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The Tour Page 26

by Jean Grainger


  Carlos looked puzzled.

  ‘Do you mean Anastasia Petrenko?’

  Conor’s cheerful tone did not betray his mounting irritation. ‘The very one. Is there more than one Anastasia working here?’

  ‘No, at least I don’t think so,’ Carlos replied. ‘But excuse me Conor, are you telling me she will not be covering her shifts as normal? Miss Petrenko knows the procedures regarding annual leave. All requests must be submitted in writing at least three weeks in advance and then I make a decision depending on what is going on in the hotel at the requested time. I’m afraid it is completely out of the question for any staff member to take leave at such short notice. Also…to ask someone else to approach me on her behalf, well I am shocked to be frank that she would…I’m sorry did you say you are taking Anastasia on a holiday…I don’t understand.’

  Conor lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. ‘Carlos, Anastasia is my girlfriend. I want to take her away for a few days as a surprise. She’s had a tough few weeks, what with her mother being sick and everything…’

  Carlos gave a disdainful snort. ‘Anastasia Petrenko is your girlfriend?’

  ‘Yes, Carlos she is.’

  Katherine O’Brien, having overheard most of the exchange between the two men, left the Reception desk and marched over. Standing beside Conor, she said in a tone that brooked no argument: ‘I’m sure we can organise that, can’t we Carlos? I mean after all, given the business that Conor brings to this hotel, it would be our pleasure to do something for Conor in return. Anastasia must be entitled to holidays by now anyway. I’m sure the other girls will be glad of the few extra shifts.’

  Carlos knew better than to argue with the formidable Ms O’Brien. ‘I’m sure we can arrange something’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Have a nice time.’

  As he turned on his polished heels, Conor and Katherine exchanged a conspiratorial wink.

  Cynthia knocked tentatively on Corlene’s door. Immediately, the other woman opened it. ‘Cynthia! Come in, come in. We don’t have much time.’

  Cynthia crept into the room as if she was on some kind of a secret mission.

  ‘I’ve told Patrick I needed an hour to make some telephone calls about the stables, so he’s gone out for a walk. I’m meeting him in the bar at seven. I must say Corlene, this really is awfully good of you.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure honey, now what have you brought?’

  She emptied the plastic bag Cynthia was carrying and laid out the contents on the bed. Each piece of clothing was worse than the next. Nothing matched. This was going to require ingenuity and improvisation on a grand scale. She weighed up the various options, mentally measuring Cynthia as she went. Hmm, she was taller than Corlene, no question, but in terms of dress size there probably wasn’t a whole lot between them.

  ‘Oh dear, it is rather hopeless isn’t it? I’m afraid I don’t usually worry too much about clothes you see,’ Cynthia said quietly, suddenly feeling very young and insecure.

  ‘Don’t worry Cynthia, I mean some of that stuff,’ she said, indicating the mish-mash of a pile on the bed, ‘would be nice out around a farm or something. But, for a dinner party I think we need to go for something a little more elegant. How about you borrow this?’ Corlene suggested, as she hauled a remarkably classy, black cocktail dress out of the wardrobe.

  ‘It’s too long for me, and it strains a bit on the bust but I think it will look amazing on you. Go try it on.’

  Cynthia stroked the fine wool fabric. ‘Good God, I couldn’t possibly borrow this Corlene! Really you are too kind but…’

  ‘Well you sure as hell ain’t going out to dinner in anything you brought here, so less talk and more dressing…now!’ she ordered.

  The dress was a triumph, flattering Cynthia’s figure beautifully. On Corlene’s instructions, she removed it and took herself off to the bathroom to wash her hair and shave her legs. She returned wrapped in one of the hotel bathrobes and sat in front of the mirror. Soundlessly and purposefully, Corlene began her reconstruction work, liberally applying hair straightening solution and dragging a comb through the wet, nest-like heap on top of Cynthia’s head. It took herculean effort, but Corlene finally managed to tame the mess and produce quite a good imitation of a sleek, blow-dried bob.

