Road to Recovery
Chapter 4
It was six weeks into my enforced stay in this lap of luxury when Alice made a friend; they met by accident in the palatial greeting hall (not for this illustrious place a common reception area). Maria, as it turned out her name was, was trying to get permission to travel around the hospital quietly soliciting donations for the local Hospice, and Alice, on her way to her rehearsal room, and being a naturally inquisitive (nosey) soul, heard everything. Maria was explaining that her Mother was in the local Hospice, awaiting the inevitable, and she was doing her penance, fund raising for them whilst her mother was having her daily treatment. The Welcome Co-ordinator (AKA Receptionist) was having none of it, and Alice could see that Maria was getting more and more distraught.
Intervening, to the great relief of the ‘Co-ordinator’ Alice gently guided Maria to the cafeteria, after all a cappuccino always made her feel better; perhaps it would work on this poor woman as well. After brief introductions, and two much slower, ‘absolutely divine’ cuppas, Maria poured out all her woes; she was at her lowest ebb and seemed to sense in Alice a kindred spirit. Maria’s mother was ‘terminal’, Maria had accepted that fact several months ago, what she had not seen coming was how her father would deal with it; he took off with all their savings, and a girl less than half his age. Fortunately for her mother their insurance was covering the costs of the Hospice but Maria still had to live. She had an eight year old daughter to support, and had just been informed by her faithful employers, the ‘Ayuntamiento’ (Town Hall), that they had arbitrarily terminated her employment, quoting absenteeism as the reason. No amount of pleading had made them change their mind, and of course her savings were now dwindling at an alarming rate.
As Alice listened with growing anger she had a revelation; she was good at those, `Vicente - just his cup of tea` (he doesn’t like cappuccino), it was time to get Daddy involved. After putting the coffees (and two ring donuts that had just happened to find their way in front of them) onto her suite’s account she steered Maria, by this time not quite so distraught, up in the lift and along to see Daddy, and Daddy was day dreaming, day dreaming of what he usually day dreamed about at this time of day, Mummy, until the door to his room opened and he noticed, just behind his daughter, a sad faced beautiful young woman, no not beautiful, stunning, and that stopped his day dreaming dead in its tracks.
Maria was dressed in a faintly patterned crisp white long sleeved shirt and jet black fitted denims, showing off her figure to perfection. She had accessorised with a slim black patent leather belt and shiny black high heeled boots, which all went perfectly with her short, but very stylish, jet black hair, and her eyes - somebody could easily get lost in those eyes. A very recently widowed middle aged gentleman should not go, or even worse, lie around noticing things like this he though, as he quickly transferred his gaze back to his daughter.
‘Hello my wonderful popsy wopsy’ she purred, and I could hear my wallet groaning as it lay quietly in the bedside table drawer. In the past that greeting had usually ended up with me parting with some of my hard earned cash. With me concentrating perhaps a tad too hard on Alice’s face (rather than doing what most men would have done and stared in awe at that beautiful young woman behind her) she started explaining, in quite graphic detail (she would have made a wonderful actress if the violin lessons had been wasted) how she had met Maria, and what had ensued thereafter, finally ending with a flourishing ‘and Vicente should take them all to the ICC at The Hague’. She then threw herself at the mercy of the court, or rather me. I quickly explained to her that only war criminals went to the International Criminal Court at The Hague but that didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest, in fact taking it at face value it actually seemed like a good idea to me as well, not only getting Vicente involved but also sending them to ‘The Hague’. In my opinion they should all be shot for the way they had treated her, and then I made eye contact with Maria, and that could have been a big mistake for a lesser person, but fortunately I managed to stop myself from falling into those ebony pools and forced myself into conducting a civilized conversation with her.
Maria José Fernandez Cortez left college after completing her business studies (with a side line in languages) and went to work for a time in the city’s Tourism Department. From what I gathered she then had to take a short career break to attend to the birth of her daughter Myra, which it transpired was the result of a very unwelcome advance by her supervisor after a rather protracted ‘drinks after work’ session. Being new to the job, and knowing that the Guardia Civil (Police) and her new employers would most likely take his side - after all she had willingly consumed a considerable amount of alcohol (and she was a female) - she took the other route. After finding out his home address she rang the doorbell, and with him standing in shock behind his wife, she told her everything. As she exited, head held high, she vowed never to touch another drop of alcohol again, and a few weeks later, after finding out that she was pregnant she really did do just that.
The supervisor never did return to work. First he claimed ill health, and then resigned ‘due to personal problems’, and disappeared, moving on to pastures new. Good riddance she thought, but that wouldn’t help her bring up a new born baby. Fortunately her elder sister, who had a tribe of her own to contend with, came to the rescue.
‘One more won’t even be noticed’ she informed her, so safe in the knowledge that her gorgeous little Myra was in safe hands she went back to work, trying to salvage a career out of her disaster, but the new Supervisor was not a very happy little fellow, he knew exactly what had transpired with his predecessor, so, about six weeks after her return from maternity leave, when a ‘very’ Senior Manageress from the Main Offices ‘noticed her’ and offered her the position as her PA, he didn’t stand in her way in the slightest; in fact he even helped her to pack up her personal items. More money, better hours, a chance to really use her college education; and to crown it all a female boss, and she thought that things couldn’t get any better - but they did. A year later her new boss got the bosses job and took Maria with her. This really did put her on the fast track. Hard work, and a little luck had put her well and truly among the ‘movers’ and ‘shakers’.
