2. Decisions
981 Words
2
Decisions
Saturday was Maggie’s day off. Renee was waiting for her in a Starbucks in Cambridge city centre, an iPad already set up on a stand on the table.
‘You’re late,’ Renee said, her little button nose wearing a touch of red as though it were already winter outside. ‘I took the liberty of ordering you a Caramel Mousse Frappuccino and a butternut donut.’
‘Sounds like a heart attack on a plate.’
‘You’ll have one when you look at some of these places. They’re just magnificent.’
Maggie slid into a chair as the waitress arrived, unloading Renee’s excessive order onto the table. A tingle of reluctance was nagging her, as though aware that Renee, in all her perfectness, had got carried away with everything. However, Maggie had checked the Christmas roster and it was her turn to have Christmas week off this year, having worked right up to Christmas Eve last year, plus the sales days from Boxing Day to New Year—Dirk had gone on a business trip with some associates to Malaga—so she was free to go on vacation should she find somewhere suitable, but there were other things to consider. One of them was cost.
‘Canada,’ Renee said with an excessive intake of breath, as though stepping out on to a mountaintop at the end of a long hike. ‘Wiltonsville, a little hamlet north of Whistler. Look at these cabins. They’re only accessible by snowmobile, so you’re totally cut off from civilization. Imagine waking up to these vistas.’
Maggie frowned. ‘Eighty dollars a night, not including flights and transfers. I can barely afford the train fare to the airport.’
Renee grimaced. ‘Don’t give up; we’re just getting started. Next one—what about Lapland? Santa’s home—where could be better? Look at these glass igloos. You could lie on your back with Dirk while watching the Northern Lights through the roof.’
Maggie rolled her eyes then pointed at the screen. ‘Look at these reviews. Half of them say it snowed and they didn’t see anything. And these prices? Sure, it’s cheap in November, but over Christmas it’s nearly double the price.’
Renee tapped her nose. ‘This isn’t looking promising, is it? Why can’t you just get Dirk to pay?’
‘It’s hardly romantic if I book a special getaway then ask him for his credit card number, is it?’
‘You’ll find out if he truly loves you. Plus, he’s loaded, isn’t he? Eighty grand a year?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘A little more. Plus bonuses. Slightly better than nine-fifty an hour, but it’s not about the money, is it? We were together when he was just working at his father’s company for minimum wage. I’m paying for this trip, and that’s the end of it. Keep looking.’
‘There’s nothing good on Trip Advisor or Yahoo. Just a few slums. Didn’t realise you could do Christmas breaks in Romania or Lithuania. Wouldn’t fancy it much myself, but each to their own.’
‘Let me have a look. Let’s just Google it and see what comes up.’
As Maggie reached for the tablet, Renee shook her head. ‘No, girl, no. You’re not thinking enough outside the box. You think you’ll find that special place in a conventional way?’
Renee ran her fingers over the screen and an old search engine Maggie remembered from her pre-university days appeared.
‘Where’d you find that? Can it even cope with the full alphabet?’
Renee winked. ‘Let’s find out.’ She typed in “Romantic Christmas getaway location ideal for getting a marriage proposal but off the beaten path and cheap” and clicked enter. A searching icon appeared.
‘I think you’re pushing it,’ Maggie said. ‘I guess we could just go to Centre Parcs. I heard they have some fun package deals. The Thundercloud goes every year.’
‘You really think you’ll be in the spirit for getting hitched while lying in the Thundercloud’s bed?’
‘Well, I doubt we’d get the exact same room….’
‘But just the thought of it? Come on, have faith, Mag.’
‘I haven’t had that in a long time.’
‘I’ve noticed. Aha! Look at this.’
A website had appeared on the screen. Even from the header it looked either a remnant from 1995 or a scam. “PERFECT WINTER HOLIDAYS WITHOUT LEAVING THE UK.” Then, the small print: “Hollydell is a unique Christmas village in the Scottish highlands. Perfect for that quiet Christmas getaway with your loved ones. Snow guaranteed.”
Renee puffed out her cheeks into two perfect circles. ‘And there we have it.’
‘There aren’t any pictures!’
‘Well, it’s an old website, isn’t it? But look, they’re still taking bookings. And those prices … wow. It’s a complete bargain.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘“Snow guaranteed.” What do they do, sprinkle a bit of flour on the trees? It’s Scotland. They don’t get any snow, do they?’
‘They get a bit. I heard there are a couple of ski resorts up there. Come on, Mags. And look at these reviews! “Perfect.” “Idyllic.” “Breath-taking.”’
‘They’re all just one word. That’s totally fake. I’ll show up and it’ll be a dirty business hotel in the middle of nowhere. It’ll probably be abandoned, just me and some crusty old caretaker. I have such a bad feeling about this.’
Renee smiled. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, reminding Maggie how remarkably elf-like Renee’s ears were. They really did have that little point that could have got her a bit part in Lord of the Rings.
‘I’m your BFF,’ Renee said. ‘Just trust me. There’s something about this place that just clicks. I mean, it’s got “holly” in the title. And a dell, that’s like a quaint valley or something, right?’
‘It’s also a laptop.’
‘You’re so sceptical. Look, how about this? If it sucks, I’ll buy the coffees for a whole year. Deal?’
Renee held up one hand and hooked her little finger. The coffee shop lights glittered off perfectly manicured fingernails with little dabs of red like a robin’s breast.
With a sigh, Maggie lifted her hand and gave Renee’s pinkie a little tug with her own. ‘Throw in the donuts and you’re on.’
‘Gotcha. Let’s book it.’
- Writer