  Cynthia’s ample facial hair was next on the list. Ignoring Cynthia’s yelps of protest, she began plucking stray hairs from her eyebrows, upper lip and chin. A thorough cleanse, tone and moisturise routine followed next, and after that, the application of foundation. Corlene expertly gave Cynthia’s eyes a smoky look and slicked on a coral lip gloss. Mostly, it was Corlene who did the talking, regaling Cynthia with the sordid details of her many marriages.

  ‘But why on earth do you keep getting married my dear? It clearly doesn’t suit you. Why not set up on your own instead. You are simply marvellous at all this sort of thing,’ she said, indicating in the direction of the cosmetics covering every inch of the dressing table. ‘Clothes, and hair and such,’ Cynthia continued, I know lots of ladies would love someone like you to come in and sort them out. Especially as one approaches a certain age, one needs to maintain standards in order to prevent the chaps straying too far from the home turf, if you know what I mean. Several of the gels in our set have had their rather silly old chaps whipped from under their noses by brash, busty types…’

  Cynthia suddenly realised the implication of what she had just said and got totally flustered. ‘Of course, I’m not suggesting you were…I mean a totally different …’

  Corlene laughed out loud. ‘You know Cynthia, I think you might be onto something there. I was “the other woman” for so long. Maybe I could teach wives a thing or two about holding onto their men when they get the urge to wander…hmm... interesting idea.’

  Cynthia seemed relieved that she had not taken offence.

  As Cynthia wrestled with sheer tights Corlene began to think that there was something in what her new friend had just said. It had never occurred to her before that she had any talent. She used her ability to use cosmetics skilfully to trap men, nothing more. If she could use those same skills to show wives how to stop their husbands being trapped by women like her…and let’s face it there were plenty of women like her out there…surely this was a service that wives would be willing to pay for? It was certainly a business idea worth developing, she thought.

  Slowly and painfully, Cynthia squeezed into a pair of Corlene’s impossibly high leopard-print stilettos. ‘Oh my dear,’ Cynthia began, ‘I simply can’t wear these, but I must say they are absolutely lovely. You see, I have only ever worn flat shoes and I rather do believe these shoes are also a size too small.’

  Corlene sighed. ‘Cynthia,’ she explained as if to a child, ‘pain is a small price to pay for beauty. Think of the look on Patrick’s face when he sees you and, trust me, you will forget that you have sore feet. Just walk around for a while and you’ll get used to them, I promise. One thing though and this is really important – do not take them off until the end of the night. If you do…’

  ‘I’ll turn into a pumpkin?’ Cynthia suggested wincing with pain.

  ‘No. Much worse than that. You’ll never get your feet back into them,’ Corlene said, shaking her head forlornly.

  ‘OK,’ said Cynthia, as she began her first lap of the bedroom. After the tenth lap, she was walking almost normally. Throughout Corlene forbade her to look in the mirror. As she finished lap number ten, Corlene instructed her to close her eyes. Taking her by the hand, she led an unsteady Cynthia into the bathroom where she positioned her in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

  ‘OK,’ said Corlene with a dramatic flourish, ‘now open your eyes.’

  Cynthia stared in amazement at the stranger in the mirror. Who was this woman with shiny, sleek hair, beautifully styled, subtle make-up that somehow managed to accentuate her dark blue eyes and full mouth while at the same time seeming to camouflage her unquestionably long nose? The dress clung seductively to her tall w
illowy figure, while the leopard-print stilettos served to create an aura of elegance that she never in a thousand years could have imagined was possible.

  Corlene was delighted with the overall effect. A job well done, if she said so herself. A single tear threatened to begin trickling down Cynthia’s cheek.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Corlene said mock sternly ‘You’ll ruin your make-up! No blubbering under any circumstances. You look a million dollars. Now go downstairs and knock out that cop of yours!’

  Cynthia quickly recovered her composure. ‘Corlene, I hardly know you, but I must just say…nobody in my life, except possibly Patrick of course, has ever made me feel so good about myself. I look…well I look...almost pretty, and I can assure you that has never happened before.’

