The Next Adventure

by Janice Horton

  What if I was to go there and meet up with Gloria for a heart to heart chat over Waterfall Cay? What if I could persuade her onto our side? What if I could get her to talk to her husband?

  Surely, she would want to play a part in bringing these two estranged brothers together?

  And, it would be easier and far more conducive for me to speak with Gloria in the Bahamas than to travel all the way over to California on the slight chance that I’d get an invitation to speak with both her and her husband at their home. Plus, it was half the flight time and distance away. Why not? I have the time. I have the inclination. It’s not like I had any other plan right now. And it’s not like anyone here would mind me flitting off for a few days.

  I could simply say that I was going to do some Christmas shopping in the Bahamas.

  Who knows what might become of it?

  I quickly checked to see if there were any event tickets still available.

  Yes, there were. But they were eye-wateringly expensive.

  I checked my bank balance online to assess my financial situation. I had a good nest egg of savings because Charles had wanted to buy my half of our house for cash when we divorced. I’d been careful about dipping into it and knew this money was meant to last me a long time and at the very least until I could claim an old age pension. Going to the Bahamas and to Gloria’s function would certainly put quite a large dint into it.

  But it was going to benefit an important charitable cause.

  It might bring Ethan and Damion together again as family.

  And, it could be the only way to secure Ethan’s island dream.

  Imagine! How could I even put a price on such a prize as Waterfall Cay?

  Click. Click. Click. In no time at all I had arranged a flight to Nassau, I’d bagged a room at the Atlantis hotel, and secured a ticket for tomorrow night’s charity art exhibition. I felt a great rush of excitement as my heart began to beat faster and adrenalin surged through my body.

  Wow. This was going to be a new adventure. A thrilling new assignment.

  A high-stakes mission to save Waterfall Cay island and return it to Ethan.

  Oh, and I was definitely going to need a new dress.

  Chapter 9

  The Bahamas

  As my flight touched down on New Providence Island, Bahamas, I gazed enthusiastically out of the plane’s small oval window to see clear blue skies and bright sunshine. Once again, I was leaving an airplane with just a small carry-on bag and wearing light clothing and a pair of flip-flops, only this time I was escaping the cold and grey of London for a few days.

  I whizzed through immigration and got a taxi from outside the airport building to take me along the winding coastal road towards downtown Nassau. My driver, an older gentleman called Joseph, spoke in a wonderful deep local drawl and told me he’d been born and raised in Nassau. Then he enthusiastically regaled me with which particularly rich and famous person lived in which particularly fabulous house behind the tall fences and electronic gates on West Bay Street. ‘Look, that’s Tiger Wood’s house. This one’s Oprah’s. An’ here is where Tom Cruise lives!’ Then he pointed out each and every one of the big five-star hotels and exclusive vacation resorts on the famous stretch of sand along Cable Beach. I suppose he must think tourists like to know these things. I peered out at the vast green expanses of the Royal Blue golf course, after which he pointed out to me the colourful and popular fish fry restaurants at Arawak Cay. ‘The best fish fry in the Bahamas!’

  Then on our way into downtown Nassau, we jostled with expensive cars with blacked-out windows driven by chauffeurs and with colourful reggae-blasting Jitney busses driven by determined looking dreadlocked Bahamians. Then, I was treated to a spectacular view of the harbour and the glittering bay, where enormous modern cruise ships, looking like giant shopping trollies, entered and departed, and where the iconic silhouette of the original and world-famous Atlantis Resort dominated the skyline.

  I was filled with a sense of excitement and anticipation.

  ‘Which one you stayin’ at Ma’am?’ Joseph asked me, as he glanced through his rear-view mirror at my reflection. Traffic had drawn to a standstill because we were caught up in a bottleneck in the road, after which, all roads led across the arched bridge to Paradise Island.

  ‘Atlantis!’ I repeated to him.

