The Kinsella Sisters (14 page)

Because Izzy and her mate Lucy had done so well in their exams, Adair had organised an überluxurious holiday for them in a resort in Koh Samui. Izzy hated to admit it, but she was bored witless by the joint. It was too ostentatious, too grown-up, and too up its own arse. The description in the brochure had been full of words like ‘majestic’, ‘magnificent’, ‘luxurious’, ‘refined’ and ‘epicurean’. The bedrooms, the brochure told them, were ‘a fusion of continents and periods’ (a.k.a. bad taste, decided Izzy) and were furnished with stuff like Louis XV-style armchairs, lacquered Chinese cabinets, Lalique-style vases, an African lamp on a buffalo-horn base (Izzy found this particularly offensive), an ‘ormolu mounted’ (whatever that was) boulle (whatever that was) kneehole desk and furnishing fabrics with Indian designs.

As soon as the three of them arrived, they were offered iced tea by a smiling waiter, and greeted by the smiling manager. Their luggage was magicked away by a smiling porter, and unpacked for them by a smiling butler, who introduced himself as Asish, and for whom, he told them, with a bow, nothing would be too much trouble. Every evening Asish would come to their suite with the various tools of his trade–ylang ylang to rub on the teak furniture, and scented candles and rose petals and sandalwood oil for the baths he would insist upon pouring.

The couple of times Izzy told him not to bother, he had actually looked so stricken that she began to wonder if she had a serious personal hygiene problem.

The dress code in the dining rooms was ‘smart casual’, and every night the diners all tried to outdo each other by wearing a different outfit. Every evening smiling waiters unfurled pristine linen napkins for them, and topped up their wineglasses and lifted the domed silver lids on their plates to reveal ‘exquisite’ and ‘divine’ food. Everywhere you went, staff bowed and smiled. Izzy and Lucy began to avoid them and hide from them because they really didn’t like being bowed to.

No one applauded the pianist in the piano bar, and Izzy felt so sorry for him–tapping away on the ivories with no one paying him any attention–that she took to clapping loudly every time he finished a tune, and insisted that her father and Lucy join in. He rewarded them with a big smile, and–when he found out their names–played a very mellow version of ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ for them. Except Lucy and Izzy were probably the only two gals in the joint who weren’t wearing diamonds.

The beach was divine, of course–all raked white sand and palm-tree-fringed–and the swimming pools were divine, and the marine life was divine. But really the joint was aimed at folks who were dripping with gold and sagging with middle-age spread. However, in spite of all the luxury–the spas, the shopping, the staff (who seemed by far to outnumber the guests)–nobody looked particularly
happy
apart from the hawkers on a nearby beach, touting everything from jewellery to tattoos to hair extensions. They smiled and joked and sang, cajoling passers-by to try their wares and spreading their palms philosophically when the dripping-with-gold types strolled on by as if they were invisible. The hotel had warned guests to be wary of these beach vendors, but because Izzy and Lucy were determined to break a few rules, they made it a matter of policy to buy sarongs and sunhats and sandals from this alternative source, instead of
frequenting the obscenely overpriced resort boutiques, with their chichi crap.

‘Tattoo, pretty lady?’ a smiling boy solicited them one morning as they ambled along the sand.

Izzy smiled back, indicating that she already had a tattoo, a little Japanese kanji on the inside of her elbow. She’d had it done a couple of years ago to piss off her mother.

‘Another tattoo–here!’ suggested the beautiful boy, touching the hollow beneath his collarbone.

‘No, thank you,’ said Izzy.

‘Or here!’ The boy pointed at his ankle.

‘No, no,’ said Izzy, more firmly. ‘But, hey, why don’t you get one, Luce?’

Lucy shook her head violently. ‘Are you mad?’ she said. ‘You know I have a pathological fear of needles.’

It was true. Izzy had had to accompany Lucy to the GP for her shots before coming away on holiday.

‘Hair extensions?’ suggested the boy, as they moved off. ‘Thai massage?’

This time it was Lucy’s turn to indicate that she already had hair extensions.

‘You, pretty lady,’ the boy importuned Izzy. ‘You get long hair like your friend. Like a beautiful mermaid!’

Izzy hesitated. She had to admit that, while her Agyness Deyn crop was easy to manage, Lucy’s extraordinary Rapunzel locks attracted a lot of compliments. Underwater her extensions looked divine, like a heroine in a Pre-Raphaelite painting, while Izzy looked as boyish as Saint-Exupery’s Little Prince. She wondered if she shouldn’t have a go. If she didn’t like them, what would it matter here on Koh Samui, where there’d be nobody she knew around to see them? And once they were back in Dublin she could just whizz into her stylist and have them removed. What the hell–live dangerously and all that. She had nothing to lose.