  Corlene smiled with satisfaction as Cynthia continued: ‘Now, I want you to have this,’ she said, giving the American woman an envelope. ‘I don’t want any argument. You have done an incredible thing this evening and I can never thank you enough. I was not being in any way facetious when I suggested that you could develop a business out of this, you know. I can get you at least four or five clients to begin with, and once the word spreads about the miracles you can perform, well I think your financial problems may be behind you. Without,’ she added with a huge grin, ‘the need for another husband.’

  Corlene took the envelope and hugged Cynthia. ‘My pleasure,’ she said.

  Chapter 34

  Everyone had dressed up for the occasion, even Dorothy, who had been prevailed upon by Anna to buy a dress during their shopping spree earlier that day. Patrick was at the bar insisting on buying everyone a drink when a hush descended. Cynthia had just walked in and, as she did, the entire group stopped and stared in amazement.

  As she walked towards the group, she became suddenly very self-conscious and, had it not been for a nudge in the back from Corlene, she might well have fled there and then.

  Patrick was almost rendered incapable of speech, and finally managed a strangulated ‘Cynthia, you look… incredible. What did you do? I’m …I’m…I’m stunned.’

  ‘Corlene did it. She’s simply amazing.’

  Bert sidled up beside Corlene and whispered: ‘You sure have a talent there Miss Corlene. Can I get you a drink?’

  Corlene looked at Bert and smiled. ‘A dry white wine would be lovely. Thank you Bert, but I must tell you it’s gotta be a no strings thing OK? I’m not really interested in a relationship right now.’

  ‘Well Ma’am I can’t pretend I’m not devastated, but I guess if you’ve made up your mind…,’ he grinned.

  ‘I have,’ she replied.

  Bert returned with Corlene’s drink just as Dylan joined the group. He looked so much better these days Bert thought – and it wasn’t just the fact that he had ditched the Goth look.

  ‘Dylan!’ he called ‘come and join your Mom and me. Sit down there the two of you, I want to tell you something.’

  Dylan and Corlene made themselves comfortable on the sofa, as Bert addressed them. ‘You two sure have come a long way in a week haven’t you?’ he said.

  ‘We certainly have,’ Corlene replied. ‘I just wish I had arrived at this point sooner. I’ve wasted so many years, his whole childhood and all of his adolescent years.’

  ‘It wasn’t that bad Mom,’ Dylan said with a sigh. ‘I told you, I’m good. Sure, I wish I could stay here in Ireland, but I can’t, and that’s how it has to be. I’m gonna work really hard and call Laoise every day and, hopefully, I’ll get back here and she won’t have forgotten me.’

  ‘Well,’ said Bert, ‘that’s what I want to talk to you about. I’m a member of an organisation called JUTUS. It’s not a secret society or anything, but we like to keep a low profile. There are members all over the world all doing what I do. I’ve not been entirely honest with you. I came on this tour because once a year I travel somewhere, usually somewhere I’ve read about, or admire, and I look for someone who needs help. I don’t help people who ask for it, only those whom I consider deserving.

  ‘Miss Corlene, when I met you and young Dylan here I thought you were two of the scariest human beings I had come across in my whole life. But, as the days went on, I came to like you both, very much. That’s why I’m giving you this.’

  Corlene and Dylan sat dumbfounded trying to take in what he was saying. In his extended hand was an envelope. ‘Take it,’ he said.

  ‘Dylan took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a personal cheque.

  ‘Five hundred thousand dollars! Bert are you crazy? Is this some kind of joke?’Dylan exploded.

  ‘No son, not crazy and it’s no joke. It’s for you and your mother to start a new life here. Maybe a beauty business Corlene, buy a house, and you can go to do your music course.’

  ‘Bert that’s so kind of you,’ Corlene said, ‘but we can’t take this money from you. I know you did well in your business but that’s for your children and grandchildren. Please don’t think we don’t appreciate it because we do, really we do, but we can’t take it.’

  Bert laughed. ‘The old Corlene would have bitten my hand off. I can’t force you, but I am asking you to please take the money. I mentioned this organisation, well that’s what we do. All over the world, there are people like me who go out and find worthwhile causes and give them money. It’s as simple as that. No fuss, no fanfare. Sometimes we recommend causes to each other, other times we consult with each other about how much to give and so on. We come from all walks of life and with many different skill sets. The only thing we have in common is that we are all millionaires many times over. You are not depriving anyone of anything Miss Corlene. I am a very wealthy man. I just want to help you and your son, so please let me do that.’

