by Nesta Tuomey
‘You’re welcome,’ she drawled in reply.
Another busy week passed and Maura was summoned once more to Oliver’s plush office. She took her time obeying and gave thanks that the American woman was gone. She could well do without the added aggravation of the Sheila Muellers of this world.
One thing had been pretty evident by the end of the writer’s visit. She wasn’t finding ‘Ollie’ quite the enchanter she had at first.
‘I guess you women don’t have it all your own way with the Big Chief,’ was her shrewd comment on parting.
You could say that again!
Now Maura looked across at him perched in his leather swivel chair, busily sorting through papers as though she wasn’t there. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he said, without looking up.
‘That’s okay. Take all the time in the world,’ she said drily, and glared at his bent head. Another five minutes ticked by.
Don’t dream of rushing yourself, she silently fumed. It’s just the busiest time of year and I’ve got a stack of flight reports the length of O’Connell Street awaiting me when I get back.
The Chief Executive laid down his pen and swivelled his chair towards Maura. He crossed one perfectly creased pants leg over the other, swung his highly polished tan shoe
. ‘Well, Maura, I can give you ten minutes of my time and then I have another appointment,’ he said curtly, ‘Of course if you had got here a little earlier...’
Maura stared at him, outraged. ‘You were the one wanting to see me,’ she reminded him coolly.
‘Just so.’ He eyed her thoughtfully then without turning his head, stretched behind and lifted some papers off the desk. ‘I have here Mrs. Mueller’s report on the Hostess Administration branch... some very interesting findings... very interesting indeed.’
Report? Maura was amazed. Had she heard him right?
He flicked his nails against the stapled sheets. ‘Maura, what I have here is a fairly comprehensive list of the day to day running of the hostess section. Mrs. Mueller has presented a clear picture. In most respects, I’m afraid it makes sorry reading.’ He sighed. ‘Much of it points out the unnecessary, wasteful and time-consuming methods being employed.’
‘A report, you say?’ Maura interrupted him.
He looked at her over his heavy black-framed glasses.
‘That’s right. Mrs. Mueller is an operations research consultant here at our express invitation, to help us organise ourselves more profitably.’
Now you tell us! Maura thought.
‘You mean to say all that about writing a book was a lie?’ She was flabbergasted, then furious.
Oliver frowned. ‘I’m not sure I like that.’ ‘Too bad,’ Maura said shortly.
How dare he send a spy into the camp, she raged. The sneaky little bastard! She stood up and looked at her watch pointedly.
‘I’d say those ten minutes are about up, wouldn’t you?’ she said coolly. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, Oliver. I have an appointment in my office with the Crew Planning Superintendent to discuss the Palma night flights starting next week. I’ll be free later on if you wish to continue this discussion but I think it might be advisable if it were attended by some other member of the hostess committee apart from myself.’
‘Very well. I take your point.’ Unabashed, Oliver got to his feet but made no move to see her out. ‘I agree it’s a matter for the whole bunch of you.’
Incompetent bunch, his tone seemed to imply.
Eyes glinting, head held high, Maura marched angrily out of his office. Of all the sneaky underhand actions, she raged. Crossing to the hostess section, her thoughts in a whirl, she ran full tilt into Captain Drummond who was coming striding along from the opposite direction.
‘Hey, steady.’ He held her in a firm grip and smiled down at her. ‘Where’s the fire?’ he joked.
Distraught as she was, Maura grinned back.
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ she apologised. ‘Everything okay?’
Maura noticed what an attractive voice he had and that the blue eyes regarding her were kindly and concerned.
Attempting a laugh she said, ‘Sure. Just one of those trying meetings. You know, the kind that leave you screaming and foaming at the mouth.’
He laughed sympathetically, ‘Don’t I just.’ He put up a hand to his moustache and stroked it thoughtfully, his blue eyes fixed on hers. ‘I’m just finished duty. I suppose it’s a bit too early to suggest convening to the Departure lounge for a sherry.’
‘It is a bit,’ she agreed, returning his gaze.