‘I think I’ll go for it,’ she told Lucy.

‘Get hair extensions?’

‘Yeah. I wouldn’t have the nerve to have them done in Dublin. Might as well experiment here.’

‘Go, girl!’ said Lucy. ‘Do you want me to come with you and hold your hand? Or maybe I should get a massage.’

‘Go for it! I bet you’d get a proper hard-core Thai, not that namby-pamby stuff you get in the resort spa.’ Izzy turned back to the beaming boy. ‘Me–hair extensions; my friend–massage. In same place?’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the boy enthusiastically. ‘Hair, massage–nail art too?’

‘No. No nail art,’ Izzy told him. ‘How much?’

The boy did some brief mental arithmetic. ‘Fifteen hundred baht,’ he pronounced.

‘Cool,’ said Izzy, and the boy looked gobsmacked.

‘Come–come with me,’ he said quickly, before she could backtrack. ‘Beautiful hair extensions and massage this way’ He turned and beckoned them to follow him.

Lucy gave Izzy an incredulous look. ‘You’re meant to haggle, Iz! We could have got ourselves a deal for half that!’

‘C’mon, Luce. Just think what they’d charge us at home. These people are desperate for money. I’m not going to haggle over a couple of thousand baht.’

‘Well,’ said Lucy, dubiously. ‘Let’s just hope it’s worth it.’

It was worth it. A couple of hours later, Lucy emerged from the Beach Diva Beauty Parlour in slooow moootion, having been massaged to within an inch of her life; and Izzy emerged sporting tresses that Goldilocks might have envied.

‘Let’s break out of here,’ Izzy suggested to Lucy later that evening, after they’d returned from a night dive. Even the diving in the resort was posh, with St Tropezed divas sporting Pucci-print exposure suits and colour co-ordinated accessories, and men convinced they were the ultimate macho heroes with the contents of an
entire dive shop strapped to them: state-of-the-art dive computers and pony bottles, and enormous knives and torches, and the latest in hi-tech camera equipment.

‘What do you mean, break out?’ asked Lucy. They were sitting disconsolately by the edge of the pool, dangling their feet in the water, and eating oversized slices of watermelon.

‘Let’s pay a visit to Koh Tao.’

‘Koh Tao?’

‘Yeah. Tao’s the ultimate dive destination. Didn’t you know? Koh Samui’s the family island, Koh Pha Ngan’s the rave island, and Tao’s the dive island.’

‘But what about your dad? He won’t want to go there. He’s dead happy here.’

This was, indeed, the case. Adair had met a couple who were golf fiends, and they spent most of the day on the spanking-new golf course, and most of the evening chatting over drinks in the piano bar.

‘He won’t miss us for a day or two,’ said Izzy. ‘I’d just love to live like a beach bum for twenty-four hours. This place is beginning to get to me.’ She set down the rind of her watermelon, which was instantly scooped up by a smiling flunky, then turned anguished eyes on Lucy. ‘Oh God, Luce! I must sound like a totally ungrateful spoiled brat. Dad went to so much trouble and expense to do this for us.’

Lucy shrugged. ‘He just wants the best for you, Izzy. He loves to pamper you. I told you before, you’re his princess.’

Izzy drooped a little, then jumped to her feet. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Even princesses have to take a break. Let’s go check out Tao online.’

Back at the suite, sitting at the ormolu-mounted boulle kneehole desk, Adair was working on his BlackBerry. Izzy had tried to persuade him to ditch it before they left Ireland, but he’d been adamant that he couldn’t survive without it for a fortnight.

‘Da-ad?’ she said, in the cajoling voice that she knew always worked.

‘Yes, princess?’

‘Could we check something out online?’

‘Sure. What do you need to know?’

‘We were thinking about taking a day trip to Koh Tao.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s an island not far from here.’

‘Oh, Iz. You know I just want to stay put and chill. I really don’t want to go gallivanting around islands.’

‘Well, actually–’ Izzy started playing apprehensively with a strand of her brand-new hair–‘I meant just me and Lucy’

‘Oh.’

‘You wouldn’t mind, Dad, would you? It’s just that it’s got the reputation of having some of the best diving in Asia.’

Adair looked up at her, clearly crestfallen. ‘Isn’t the diving here any good, sweet pea?’

‘It’s fine. But it seems mad not to dive in Koh Tao when it’s right on our doorstep.’

