But it was no good. The frustration within me swelled. My fists formed balls.
I never let on to Amy just how tough it was working for that woman; never wanted to risk my sister feeling guilty about all the years I’d had to suffer condescending put-downs in order to put food on the table. To be fair, Prue had eventually promoted me from receptionist and in my new role I’d learnt loads about the financial side. However, Prue wasn’t a dreamer and always knocked back any fresh ideas I had to grow our reputation and make more money.
I felt like a clipped bird.
Please let things be different today.
But if they weren’t… I sat up straighter. A month in a luxury hotel was going be an opportunity to find out what it would take to reach the top of my profession. I felt as if I’d put in enough years now, as assistant manager, to take the next step forwards in my career. I’d been researching for several months. It was fascinating. For example, the walls of The Dorchester contained compressed seaweed and cork for soundproofing. Apparently Hitchcock said it would be the perfect place to commit a murder.
I was so used to working all hours but there was no chance this trip would make me feel guilty because I’d be taking notes on the way things were run and still focusing on work. This five-star holiday might set me in a good position to seek a more personally rewarding – and better paid – job once I got home.
‘You still here?’ asked Prue. She made herself a black coffee and sat down next to me, bringing an atmosphere as sour as the vinegar on her crisps. ‘Then I’ve just got one last job for you, before you knock off for the day – the new family with those bawling twins want to know if we have blackout curtains for tonight. I don’t trust myself to give them the bad news, so you’ll have to.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly. Some people truly believe a hotel should be a home from home.’
That’s where Prue and I were fundamentally different – I longed to work somewhere that went that extra mile to fulfil a guest’s every need. There was no better feeling than when some little difference you made brightened their stay. In spite of my critical boss, I enjoyed the hands-on aspects of my job so much. I was lucky seeing as I’d only applied to work here, all those years ago, because the position came with accommodation – a perk I was grateful for until I could afford a proper place of my own.
‘I’ll sort it. No problem, Prue. Perhaps I can find some black bin liners to put up instead.’ I closed my Tupperware lunch box. I pressed down firmly on the lid, clutching the sides as I spoke. ‘Could I just run an idea past you that I’ve been working on – on how we could make the Best Travel experience even more… special?’ I couldn’t help smiling. ‘It kept me awake until the early hours.’
With her hair scraped back into a ponytail, there was nothing to hide the bored expression that crossed her face. Only last month she’d rejected my suggestion that we extend the basic complimentary toiletries range to include a plastic shower cap and sachet of hand cream. Not having much money to spare myself, I knew that for our average customer the small things like that meant a lot. But ‘Don’t fix what isn’t broke’ Prue was a fan of the status quo.
Still. I had to give it a go. One thing I’d learnt, since leaving home, was to never give up. Like the way I’d taught myself to hang wallpaper. There’d been tears. Rolls of discarded paper that had gone on wonky. I’d felt so proud when I finished one wall.
I took a deep breath. ‘The rooms on the top floor that are slightly bigger… Why don’t we trial stocking them with better quality linen, curtains that match duvets, small mini bars and trouser presses? We could charge more and might snag customers wanting a bigger slice of luxury at a lower price.’ I leant forward. ‘We’d be more competitive against that posh hotel down the road and—’
Prue looked at me and raised the palm of her hand. She was grinning. Hope unfurled in my chest.
Until she started laughing. Tears ran down her bony cheeks.
‘Christ, Sarah. What do you think this place is? The Ritz? Stick to what you know best – running the housekeeping team and chasing out late risers.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Best Travel is a tightly run ship but not the Titanic.’
Neck burning, I stood up. Prue reminded me of Dad. It was her way or no way at all. That frustration, inside me, that had been growing for weeks rumbled like a dormant volcano considering waking up. I pressed my lips together but couldn’t stop myself turning at the door.
‘What now?’ she asked.
I should have left without saying a word.
I should have swallowed my wrath.
Instead I went back over to her.
