Finishing Touches (24 page)

‘Himself has a hangover and it serves the miserable old git right. He’s the crankiest old bastard I’ve ever met,’ she informed Aileen the previous day. She was referring
to their esteemed staff officer and immediate superior. Mrs Hardy always referred to Mr Alden as ‘himself.’

‘I know I shouldn’t be talking about him behind his back when he isn’t here to offend himself, but I think he’s a bit too fond of his drop, if you know what I
mean.’

Aileen had to struggle to keep her face straight when she heard Mrs Hardy coming out with ‘offend himself.’ She had been working in the office only two days when Mrs Hardy told her
that the girl who had worked there previously had gone to work in Zomby Araby. Mystified, Aileen had later learnt that the girl had gone to work for an oil company in Saudi Arabia. Mrs Hardy and
her malapropisms were the only light in Aileen’s otherwise dull as ditchwater day. At eleven-fifteen precisely the boss would come down for his tea and Aileen would return to her filing until
one o’clock, when she would sign the attendance book and go for lunch until two-fifteen. Then it was back to the grindstone. The afternoons were spent typing, a routine broken only by a
fifteen-minute tea-break at three-fifteen. At 5 p.m. she signed herself out and knew that the next day and the day after that would be exactly the same. It was the most soul-destroying thought, and
she knew for a fact that her promotional prospects were pretty hopeless. There were scores more like her in the Corporation and getting promoted was something that took years. You could work hard
for your pay or, like her boss, you could do feck all, it didn’t matter. You still got paid your cheque every fortnight. It was desperately hard to motivate yourself, and Aileen was beginning
to lose the battle. She knew of people who had done the same job for years and years. Well, she wasn’t going to be one of them. She wanted out.

Then there was her love-life! Aileen’s brow furrowed in the dark. Trust her to go and complicate her life by falling for someone like Liam Flynn. If only she could bring herself to talk to
the girls about him. It would be such a relief to confide in them about this man who had come into her life and turned it upside-down, bringing her to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.
Many times she had almost blurted out the whole story but, afraid of what they might think of her, she had bitten her tongue. She had never kept anything from Cassie and Laura before and it
troubled her deeply. After all, they were her best friends and always there, come hell or high water. She would tell them in the New Year, seek their advice perhaps, although she knew before asking
what their advice would be.

She wasn’t looking forward much to Christmas. No woman in her position would be, she thought glumly pulling the sheets up under her ears. She wished she were lying in Liam’s arms.
She’d be warm all over then, she reflected drowsily, as her eyes began to close.

Cassie had gone to bed tired out after their long eventful day. She had thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it and the flat looked really nice and festive. It had been lovely to
spend an evening with the girls as their evenings together were few and far between, what with Laura and her part-time jobs and study and Aileen with her amateur dramatics and the mysterious Liam
Flynn.

She was kept busy with her extra-mural computer course and her participation in Allied Isles’ social club. She had joined the basketball club, basketball having been her favourite sport at
school, and tomorrow she was due to play a match in Killester against a team from one of their banking rivals. She was looking forward to it immensely. If there was one thing she enjoyed, it was a
good vigorous game of basketball.

She couldn’t say she was exactly looking forward to Christmas. It would be nice to spend time with the family and she was looking forward to giving them all the presents she had bought
them, but home still felt very lonely without Jack and it was twice as hard at Christmas. All she could do was think of the good times ahead. Once Christmas was over, the three of them were going
to get dozens of holiday brochures and pore over them to decide where they were going to spend that much-desired first holiday abroad together. She was also going to start an evening course in
interior design. It was something she had always wanted to do and there were quite a few courses on offer in the city. So that would be something to look forward to. She was also going to paint and
decorate the flat, with the landlord’s permission. He had told the girls they could have two weeks rent-free and that he would supply the materials if they wanted to decorate. He wasn’t
a bad old stick really. He owned about six houses around the city that he had let in flats, and drove a big BMW, but behind it all he was decent enough and they knew if they were in a fix as
regards locking themselves out, he would always help.

