Foreign Affairs

by Patricia Scanlan

  She had built up a good working relationship with the agency, the coach drivers and the apartment owners, whose apartments Transcontinental Travel block-booked for the season. Arrival and departure days were very hectic. She looked after two flights a week and had clients in ten apartment blocks between Palma and Paguera, including stops in Santa Ponsa and Magalluf. By the time she did her visits and dealt with the paperwork back at the office the day was gone. Some nights she took clients on organized excursions to barbecues and fancy dress nights and the like.

  The commission she made from selling the trips went into a special savings fund for her future with Ronan. He was saving like mad, he told her. If both of them saved really hard they might be able to get married sooner than they had planned. It would mean they needn’t have a long engagement. But she’d have to give up being a courier. She couldn’t very well work on the continent and leave her husband at home. Still, that was a long time away. She wouldn’t be twenty-one until August twelve months so that gave her another season away, at least. Maybe then Kieran would give her a job in the TransCon office. She liked the travel business. She could always work at the front desk if her boss was willing and there was a vacancy. In the meantime she and Paula were having a ball in Majorca.

  One night, while waiting for a flight, Jennifer and Paula were joking and laughing with one of the couriers from another agency. His name was Rick. He was a real ladies’ man. Tall, blond, blue-eyed and sexy, he fancied Paula like mad and was always trying to make a date with her. She wasn’t interested but, Paula being Paula, flirted nevertheless. Rick was down on bended knee, begging her to go for a meal with him, and she was laughingly refusing, much to Jennifer’s amusement, when a polite cough caused them to turn around. Miss Johnson from head office stood looking at them. Jennifer and Paula nearly died.

  They were half-way through the season and Jennifer and Paula were expecting such a visit but they thought that she would visit their colleagues on the Costa first. And they would have warned Jennifer and Paula of the impending visit. Miss Johnson was not known as a sneaky cow for nothing.

  ‘The other passengers will be through shortly, I only have hand luggage.’ She indicated a Samsonite shoulder bag. ‘It’s just as well, perhaps,’ she said coldly. ‘I sincerely hope that this is not your usual carry-on. You are wearing the company uniform. You are the company’s representatives abroad. What sort of an image are you giving the company? If other couriers . . .’ she gave Rick a supercilious glare, ‘want to act in an undignified manner, that’s their business. I won’t have my couriers acting like silly teenagers. Is that clear?’ Rick moved discreetly away and made hilarious faces behind the supervisor’s back.

  ‘Is that clear, Miss Myles? Miss Matthews?’ Miss Johnson demanded.

  Jennifer was on the verge of a fit of the giggles. All she could see was Rick mimicking the supervisor behind her back.

  ‘Yes, Miss Johnson,’ she heard Paula say. Jennifer knew Paula was furious to have been caught in such a ridiculous situation. Paula prided herself on being the epitome of sophistication.

  ‘Yes, Miss Johnson,’ Jennifer managed to say. She hoped her boss wouldn’t notice that the nail varnish on her thumbnail was slightly chipped. Miss Johnson was a stickler for good grooming. Chipped nail varnish was a big no-no.

  ‘Good. Please greet your clients. They’re coming through,’ Miss Johnson said haughtily, making a note in her folder. She watched like a hawk as they went through the arrivals procedures.

  ‘I bet she’ll come on my bus, the old bitch,’ Paula muttered as they walked towards their buses. ‘She never liked me because I got the job through Helen. Now she’s really got something on me. I bet she can’t wait to get back to Kieran. I hope someone pukes all over her on the bus.’ Jennifer felt sorry for Paula, but she was relieved that Miss Johnson would not be coming on her bus. Paula was probably right. After the episode in the airport, she’d most likely want to see how Paula performed. If there was one thing Miss Johnson enjoyed, it was getting people rattled.

  ‘I’ll go with Miss Myles,’ Miss Johnson declared. Oh shit! thought Jennifer in dismay. She thought she’d got away with it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Paula grinning.

  ‘See you later,’ her friend said sweetly as they parted to board their respective buses.

