Seven Days There

by Ruth Hay

  “I would be lucky to get ten minutes to shop alone!” complained Corinne. “It’s so much easier with women!” Corinne and Sandra waved and disappeared into the mid-week crowds.

  Zoe and Valerie ended up in a large Boots store where Zoe gave a running commentary on the comparative quality of the cosmetic products on display. It was obvious she thought little of these brands as compared to the Excelsior Range for which she was responsible. Under these circumstances, Valerie wondered what would be a suitable gift for Suzanne. Cosmetics were out of the question and little else was available. After a considerable amount of testing and trying, Zoe chose a new perfume that she estimated would suit her secretary’s personality and had the large bottle gift wrapped and placed in a presentation bag.

  Valerie had to discourage Zoe from buying items for her. She insisted there was no spare room in her luggage for the return flight to Canada.

  They found a seat near the mall exit and waited there for the others to arrive. Zoe turned from watching the shoppers with their umbrellas hurrying by on the street and warned Valerie that the rest of the day was to be strictly at her expense. Before Valerie could object, she declared it was the least she could do after everything that had happened.

  “Surely you don’t mean the incident with your foot? That was just what anyone would have done for you.”

  “No. There’s a great deal more I have to thank all three of you for. You accepted me into your close circle and never once complained about my intrusion. You showed me what was missing in my life and you, especially, Aunt Val, if I may call you that?” Valerie nodded, unable to say how much it meant to her to hear the words. “You know how much my mother wanted for me, and you can guess what her loss has done to me even without the circumstances of her death. This intervention of yours has jolted me out of a downward spiral and I have begun to hope for a better future. I promise not to lose touch with you wherever you are when you settle again.”

  Valerie looked into the dark eyes, so much like Grace’s now that they had lightened a little. She smoothed the wing of dark hair and caressed the girl’s cheek as she had seen her mother do when she was just a child. Something lovely and healing passed between them then and the older woman suddenly wished that she could someday create with her daughters-in-law the warmth of affection she now shared with Zoe. The look lingered and ended in a smile. They were enclosed in an invisible bubble, impervious of interruption, devoid of noise and in which, time, itself, had stopped.

  Eventually, the passing crowd came back into focus and they saw Sandra and Corinne approaching, laden with bags.

  “Right!” announced Zoe. “We’re off to Marks and Spencer just across the road here, then lunch and lots more shopping and this time it’s strictly for your own consumption and I am paying the bills.”

  Strenuous objections arose immediately but when Valerie refused to contradict Zoe, the others fell into line behind the pair, arm in arm, and proceeded across the road as instructed.

  Hours later, replete with food and unable to carry any more of their purchases, the happy shoppers returned to Ambleside in great high spirits. Zoe’s plan was not yet completed, however. She had paid attention to, and delivered verdicts on, what was bought by each person with a view to ensuring grand new outfits were obtained. While they were busy trying on garments, she had warned the cashiers who was paying all the bills.

  Dresses, Sandra proclaimed totally unsuitable for her lifestyle; shoes and jewellery, Corinne drooled over and a matching leather case and handbag set for Valerie that were outrageously priced, were just some of the treasures they now owned. It was a veritable Christmas in July and each woman was like a delirious child, eager to try on garments and parade for the others’ delighted approval.

  Zoe let them enjoy the moment and then came the next surprise.

  “You may have noticed this box I had delivered the other day. It’s full of Excelsior products I selected for you and I want to give each of you a make-over before we all go out to a splendid meal in the new Daffodil Hotel in Grasmere.”

  Exclamations of sheer delight filled the room. It had been ages since any of them had been treated this extravagantly. In several cases, it was a completely unique experience.

  Zoe displayed her products on the dining table and began with the statement; ‘Beauty is my Business’.

  She then adjusted all the available light sources to focus on the face of the client in front of her.

  “As we are going indoors where there will be artificial light, it’s important to approximate those conditions to get optimal results with makeup.”

  She rolled up her sleeves and set to work on Valerie, who, she announced, needed some skin treatments as the North American climate was known to wreak havoc on skin condition. She applied a deep moisturizer then waited while it was absorbed before adding a tinted foundation imbued with a secret ingredient which left a gleam on the skin’s surface, virtually concealing any fine lines and wrinkles.

  Sandra and Corinne watched with interest. This was a new Zoe. Her expertise was evident. She must have had years of practice with customers before ascending to the upper levels of management.

  “Good skin treatment gives a base for everything else you do to enhance the appearance. Now we choose one feature to emphasize. Valerie’s best feature is her high cheekbones so I will lightly line her upper eyelids with a brown pencil to complement her hazel eyes, apply mascara of course, and brush her cheeks from centre, toward the top of her ear, with a rose blush containing a little gold pigment for an added glow. A smudge of gold eyeshadow, a brush of gloss on her eyebrows, a pink lip, and she is perfectly prepared for a night on the town…… any town, that is!

  Applause met the conclusion of Zoe’s performance and Sandra eagerly took Valerie’s seat.

  “This will be much more difficult for you, Zoe,” she warned. “I rarely use any make-up.”

  Zoe whispered to her first client that there was something on her bed she needed to see, then turned her attention to Sandra.