So really, between her decorating and studying and planning the holiday, Cassie had a lot to look forward to in the next year and if she got down in the dumps over Christmas, she would just
focus on those positive things. Letting images of the day’s events drift through her mind; she fell asleep almost instantly.

Cassie stood in Port Mahon cemetery on a blustery May morning the following year. She gave a guilty start as she realized that the memorial service was over and she had been
daydreaming for most of it. Yes, it was hard to believe Jack was dead two years and that her life had changed so completely.

She waved at Aileen, who waved back. She’d have to ask her for a lift back to Dublin. That hadn’t been the plan at all. Robbie MacDonald, her boyfriend since New Year’s Eve,
was supposed to have come for lunch and the service today and then they were going to drive back to the city together and maybe go for a meal or to the pictures. But of Robbie there was no sign.
There had been no phone call to say he wasn’t coming and she just didn’t know what had happened. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know where Port Mahon was. She had brought him
home soon after they met and introduced him to Nora and the family, and he had been out to visit them several times since.

Maybe he’d got a puncture or something and had been delayed. Maybe he’d be at the house when they got home. Taking Nora’s arm, Cassie walked slowly down the pathway to the
gates of the cemetery, her mind only half-concentrating on the greetings that were coming her way from friends and neighbours. Where on earth was Robbie? She’d kill him when she got her hands
on him!

Robbie MacDonald sat in a chair in his apartment. He was in the horrors. He had woken up with the most excruciating hangover after his night on the town the night before and
decided to have a drink to cure it. Several drinks later, he was totally pissed. He knew he was supposed to be doing something with Cassie that day, but for the life of him he just couldn’t
remember what it was. His head drooped to his chest. He’d just have a little nap and then he’d be fine and he’d give Cassie a ring and find out what it was they had planned to do.
He’d have a shower and freshen up, as he had slept in his clothes. God, he couldn’t remember a thing about getting home last night. It must have been one hell of a party!

He took another slug of whiskey. Cassie was always at him about drinking. Women! They were the greatest fussers. What harm was a little scoop now and again? Robbie MacDonald’s eyes closed
and he fell into a drunken stupor. Not even the insistent ringing of the phone could rouse him.

Cassie reached Robbie’s apartment block. His car was outside. This was really weird. Maybe he was sick or something. Concerned, Cassie rang the doorbell. In the car-park,
Aileen was waiting for her. It was teatime. They had driven up from Port Mahon and her friend had offered to drive her over to Robbie’s apartment. She knocked again, waiting anxiously for a
response.

She was turning to go when Robbie came to the door. He looked a sight and it was quite obvious that he had slept in his clothes. Cassie felt her heart lurch with dismay. When he opened the door
she could smell the whiskey fumes off him.

‘Hi, Cassie,’ he slurred.

Anger ripped through her. ‘That’s it! We’re finished. I don’t want to see you again! Nobody is going to treat me like dirt and especially not you, Robbie MacDonald! You
should be ashamed of yourself.’ Running down the steps she threw herself into the car. ‘Get me out of here, Aileen, before I commit murder. Men! Why do we bother?’

‘Tell me about it!’ said Aileen glumly to herself as she turned the car in the direction of their flat.

‘I can’t find my passport!’ Aileen muttered frantically, delving into her leather bag, which at times resembled a miniature sack. Robbie’s car was
speeding towards Dublin airport.

Laura was not impressed. ‘Oh for Chrissakes, Aileen, didn’t we tell you to put it with your tickets?’

‘Do you want to turn back?’ Cassie asked irritably. This was supposed to be the beginning of their holiday, not an endurance test. Honestly, there were times when she could kill
Aileen.

Her flatmate’s auburn head had all but disappeared into the cavernous bag and Cassie did not hear the garbled response. Laura threw her eyes up to heaven. Being thoroughly organized and
practical, she just could not understand how Aileen managed to get herself in such tizzies.

‘Where did you have it last? Is it with your tickets?’ Laura demanded, in her best prosecuting attorney tone.

‘I can’t find
them
either!’ wailed Aileen, surfacing for air.

‘Are they in your case, do you think?’ Cassie said as calmly as she could.