What a nice face he has, she thought, a bit craggy and lined but full of character.
Captain Drummond stared warmly back. That he found her attractive was more than obvious.
‘Perhaps another time?’ Maura said with a smile.
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ With a murmured goodbye, he courteously tipped his uniform cap and moved on.
Well, why not? Maura asked herself. He was an attractive man and a widower. It might make Simon sit up and take a bit of notice, she told herself grimly as she hurried into her office to make her apologies to the Crew Planning Superintendent.
Kay too was finding the summer tough. With the onset of the hectic season there was nothing but packed flights to London and the Isle of Man, late night trips to Palma and Perpignon and, above all, the Lourdes charters. Kay considered she was getting more than her fair share of those!
‘Not Lourdes again,’ she groaned when she was stuck on yet another pilgrimage only two days after her last scheduled trip there.
At least the outward journeys weren’t too bad, she consoled herself, as she went down to her locker to collect a dress in case they overnighted. At this stage the pilgrims were still enjoying the novelty of flying and hoping against hope to have a bit of a holiday when not down on their knees praying. But coming back! They haggled with their last franc over a packet of duty-free fags and were as vile and crabbed as only pilgrims feeling the effects of an all-in package deal, enforced prayer and late-night vigils can possibly be.
Her green eyes lit with amusement. ‘Hey, miss, what can I get for this?’ they would cry. Sometimes even shamefully, ‘Hey, waitress,’ (how Noeleen Carmody would love that!), holding up a minuscule amount. ‘A trip to the loo,’ Kay was often tempted to answer before dashing away to attend to some other crabbed old crone wanting to buy up the plane.
Now she went over to Cabin Stores to collect the cash-float and was just about to take it from Mick when the door banged open and Orla O’Neill came rushing in. ‘Hurry up! Hurry up!’ she yodelled. ‘I’m in a hell of a rush.’
Kay turned in dismay. By sheer dint of personality Orla always bulldozed her way into being served first.
As she feared, Mick delayed handing over the cash-float.
‘In a hurry, Miss O’Neill?’ he queried in his Fagan voice. ‘And what do we do with little girls in a hurry?’ he asked Eddie, who immediately caught on.
Kay backed away with a startled expression as they laid hands on Orla and dragged her roaring through the window. Branding hostesses was all the rage these days. Willing victims of the Orla-kind were forever rushing into the restroom proudly displaying their marks. Kay would have died if they laid hands on her.
‘C’mon, lads,’ she pleaded nervously. ‘Finish with me first.’ At this rate she would be late on board.
‘A thousand apologies, dear lady,’ Mick turned back to attend to her again.
Thankfully, Kay signed the chit and turned to go. Behind her a chortling Eddie brought the date stamp down on Orla’s plump thigh. ‘And now for the other one,’ he was gloating as Kay made good her escape. Oh well, everyone to their own taste, she grinned to herself as she hurried on board.
Before June was half over Kay had been to Lourdes eight times. She supposed it could have been worse. Sally spent her life flying in and out of the Isle of Man while Bunny had nothing but late-night charters. Bringing home a drunken team after a match with Glasgow Celtic, Bunn
y had had her uniform taken and was forced to sit in her slip in the toilet while one of the footballers went about distributing the drinks. ‘I was mortified,’ she confessed afterwards to the girls. Kay couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
To Kay’s regret she had seen very little of Sally since the start of the summer. It would be great, she thought, if they could share a flight but so far they hadn’t even been on reserve duty together, their only contact was on the telephone or the odd hurried meeting in the canteen. Then Bunny threw a shower party in her new flat for one of the hostesses who was getting married in July, and they shared a whole evening together.
Rona was the first of their group to get engaged. The day she arrived into the restroom with the ring the excitement had been intense, everyone begging to try it on and shouting, ‘Rona, you dark horse, why didn’t you tell?’ and ‘Fancy being able to keep a thing like that secret,’ so that the poor girl didn’t know what hit her.
‘If it were me I’d be broadcasting it from the control tower,’ confessed Orla, who was partnering her that day.
