except for a few fishing and housing disagreements which were resolved in court.
In recent years, heavy rains and flooding has raised surrounding sea levels by approximately two metres causing severe disruption to roads and other transportation services to the Bodensee vicinity, but has in no way reduced Bodensee’s popularity.
Mainau, the flowering island of Bodensee is privately owned by the Lennart Bernadotte Foundation. Given as a gift by Prince Wilhem to his son, Count Lennart Bernadotte in 1932, the island is carefully cultivated with lush greenery and to date has more than thirty thousand rose bushes, with approximately one thousand varieties, and more than twenty thousand dahlias.
Popular for a variety of vegetable farms and its historical structures, Reichenau Island dates back to the tenth century.
Well-known for its majestic harbour that welcomes tourists, Lindau Island is located on the Bavarian corner of the Bodensee. Since 1951, it has also gained worldwide attention for hosting Nobel Laureates Meetings.
Tucked away between these three islands, in a far corner by itself was MoonStar Bodensee. The building was a pre-war mansion that had been restored and provided guests with a stunning view from its private beach and pier. The property also attracted a lot of attention for its hand-carved wooden doors and window frames.
Inside at the Arbon Coffee House, Cathy buttered her toast and took her time to observe the breakfast crowd which was a pleasant mix of local business people, guests staying at MoonStar Bodensee and tourists from other parts of the island. It was her second time in Bodensee and Cathy loved it when she had a little extra time to explore the architectural wonders, the various smaller islands offered. Just when you thought you had seen it all, you would spot a street corner or a building that you had missed. The property was doing exceedingly well and their spa had picked up yet another international award, its seventh in the ten years it was operating.
The previous Marketing Communications Manager who had worked with the property since its pre-opening stages had resigned, due to family commitments. Cathy was staying for a week, to ensure the new Marketing Communications Manager would have a smooth transition. This inspection trip also provided Cathy the opportunity to welcome her to the Communications team.
There was always a fuss about the title of ‘Public Relations’. Most argued that the job scope had evolved into marketing, while some General Managers detested the title of ‘marketing communications’ and guests complained that it was too long to remember. Yet, everybody seemed to agree on ‘communications’ and Cathy agreed with whichever title was preferred by a property’s General Manager.
It was the busiest of seasons for the property, an on-going fashion festival with daily shows in the main ballroom which catered to at least six hundred people, a company annual dinner in the evening for about eight hundred people and a wedding ceremony followed by a ten-course dinner for three hundred people on Saturday.
For Cathy, busy stints were the best times to evaluate a Communications team. A good team was able to take a crisis and resolve it, resulting in a smiling guest at the end. A bad one left the guest fuming, threatening never to return.
It was past 10:00 a.m. and the breakfast crowd was thinning. The people that lingered were either waiting for a tour or in the midst of a breakfast meeting. Known for his power breakfast action stalls, the Executive Chef at the property and the Food and Beverage Department took great pride in promoting “the best meal of the day with the best Chef in town”.
At the table directly opposite Cathy, sat a young mother wringing her hands in her lap, head looking downwards. A blue pram was parked next to her, and Cathy could not help noticing the woman’s nervous mannerisms as she continuously rubbed and pulled at her fingers. A waiter approached and asked if she would like her coffee cup refilled, she looked up at him, nodded and brushed tears from her eyes. Hesitantly he glanced at her, then looked at Cathy who nodded her head acknowledging his concern.
Cathy made her way to the table, uncertain of what to say or do, she gently put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Few people would be at a breakfast table crying at such a magnificent place such as Bodensee.
“Ma'am, is there anything else I can get you? Are you waiting for someone?” asked Cathy gently, still uncertain if she was prying or helping.
Cathy heard the crack in the voice as the woman answered, “No, I’m fine.”
“Did something happen? At the hotel I mean ...?” Cathy saw her shoulders shaking as more tears came pouring down.
When she sat down next to her, the young woman clutched at her hand. At the developing scene, a few guests looked up, and associates at The Arbon did their best to distract them with questions about their stay or the food.
“You must think I am so silly,” she sniffled a few minutes later.
“No I don’t. Really. And if you don’t want to talk about it ... Ms. ...” Cathy responded.
“Claudia. My name is Claudia. It’s just ... all gone and I don’t know what to do,” Claudia said, amidst more tears.
Cathy waited as Claudia dug through a big bag looking for tissues. The baby slept on, bundled up in the comfort of having her mother present.
“He said he would marry me. That he loved me with all his heart and that there was no one else for him ... But yesterday ... He brought us here and I thought ...,” Claudia’s voice trailed off and more sobs came, each muffled from the presence of onlookers and each reflecting bigger hurt than the previous one.
“We met three years ago. He said he was divorced, that he didn’t love his wife. I was so stupid to believe him. It was only when I got pregnant ... that was when he told me that he was still married, that he couldn’t marry me immediately because his wife wouldn’t give him a divorce.”
A soft whimper came from the pram as the baby slowly opened her eyes and peered around, undecided if tears were needed to ask for a little attention or if it would be readily offered. Claudia wiped her eyes and slowly got up to unbuckle her baby from the pram. She held her child close to her chest as the little one gurgled and grabbed at her finger. When Cathy offered to hold the baby, Claudia handed her over and the little one welcomed the attention wholehea
rtedly. As Cathy tickled her, the little fingers gently tugged at Cathy’s red locks.
“She likes you. Loren, that’s her name. Your name is Cathy isn’t it? Do you have children?" Claudia asked, pointing to Cathy’s name tag.
“Oh no, I don’t have kids. She’s adorable,” Cathy said as Loren reached for her blue pendant.
Claudia looked on, relieved that someone else was able to carry Loren for a few minutes and that she was finally engaged in adult conversation.
“She’s very active. Always pulling at something. Do you have someone though? I’m sorry you’re being nice to me and I’m asking you so many personal questions,” she said as she watched Cathy play with Loren.
“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I have someone. We’re not married though. Work ... Well, things are a bit complicated at the moment.”
“Is he married?” Claudia asked hesitantly.
“Oh no. It’s not like that. We grew up together. But I travel for work and he travels for work so we’ve never really talked about marriage.
Frequent Traveller (Cathy Dixon #1) Page 13