  “I suspect you have skin breakouts from time to time. Your diet needs more fibre and lots of fruit and vegetables. This will clear up the situation and help you lose excess weight. I will use an excellent concealer cream we have developed at Excelsior. Once this is applied, I can sculpt your face with shadows and highlights so you will look ten pounds lighter.”

  Sandra’s eyes gleamed at the thought. She sat perfectly still.

  “Your eyes need definition. I am going to pluck your eyebrows with a patented system guaranteed to be painless. Just tilt your head a little and it will be over in minutes and your face will look transformed.”

  She smoothed an alcohol swab over the eyebrow area and commenced work with deep concentration.

  Corinne could see the change immediately and ran a finger over her own eyebrows wondering if she was eligible for the same process.

  “You need a soft grey eyeliner to make your eyes zing,” she advised, “but black mascara will do even more for you.” Zoe continued to work with a palette of brushes until Sandra’s skin was perfected, then sat back and surveyed her work. “If you don’t mind a suggestion, I think you should change your hairstyle. You have lovely thick hair and the grey tones just lighten your natural blonde colour, but the low pony tail doesn’t suit you anymore. I’ll pull your hair up like this and twist it into a coil. You own hair clip can now anchor your hair in place and this technique acts as a quick facelift.”

  Sandra rushed off to the bathroom to see the new face and hair and met Valerie coming from the mirror wearing a beautiful dress in shades of her favourite blue.

  “Zoe bought this for me,” she explained. “And there’s a pair of matching shoes. She must have done this while we were in the changing rooms. What can I say?”

  “Just say thanks,” advised her roommate. “You look wonderful!”

  Corinne was now sitting in the client chair awaiting the expert’s response. She thought how much this specialized consultation would cos
t in a store, if she had ever had time or money for such an extravagance. This holiday was turning out to be so much more than she could have hoped for.

  “Let me look at you,” said Zoe. She turned Corinne’s face back and forth to catch the light.

  “I have to say I have noticed you flush from time to time and I presume you are experiencing menopause symptoms. Am I right?”

  “Yes, unfortunately! I haven’t found a medication to help with that yet, so I am often uncomfortable and have to wear a lot of absorbent cotton, especially at night. It plays havoc with my temper, I’m sad to say. I can’t wait till this part of my life is over.”

  “What I can suggest for you is a gel foundation. It has an immediate cooling effect on the skin and can be used several times a day if needed. Fortunately, your skin doesn’t require any colour correction other than a little concealer under the eyes when you are not sleeping well.”

  Zoe applied the gel and Corinne sighed with contentment just knowing she had a solution to this problem on hand.

  “Your colouring is quite lovely. Rich brown tones in your hair and eyebrows frame your eyes very nicely. I think your eye colour lies between blue and green but more on the green spectrum when you wear that colour.”

  “So that’s why you got me to choose the emerald satin skirt and top! I adore the sparkle on the boat neckline. Very cunning, Zoe!”

  “I must ask, who does your hair?”

  “Oh, I just hack at it myself occasionally. Is it too awful?” Corinne raised her hands and ran them through her short locks until the ends stood up all over her head.

  “Not at all! It suits you in fact. I would let the ends grow a little more and pull some strands down over your face as a frame. Otherwise your ‘chopping’ is fine, and inexpensive.”

  Zoe smiled but then grew more serious, first looking around to ensure the others were busy elsewhere in the apartment. “I notice you are developing a deep wrinkle between your eyes, Corinne. You don’t wear glasses so it could be a bad habit of frowning. I might advise Botox….”

  “What?”

  “………..just in that area. You don’t need it anywhere else and it would fix the wrinkle before it gets too deep to be turned around. It would spoil your attractive looks in the long run.”

  “Well, you’ve given me good news with the bad, I suppose. Thank you so much Zoe.”

  “I have samples here for you to keep. There’s mascara, of course, and two contrasting eyeshadows you should try plus a big pot of the gel. Your best feature is your lovely full lips. Use only the best lipstick or salves. You’ll find some in the box. All of you will have coupons for more purchases from Excelsior and if you can’t find them locally, go online for even more discounts.”

  Zoe bundled Corinne’s selection into an Excelsior gift bag and handed it to her.

  “Now, I must get dressed for this event. I need to compete with the three stunning women I am accompanying!”

  Corinne watched Zoe go off to their bedroom and wondered how she could ever have thought the girl cold and distant. Under that polished exterior was a lonely, vulnerable, damaged young woman trying hard to survive yet willing to give so much to others when she had a chance.

  It occurred to her to remember this conclusion the next time she was dealing with Carla.

  The memorable evening at the hotel, lived up to the expectations of each of the women.

  Zoe was pleased to see the high level of service for a table presided over by women with no man in sight.

  Sandra and Corinne were like a pair of peacocks relishing the glances that came their way from other curious diners, and flourishing their finery at every opportunity.

  A dining room manager approached their table and asked if everything was to their satisfaction. Zoe replied in the affirmative and he explained that a hotel resident had asked him who the lovely ladies were and what they might be celebrating. He cast an eye around the quartet in their colourful outfits and accepted the explanation that they were friends on holiday in the area. Bowing to the table he departed with little information and the wish that more of his diners displayed such style and fashion sense. Perhaps he could offer the ladies a voucher for a future visit.