  ‘Yeah, well, there’s five hotels at Atlantis. There’s Beach, Coral, Royal, Harbourside, Reef, and the Cove. Which one you at?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure.’ I quickly tapped at my phone to check my booking information.

  ‘I’m axin’, Ma’am, as they’ve each got different entrances an’ different expectations.’

  ‘I’m at the first one you mentioned. The Beach Tower.’ I told him. ‘Is that one the best?’

  ‘Nope. The Cove is the best.’ He replied, as if already anticipating a cheap tip.

  I realised of course, to my dismay, that Gloria was sure to be at The Cove.

  As we headed over the high bridge onto Paradise Island, I had an elevated view of the entire ocean themed resort of Atlantis. Although vast and sprawling, I could see it was built around the marina and the famous waterpark and a maze of walkways and bridges and interconnecting pathways. So, maybe it doesn’t matter so much at which hotel I stay?

  I know I should be feeling tired from my early morning wake up and from my long flight, but I’m actually feeling energised, by the ambient temperatures and sunny skies and the happy holiday and touristy vibe in the hotel reception area. It’s amazing what sunshine and warmth can do for a person’s mood as well as for those achy joints. I’ll admit to feeling a soreness and stiffness in my bones from pretty much the moment I arrived back in the UK and now miraculously it’s all gone. I joined the queues of people, mainly families, checking in.

  There’s no welcome glass of champagne, considering the price of the rooms here. However, after checking into my room and finding it was neat and basic and clean and that my view from my small balcony overlooked a swimming pool and palm trees and the beach, I was satisfied.

  I decided to take a walk to scout out the venue for this evening’s fundraiser.

  I double-checked my ticket to see that, of course, it was all happening at The Cove.

  My hotel was at the far end of the resort in an L-Shaped block. I walked outside into hot sunshine and followed a winding path that took me past a busy swimming pool and a sunbathing terrace where every sun lounger looked to be taken. I passed a popular coffee shop and a bustling bar until I’d left the undefined confines of my hotel and was now on the trail towards all the other hotels in the complex. Including those huge imposingly and impressive ones with the arched connecting bridge that you see in all the brochures for Atlantis.

  I crossed paths with lots of people wearing swimsuits and carrying towels who were either heading towards or from the water park. Soon, the path I was taking had me walking along the side path of a meandering lazy river in which people were floating in large inflatable rings. I passed several more bars and pizza places and doughnut stalls that all looked and smelled tempting and then I stopped at an impressive giant-sized glass wall in what looked to be the entrance to a cave. Perring through the glass, I came face to face with several reef and nurse sharks, who were all swimming around a clear underwater tube passing through the middle of the tank that had guests sliding through it at great speed. Sourly, I wondered if this was the kind of thing that Damion Goldman had in mind for his waterpark on Waterfall Cay?

  Continuing on, I walk across a wobbly swinging rope bridge and cast my eyes over a huge freeform lake with an area primarily for motorised water-sports. People were zipping around on jet skis. There was also a man-made sandy beach there full of sun-worshipers. To my right, a separate area of lake had a huge amount of manta rays swimming around in shallow waters.

  Having seen sharks and manta rays swimming in the wild and now having seeing them in captivity, I would under any other circumstances have felt uneasy and upset, but I do know that
this aquarium here at Atlantis is one of only two in the western hemisphere with a dedicated programme of expert staff and marine scientists whose practices and research techniques have helped in the study of migratory patterns of many different marine species.

  Ethan has told me all about it and so I assume he might have even funded it.

  After fifteen minutes of walking, it starts to feel like an awfully long way over to the other side of the resort. My new rubber flip-flops, bought hastily at Gatwick on the way out here, have already started to fall apart and have given me blisters between my toes. Ouch!

  I finally arrive at The Cove exhausted and red faced and hobbling.

