City Woman

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Well, we’ll see how things go,’ Devlin responded lightly. ‘I’m up to my tonsils in work with Belfast and everything.’

  ‘Oh, I know you,’ Caroline said, deflated. ‘Something will come up and you won’t be able to go. You’d want to be careful you don’t turn into a real workaholic. Isn’t that right, Maggie?’ she appealed to their friend.

  ‘That’s right. I’m always saying it.’

  ‘Oh don’t be ridiculous,’ said Devlin, running her fingers through her blonde hair. ‘Come on, Caro,’ she said briskly, ‘if you want to buy some papers and have a look around the duty-free you’d want to get a move on.’ Caroline had to laugh.

  ‘What am I going to do without you to organize me in Abu Dhabi?’

  Devlin had the grace to look abashed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so bossy; do you want me to get you a paper?’

  ‘Do you know something, Dev, I don’t think I’ll bother. I’m heartily sick of the recession and unemployment, and men pontificating about women’s affairs.’

  Maggie agreed. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. I made my own choice about my body, without any interference from popes, cardinals, bishops, politicians, lawyers or even my own husband. I got my tubes tied and I don’t for one minute regret it. So you’re right, Caro: don’t go buying a paper and depressing yourself with all the bull that’s being dished out. Go off and enjoy yourself and forget about everything that’s going on here. Life’s too short . . .’

  So Caroline treated herself to Vanity Fair and U instead and then it was time to pass through the boarding-gate and Maggie and Devlin were hugging her and promising to write. As she passed her hand luggage through security, she caught her last glimpse of her two best friends with their noses pressed against the glass partition and their thumbs up, urging her on to her great adventure. She waved for as long as she could see them and then she rounded the curve into the duty-free and they were gone. Caroline was on her own.

  Two hours later, as the Aer Lingus 737 still sat on the tarmac, she was beginning to get slightly frantic. They had boarded at seven-thirty, and had just been preparing to taxi towards the runway when the Captain’s deep and rather attractive voice announced that the computer had gone down at Schiphol Airport, and that the airport could not handle incoming flights until the problem was resolved.

  Maybe it’s an omen, Caroline thought to herself. Maybe I’m going to miss the connection; maybe I’m mad to be going. I’ll just get off the plane and ring Bill Mangan and tell him it was all a mistake.

  ‘Good news, ladies and gentlemen: we’ve been cleared for take-off,’ announced the gorgeous voice, and without further ado the plane headed towards the runway. Minutes later they were airborne and there was nothing to do but sit back and enjoy the ride.

  It seemed like no time before they were descending over Holland, and Caroline peered out of the window, anxious for her first glimpse of Amsterdam. Apart from trips to Paris and London with her husband, and that giddy first holiday abroad with Devlin, Caroline had not flown much and this was all new and exciting. Unfortunately there was a lot of cloud and it was raining, so her first impressions of Holland were of huge flat rectangular fields with no hedges and trees as there were at home – just every inch utilized for crops – and long narrow canals. Then there was a very straight wide-laned motorway and the runway was coming up to meet them. Somehow, she felt slightly disappointed.

  But Caroline had no time to dwell on her first impressions of Holland because a stewardess was urging her to the front of the plane, and as soon as the door opened she instructed Caroline to follow her as she raced down the passageway towards the huge terminal building. Panting, Caroline followed the young woman who was side-stepping passengers and luggage trolleys with the agility of a gazelle. Caroline had a vague impression of long white corridors and huge windows looking out onto tarmacs crowded with planes, moving walkways, big yellow and green signs. All rushed past her as she hurried along but she kept her eyes on the Aer Lingus hostess until they arrived at a transit desk and the smiling young woman handed her over to the care of the KLM check-in.

  The young man took one look at her tickets and said urgently, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t check you in here. The flight has been called. Please hurry. Gate D.’ Once again, Caroline took to her heels, peering frantically ahead for Gate D.

  ‘Madam! Madam!’ she heard a male voice calling and turned around to see the desk clerk running after her waving her tickets at her. ‘You forgot these, Madam.’