  Miss Johnson sat in the front seat right under her nose. Briskly, Jennifer walked down the aisle of the coach checking off names. One couple was missing. She got off the bus to search for them and saw Paula bringing them over. ‘They were on my bus. They took one look at Jolly Johnson and decided they’d prefer to come with me.’ She giggled. ‘Can you believe the way she walked in on us just when that idiot was down on his knees? Wait until I get him,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Jennifer said hastily. ‘She’s sitting on the bus like she’s got a poker stuck up her ass. I’ll see you at home if I haven’t drowned myself somewhere.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Paula murmured.

  Jennifer explained the situation to her driver, Carlos, in rapid Spanish. ‘Don’t drive too fast,’ she warned. ‘I want to keep my balance.’

  ‘I’ll catch her eye in the mirror and seduce her with lusty glances, she looks as if she could do with a man,’ Carlos, ever the chauvinist, suggested with a grin.

  ‘Stop it, Carlos, and behave yourself,’ Jennifer begged. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’ She was beginning to feel very hot under the collar indeed. She took a deep breath, smiled and began her speech.

  ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Jennifer Myles. I’ll be your rep for the next two weeks and on behalf of Transcontinental Travel, may I welcome you to Majorca.’

  ‘The island of tits, bums, booze and nookey,’ a voice called from the back of the bus. Why are you doing this to me, God? Jennifer asked the Almighty in despair as she ignored the interruption. Trust her to have three pissed lads on the bus tonight. Miss Johnson wrote furiously in her precious folder.

  ‘Stop the bus, we’re three thirsty Cork men, we want to go and get a drink.’

  ‘Boys, you’ll be able to drink all you want to when I leave you off at your apartment, there’s a disco bar nearby that stays open late,’ Jennifer said pleasantly.

  ‘Yo.’

  ‘Great stuff.’

  ‘Good on ya.’

  The three of them roared from the back of the bus.

  ‘But if you just listen to me for a few minutes now, I’ll tell you how to make sure you don’t ruin your holiday before you’ve even started it,’ Jennifer said firmly.

  ‘Sound girl ye are,’ one of them shouted. Jennifer felt like going down and giving him a box in the jaw. His friend told him to shut up. Jennifer’s heart sank. Don’t let them start a fight, she thought in dismay. That’s all I need. She glared at the trio.

  ‘Right,’ she said briskly, as they drove out of the airport. ‘First of all I’ll just tell you a little about the island and what to expect. And what to eat and drink. Bank and shopping times and so on. Then tomorrow, when I come to visit you at your apartments, you can have your questions ready and we’ll have a get-to-know-one-another session.’ Fifty faces gazed at her, expectantly. The fifty-first sat stony-faced in the front seat. Jennifer smiled confidently, giving no sign of the nervousness she was feeling, and began her spiel.

  ‘Could you stop the bus, Jennifer, I have to go for a slash?’ came a slurred voice from the rear of the bus. It was one of those nights, she decided. To hell with it. She might as well go with the flow and forget about Miss Johnson.

  ‘Come on,’ she said with pretended cheeriness. ‘And then I don’t want to hear another word out of you.’

  ‘You’d think it was for spite,’ she told Paula later as they sat sipping a beer on their small balcony. It was almost four a.m. The pair of them had to be up early in the morning for their client meetings. But they needed to wind down after the stress of Miss Johnson’s arrival. ‘One of the fellas saw her sitting on her own when he was getting off a
nd said if she was lonely, she knew where they were staying. You should have seen the face of her,’ Jennifer giggled, utterly relieved that the ordeal was over. Once she’d got rid of her merry men, everything else had gone smoothly enough. ‘She has a list of our apartments and the times of the meetings. God knows where she’ll strike tomorrow.’ Jennifer yawned.

  ‘She’s incredible though, isn’t she?’ Paula mused. ‘Not a hair out of place. Make-up flawless. Grooming immaculate. I’ve never seen her look less than perfect. She’s only about thirty-five, you know. But she’s a real dry pain in the ass. I wonder has she a man in her life?’

  ‘If she hasn’t, she could have. Carlos offered to seduce her,’ Jennifer laughed.

  ‘He’s a great character.’ Paula was amused. ‘But not even Carlos would put a smile on Jolly Johnson’s mush. Come on, let’s get to bed. We’ve a long day tomorrow. We’d better phone the office in Malaga and let them know she’s on her rounds.’