All went well for 7 glorious years, Myra was growing into a lovely child, and her sister was as good as her word, looking after her as if she was one of her own. The only cloud in the sky was their Mother’s failing health, and it was failing quite rapidly. Despite chemotherapy and other conventional (and not so conventional treatments) she started to sink fast. This was also about the time that her father, not the most supportive of characters at the best of times decided to reassess his living arrangements; taking anything of value, plus their neighbour’s 20 year old slow witted daughter with him, and to really put the icing on the cake her situation at work deteriorated as well. Aurora, her boss, met the love of her life and quickly took early retirement, and her replacement was a bully. He wanted to change everything, whether it was needed or not, both in and out of the office, and he even brought his own little ‘typist’ with him. She was not a threat to Maria’s position, although she thought she was, she wasn’t even a very good a typist. The only thing that she seemed to excel at was stirring - and it wasn’t just the coffee, and life in the office was quickly becoming quite unbearable, and then her mother was taken into hospital for the last time, and after the shortest of stays she was transferred to the Hospice. The prognosis was not good and Maria had to apply for a leave of absence to dedicate twenty-four hours a day to looking after her mother, this was Spain, it was expected of her, and six weeks later (about a week ago) she received the letter terminating her employment. She had immediately taken valuable time out from looking after her mother to try and sort things out, but her new boss refused to even see her, and that ‘harridan’ was actually sat at HER desk, smiling. Personnel/Human Resources were ‘very sorry’.
The Hospice was always looking for fund raisers to help raise the much needed cash that was always needed to provide thos
e little, and not so little, extras that made the residents final days more endurable. Maria took to it willingly; she appreciated that her efforts would be too late for her mother, but not for future residents, and that was why, perhaps a little naively, she was at the hospital pleading to be allowed to enter their portals to seek donations.
‘What is the target’ I asked.
‘A Quarter of a Million Euros’ she embarrassingly whispered.
‘You’ve got it’ I blurted out, and if I had been more in touch with my feminine side I’m sure that by now I would have tears streaming down my face (damn it – where did I put those tissues). What a courageous young woman, and despite all the adversity she was still continuing to struggle on, not letting herself go, and thinking of others before herself. When we, sorry they, had wiped the tears from their eyes they both quietly sipped at cups of lukewarm ‘Earl Grey’ that a nurse had just poured them. It had been hot, in its bone china teapot, when an English Nurse had quietly bought it in some time earlier, but she had then rather ‘inappropriately’ gotten engrossed in Maria’s story. Even she, a hardened experienced Nurse was moved, and after blushing slightly she made her apologies and left, promising a ‘fresh pot’. As I mulled things over in my mind (Alice had learned years ago that this was the time to keep her lips buttoned tightly shut), it started to become clear, ‘it was obvious’, but there was a BIG problem, and I politely asked Maria if she would mind waiting in my lounge for a few moments, whilst I conferred with Alice.
‘Thank you so very much for the donation Daddy’ Alice started, ‘do you think Vicente can help her?’
‘I doubt it, this is Spain’ I replied, ‘but ‘I’ might be able to, but there is a problem, Maria is a beautiful young woman, and I am now a rich Widower, what will people say?’
Alice burst into laughter, the first spontaneous laughter that I had heard in months, ‘you are a silly old pickle Daddy’, and she giggled, ‘isn’t it obvious, she now ‘bats’ for the other side.’
Ten minutes later I had my very own P.A, and Vicente would be happy to learn that I was now an ‘Equal Opportunities Employer’.
