Finishing Touches (25 page)

‘It’s exciting, isn’t it?’ Aileen’s eyes sparkled. As was the case for Cassie, it was her first flight. Laura was already a veteran, having twice flown
transatlantic return.

‘Let’s go and have a drink before we hit the duty-free!’ ordered the seasoned traveller, leading the way to the bar on the next floor.

‘There’s a woman talking a bit of sense,’ Robbie laughed as he put his arm around Cassie and gave her a squeeze. She’d really miss him on the holidays but they had been
suggested before she started going out with him and it wouldn’t be fair to let the girls down. Besides, she and Robbie were going to go away for the October week-end and she was really
looking forward to it. They had had a wonderful few days down at the Rose of Tralee in August and they had gone to Cork for the weekend a fortnight before. Just even thinking about it gave her a
warm glow, Robbie was special.

‘Would you two love-birds stop gazing into each other’s eyes and re-enter the planet?’ Aileen teased. ‘I was asking would you like another drink.’ Robbie had bought
the first round.

Cassie laughed. She didn’t mind being called a love-bird, as it was the first time in her life that she really felt she was one. Sipping their Bacardis in the dimly lit lounge high in the
airport building, watching charter flights taking off and landing, the girls felt like jet-setters. They had given themselves plenty of time so that they could enjoy a drink with Robbie without
having to rush to board the plane.

Robbie shook his head. ‘Not for me, thanks, I’m driving.’ Cassie gave his hand a squeeze. Robbie had promised her he would no longer drink over the limit when he was
driving.

‘We’d need to get a move on if we want to have time for the duty-free,’ Laura reminded them, glancing at her watch. They followed her to the boarding gates and Robbie kissed
Cassie hard.

‘See you in two weeks. Have fun.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ Cassie told him softly.

‘I’ll miss you too. You’d better go,’ Robbie said, reluctantly, drawing away from her. ‘The girls are gone through.’ Giving her boarding pass to the official,
Cassie passed through the gates and Robbie waved at her until she was out of sight. All of a sudden two weeks seemed like an eternity. Stop your nonsense, she told herself crisply, and walked over
to join her friends, who were admiring some duty-free jewellery. Cassie wanted to buy a camera, Aileen wanted perfume and Laura wanted sunglasses. They also wanted to buy some duty-free fags and
drink.

Forgetting the time, they browsed happily and had to be paged to board the plane. The mortification of it! Everybody else was sitting waiting for them as a hostess ushered them to their seats.
Cassie and Aileen gasped as the plane thundered down the runway and lifted its huge bulk into the air. It was a beautiful night and the lights of Dublin sparkled like diamonds beneath them. Ooohing
and aaahing, they tried to make out landmarks and were instantly able to recognize the high towers of Ballymun and, as the plane banked and headed out over the Irish Sea, the twin ESB towers.
Settling back, they prepared to enjoy the long flight.

Everything on the flight was such a novelty to Cassie and Aileen, and Laura regarded them with benign amusement as they tucked into the meal that was served about an hour after take-off, both of
them enjoying every mouthful of the pre-packaged food.

They weren’t the only ones. There was an air of gaiety and anticipation in the plane that was utterly infectious. A singsong started after the meal had been cleared away and the girls
joined in lustily. Gradually people began to doze off. The lights on the plane were dimmed as it flew on its long journey across Europe. They had picked a night flight because it was the cheapest
but Cassie, who was sitting by the window, would have dearly loved for it to have been daylight so she could see the sights below her. Eventually her eyes closed and she fell into a half-doze.
Aileen was snoring beside her and Laura was reading
Valley of the Dolls
, which was apparently brilliant, and which Cassie was going to borrow during the holidays.

A couple of hours later, the hostesses announced that they were making their descent towards Rhodes and advised them to change their watches to Central European time. A hum of excitement
scorched through the aisles as the plane circled the airport and people craned to look out the windows to get their first sight of the island. The oven-blast of heat, the chirping of the crickets,
the overpowering scents of the flowering shrubs hit them as they descended the steps of the plane. Cassie would never forget it. For ever after it was one of the best things about a holiday for her
– that moment when you get the smell of a new country. They couldn’t see much in the velvet darkness as they drove along to their accommodation, but what they saw looked promising,
although it had been a bit of a shock to notice policemen with guns on their hips at the airport. The courier gave her talk on the bus, warning her clients to be careful in the sun, to stay away
from mopeds and not to over-indulge in ouzo.