  ‘Thanks, thanks very much,’ Caroline said, completely flustered. Oh you’re great, just great, she told herself, as she carried on in the search for the elusive Gate D. Five minutes on your own and you go and forget your tickets. This was not the way she had envisaged things at all. She had so wanted to be calm and efficient as she transited at Schiphol, just as Devlin would have been. Mind, ten minutes to transit when the normal time is about fifty does make a difference, she comforted herself, as she arrived at her boarding-gate and was promptly checked in and issued with her boarding-card.

  It was Caroline’s first time on a wide-bellied jet and when she finally settled herself in her assigned seat she looked around her with interest. It was an Airbus 310 with eight seats across, and compared with the 737 it was enormous. Before long they were airborne and she had time to think again. Maybe all her rushing wasn’t a bad thing: she’d not had time to panic and wonder if she had made the right decision. Now it was too late: she was on her way to Abu Dhabi, to live and work there. She resolved to start enjoying herself from that very moment. The girls were right: this was something that would happen only once in a lifetime. She took the hot towel from the stewardess and wiped her face and hands. It was very refreshing. She sat back and enjoyed her meal and afterwards the in-flight movie. Then, surprisingly, she fell asleep, and when she awoke they were preparing for their descent into the Saudi city of Dahran. The lights spread out beneath them in the desert winked and glinted while the crescent moon seemed to dip and dance when the plane banked sharply as it lined up for landing.

  As they taxied up to the terminal, Caroline stood up to let the man beside her get out. During the early part of the flight they had chatted and she discovered that he, like her, was arriving in a strange country to work on contract, although he was staying for a year. At least she had the comfort of knowing the man she was going to work for; her companion did not know a soul where he was going.

  ‘Good luck, Caroline.’ He shook her hand warmly. ‘If I ever get to Abu Dhabi, I’ll look you up.’

  ‘Make sure you do,’ Caroline said with a smile, wishing he was travelling on with her. He seemed a nice young man and after sitting (and sleeping) beside him for seven hours, she was sorry to see him disembarking.

  They remained on the tarmac for about an hour while the Saudi police came on board to check the plane. Caroline was able to peer out of the oval window at the beautiful Arabic architecture of Dahran Airport. The arches and minarets of the terminal building looked so exotic, compared to the businesslike buildings of home.

  As they took off for Abu Dhabi, Caroline knew that the start of her new life was less than an hour away. There were only about thirty passengers remaining on the aircraft, most of them businessmen. One middle-aged woman was travelling alone and she smiled across the seats at Caroline. In one of the centre-row seats an Arab man was pulling a pristine thobe over his head. Fascinated, she watched as he arranged his Arab headdress. In his business suit, he had been a portly nondescript man. In his white robes, he seemed to exude an almost stately presence and for the first time, Caroline realized that she was going to be part of a totally different culture.

  Tense with excitement, anticipation and not a little apprehension, as the landing-gear clunked down and the ‘Fasten seat belts’ sign came on, Caroline looked out the window eagerly. Like jewels in black velvet, the lights of Abu Dhabi shimmered on the long straight airport road that crossed the desert. The city in the distance looked like something out of D
isneyland. She knew it was on an island connected by a bridge to the mainland. Very soon she’d be crossing that bridge on the way to her new home for the next half-year. This is it: I’m here, she thought excitedly, as the great jet shot down the runway of Abu Dhabi Airport and then taxied to a smooth halt outside the terminal building. Gathering her bits and pieces together, Caroline took a deep breath and followed the man in front of her down the aisle to the exit.

  Her first sight of Abu Dhabi Airport almost took her breath away. The arrivals hall was decorated with the most beautiful mosaics of greens and turquoise. Caroline stood staring at this vision, which was like something out of the Arabian Nights. This is beautiful, she thought with delight, admiring the splendour before her eyes, and, although she would have liked to linger, she could see the rest of the passengers disappearing from view and, anxious not to be left behind, hastened to catch up with them.

