I nodded, numb, and gave the details over to my friends. All I had to focus on was getting a grip and working out what I wanted to say to Jean-Luc when I saw him. I figured that, “Hey, you know all the stuff I said about love? I was wrong. I think I love you. Let’s get married and have lots of babies,” wouldn’t be quite right.
***
We were due to get into Amsterdam around noon and the flight Dani and Jaelee found on Air France flew out at four. It was going to be a tight turnaround, but by the time we arrived at the hotel, the plan was etched in exquisite detail and we were all systems go.
We got our room assignment—dormitory-style, one room for the four of us and a bathroom down the hall. As soon as we unlocked the door, I was sent to take a shower and conduct a quick but thorough upkeep of my lady parts. By the time I got back to the room, someone had been through my luggage and had laid out one of my unworn dresses, and the only matching set of bra and knickers I’d packed. Thank goodness they were clean.
“Who—?”
“Who do you think?” Jaelee rolled her eyes at me. “Unless you want to borrow something of mine?”
I looked at the tastefully low-cut dress, blue with bell-shaped sleeves, a nipped-in waist, and embroidered flowers on the hem. It was one of my favourite dresses—I’d been saving it for the final night of the tour—and it was perfect. I smiled. “No, I love it.” I felt a little like Cinderella getting ready for the ball when I stepped into the dress and Lou zipped it up.
Jaelee brought out her curling wand and gave me some structured curls rather than my usual beachy waves, and Dani offered to do her signature eyeliner on me with its precise little flicks. I added some blush, some mascara and cherry-red sheer lip gloss—even though it would be hours until I saw Jean-Luc and I’d have to reapply it about fifty times.
I stood in front of my girl posse and held out my arms, so they could admire me. “Well?”
Dani clapped and grinned, Lou looked like a proud mother, and Jae said, “Much better than you looked an hour ago.” I took that as the highest compliment.
I looked at my watch. “What time did you book the Uber for, Dan?” She’d used the app on my phone. I didn’t want anyone else to foot the bill for my grand romantic gesture.
“Two o’clock.”
“All right, I need to go find Georgina. Oh, and pack all this up.”
“I’ll do that,” said Lou, as she gathered up my things.
“Oh, Lou, thank you.” I will not cry. I will not cry. I will see Lou again.
I was rooted to the spot, looking at my three friends. I would miss out on spending the next couple of days with them and it sucked.
“Go!” Jaelee shooed me out the door.
I climbed six flights of stairs to the fourth floor of the hotel where the Ventureseek crew had the penthouse apartment. When I knocked on the door, I waited for what felt like a long time. No answer. Hmm. I knocked again, louder this time, and when the door opened my mouth fell open.
Tom. With no shirt on.
“Oh, hey. Uh, can I do something for you?”
“Yes, actually, I just wanted a quick word with Georgina—if she’s here.”
He scratched his belly and I looked away. I wanted to think of Tom as the capable, clean-cut guy who drove us around Europe, not this sloppily attractive guy who was obviously having the rest of the day off.
“Uh, yeah. Hang tight, I’ll get her.” I waited in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on the crew’s private space. I couldn’t imagine having to be “on” twenty-four-seven, always polished and professional. It was hard enough having to do that as a teacher eight hours a day, five days a week.
Georgina emerged from what I assumed was a bedroom, and Tom gave me a salute. I lifted a hand in response.
“Hi, Catherine,” she said, her voice as weary as she looked.
“Hi!” Dial it down a bit, Cat. “Um, I just wanted to let you know I’ve had a change of plans, and I’m actually flying to Paris this afternoon.” She stared at me blankly, then blinked. “I’m leaving the tour.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and, to my horror, started to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said several times, and I got a glimpse of how I must have looked to my friends that morning. I cringed inwardly. Outwardly, I patted her on the arm and did what Lou would have done. I made shushing noises and said, “There, there.” Eventually, she got a hold of herself.
“Georgina, what’s going on?” I seriously doubted she’d miss me so much as to induce tears.
I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was deciding whether to confide in me, but I was genuinely concerned. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” I asked. She nodded numbly, then turned and led the way through the penthouse. It was quite nice compared to the rest of the tour accommodation. She opened the door I’d seen her come out of and I followed her inside.
She sat down on the bed and I stayed standing. “What’s going on?”
“This is my first tour.”
“What? Really?” She nodded again. “But it’s October. Doesn’t your season start in April or something?”
“March, actually, but right after the training trip, my dad got really sick.”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” A quick nod acknowledged my sympathy.
“Anyway, I flew back home to Perth so I could be with him, and I only just made it. He died a couple of days later. It was all so quick, you know?” I didn’t, but I nodded. “And Mum was just bereft. I had to stay, at least for a little while, to help her get things sorted out, you know, with the house and all Dad’s things. And it’s just me. I’m an only child.” Oh, you poor woman.
“Ventureseek was great about it. They said I could defer for a year, but I wanted to come back. Mum seemed a bit better and my auntie said she’d be around for her. So, I took this tour.”
“And you’ve done a great job.”
She looked up from her hands. Her look said, “Don’t bullshit me.”
“You have. If you hadn’t told me this was your first tour, I would never have known. No one else knows.” She still looked dubious. “Really. It’s a small coach. News travels fast. I would have heard something.” Her face softened a little.
“I feel like I keep screwing things up and that no one likes me.”
“We like you,” I lied. Blatantly. To her face.
“Really?”
“Yes. You and Tom have gone out of your way for us, and you know, my sister used to be a tour manager and she’d come back from tours shattered.” Maybe it was better not to harp on that in a pep talk. I changed tack. “Anyway, what I mean is, it’s a hard job, but you are doing great.”
I hoped I’d convinced her. I’d given more than my share of pep talks in my eleven years as a teacher, but she wasn’t a teenaged girl who didn’t know what course to do at uni. A weak smile alighted on her face, and I was relieved.
“Thank you. It’s just been so much more than I ever expected, you know?”
“For sure.” Another lie, but I could imagine.
“And I am shattered. And this is one of the shortest tours. What’s gonna happen when they give me a longer one? If they do?”