  I plonk myself down in a comfortable chair at a designer-inspired sanctuary of a poolside bar and order an iced-coffee from a smartly dressed waiter. The pool here is absolutely gorgeous. It’s a place of quiet ambiance and serenity with willow furniture and chic looking cabanas complete with a butler service and classy looking people. The centre of the pool even has an island with palm trees and there’s waterside mattresses for extra decadent dipping and lounging. My taxi driver had been right. Each of these hotels here were progressively nicer and obviously more expensive. And, until I’d seen this one, I’d been very happy with my original choice. What was it that Buddha said about the grass being greener?

  For your peace of mind do not overrate what you have received or envy others.

  Here, beautifully sun bronzed people clad in designer swimwear and expensive looking sunglasses are reclining on sumptuously padded sun loungers or gliding through the azure blue water towards the swim up champagne bar. I watch them all keenly through my bargain-bin sunglasses and keep a look out for any woman who might have long red tresses.

  I sit for a while, observantly sipping on my eye-wateringly priced iced-coffee.

  But only having spied blondes and brunettes, I eventually decide its time I headed back to my own more modestly appointed hotel. But, before doing so, I saunter over to the grand foyer.

  It was, of course, the epitome of luxury in marble and gold and with miraculous looking suspended-in-mid-air crystal water features. At reception, I enquired about the location of the charity fundraiser event being held later this evening.

  ‘It’s being held in the Grand Ball Room, Madam. Would you like to buy a ticket?’

  ‘Oh, I have a ticket.’ I laughed. I don’t know why I laughed. I guess I’m feeling a little intimidated by the grandness of everything and the slightly shallow and scathing looks I’ve just received from a fellow resort guest, now standing near to me with an obvious opinion on my lack of designer apparel. I think I’ll be glad to retreat to my side of the resort after all.

  ‘Can you please tell me if Gloria Goldman has checked in yet?’

  The receptionist tapped her keyboard. ‘I’m afraid, we don’t seem to have a Gloria Goldman.’

  Another more mature looking receptionist, having been eavesdropping on our conversation, sidled over to me with her already arched eyebrows raised. ‘Erm—do you know Ms Goldman personally, Madam?’ she asked me purposely.

  What do I say to that? I do kind of feel like I know her; as we’ve met once.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m soon to be her sister-in-law.’ I answered boldly, laughing again.

  The two women looked as astonished as I felt.

  Where on earth had that come from? What was I thinking? Why was I lying?

  Only it didn’t actually feel like a lie. It felt more like an actual possibility.

  I smiled and drummed my fingernails nervously on the marble countertop for a few moments. Until I realised my nail polish was chipped and then I resorted to clenching my fists.

  ‘She’s staying in one of our private villas.’ The more mature one said, while picking up the house telephone. ‘Shall I call a butler to take you over there in the buggy, Madam?’

  Eager to meet with Gloria, I was just about to agree to this when I remembered that I was hot and sweaty and still wearing the clothes I’d been travelling in and that my hair was in a crazy humid frizz. ‘Oh, please don’t bother her. I’ll see her later this evening. Thank you.’

  I hobbled away, carrying my flip-flops, to leave the cool sophisticated opulence for the fiery heat outside. But I soon perked up once I discovered that the crowd of people I suddenly found myself standing amongst were all in a queue for a complimentary shuttle service running between all the hotels and I didn’t have to walk all the way back on my blistered feet after all.

  A few moments later, I was on the shuttle bus and being whisked via the lobbies of all the other hotels in reverse order, to the shopping mall that was right next door to my own hotel.

  I went straight into the nearest boutique.

  I wanted to look the part tonight. I needed to look like I was the sort of person who could appreciate expensive art and afford it too. I also needed a pair of comfortable shoes.

  In the boutique, an assistant fussed over me as I tried on a few dresses until I found ‘the one’. I knew it was the one for me the very first moment I slipped into it. It felt just right. Made from gossamer light silk fabric with a classic halter neck design, the gown was backless all the way down to the small of my waist. It floated over my hips and shimmered under the lights of the shop like the blue and green and silver scales of a mermaid’s tail.

  I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror and smiled.