First things first, get Maria a set of wheels; her ‘lease car’ had been snatched back by the Ayuntamiento the same day that the letter had arrived, and with a quick call to a local car hire firm Vicente had it sorted, ‘the keys will be in Maria’s hands within half an hour’ he promised, and they were. He also sorted a plastic card for her with the bank; ‘of course they would arrange it immediately’, and not a mention of their favourite word – mańana. Vicente didn’t seem to mind helping out with these non-legal favours, after all when Maria was finally ensconced in her new position this type of job would come within her jurisdiction. She spent about an hour with us discussing her new responsibilities, and I quickly realised that she knew more about what would be required of her than I would ever know, so after tucking the keys to her new car into the rear pocket of ‘those’ jeans she returned to her mother – lucky keys. I had insisted that she concentrate her immediate attentions on her mother, until she felt that she was in more of a position to give me her full attention, but as I watched those keys depart, a horrible thought flitted through my mind, ‘I hope she won’t be too long. Two days later Senor Gonzales Joven delivered Maria’s new piece of plastic in person, along with at least half a tree’s worth of papers and leaflets. Fortunately my Physiotherapist ‘Marco’ arrived just in the nick of time and requested him quite firmly to leave, and ‘leave him to it’. Promising him that I would look through the paperwork ‘with interest’ he yet again reluctantly departed from my room. I then handed the paperwork to Marco who, following my explicit instructions (and with a large grin on his face) promptly filed it all - in the nearby shredder. As Marco was coming to the end of his sadistic massications Alice popped in for a quick chat before she went off to visit her new friend and her mother at the Hospice. Handing Alice Maria’s new card, I asked her to make sure that Maria signed it and fully understood that she should not be afraid to use it, I had no wish for my new P.A. to arrive for work with a shelf load of debts; we could always sort something out later. I really am a trusting soul. Alice returned in floods of tears an hour later, she had arrived too late; ten minutes earlier Maria’s Mother had peacefully gone to sleep, never to awaken, and Maria had been quietly sitting beside her now sheet draped Mother. Alice should then have quietly turned around and left, but she didn’t want her new friend to have financial worries on top of everything else, so Maria obediently signed the card that Alice handed her, and blankly acknowledged the instructions given to her, then Alice decided that this really was the time for her to leave; very soon this room was going to be full of grieving relatives, but as she leaned over to give Maria a sympathetic hug before departing Maria suddenly sprang out of her chair, turned, and savagely grabbed hold of a startled Alice, then started sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder. This was her time to grieve, with a kindred spirit, before the rest of her family arrived, after all someone had to organise things. By the time her sister arrived fifteen minutes later Alice had departed and Maria was dry eyed and effortlessly taking charge, this was the way she did things.
That was on the Thursday, the following Monday morning at nine a.m. sharp Maria entered my room. She was immaculately dressed in a chić light-weight business suit and was visibly ‘chomping at the bit’ ready to start. After I had offered her my commiserations I expressed my surprise that she wasn’t at home sorting out the funeral arrangements. She explained to me that in Spain it was normal for families to hold the funeral of a loved one the very next day, and ‘all had gone according to plan’ she assured me. She had not needed to use the card, although it had been a very reassuring feeling to have had it in her back pocket, just in case - lucky card.
Maria’s English was perfect, and so apparently was her Castellano (the Spanish national language), Valenciano (the local dialect), Italian and Portuguese, but her French and German were only ‘passable’ though. She had a natural talent for languages, and over the years she had nurtured it, this was some smart lady. She went on to explain that it was not her style to sit around wailing and getting through boxes of tissues, so her Sister was looking after Myra, and here she was raring to go. Her sister was perfectly happy to continue having Myra during the day, however there might be a problem if I required her (Maria not her Sister) to be away overnight.
‘Put that number one on the list of things to sort out’ I told her.
Alice had mentioned to her faithful hound, sorry hospital Administrator, that Maria would at some time soon be joining me (although neither of us had quite expected it to be this soon). He assured her that ‘very suitable’ office furniture could be provided by the hospital ‘as and when’ we required it. Maria required it `now`, and two hours later she had her office. It was really my lounge but as I wasn’t ambulatory yet, and not I suspect for quite a while, I didn’t have a pressing need for it. She also had a small desk placed in my room, for dictation, but she had no outside phone line, apparently the telephone and ADSL (broadband) line would take ‘a few days’. This was a normal response from Telefonica; the cable was actually strung about four hours later; again that was normal according to my experience. Reluctantly using the hospitals phone (she didn’t trust their security one little bit) a suitable ‘consultant’ was found and they proudly informed her that they would have ‘compatible’ computers, telephones, fax, printers, as well as all the other bits of high tech office paraphernalia installed by lunch time tomorrow. That of course was not acceptable to ‘my P.A.’, so five hours after arriving it looked as if she had been at the desk for years. I liked her style.
Maria and I worked well together from the start, whether it was (a) when I was telling her what to do, (b) bouncing idea’s around with her, or (c) when she was one step ahead of me and discretely telling me what to tell her to do next, and it was usually (c); she needed no close supervision and very little direction. One of her first jobs was to compose her own job d
escription. I really didn’t have a clue what was required of her but by the end of her first day with me, at 9:00 pm to be precise, it was on my desk (well bed side table), along with a brief e-mail from Vicente. She had most likely used her previous job description as the starting point, then with the help of the World Wide Web, Vicente, and maybe the odd consultant or two she had produced a very impressive document. The e-mail informed me that he had read the three fun packed pages of the attached final draft and confirmed that it seemed to be a good basis to start from (?). I had some good employer’s rights, three months’ notice etc., and she had some nice little perks, company car, good holiday entitlement, child care provision etc. He also pointed out that it did not violate her ‘Civil or Employment Rights’; I was really pleased about that. The only thing he might disagree with me about was her salary. We had used her final salary at her previous employment, and added a bit for good luck, so it was not too bad for this end of Spain, but in the ‘private sector’, Vicente pointed out, a person of her calibre could easily expect to pick up bucket loads more Euros, and if I wanted to keep her for any length of time then I might reconsider the figure, and in due course maybe even add a few more ‘perks’. First day in the job and she almost doubles her salary, ‘not bad’ I thought, ‘I hope she doesn’t expect that every day’. Right, where’s my little black book, yellow pages, car dealers & designer business suites, who is working for whom?
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