‘I really didn’t think anyone would be all that interested,’ Rona confessed shyly, admitting that she honestly thought it was all her travelling about since joining Celtic Airways that had prompted her fiancé to pop the question. ‘He was afraid I’d throw him over for some dashing pilot,’ she laughed modestly.
After that there was a crop of engagements and nothing but talk about rings and weddings in the restroom. Some of the hostesses thought it a bit quick to get engaged after only six months of flying - Lucy in particular was openly scornful of all the ‘ring-mad girls rushing off to prop the kitchen sink’ - but the majority of the group thought it very romantic. In training it had been the consensus of opinion that to get her man was the prime objective of any self- respecting air hostess and in the fastest possible time if she wished to become one of Celtic’s enviable statistics.
Nearly all the group attended Rona’s shower party. It was very much an all-girls- together night, Kay reflected, as she sat on the arm of Sally’s chair admiring the layout of the room. Bunny had put on a great spread and there was lots to eat and drink.
Poor old Cecily would have been in her element, she thought, but unfortunately no one knew where to contact her, though rumour had it she was shortly expecting to be interviewed for one of the British airlines. Sandy had been asked but declined to come.
Orla, arriving in late, produced a naughty engagement card (complete with moving parts) and brazenly passed it about to the accompaniment of much coarse laughter. Rona who was really quite shy, blushed when it came to her turn to receive it but valiantly struggled to play the part expected of her, of blissful engaged girl.
The naughty card effectively loosened everyone’s inhibitions and under the influence of copious gins and tonics, giggling speculation was made as to who would be next for the marital couch. From the kind of talk circulating it was obvious they were all doing ‘business’ of one kind or another. Sally (as Kay already knew) was getting on famously with Maurice, her Dutchman who had stepped up his courtship since her return from holidays, besides which she surprisingly revealed she was getting letters from Eulogio Sanchez Blanco, her Spanish admirer.
‘Two a week,’ Sally grinned.
Orla was crazy for someone called Hugo.
‘Pots of dough,’ she titillated them all, drawing a faint protest from Rona.
‘Ah now, when you meet the right man you won’t care whether he’s rich or not.’ ‘Wanna bet?’ Orla grinned cynically, ‘You can take it from me I ain’t getting hitched to any guy that ain’t loaded.’
At this there was a ripple of approving laughter.
‘Eva’s engagement is on again,’ offered Lucy, obviously discomfited at the prospect of her friend with the love-bug. ‘But she’s not wearing any ring for the moment.’
‘Funny kind of engagement,’ Orla laughed scornfully, making it clear she wouldn’t consider it binding without a ring and an expensive flashy one at that.
Lucy flushed and fell silent.
‘What about you, Bunny?’ Kay deflected attention, feeling sorry for her.
‘Oh Teddy is himself,’ Bunny cried acceptingly, like a mother with a lovable but wayward son.
By this everyone knew about the dashing lieutenant who belonged to another but courted Bunny in secret. Since returning from Spain her resolve had weakened and she was allowing him call on her again.
‘It’s completely platonic, girls,’ Bunny protested at their knowing looks. ‘Cwoss my heart. All we ever do is talk.’
Knowing Bunny, Kay could well believe it. Since their shared holiday she was more than ever convinced that the girl had a very low sex-drive. She listened sceptically as Bunny described two other admirers and brother officers of Teddy’s who took her to military balls and the races and kept her ‘warm’ for him when he was otherwise occupied with his fiancée. The steel helmet on the mantelpiece had been given to her by Jack and had to be gigglingly tried on by everyone before she rescued it and returned it to the place of honour.
‘Bunny will be next,’ pronounced Celine positively. ‘Though who it’ll be is beyond me.’ She had a nice steady chap of her own who motored up at weekends from the west of
Ireland to see her but she wasn’t sure how she felt about him.
‘He’s a bit too careful of himself if you know what I mean.’ She pulled a face.
Kay giggled with the rest. Thinking from all Celine said he sounded as if a nurse was what he wanted first and a wife second. The gin having effectively loosened Celine’s tongue, as it sometimes loosened her will in the back seat of his Morris Minor, she frankly admitted she would like to be ‘shwept’ off her feet a bit more.