  ‘Hmm,’ agreed Jennifer. ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’

  ‘You handled that situation last night very well, Miss Myles. And I’m glad to see that you’ve redone your nail varnish. You’re inclined to speak a little too quickly sometimes. Guard against that,’ Miss Johnson said crisply. The supervisor had come to one of Jennifer’s meetings. She held out her hand. ‘I won’t see you again after I’ve checked up on Miss Matthews. I’ll be sending in a good report on you. Just remember that when you are in uniform you must behave with dignity.’ She gave Jennifer a limp handshake.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Johnson,’ Jennifer said, very pleased with herself. She’d worried that Miss Johnson would not be at all impressed after the disaster last night. But obviously the supervisor thought Jennifer had handled it well. It was great for her self-confidence. She hoped Paula would be as lucky.

  ‘She never said anything like that to me, the poker-faced wagon,’ Paula exclaimed. ‘She just sat there scribbling in her folder and then gave me the lecture about behaving with dignity while wearing the uniform. She never said anything about a good report. She’s probably going to tell Kieran that I’m totally unsuitable to be a courier.’

  ‘He knows you’re good enough,’ Jennifer said.

  ‘But she could say anything when she goes home. She doesn’t like me,’ Paula argued glumly.

  ‘Forget about her. Anyway I don’t think she’s malicious. She’s gone to torment the poor souls on the Costa. We can relax.’ Jennifer was light-hearted. They were back in the office making up their reports. There was a ton of paperwork to get through and they were tired after their late night and client meetings all day. The phone rang. It was the hospital in Palma. Jennifer listened and scowled.

  ‘What’s up?’ Paula asked.

  ‘It’s one of those idiots from Cork. He’s broken his leg and his wrist. I’d better go over. It’s a pity he didn’t break his neck while he was at it,’ she said crossly. ‘Where the hell are my car keys?’

  ‘The joy of being a courier.’ Paula smiled as she bent her head to fill in a report on a customer complaint.

  ‘If this is joy, I can’t wait to get to paradise!’ Jennifer snorted as she rummaged through her bag in search of the elusive keys. ‘Hasta la vista!’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Rachel arranged the strips of grilled bacon, sausage, pudding and tomato neatly on a warm plate and brought it to the table. Her father sniffed appreciatively. ‘That smells very nice,’ he approved. ‘Where’s yours?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she answered quietly. She felt extremely tense. She’d been putting off this moment for ages.

  ‘I hope you’re not on one of these silly diets. It’s very important to eat properly. You’re far too thin, Rachel,’ William said sternly as he cut his bacon into neat pieces. He was such a prissy eater, she thought. Not like Ronan and Harry, who loved their grub and ate with relish. William was a dietician’s dream. He slowly chewed each mouthful and took ages to eat a meal. Rachel once read that you were supposed to chew your food thirty times. William came close to that. She scowled watching his jaws working over a small piece of bacon.

  She poured tea, buttered a slice of bread for herself and smeared it with blackberry jam. It was all she wanted. Even that made her feel nauseous. Tell him! Tell him! she urged herself, trying to screw up her courage.

  ‘I’ve made arrangements for my TP,’ she murmured.

  ‘Pardon?’ William stopped chewing and put down his knife and fork. ‘I didn’t catch that, Rachel, speak up.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I said I’ve made arrangements for my teaching practice in September.’

  Her father looked perplexed. ‘What arrangements? You don’t have to arrange anything. You’ll be doing it in my class.’

  ‘No, Dad. I decided not to. I thought it would be better to do it in an outside school. I think it’s more professional. I want the examiner to judge me on my own merits,’ Rachel said hastily.

  ‘Nonsense. Of course he’ll judge you on your own merits, my being headmaster won’t affect you at all. And you’ll be much more confident in familiar surroundings,’ William said dismissively.

  Confident! In front of you. You must be joking, Rachel thought scornfully. She tried again. ‘I just feel—’

  ‘Whatever arrangements you’ve made, cancel them. I have it all worked out,’ William interrupted, forking a sliver of grilled tomato into his mouth. As usual, it was obvious that he was not the slightest bit interested in what she felt. ‘You can take sixth class for maths and Irish. I’ll work on it beforehand with you.’