‘Some might say your lack of vision is narrow-minded, Prue,’ I said, in a measured tone. ‘It could cost you the business. These are competitive times.’
An hour later, still shaking, I met Amy outside the underground station we’d agreed on. She’d managed to get an early shift too. I smiled and nodded in all the right places as she reluctantly fitted on skimpy clothes chosen by me. Blocking out Prue’s reaction, I somehow got through the afternoon, eating cake and laughing over a sun cream that smelt like spoiled milk. With relief, I put the key in our front door, went into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa.
Amy collapsed next to me and groaned as she eyed up our bags. ‘I’m already regretting buying that bikini.’ She linked her arm through mine.
‘But the pineapples on it are so cute,’ I said. Playfully she punched my arm. I caught her hand and held it tight. ‘Thanks, Amy. I know shopping isn’t really your thing – like this whole luxury break. You’re the best sister ever. And four weeks is long enough for me to convert you. By the time we get back you’ll be longing to book your next pedicure and facial.’
‘What’s the point of pedicures in England? No one’s going to see your feet with the weather we’ve been having. And I’ve always washed my face with soap and water. I can’t imagine a fancy facial really does any more good than that. But… but I’m looking forward to being proved wrong,’ she added quickly. ‘I must remember to pay the final amount. It’s due in a couple of days – as you keep reminding me.’
‘I just can’t wait for this break,’ I said and my voice wavered. I meant every word one hundred times over after what had happened with Prue a few hours ago. I wanted Amy to hug me tight. I wanted to open up and reveal how much I’d grown to detest working at Best Travel.
I’d forgotten what it looked like, to turn white with anger. Prue’s complexion soon brought back the worst memories of Dad. She’d slammed down her mug and said I should be more grateful. Then she laughed at me for using the word vision. Sniggered and said I’d watched too many episodes of The Apprentice.
If only I could confide in Amy but I’d spent too many years protecting my little sister, to stop now. ‘The accommodation you’ve booked sounds just like the kind of place I’d love to run one day.’ I closed my eyes, picturing the designer executive suits I’d wear, to look the part of operations manager.
‘What… this break will remind you of the nine ’til five?’
‘Well, I do work in a hotel,’ I said and shot her a humorous glance. ‘Just imagine the clientele you could attract at that sort of place. I’d offer butlers and personal masseuses and waitressing staff on the beach. This holiday is going to give me a fantastic inside view of high-end hospitality. Don’t get me wrong, I… I love my assistant manager position at Best Travel, the job is great… but you know I’ve been researching working at top-notch hotels. This trip is going to provide me with brilliant insight for interviews. I shall take a notebook and write down everything we experience, from start to finish.’
She gave me a sideways glance. ‘This holiday is supposed to be a getaway – a getaway from the usual routine.’
‘And it will be.’
‘No, it won’t. By the sounds of it you’re going to spend every hour thinking about the hotel business – namely work.’
‘But I’ll be experiencing hospitality from the other side of the fence – th
at’s completely new. This is the perfect opportunity to make up for my lack of experience of actually working in a luxury setting. I think I’ll write a personal statement, based on this trip, to attach to my CV, explaining what I’ve learnt from living for a month as a five-star guest.’
Amy raised an eyebrow and gave an exasperated sigh.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She glanced away. ‘I’ve put the oven on for those pizzas we bought.’
‘I’ll chop up some peppers and mushrooms for the top. We can kid ourselves it’s healthy, then.’
Half an hour later we both sat on the sofa again, in our pyjamas, eating pizza and drinking squash. The day’s cloudy sky flirted with dusk. I didn’t mind. Whilst I loved eating ice cream and favoured my summer wardrobe, the best season was winter and evenings holed up in the flat. We’d drink hot chocolate and watch Netflix in our dressing gowns with a plateful of biscuits whilst diplomatic Nelly would stretch herself across both our laps.
Amy finished her last mouthful, crusts and all. It had been a busy day – although the calorie hit didn’t perk her up. Her mood had been more subdued than usual since we got back.