  Valerie was beyond delighted at the way the week was working out. She had hoped for changes and more closeness but who could have predicted the role Zoe had played? She smiled to herself every time the girl moved and displayed the red belt and bright fabric rose attached to her elegant black dress. It was proof the changes were coming fast for her also.

  Just as Valerie was wondering if she should indulge in another glass of the excellent wine Zoe had ordered, more evidence of her forward thinking appeared.

  “I have booked a taxi to take us all home to Ambleside tonight, so drink as much as you want.

  Valerie, your car will be safe here overnight and in the morning a taxi will take all of you back to Grasmere for a day in the village and area. I am sure there are more walks and hills to conquer.

  I’ll be off early, back to my work life in London but, be assured I will not forget these few days with you.

  I’ll be in touch again soon.”

  “Let’s toast ourselves and the friendships we have made, or re-made, here!” said Valerie, before the tears in her throat threatened to choke off her voice.

  Glasses were raised and clinked across the table as the perfect day came to a close.

  Twelve.

  Thursday

  If there had not been a taxi waiting for the women, the day would have been somewhat of a downer after the thrills of Wednesday and the fact that there was now one less in the group.

  Corinne had managed a quick word or two before Zoe left for an early departure that would take her to Windermere train station and the connection to London. They exchanged a brief hug and Zoe was gone, leaving a huge gap behind her.

  Valerie hustled the others along and ensured they had all the gear required for a day out in Grasmere. She intended to tackle a decent walk at least, this time but, first, there was much to see and do in the village.

  Before collecting her car from the parking lot of the hotel, she decided to introduce the women to the tourist attraction which was just across the main road and a short way up a lane.

  Dove Cottage, the early home of the Lake District’s favourite son, William Wordsworth, had been preserved in its original form so visitors could experience life in the early nineteenth century when the poet had his sister and a young family living with him.

  Valerie climbed to the top of the small garden and waited while Sandra and Corinne joined the house tour. The scent of coal fires rose to meet her and like most Scottish-born women of her era, the aroma brought back memories of childhood and the hard work required to feed and heat a family in those far-off times. Gas-powered heating systems had been only one of the great advantages she found when she and David had emigrated to Canada only a few years after they had married.

  In the peaceful garden setting, on a wooden bench where Wordsworth had often sat, she thought about those happy, eventful years of her marriage and how the experiences then, had pulled the couple together as they forged a new life in a new land.

  Bees buzzed contentedly in the old-fashioned flowering plants that scented the air around her. She wondered if it were possible to dwell more on those happier times and vanquish the sadder memories she now carried with her. Could she do an inventory of her marriage and balance out the bad ending with the greater number of good beginnings? This seemed a suitable place to begin. Wordsworth had sorrows in his lifetime and yet he created poetry that had inspired thousands to think of nature as a healing source and to appreciate the beauties around them.

  I can at least make a start, she promised.

  Sandra and Corinne emerged from the dark interior of the cottage and exclaimed at the tiny rooms and the number of family and literary visitors who had existed inside the cramped quarters.

  “People must have been a lot smaller in those days. I’d have a bac
k spasm just going through the doorways!”

  “You could be right,” added Sandra. “Did you see the size of the beds?” No one was likely to have sex in one of those. They would fall on the floor if they tried!”

  The trio collapsed in laughter at the thought and exited the garden before they were ejected for unseemly levity in a literary shrine.

  Once back in the car, they made slow progress through Grasmere village, avoiding tourists and dogs who stepped into the road without much care for traffic. All three were glad when Valerie pulled in to the public parking beside the gardening centre and they could continue on foot.

  “Where to now?” asked Corinne.

  Valerie had given this some thought. “I think we have started on a Wordsworth trail today. My feeling is we need some exercise after our extravagant eating lately. What say we begin with an easy walk to warm up and then see where we get to?”

  Sandra and Corinne could not deny their guide had a good point. Serious exercise was needed. They had all come equipped and the day was proving to be set for good weather.

  “Lead on!” they said in chorus.

  Valerie pointed straight ahead from the parking exit and they skirted the outer edge of the village, past the green where visitors waited for buses, and with stops to look in the shop windows they soon reached a lane signposted; Goody Bridge.

  “That doesn’t sound too challenging!” announced Sandra as she took the lead up the slight slope.

  A walk through a small housing estate where they were able to bypass the road on a gravel trail at the side of a farmer’s field, took them to the bridge where they paused to look at the rushing waters from the recent rain. Then they diverted left to a track across bumpy fields. The view opened out at this point and they saw they were in a valley with what Valerie called ‘fells’ on all sides. Since the track proceeded without verging toward a mountain, a term Corinne preferred, they trudged along talking about the quaint houses they had seen and speculating about what it would be like to live in a small community. They saw a few serious climbers, identified by their backpacks and steady, fast paces never varying despite the terrain. These pairs soon got ahead of the trio and by the time they reached a solid road at the opposite side of the valley, they were alone again.