Like Ginny Haplin wanting some man to be rough with her, Kay thought amused.
Of her own romance she said little. Since May she was meeting Graham at least twice a week and they had got in the habit of driving to Greystones to walk a few miles on the beach before returning to the adjoining Sanditops Hotel for a nightcap. Afterwards they would find a secluded spot to park the car and make love.
Well kiss and fondle. To Kay’s amazement it never went any further than that. In a weak moment she had confided this to Sally who said with a husky laugh, ‘Honestly, Kay! Don’t you see? He’s getting it already. That’s why.’
‘Oh!’ Kay was crestfallen. Sometimes, she bitterly regretted that the absence of a sister or someone close to her, betrayed her into telling Sally more than was wise. Not that her friend wasn’t fairly reciprocative in their discussions about the men in their lives, she thought, but she came nowhere near to confiding as much to Kay as she did to her. Somehow by her amused cynicism Sally seemed to be suggesting that Captain Pender wasn’t serious about her. Kay considered that by the unwritten code between girlfriends this just wasn’t playing fair.
After all, it was not as if she hadn’t already faced the agonizing possibility that Graham was married. In her more clear-sighted, less emotional moods she knew he just had to be. But she was hoping that he would tell her of his own accord and, until then, quite honestly preferred to coast along, daydreaming of a future happy time when she would have attained a legitimate place in his life, as well as his affections.
So amidst all the tipsy girlish outpourings at Rona’s shower party, Kay merely admitted to one or two boyfriends. ‘Nothing serious... all quite casual in fact,’ and having made the unblinking lie, was glad that no one, not even Sally, had any idea of the full extent of her passion for Captain Pender, or her shivering excitement in anticipation of their next meeting.
As the weather grew warmer she and Graham had begun to meet more frequently. She knew he was finding his first summer on the Atlantic exhausting and understood his need to get away from cities whenever he could. Sometimes he was quite tense and strung up and it took an hour or so in the open strolling over the sands to restore him to a more relaxed state of mind.
With the heavy summer schedule, Kay often thought i
t was a miracle they managed to meet as often as they did but there were disappointments too when delays or changes in either roster forced them to change their plans. Since the start of their affair, she had accumulated quite a bundle of notes from him as well as perfume and chocolates. His latest gift was a lovely fluffy white bear which she prized more than all the others put together.
‘He’s gorgeous!’ she exclaimed, holding him close to her cheek. Furry toys were all the vogue amongst hostesses just then and Graham had instinctively made the right choice.
‘I’m going to call him Pendy,’ she declared impulsively.
‘Pendy?’ Graham was amused. ‘Am I to deduce you’re naming him after me!’
But he was touched by her evident pleasure in the gift and promised to bring her back something better next time.
The bear occupied pride of place on Kay’s pillow where Sam hugged him to death on his visits from Kilshaughlin and Florrie admired him whenever she came in for a late-night chat.
‘Lucky you,’ she said enviously, doing her own share of hugging. ‘All Jimmy ever gives me are boring old classical records.’ Kay grinned sympathetically, knowing Florrie’s taste ran to musicals, but she honestly never cared herself what Graham brought her. It was the thought that counted.
Shortly afterwards, Kay found herself stuck on yet another flight to Lourdes. She arrived on board to find her co-hostess already there before her. Penny had been stuck on the flight too and together they shared the cabin pre-take-off checks, then went to stand by the door as the stretcher cases were boarded first.
Watching them, Kay thought pityingly how awful it was to be paralysed, unable to move. She returned the smile of a pale, sweet-faced woman lying half-propped on pillows and when Mary asked her for a drink of water, gladly went to get it. Delays were hardest on the invalids and Kay only wished she could do more to help them.
This trip was the worst yet. Already they were two and a half hours behind time. When the doors were closed, she handed the pilgrimage chaplain the PA handset and went down checking seat-belts while he warmly addressed the pilgrims. Ten minutes later they were airborne.