City Woman (34 page)

‘Are you all right there, Caro?’ Maggie’s voice came from the back of the car. ‘You’re very quiet.’

‘I’m fine, Maggie,’ Caroline responded lightly. ‘It’s just a bit early for scintillating conversation.’ In fact, her insides were like jelly and her right leg
was actually shaking. ‘Have you any advice for me?’ She tried to ignore the butterflies that were galloping around like a herd of elephants in her stomach.

‘Well, you’re going out at a nice time of year; the temperatures will be in the high seventies and low eighties, you lucky thing,’ Maggie said enviously. ‘Imagine,
Devlin, this one will be lying on a beach and swimming in the Arabian Gulf in the middle of November when we’re shivering over here for the next four months.’

‘I’d love to be you.’ Devlin smiled across at Caroline.

‘Let’s see now, what advice have I got for you?’ Maggie spoke aloud. ‘Well, you’re going to a country that’s not too rigid: so you can pretty much wear what
you like as long as it’s fairly respectable. For example, don’t wear your skimpy low-cut T-shirt and mini when going shopping in the souk. You’ll find it’s a totally
different culture and as long as you remember that you are a guest in the country and that their ways and their customs are the norm, while yours are strange but tolerated by them, you should be
fine. Lots of people go to these countries and try to retain their ways of living or won’t accept the rules, and they end up in trouble or very unhappy. I’ve seen it often. I found it
difficult at times myself when I lived in Saudi, but they are totally off the wall there,’ Maggie failed to stifle a yawn. ‘Sorry, Caroline,’ she apologized. ‘It’s old
age.’

‘Huh, it’s too much red wine,’ snorted Devlin.

‘Do you think I’ll stick it, Maggie?’ Caroline asked.

‘Of course you will, Caroline,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘Just look on it as an extended holiday. You’ll have a ball. It’s such a different way of life. It gets a bit
unreal sometimes. When I first flew out to Saudi, I felt as though all my problems were left at home. You know: the worry and hassle I had with my mother that time after her operation when I had to
come home from America. My mother and father were very opposed to me going to Saudi with Terry and they gave me a terrible time over it. But the further away from home I got on that plane, the more
my problems seemed to recede. So
you
just go to Abu Dhabi and take this six months as a breather away from everyone. Away from the annulment and Richard and selling the penthouse; away
from the likes of that ridiculous Marshall woman and that awful set she writes about. Just go and enjoy yourself, and believe me, my girl, when you come home in six months you’ll be a
different woman.’

‘I wish . . .’ sighed Caroline.

‘I’m telling you,’ Maggie said earnestly. ‘I saw girls coming out to Saudi, nurses and secretaries and the like, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and after a couple
of months of having to fend for themselves they were different women. Do you know something?’ She sat up straight. ‘I’m getting great ideas for a new novel here.’

‘Maggie Ryan!’ expostulated Caroline, laughing. ‘Don’t you dare put me in a novel.’

‘As if I would,’ snorted Maggie as Devlin scorched along the dual carriageway. The lights of the airport came into view and a Boeing 737, coming in to land, roared over the top of
the car.

They all grew silent as Devlin turned into the airport and before long they were parked in the multi-storey car-park. Devlin took charge of unloading the luggage. As they paused at the crossing
in front of the entrance, Caroline took a deep breath. The November air was sharp and clear and frosty, and she inhaled deeply. It would be quite some time before she inhaled cold air again. The
stars twinkled against the blue-black sky and a silver sliver of moon was suspended in the darkness. The next time she saw those very same stars and that curved moon, she’d be thousands of
miles and several time-zones away, she reflected, as she manoeuvred the luggage trolley into the terminal building.

The Aer Lingus flight to Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam, was checking in at Section 2, Devlin read from the monitor, and before Caroline knew it, the formalities were over and they were having a
quick cup of coffee in the snack bar.

‘Well, it’s too late to back out now.’ Caroline tried to keep her spirits up but her smile faltered. ‘I’ll miss you two so much. I wish I was going to be here for
the launch of
City Woman.
’

‘I wish you were, too, Caro,’ Maggie said gently. ‘It won’t be the same, but really, this is just what you need.’

‘Caroline, this time next week when you’re sunbathing and living the high life,’ said Devlin, giving Caroline’s fingers a reassuring squeeze, ‘you’ll hardly
believe your luck and you’ll be feeling so sorry for us. It might get too much for me and I’ll have to come out and visit you.’

‘Oh really? Would you, Devlin?’ Caroline said eagerly, her face brightening. ‘Oh that would be really something to look forward to.’

‘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 Disneyland. 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.