An Adventure In Ireland

Saturday 27th March 1964, early afternoon.

Pattie and Cynthia were by now laughing so hard that they could hardly stand up. On Cynthia the starched dress stood up on her as if it had a will of its own. On Pattie the little apron had to be wound four times around her waist before it could be tied. Cynthia wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Whacha doin' in there?" bellowed John from the outer room. The two girls looked at each other, stood straighter, and opened the door and marched out of the bed room into which they'd retreated to change into the uniforms.

They were met by a stunned silence.

"Don't you think I look wonderful?" asked Cynthia, striking a pose. Pattie tried to stifle a snort of laughter. George's eyes grew wide.

"That's not bad," he said. His customary drawled tone was distinctly lascivious. Pattie glared at him. "Can you keep the clothes?"

"Don't be silly, George," snapped Pattie. "And anyway," she went on in a calmer tone, "we'll have to keep them. We can't bring them back."

John's grin was evil. "John!" Cynthia's warning tone was identical to Pattie's.

There came a knock at the door. Even when banging his knuckles against wood the chief flunky, Mr Nolan himself, managed to sound deferential. "Yeah?" called George.

Mr Nolan entered. "Ah... are the ladies ready?"

"I think so." Pattie realised she was starting to feel very nervous about this plan, which had for a short while sounded fun. She looked across the room at George, who came over and put his arm around her waist.

"Is everyone packed?" The guests all nodded, and Mr Nolan, who seemed to have come into his own in his role as the chief organiser of a giant prank, took control with vigorous efficiency. "Right," he barked.

"Were you in the army, mister?" enquired John. Cynthia jabbed him with her elbow. Mr Nolan ignored him.

"We will have your car brought round to the front," he directed. "As soon as it arrives we will have all the cases loaded in. All the journalists will by then be surrounding the car. Once we are sure that their attention is on the car, the ladies will be conducted by our chief housekeeper to the laundry room and will be given the baskets they are to carry to the laundry van. The gentlemen" George giggled again "will leave the hotel via the front entrance. As you, sirs, speak to the journalists to explain that the ladies will be leaving a little later, the ladies themselves will be entering the laundry van and hiding in the basket. The van will set off, leaving the castle grounds through the tradesmen's entrance. The gentlemen will be driven out through the main gate." Mr Nolan paused and looked around the group. "Are there any questions?"

Pattie wondered, after that dazzling display of strategic efficiency, whether they would dare voice any questions even if they had any. But Cynthia voiced the query that she herself had thought of. "Where will we meet the car and get out of the van?" she asked, and Pattie nodded.

"And when do they get out of the basket?" Pattie inwardly blessed George for asking the next one of her list of worries.

"Once the van doors are closed the driver will open the basket and let them out," assured Mr Nolan. "The laundry van will rendezvous with the car at Shannon Airport."

"At seventeen hundred hours," John supplied in his best sergeant major accent, and Cynthia jabbed him again.

"Are there any further questions?"

The four looked at each other, and the four all shook their heads. Mr Nolan looked at his watch. "Synchronise..." John began and this time Cynthia slapped him on the head. The hotel manager looked at his watch again, and his expression dared the guests to make fun of him.

"I'll give the instruction for the car to be brought round," he said and, with a sharp nod, he turned smartly and left the room.

Pattie wound both arms around George's waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She suddenly felt very very anxious.