Laura was not quite as patient as Cassie. She had been looking forward to this holiday for months. ‘How could you mislay your passport and tickets? What kind of an idiot are you? If we
miss this flight, Aileen, so help me, you are in trouble.’

‘Oh shut up, Miss perfect. We’re not all seasoned travellers like you,’ Aileen retorted angrily as a hot sweat suffused her. Where the hell had she put her tickets and
passport? She remembered saying she must put them in a safe place when she was packing. Somewhere that she could put her hand on them when she needed them. She was pretty sure she hadn’t put
them in her bag; that was filled with suntan lotions and paperbacks, and sweets for the journey. Aileen definitely remembered saying she wouldn’t put them in her bag so she wouldn’t
have to root. They were crossing the Liffey now into the northside. Maybe she’d better ask Robbie to turn back. The girls would kill her and she didn’t know where to start looking back
at the flat. Aileen felt like bursting into tears. Her heart was starting to pound. She ran her fingers inside her shirt collar, feeling the pulse beating at her throat.

‘Stay calm,’ Robbie said kindly. ‘We’ll turn back if we have to. We’ve loads of time.’

‘Thanks Robbie,’ Aileen said to her only ally in the car. Her little finger touched something hard, and she almost stopped breathing with relief. Of course! She had put her passport
and tickets in the inside pocket of the cotton shirt she had bought especially because it had an inside pocket!

‘I’ve found them,’ she said brightly. Icy silence from her flatmates greeted her discovery as they sped along a dusk-dimmed Dorset Street.

It was only when they were on the airport road with the lights of the control tower and complex shining brightly in the distance that the other two recovered their equilibrium.

‘I’ll take your tickets and passport,’ Laura ordered. ‘I’m not going to have a heart attack every time you go looking for them.’

‘OK,’ Aileen agreed meekly, handing over the offending articles. Laura could be so bossy sometimes, but at least the passport and tickets would be in safe hands and she
wouldn’t have to be worrying about them.

Laura, having been through it all before on her trips to the USA, took charge of their check-in and had them in the queue for the star flight to Rhodes before they knew it. Cassie gazed around
her at the milling crowds queuing at the check-in desks and felt excitement shoot through her. Their first longed-for foreign holiday, for which they had made so many plans, was finally happening,
and she intended to enjoy every minute of it. Here they were finally in Dublin airport waiting to board their flight to the sun-kissed Greek island.

The gods of Olympus had given the island as a bride to the sun god; that’s what it had said in the brochures and that’s what had made them choose Rhodes. They had checked out the
brochures in the travel agents, all of which promised the loveliest of holidays at the cheapest price. Never having been on a package holiday before, none of them knew where to begin.

‘We’re not going to Spain,’ Aileen said firmly. ‘I want to go somewhere exotic. Like Egypt!’ She was always the intrepid one of the trio.

‘What can we afford?’ Laura, the practical one, enquired. After all, she was working only part-time and the other two weren’t loaded either. Greece was perfect for them. It was
exotic and it was cheap. They were seduced by the pictures and descriptions in the brochure of sunny blue skies, temperatures in the eighties, unspoilt landscapes with no high-rise buildings,
turquoise swimming-pools surrounded by roses, hibiscus, bougainvillaea, jasmine and honeysuckle growing in profusion. It looked like paradise. They booked for the last two weeks in September. Laura
would have earned money from her summer work in America and she wouldn’t be due in college until the beginning of October. It would also give Aileen and Cassie a chance to save.

It was wonderful plotting and planning. The organized one had lists to cover every contingency. Suntan oil from factor ten to two, after-care and moisturizing lotions, plasters, travel-sickness
pills, mosquito-repellent. It was a wonder they didn’t have to pay for excess luggage!

Once they got rid of their cases, they wandered over to the big glass windows that overlooked the tarmac. In the distance, a jet, its red-and-green lights flashing, roared off down the runway
and disappeared into the velvet darkness.

‘I wonder is that ours?’ Cassie pointed out an Aer Lingus 737 that was being refuelled and loaded with baggage.