‘Good morning at work?’ I asked.
Amy’s lips upturned. ‘The best. You should have seen this owner’s face when she came to pick up her dog, Brutus – he’s a feisty Chihuahua…’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘He’s been so ill after eating a large bar of chocolate. He almost didn’t make it, but turned a corner after a night on an intravenous drip. Mrs Smith couldn’t stop crying when he swiped her with his paw like he always used to.’ Amy picked up some strands of melted cheese from her plate. ‘She’s a really interesting woman and works for a company that makes jewellery out of recycled household objects such as knitting needles, cutlery and vinyl records. I’m going to buy something small out of what’s left of my winnings. I think it’s fantastic, the difference businesses like that are trying to make.’ Amy stuffed the gooey splodge of cheese into her mouth and then looked at me, embarrassed.
‘I’d better take that plate off you before you lick the pattern off it,’ I said and grinned as she pretended to hide it.
‘Do you remember when you got back from guide camp, pizza was the first meal you craved?’ she said. ‘You declared you could never face eating another marshmallow or barbecued sausage again. I was so jealous. Roughing it was – and still is – my idea of heaven.’
‘Yes, I had fun on that trip.’
‘Did you? Honestly? Ten days in the outdoors, away from your bubble baths and neatly ironed clothes?’ Amy stared.
‘We slept outside, under the stars one night. I’ve never forgotten how dark the sky is, away from city lights. So pretty.’ I leant back into the cushions. ‘It was great, not having to bath every night and keep my hair tidy. Building dens. Learning about orienteering. The sense of freedom was brilliant.’
Amy gave me a curious look.
‘But you wouldn’t want to go on that camp now, would you?’
I shrugged. ‘Grown-up life can become complacent. I need to be more adventurous. That’s why it’s time for me to really go for a new job. Not that I’m desperate to leave Best Travel. It’s not awful,’ I said and forced a laugh. ‘I’m just ambitious, that’s all…’ I picked up our plates and hurried into the kitchen before Amy could ask any more questions. I fed Nelly her evening snack and relished the lingering smell of cheese, tomato and oregano. When I returned to the living room, Amy was sitting at the table in front of her laptop. I headed over and she snapped it shut.
‘Holiday secrets,’ she said and beamed.
I smiled and went into my bedroom to unpack my new clothes. When I came back Amy was still in front of her screen.
‘I’ve just paid the full amount. There’s no room for second thoughts now.’
‘Good! Although there’s no worry on that score – why wouldn’t I want to go?’
‘No reason. I… I just hope I’ve done the right thing; chosen the best holiday.’
She bit a fingernail. A habit from childhood. She didn’t do it often now.
‘How could you not have?’ I said and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Like I said earlier – you’re older now… it’s time I took some adventures. I’ll have fun whatever this exotic stay brings.’
She caught my eye, thought for a moment and gave a thumbs-up.
‘And you’ve put so much thought into next month. It’s not as if you’ve made a spontaneous, last-minute booking.’
Amy’s cheeks reddened and she grinned. Looking more like her usual cheerful self, she stood up and gave me a hug.
3
‘Please tell me you’re joking,’ I said, my mouth feeling as if it were lined with beach sand. I’d just woken up with a crick in my neck, due to falling asleep against the aeroplane’s window. ‘What sort of name is Beef Island Airport, anyway?’ I yawned and snuggled down again, this time on Amy’s shoulder. ‘The island we’re landing on is actually called Tortola.’
Twenty-two hours – that’s how long we’d been in the air, to get to one of the few Virgin Islands with a main airport. And now I’d just found out we still had to take a trip across the ocean when we landed, to get to our particular destination that Amy was still keeping secret.
Twenty-two hours of lying to my sister about what happened yesterday at work. Well, not lying exactly. I just hadn’t found the right moment to share the bad news.