  Bill had instructed her that when she got to immigration control she was to go to the big glass partition and he would throw her visa over to her. As the control booths came into view, Caroline peered anxiously ahead of them to see if she could see Bill in the knot of people who stood behind the partition waving white visas at the arriving passengers. Her eyes scanned from right to left and back again. What would she do if he wasn’t there, she thought in a panic. And then she saw him, a big grin on his ruddy face as he waved the precious paper at her and threw it over the partition. A wave of relief swept over her. Bill was there; everything was fine.

  Twenty minutes later as she stood waiting for her baggage to arrive, Caroline acknowledged that while she might have got to Abu Dhabi in one piece, her luggage had not. Forlornly she watched as all the other passengers reclaimed their cases until she was the only one left. Unsure what to do, she bit her lip in anxiety. She had three big cases with clothes and enough cosmetics to last her for the six months and not one of them was to be seen. A customs official pointed her in the direction of lost luggage and a yawning official was taking down the details of her missing bags just as the KLM rep arrived.

  ‘Don’t worry about it at all,’ the young woman reassured her. ‘I’ll give you an overnight bag and an allowance and we’ll deliver your baggage to your door most likely tomorrow. This often happens; it’s nothing.’ Feeling somewhat bereft, Caroline passed through customs with her hand luggage and met Bill at the other side of the partition.

  ‘No luggage? Ah well, no doubt it will turn up tomorrow. Come on! Let’s get you home. Nell has the place all ready for you and she’ll be here for a few days to show you the ropes. I’ve to fly to Bahrain for a couple of days on business and then I’ll be back myself.’ They walked through the airport doors. A blast of hot, humid air hit Caroline and she inhaled the scents of this new country.

  ‘It’s warm, isn’t it?’ she breathed.

  Bill looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought it was cool enough actually. Don’t worry – you’ll acclimatize soon enough. If you were here in the middle of summer you’d find it hard, but it’s very pleasant now.’

  It was a drive of about thirty kilometres from the airport but in the air-conditioned Mercedes it took no time and very soon they were crossing the bridge that took them from the mainland out to the island where the capital city was situated. Soon they were driving through suburbs and then as they moved further along Airport Road, apartment blocks and high-rise buildings started to appear. Then Bill was swinging off the main road into a residential area and Caroline could see the minarets of a huge mosque, its mosaic dome gleaming in the moonlight. He turned right and pulled up outside an apartment block and Caroline realized that this was where she was going to live for the next six months. ‘Well, what do you think?’ Bill asked cheerfully.

  Caroline gazed around her. ‘It’s certainly different, that’s for sure,’ she said with a smile, as she stepped out of the car and felt the blanket of hot air envelop her again. Posh it wasn’t, compared to where she had lived with Richard: there were no penthouses in this apartment block. But as a dark-haired smiling girl waved at her from the first-floor balcony, Caroline felt she was going to like it. She followed Bill up the stairs, eager to see the inside of her new home.

  Thirty

  A high-pitched sound woke her. She turned over and buried her head in the pillows but the noise continued. Was it someone singing? One of her brothers, at this hour of the morning? What on earth was he up to? Caroline dragged herself back to consciousness and sat up, yawning. Bleary-eyed she reached for her bedside lamp. It wasn’t there. Comprehension dawned and she shook her head at her stupidity. Of course she wasn’t at home: she was in Abu Dhabi and that musical wailing that was amplified across the city must be the famous call to prayer.

  So that was what it sounded like! Caroline had read about the muezzins calling the faithful to prayer five times a day from the mosques, and now she was hearing it for the very first time. A little tingle of excitement ran up her spine. Who could believe that she, timid and unadventurous Caroline Stacey Yates, was lying in a bed, in an Arab country, thousands of miles from home, listening to the call to prayer. Only that she knew better, she would have told herself she was dreaming.

  She lay back against the pillows and immersed herself in the sound. All over the Islamic world, no matter where they were or what they were doing, practising Muslims would face towards Mecca and begin to pray. It was a bit like the Angelus really, Caroline mused, snuggling down into the bed, but the Angelus bell was nothing as exotic as this. She became aware of another sound, a low whirring, and had to think for a moment what it was. Of course, the air-conditioning.