Adair looked uncertain. ‘I’m not certain that I like the idea of letting you two girls go off together to some island by yourselves. What if something happens to you?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like–I dunno–falling into the hands of white slave traders—’

‘Dad!’

‘Or–or having somebody sneak drugs into your bag. I hear that happens all the time. Traffickers target innocent-looking people and use them as–um–donkeys.’

‘They’re called “mules”, Dad.’

‘Whatever. And remember that I’m
in loco parentis
for Lucy. I’m not sure her parents would like the idea.’

‘I’m pretty sure they’d be cool with it,’ said Lucy.

Izzy tried not to smile. Lucy’s parents were Trustafarian dope
heads, who grew their own marijuana and couldn’t understand why Lucy never joined them in a toke.

‘Ple-ease
, Dad,’ said Izzy, putting on her most winning expression. ‘Let’s just have a
peek
at the island online.’

‘OK, then.’ Looking mulish, Adair twinkled his thumbs over his BlackBerry. ‘There it is.’

‘Oh! It’s so
pretty!’
exclaimed Izzy, swishing her hair back over her shoulder as she leaned in closer to the screen. ‘Oh, I’d
love
to go there! Isn’t it gorgeous, Lucy?’

‘Yes,’ said Lucy, giving her friend a catlike look that said, ‘I know exactly what you’re up to–go, girl!’

‘And it’s so
near!
Only an hour on the ferry.’

‘I’d lay on a speedboat for you.’

‘No, no, Daddy! If we do this, we’ve got to do it the proper way, like all the backpackers do. And look–we could sleep in a beach hut! Yay!’

‘You mean you’re thinking of staying overnight? I’m not sure—’

‘But, Dad, if we have to spend two whole hours travelling, that’ll give us hardly any time there at all. And we’d only be able to fit in one dive.’ Izzy gave him the benefit of her most beautiful bewildered look, her eyes wide, her brow furrowed, her mouth pouting in a perplexed
moue.

‘What about a helicopter?’

‘No! Could you imagine the effect that would have on our street cred? Helicopters may be fine and dandy here, Dad, but not on a laidback joint like Koh Tao. That would be a bit like going to Burdock’s for fish and chips in a chauffeur-driven limo.’

‘I’ve done that, actually,’ said Adair, with a touch of nostalgia.

‘Yeah, but you have no street cred at all, Dad.’

‘I’ll have you know that I was dead streetwise when I started out in the property business, Isabella. You had to be a cute divil to get anywhere in those days.’

‘And I bet you were the cutest of them all!’ Izzy clapped her
hands and did a little dance, setting her hair extensions jumping like skipping ropes. ‘So, Daddy, what do you say?’

Adair gave a great sigh. ‘I suppose I can’t keep you wrapped up in cotton wool for the rest of your life. When do you plan on going?’

‘Tomorrow?’ she hazarded.

Adair heaved another sigh. ‘Tomorrow, then.’

‘Oh, Daddy–thank you!’ Izzy stooped to give her father an enormous hug and a kiss on the end of his nose, and Lucy went ‘Yay! Thank you
so
much!’

Then, setting aside his BlackBerry and reaching for his wallet, Adair took out a wad of baht. ‘Have fun, princess’ he said.

On the ferry, Izzy and Lucy looked just like all the other backpackers who were heading to Tao. The decks were crammed with golden kids from all over the globe, all good-looking, all loose-limbed, all disenfranchised. Izzy finally felt that she belonged–that she’d found her niche in life at last. Giddy with delight at having been sprung from their gilded cage, she and Lucy laughed like drains with two New Zealanders for the hour-long journey, and impressed the boys no end by lapsing into Irish from time to time, when they wanted to make private observations about which of the two was the hotter.

The sun was hot too, and Izzy had forgotten her hat, though she’d taken care to slap on buckets of factor 50. But as she tossed her head in response to some jokey remark by a New Zealander, she realised with dismay that one of her hair extensions had detached itself and gone flying out into the Gulf of Thailand. What the hell! Nobody else seemed to have noticed, so she kept shtoom, and desisted from flinging her hair around as much as she’d been wont to since having the false locks put in.

They parted with the Kiwis in Mae Haad, and made the short journey to Sairee Beach by motorbike taxi along dusty dirt tracks. As Izzy whizzed along, the wind tugged at her hair, and she felt
as if she was starring in a bio-pic of someone with a fabulous life. She wished she could be this girl all the time–a carefree, sun-kissed beach babe with Kate Hudson tresses.