‘I know, exciting isn’t it?’ said Amy and flicked through a travel guide. She was looking at photos of geckos and pelicans. I watched how she chewed on the inside of her cheek as she concentrated, like she’d used to as a little girl. It was me who’d read her a bedtime story after Mum passed away.
‘Strictly speaking it’s called the Terrance B Lettsome Airport now,’ she said. ‘I believe the name Beef Island came from the fact that a nearby bay was where people stocked up with food for long voyages, in the eighteenth century – smoked beef being a staple.’ Amy smiled at the air steward who came past to make sure everyone was wearing their seat belt, in preparation to land. Not that there was any need as I’d already subtly checked my sister’s. I rubbed my neck and gazed out of the window. My stomach fluttered as the aeroplane decreased its height.
It began to sink in.
We were really doing this.
I was on the cusp of enjoying the holiday of a lifetime. I hadn’t been on an aeroplane or sailed since my last holiday with Dad. I’d been sixteen and had run out of excuses to stay at home, despite having applied for a summer camp. Dad had a business meeting at a potential client’s villa in Monaco and wanted to showcase his picture-perfect family to help close the deal. It was Amy who finally persuaded me – or rather begged. Teenage hormones had just hit and she’d become even more sensitive to his hurtful comments.
Picture-perfect.
Imperfect where it counted.
I forced my mind back to the present. It was my fault this journey had taken forever. Once Amy had made the final payment for our accommodation, I’d said the least we could do was be economical with the flights, despite her concerns about the carbon footprint of a longer journey. Her voice had a defeatist tone as she’d agreed, but later in the year, when she needed money, she’d realise I’d been right.
So instead of flying here in just thirteen hours, with one stop in Antigua, we’d flown to Miami and then on to San Juan airport in Puerto Rico. There we’d grabbed a lunch of chicken, rice and beans. And coffee, with these cute little pastries filled with guava paste. After those, I felt almost human again and my body finally decided it was relaxed enough to sleep – unless I’d just sunk into a carbohydrate coma.
‘Have we already got tickets for the last leg of our journey?’ I asked and yawned again before pulling out my hairbrush and compact mirror.
‘Sarah. Stop worrying. It’s all in hand.’
I swallowed several times as my ears popped whilst the aeroplane continued to descend. My spirits, in contrast, soared as I studied the clearest, most turquoise sea
s that appeared as the white cloud thinned and disappeared. I gazed across the cluster of islands, with their vibrant forest greens and sandy golden outlines.
There had been nothing pretty about yesterday and the thing I hadn’t told Amy yet because the worry would ruin her holiday. We’d gained a large group booking at Best Travel. A group of salespeople who were holding a conference in a newly built local office building. It was one they’d be holding each month. Prue was off work – thank goodness. The atmosphere since I’d confronted her had been unbearable and for the first time in my working life I’d been tempted to ring in ill. Without her to consult, I took what I thought was the best decision and offered the sales team a discount if they booked with us again. It was a way of securing their business, even throughout the quieter autumn and spring months.
Prue phoned later in the day and when she found out about the discount came straight in. She didn’t say much at first. Her silence unnerved me. Eventually, she said I shouldn’t have authorised that without asking her first. I tried to explain my position – I told her I felt Best Travel needed to broaden its vision to stay afloat, especially as the local airport was being closed down. We could no longer rely on the bookings that brought in.
Using that word vision again was a mistake. She sacked me. On the spot. Declared it had been coming a long time. Announced I was too flighty for Best Travel. That her nephew who’d worked in housekeeping for a year wanted to go into hotel management – that he understood how things worked there and deserved promotion. She’d been planning to train him to help, whilst I was away, but now thought it was best if she offered him my position permanently.
The smug look on her face suggested she’d been planning this all along.
So I didn’t have a job to go back to. That’s the other reason I didn’t tell Amy – I… felt ashamed. I’d always prided myself on being independent and always paying my own way.
A tear trickled down my cheek as I stared down at the ocean. Quickly I wiped it away.
The Summer Island Swap Page 2