  The assistant smiled too. ‘Madam, that gown is perfect on you.’

  ‘I’ll take it!’ I said and then also took a pair of kitten-heeled slippers that were perfect too.

  I then stopped off at the nail and brow bar. My hair I could wash and manage myself, because I would certainly be wearing it up tonight in an attempt to look sophisticated. I did however splash out on some very nice toiletries and a new perfume from the cosmetic store. Oh, and a double expresso with a caramel shot from the coffee shop to boost my flagging energy levels, before heading back to my room for a caffeine-fuelled pampering session.

  By the time I reappeared, the sun was setting over Nassau.

  The daytime skin-searing temperatures had settled into a pleasant and relaxing ambience.

  I took the complimentary shuttle bus back over to the ballroom at The Cove, stopping along the way to drop off and pick up men, women, and children, dressed in swimsuits and carrying towels. I smiled and blushed as I garnered a few flattering comments from my fellow passengers. It’s amazing what a new dress and a slick of lipstick can do for one’s confidence.

  When I arrived at the Cove, a young woman in uniform on the door checked my ticket and then stared at me for a considerable moment and then she also kindly complimented me.

  ‘Madam, your dress is—well, what can I say? It’s just—wow!’

  I was thrilled and did a little twirl. ‘You think so? Do you like it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s beautiful. Really beautiful. I love the way it catches the light!’

  She’s a fresh faced and pretty girl in her early twenties. A student, I imagine, working her way through college by helping out at events like this one. On a minimum wage too and so relying on tips and goodwill. I quickly decide that she might be a lot younger than me, but she was certainly around the same height and dress size. I decided to offer her my dress.

  ‘Would you like it? Only, after tonight, I certainly won’t need it again.’

  ‘Really? Seriously? Oh, my goodness. Thank you. This is incredible. Yes, I’d love it!’

  I made a mental note to remember her name from her badge.

  ‘Then, I’ll leave it in a bag at reception for you tomorrow Jennifer, with your name on it.’

  I walked confidently into the ballroom to see waiters shimmying between guests and offering flutes of champagne or platters of tiny delicious looking canapés. I picked up a drink and advanced into the throng to mingle and to try and look like I belonged. I scanned my eyes over the attendees for the one feature that would make Gloria Goldman stand apart from all the other women in the room; her
vibrant red hair. There were other redheads of course, those with various shades of ginger or auburn tones but Gloria was a red head with attitude.

  Gloria’s hair was the colour of fresh blood.

  And suddenly, I saw her. She was in a long black lace Stella McCartney dress, standing in the centre of a group of men and women and laughing and tossing back her hair.

  She looked like the star in her very own vampire movie.

  I immediately spun around on my kitten heels and retreated in short steps.

  I knew I couldn’t possibly approach her while she was in the midst of her posse.

  I’d have to wait until I could catch her alone and we could talk privately.

  I hoped it might eventually lead to a meaningful conversation.

  I hadn’t come all this way for nothing. I also had to consider that she might not remember me. Just because she’d made an impression on me did not necessarily mean it went both ways.

  I moved away to stand behind a pillar so that I could be discreet in continuing to watch her, as she worked the room like a social butterfly, flirting from guest to guest and flitting from painting to painting. The art on the walls, each with its own pistol packing bodyguard, was impressive. Not that I’m an expert, but I did spot a Vettriano. I’m guessing it’s not a print.

  I also managed to engage in a couple of arty-type conversations with a couple of friendly-types of people, so not to completely adopt the personality of an unsophisticated wallflower.

  I also enjoyed another glass of champagne. Then someone wearing a smart tuxedo appeared on the stage with a microphone. He thanked everyone for coming along to support the foundation and asked people to ‘dig deep’ before introducing their ‘esteemed chairperson’ who was of course Gloria Goldman.

  Gloria swept onto the stage to rapturous applause and she gave a short speech.

  Her voice was clear and confident and her words well-chosen and warmly presented.