  Corlene and Dylan looked at each other.

  ‘Well if you’re sure, I…I just can’t believe this,’ Corlene stuttered.

  ‘Believe it,’ said Bert.

  Ellen listened happily to Juliet and Anna as they outlined their plans for the move to Florida. They both seemed so excited at the prospect. Their enthusiasm was infectious and even Dorothy was making suggestions about study courses and potential career ideas for Anna.

  Juliet seemed touched but surprised, ‘I didn’t know you knew so much about Florida Dorothy. I didn’t think you’d ever been there,’ she said

  ‘Oh no,’ said Dorothy, ‘I’ve actually been down there several times for conferences. Our faculty has links to with the University of Tampa. I go down two or three times a year to give guest lectures and so on. Plus my father lived there until he died a while ago’.

  What a turn-up for the books. With each passing day Dorothy was becoming more and more human. Juliet heard herself say, ‘Well maybe when you come down, if we had a place, maybe you could stop by, meet the baby.’

  Anna smiled and added: ‘And do a bit of babysitting…’

  Dorothy seemed taken aback at the offer. ‘Well if it would be convenient…I mean…I would love to come visit with you. Thank you.’

  Juliet and Dorothy smiled a smile of genuine friendship for the first time.

  As dessert was being served, Dylan and Laoise regaled the group with stories of their plans for the coming term. Nobody could figure it out exactly, but it seemed that something had been sorted out about Dylan’s tuition fees. He and Corlene were going to stay on in Ireland.

  The chatter subsided as Conor tapped a glass. ‘It’s customary for me to stand up at this stage of a tour and say a few words’, he began. ‘Usually, it goes something along the lines of “you’ve been a great group, I hope you enjoyed yourselves and come back to see us again sometime.”’

  A ripple of laughter ran around the room.

  ‘However,’ he paused for dramatic effect, ‘this tour has been so eventful, and such a unique experience for me, that I think it warrants a bit more than the standard farewell speech. I was thinking earlier about what I was going to say and if you don’t mind indulging me I would like to address each of you individually, and in no particu
lar order.

  ‘I’ll begin with Dylan here. As we all know, he arrived at Shannon Airport looking less than thrilled to be here. I was particularly stuck by his unique take on clothes and hair. Indeed, I’ve heard mutterings that Bert there might be thinking of copying some of his style tips. Now, while he was here, Dylan met some interesting people. He developed a real love of traditional Irish music and, as of tonight, he is planning to stay on here to study. I have a feeling there will come a time in the not too distant future when the name Dylan Holbrook will be well known in music circles in Ireland and perhaps even further afield. So, Dylan, from all your friends in this room, I want to wish you the very, very best of luck.’

  The group clapped and a voice at the far end of the table shouted ‘hear, hear’.

  Dylan beamed.

  ‘That leads me neatly to Dylan’s Mam. Corlene, while your choice of footwear sometimes caused me to fear for your life, I can honestly say I have never before seen anyone anywhere traverse a bog so gracefully while wearing five- inch heels. It was quite a sight to behold. But gracefulness is not your only talent. You are truly a woman of many surprises Corlene. Until now, nobody here would have guessed your talent as a make-up artist. Cynthia’s amazing new look is a fitting testimony to that talent. I also hope that this tour enabled you to find what you were looking for.’

  ‘Y’know, I think I just might have,’ Corlene said, as right on cue, Dylan put his arm protectively around her shoulders.

  ‘Ellen O’Donovan,’ Conor went on, ‘your story is truly one of the most wonderful and heart-warming I have ever heard. I know Ellen has shared her story with you all at various times, but I can’t tell you how moved I was Ellen when you gave me the honour of asking me to join you on your voyage of discovery. The image of you sleeping in the bed you were born in, all these years later will stay with me until the day I die.’

  Conor walked down and gave Ellen a huge bear hug. Once again, the table erupted in applause and a few tears were shed.

 

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