Page 3 of The Summer Island Swap
‘And no less than you deserve,’ she said quietly. ‘But don’t ask me which one. You’d never guess, anyway. There are over fifty.’ She pretended to zip her lips shut.
My stomach fluttered as I imagined the celebrity treatment and Michelin-starred food awaiting us. I’d have to get my nails done, especially themed for somewhere so grand, perhaps with tiny aeroplanes painted on them. My highlights would need re-touching. I’d treat myself to a new bikini.
‘What are you thinking?’ Amy asked.
‘I’m imagining what it would be like, living in a part of the world like that forever. Away from the grind and dust of London… Only mingling with jolly tourists seeking a good time…’
‘I’d prefer to mix with the locals – otherwise it would feel false… manufactured… like moving to Disneyland.’
‘Reality is overrated, if you ask me. The ultimate getaway must be working and living on a cruise ship.’
Amy pulled a face. ‘I can’t think of anything worse.’
I smiled. ‘You’d miss saving animals. Doing good. You’re not as shallow as me.’
Her voice softened. ‘Perhaps my perspective is different because I’ve had it easier. You had a brutal introduction to reality on your own, aged eighteen. Whereas I’ve always had you to rely on, looking out for me…’
I’d tried to act as a mum to Amy all these years because I knew how hard life was without that maternal presence.
I shook myself, sipped my coffee and pictured myself on a beach, a daiquiri by my side, wearing large sunglasses and an Audrey HepburnBreakfast at Tiffany’shat. Amy and I clinked mugs.
This was going to be the most perfect holiday ever.
2
Finally the showery spring had passed, yet it was June and still the sky was threatening. I’d been hoping for a few weekends to gain a tan in the local park, before my imminent trip tothe British Virgin Islands…
I still couldn’t believe I was going. My anticipation was building.
Despite the bad feeling it had caused with Prue.
Despite her making it clear I’d have to work all hours when I got back, to make it good.
I unclenched my teeth. It had felt like a long early morning shift. These weeks running up to my break should have been filled with excitement about the trip of a lifetime. Instead Prue had done her best to wear me down. It was true – I should have consulted her before Amy booked it, but it all happened so fast. However, I’d rather her have said no, if I’d known she was going to continually make me suffer for it, with her frequent comments about how I’d have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on when I got back; that I owed her big time for letting me go off during one of our busiest months.
I sat in the poky staff room at Best Travel and gazed at the half-eaten egg and cress sandwich. It used to be a favourite of Mum’s. Very occasionally, she put herself first with Dad and served them, even though his nose would wrinkle. I wiped my mouth and finished my bottle of water. A reusable one, of course – Amy made sure of that. For a moment I wished I’d swigged something stronger, ahead of the chat I wanted to have with Prue before I left to meet Amy for holiday shopping. I’d had another of my ideas on how to improve Best Travel and wanted to run it past my boss. It had kept me awake last night and I couldn’t wait to share it, optimistic that this would be the one that inspired her to finally embrace change and would make up for me taking four weeks off.
I tried to ignore the niggling voice in my head, telling me that Prue was being unfair. That I’d never taken more than one week off at a time, in all the years I’d worked at Best Travel. That I was the first to muck in if a member of housekeeping rang up ill. That I’d worked hours and hours of unpaid overtime since I’d become assistant manager.
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.