  Nell, Bill’s secretary, whom she was replacing, and in whose guest-room she was sleeping, had laughed when Caroline had said how hot it was. ‘I’d better put the AC on, so,’ she smiled. ‘I think it’s quite cool myself and you’ll get used to it too.’ Caroline found it strange that Bill and Nell thought the weather cool. To her, it was like a very hot and humid summer’s night. If this was what it was like in their winter, she didn’t dare imagine the heat of the summer! Just as well she was staying only until the spring. Otherwise, she’d never stick it, she thought, as she flung off the sheet and lay beneath the cooling breeze of the AC. Nell had actually put a duvet on the bed for her, which she removed immediately. How on earth was the other girl going to stand the chill of home in November, with the rest of the winter to follow?

  Nell was nice, Caroline thought. She had been smiling as she stood at the door waiting for them while Bill, carrying Caroline’s hand luggage, led the way up the stairs to the first-floor apartment. A petite dark-haired girl, Nell had huge brown eyes that sparkled with good humour.

  ‘Welcome. Welcome.’ She had flung open the door wide and ushered Caroline in. A slightly puffed Bill followed. Caroline had walked through a tiled hall into a large sitting-room decorated in soothing shades of cream and brown. A slight breeze ruffled the muslin curtains that covered the windows and Caroline could see exotic plants trailing along the balcony.

  ‘Sit. Relax,’ urged Nell as she rushed out to the kitchen and brought in a tray with tea and sandwiches. ‘I thought you’d feel like a snack so I made some club sandwiches. I brought you this.’ She grinned at Bill handing him a can of chilled beer and a glass. ‘I thought you might need it after your exertions on the stairs, with you having a lift in your plush pad and all.’

  ‘Boy, I sure do,’ Bill puffed, wiping his ruddy face with a handkerchief. ‘I’ll have to get fit. Definitely!’

  ‘If you came down to the Irish dancing on Tuesday nights, I’m telling you, Bill, you’d be as fit as a fiddle,’ laughed Nell, sitting down beside Caroline on the sofa.

  ‘Could you see me?’ snorted Bill, gulping down the cool beer. ‘Girls, I’ll love you and leave you. Caroline, I have to go to Al Ain tomorrow—’ he looked at his watch ‘—today,’ he amended, ‘So I probably won’t see you until Friday. But Nell is going to take you to the office in the afternoon and show you around. She’ll be here until next week so you’
ll be fine.’ He put out his hand and shook hers. ‘Get a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘I will,’ Caroline assured him.

  ‘Nell, don’t keep her up yakking all night. She’ll probably have a touch of jet-lag. Don’t forget she’s been flying since early this morning.’

  ‘As if I would,’ exclaimed Nell indignantly.

  ‘As if you wouldn’t,’ declared Bill as he walked into the hall. ‘I know you when someone comes over from home.’

  Nell winked at Caroline, ‘I’ll have her in bed in half an hour, O master. Good luck in Al Ain.’ She closed the door on Bill and came in and sat down by Caroline. ‘I’m dying to hear all the news from home but I’ll restrain myself until tomorrow. I know you must be knackered, especially having had to hang around because of your luggage,’ she said sympathetically, as Caroline yawned in spite of herself.

  ‘It’s been a long day,’ Caroline agreed, telling Nell all about the delays at Dublin Airport and how she had made the connection only by the skin of her teeth. She rooted through her large hold-all and handed Nell a box of handmade Lir chocolates. ‘I thought you might like these, and I’ve brought you some magazines: U, Woman’s Way, Image, just so you can see what’s going on at home. I should have brought the papers, but they’re so full of bad news I just didn’t bother.’ Caroline felt like kicking herself for not thinking that Nell might have been interested in reading about the news at home.

  ‘Don’t worry about it; sure I’ll be home this day next week and I’ll hear it all then. But thanks very much for the chocolates and the mags. I’m going to take them to bed with me.’ Nell took Caroline’s empty cup and plate from her. ‘Come on; I can see you’re wall fallin’. I’ll show you your room, and you can have a shower and get into bed. And you don’t have to worry about getting up in the morning. I’ll come home from the office around one and we can have lunch together and a good chat. Then I’ll bring you down to introduce you gently to the circus that’s going to be your life for the next few months. How does that grab ya?’