‘Spoilsport!’ whispered Aileen, and the others grinned. The courier told the three of them that their accommodation would be basic but comfortable. Most of the others on the flight
were staying in hotels but the girls couldn’t afford such a luxury and had taken rooms in a guest-house. The coach pulled up outside a white-washed two-storey building smothered in luscious
blooms and the girls smiled happily. It looked perfect. They were shown to a big white-painted room that had three beds, a wardrobe, a sink and, to their delight, a balcony. The curtains were a
lovely blue, edged with a symmetrical Greek pattern that matched the covers on the beds, and blue woven rugs covered the polished wooden floors. The three of them thought the room was gorgeous and
assured their courier that they were perfectly happy. Tumbling into bed, they fell asleep, dying for the morning in order to have a good look at Rhodes.

‘Get up! Get up! The sun is splitting the stones!’ Laura urged her two slumbering flatmates. She had said the magic words. Instantly awake, Cassie and Aileen flew
to the balcony and gazed out in ecstasy. Skies bluer than they had ever seen before greeted them. The sparkling Aegean caressed the golden beach just below them. Palm trees swayed, birds sang,
little white-washed villas lay smothered in pink and red and purple flowers. It surely was paradise. In a frenzy of excitement they rushed to put on shorts and T-shirts. The sun was shining and
they wanted to get out.

They had been told by their courier that the little taverna just down the road served delicious food, including breakfasts, so they repaired there with all haste. Sitting in the shade of an
olive tree at a small table covered by a fresh green gingham cloth, they ate their first Greek meal of fresh crusty rolls that melted in the mouth and honey and yoghurt and juicy peaches that had
the juice dribbling over their chins. This first morning they didn’t linger over their food despite the urgings of the friendly taverna-owner to have more hot strong coffee. Getting a really
good tan was their overriding desire and first priority.

‘I wonder is it raining at home,’ Cassie said, as they stretched their already lightly tanned bodies on loungers under straw shades on the golden beach of Trianda Bay. It had been a
nice summer at home and Aileen and Cassie had made the most of it, but Laura, who had been working in the posh seaside resort of Nantucket on the east coast of the US, was the brownest of the
three, much to the chagrin of the others. They lay, protected by factor ten, caressed by a warm breeze and watching the world go by as they began the delightful process of unwinding. When they
bathed in the Aegean, it was clear and warm, and they swam lazily, enjoying themselves immensely.

Later in the afternoon when the scorching sun got too hot, they ate more rolls and delicious cheese at their table on the balcony and sipped cool beer to wash it down. Too impatient to have a
siesta, they decided to explore a bit and headed for the town of Rhodes, ten minutes along the coast. It was Sunday and siesta-time and there were very few people about, just a few foreign tourists
like themselves.

There were two towns, the old and the new, and they decided to explore the historical old town. Cassie, who had done her research in Rathmines Library and who also had her guidebook, was able to
tell them that the Old Town was divided into various quarters, the Knights’ Quarter, the Turkish Quarter and the Jewish Quarter. Their first point of exploration, they decided, as they pored
over the street maps, would be the ancient Knights’ Quarter. They spent a fascinating couple of hours wandering through the narrow streets and squares of an area that had changed little since
the fourteenth century, when the Knights of St John had made it their stronghold during the great crusades. Little passageways and courtyards were occupied by merchants selling their wares and led
to vantage points with magnificent views of the harbour below. The three girls were busy taking photos that would have put Lord Snowdon to shame.

Odós Ippotón, the Street of the Knights, the most famous medieval thoroughfare in Europe, was very impressive. It was a narrow cobbled street with archways at each end, and the
palaces and inns where the Knights lived were magnificent. The Knights’ hospital, built on Roman ruins, now housed the Archaeological Museum of Rhodes and had free admission on Sundays. It
was just opening after the lunch-break. As they explored the museum with its priceless artifacts, Aileen observed, ‘This sure as hell beats filing pink and green forms.’

They headed back to Trianda Bay about an hour later and did another spot of sunbathing, went for a swim and then got dressed up for a night on the town.