  ‘Dad, I’m doing my teaching practice in St Catherine’s Primary School, I’ve fixed it up with Sister James.’ Rachel pushed her bread and jam away from her.

  ‘Why didn’t you consult me about this?’ William glared at her. ‘Sister James must think that I’m a most negligent father if I wouldn’t organize my own daughter’s teaching practice. You’ve made a show of me!’ he declared.

  Rachel fumed silently. The ego of him. He only cared about what his peers thought of him. He wanted to control every part of her life. How she longed to pick up his grill and dump it over his bald head, and watch the runny yellow egg yolk dribble down his aquiline nose as she told him with great venom to get lost and leave her alone and not be annoying her. Why couldn’t he have died of a heart attack, and not her mother? How idyllic life would have been then. There was something else she had to tell him too, she might as well get it over and done with. There was no good time to tell William anything. He didn’t like being told things. He liked doing the telling.

  ‘When I’ve finished my TP and when I go back to St Pat’s in October, I’ve decided to spend my last year living in. Commuting is just too time-consuming. I don’t want anything to interfere with my studies,’ she said in a rush.

  ‘Indeed and you won’t be living in. If there’s anything guaranteed to interfere with your studies, it’s living in a hall of residence with other students who just want to party and have a good time and aren’t the slightest bit interested in their studies. No, Rachel. I won’t permit it. You’re managing perfectly well here.’

  ‘I’m going to live in,’ she argued.

  ‘As long as I pay your fees, Miss, you’ll do as I say!’ William roared, pointing his finger in her face. He was very taken aback by Rachel’s defiance. It was something to be nipped rapidly in the bud. ‘Now, I don’t want to hear another word.’

  Rachel stood up. Her knees were shaking. She knew this was her moment. If she flunked it she might just as well give up the idea of having any sort of a normal life.

  ‘If you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay my fees,’ she quavered. ‘I have enough money to pay my own. I’m doing my teaching practice in St Catherine’s and I’m living in, and I’m going to Clonmel for a few days’ holidays with my friend Pauline this evening.’ She didn’t wait for her father’s response. She walked quickly out of the room, hurried upstairs and grabbed her pre-packed bag. ‘Don’t falter now, Rachel Stapleton,’ she
muttered as she heard her father’s footsteps on the stairs.

  ‘Now just a minute, young lady—’

  ‘Sorry, Dad, I’m in a bit of a rush, I’ll be late for Pauline if I don’t hurry. See you in a few days.’ She brushed past him and ran downstairs.

  ‘You haven’t told me anything about this!’ he blustered. ‘I don’t know what kind of a girl this Pauline is.’

  ‘She’s very nice. Bye.’ Rachel flew out the door. She hadn’t exaggerated when she said she was in a hurry. She was meeting Pauline opposite Heuston Station at six and she had to get the bus from Bray. She’d taken the precaution of ordering Danny Allen’s taxi to take her to Bray and she saw with relief that he was parked at the church, where she’d asked him to pick her up. Rachel hurried along the street without a backward glance. Danny got out of the cab and took her bag from her. ‘I’m in an awful hurry to get to Bray, Danny,’ she said hastily, afraid her father would come up the road and cause a scene.

  ‘No problem,’ Danny assured her. Rachel turned in the seat and looked out the back window. She could see her father in his slippers, arms akimbo, standing at the front gate. Safe in the taxi, a sense of triumph made her feel uncharacteristically brave. She leaned forward. ‘Danny, could you drive down the street and go the tenacre field’s route, I just want to wave to my dad, I left in a bit of a hurry.’

  ‘Sure, Rachel,’ the taxi driver said obligingly as he did a quick reverse and headed down the street. The expression on William’s face was more of amazement than anything else. Up yours! Rachel thought exultantly as she gave him a demure wave. The face of him, when she’d told him she had her own money for her fees. The power having her own money gave her. It had been worth saving every penny she’d earned in the Tea Rooms for this moment. Harry and Ronan had been right when they’d said she should leave her father and stand on her own two feet. She’d taken her first step today and it felt marvellous.