That night they sat at a quayside taverna overlooking Mandraki Harbour, admiring the yachts of the jet-set of Europe as they waited for their meal to be served. Three more contented young ladies
could not have been found. The dream holiday was everything they imagined it could be. Mandraki Harbour was beautiful, guarded by the famous Rhodian landmarks, the statues of a stag and a doe. Its
three stone windmills stood solidly on the opposite quay as they had done since the Middle Ages. Behind them, all lit up, was the Nea Agora, the marketplace, which they intended to explore the
following day. Around them at the many crowded tavernas along the quayside people sat and ate their meals, charmed by the music of the bouzouki and the chirping of crickets.

After their delicious meal of
fagri
, baked sea-bream and a Greek salad, Cassie produced her little guidebook. A colleague of hers had already been to Rhodes and had given her a list of
recommended nightclubs and discos.

‘Well, where do you want to go? Number One, 2001, Zorba’s and Copacabana are the nightclubs. The discos are Aquarius, Mi Lord, Step-by-Step, Stones.’

‘I’d like to go somewhere there’s Greek dancing,’ Laura proposed. ‘We can go to discos at home.’

‘Good thinking,’ agreed Cassie. ‘Isn’t the bouzouki lovely? It makes you want to get up and dance.’

‘Mmmm,’ Aileen smiled. ‘I love watching Greek men dance. It’s so . . . earthy and masculine . . . Did you see
Zorba the Greek
?’

‘Yeah,’ Cassie nodded. ‘It was a brilliant film.’

‘I’ll ask the waiter where there’s Greek dancing,’ Laura decided. Costas was the waiter’s name and he was absolutely gorgeous. He told them that if they waited
about twenty minutes there would be Greek dancing in the open air down by the harbour. ‘
Efcharisto
,’ Laura thanked him. She had gone to the trouble of learning a few words of
Greek and loved making use of them.

‘
Típota
.’ Costas gave Laura a lingering smile as he assured her she was welcome before striding off to get them more coffee.

‘He fancies you,’ teased Cassie.

Laura was actually blushing. ‘Oh, don’t be daft!’

‘Oooh, she’s gone scarlet,’ giggled Aileen, who had indulged in several glasses of the house wine and was feeling on top of the world.

‘That’s sunburn,’ protested Laura.

‘My eye,’ smirked Aileen, holding out her glass for a refill.

They danced until the early hours and were escorted home by three Adonises who begged to see them again.

‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ Aileen informed them merrily. ‘Let’s not limit ourselves,’ she advised the other two as they applied lashings of moisturizer
before falling into bed, exhausted but completely satisfied with the first day of their holiday.

It was a week later. Cassie was stretched luxuriously on her lounger on the beach, reading
Valley of the Dolls
and thoroughly enjoying it, as Laura had promised she
would. Reaching down she picked up her glass of ice-cold beer and took a long draught. This really was the life. Home and all its attendant worries seemed so far away. What a pity the first week
was over, the time was just flying by. Here on Rhodes it was like another world. She’d like to come back here with Robbie some day. Now
that
would be special!

It was funny; this time last year she hadn’t known him and now he was one of the most important people in her world. She met him at a New Year’s Eve party organized by the social
club at work. She noticed him smiling at her as she stood helping herself at the buffet. Mmm, she thought to herself, he’s nice! He was tall, about six foot, and bearded. A silky black beard
and black curly hair were the first impressions she had of him, but on a second inspection, what had most struck her were his kind, smiling eyes. He was terribly popular and everybody seemed to
know him. Later, when a sing-song started, he took out a guitar and led the singing, his deep baritone voice filling the room.

‘Who is that?’ Cassie asked one of her colleagues.

‘Oh don’t you know him? That’s Robbie MacDonald. He’s PA to the chief executive. He works in Branch Network Development in Head Office. He’s a really nice
guy!’ Sandra informed her. Mind you, Sandra, who was in her late thirties, unmarried and getting desperate, thought every bloke was a really nice guy. She had had a few drinks too many that
night and confessed to Cassie that she had even answered an ad in the personal columns of a social magazine. That was how she had met her escort to the party. Derek, who was at least twenty years
her senior was a portly, bald, slick-talking businessman. Cassie didn’t like him at all. He held her hand too long when Sandra introduced him and he kept making smutty jokes which were not
amusing. Cassie had read an article somewhere that single women should be wary of men over forty who had never married and looking at Derek she could understand why. What she could not understand
was Sandra’s desperation. Being married was not the be-all and end-all, she reflected, as she watched Sara O’Reilly and Ken Taylor grope each other on the dance-floor while their
respective spouses sat stony-faced at their tables. Who’d want to be married and miserable?