Chapter Twenty-Six
The seagull thinks it is an act of kindness to give the fish a lift in the air.
(Irish proverb)
Had Lyle of the sharp suit and nice hands whisked Noreen Millburn (Ms), from Rough Fell, Cumbria, England, up to the moon or another even more distant planet, it would not have been more disorienting and unbelievable than what he shows her on this endless, please-never-let-it-end evening.
They begin at the Treasure Island, with its stunning blue-water lagoon and mesmeric Cirque de Soleil production.
Yet this has hardly commenced when she finds herself watching the huge volcano erupt at the Mirage.
Paris, Ancient Rome, the Wild West, Hollywood.
It is as if she is being taken on a trip around the world, escorted by a singular being whom she met only minutes ago but is already starting to feel that she has known forever.
Noreen realises that she has hardly uttered a single word – unless you count ‘ooh’, ‘aah’ and a melange of sharp intakes of breath as being part of accepted vocabulary – until they reach the famed Bellagio resort, with its stupendous ballet of dancing fountains.
“So beautiful,” she says, finally, which is just about all that she can manage right now, although she is feeling and thinking so much more as the lights play on her entranced English face and the delicate spray lands like a caress on her pale, unembellished skin. “Thank you so much, Mr Lyle.”
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Noreen, yet no more than you deserve.” He smiles kindly. “I had thought that as you are so fond of lakes, you would enjoy being on the shores of Italy’s Lake Como.”
“Are we in Italy, Lyle?” asks Noreen, who, after all this, wouldn’t be a bit surprised.
“You are so charming, dear Noreen.” He laughs, his extraordinary teeth sparkling even more brightly in the night-time air.
He appears to have a larger complement of them than anyone she has ever met.
“No, I haven’t transported you across the seas to Italia.
But some clever gentleman has – at a cost of nearly two billion dollars. ”
“Goodness,” she says, “that’s more than…” She stops at this point, as she has no idea what this figure is more than, because she has never heard such a figure in her life.
“It is indeed.” Lyle smiles again, but this time with his long linen arm around her. Noreen can feel the extraordinary warmth almost singeing her brand-new cardigan but feels no desire to escape.
“May I take you shopping?” he asks, gently.
“They’ve got a Tesco too!” she yelps excitedly, fishing in her bag for her purse.
***
Noreen Millburn’s initial disappointment that her favourite supermarket is not to be found anywhere within the glass-enclosed luxury of the Via Bellagio dissolves into confusion when she discovers that she has not heard of a single shop that is.
Tiffany, Dior, Chanel, Gucci, Prada. They don’t even sound like real names.
Where’s the Boots and the WHSmith? Where’s the Oxfam and Barnardo’s?
Yet the merchandise within these small but brightly lit emporiums does indeed look extraordinary, whilst resembling in no conceivable way anything a person might usefully wear or use.
She can hear Lyle sweetly offering to buy her anything and everything under the sun, but despite being almost totally under the spell of this kindly yet alluring vision, who for some unfathomable reason wants to be really nice to her, possibly because of her name and provenance, she is determined not to let him go through too much of his hard-earned money this evening.
Although the man has graciously offered a brief explanation, she is still not quite certain as to exactly how he has become as wealthy as he clearly is, but this is possibly because ‘dabbling’ is not a profession they have in the Lakes.
It’s probably an American thing, like ranching or barbecuing.
After some persuasion and a fair deal more walking (no problem at all in her very practical hiking boots, which Lyle apparently covets), Noreen does agree to accompany her new friend into a very clean and clinical beauty shop.
This is an establishment Lyle appears to know, where the young ladies are happy to work late and are, as he explains, always excited to meet a challenge.
“I shall leave you in their capable hands,” he tells Noreen as he guides her towards a welcoming group of white-clad and clearly enthusiastic professionals.
Noreen, soon to be quite alone once more in this alarming new world, finds herself wanting to beg the virtual stranger (yet possibly also her first ever bestie) not to go.
But, somehow, she knows in her heart that whatever the beautiful person does must clearly be for the best and that her tall dark saviour in the fine linen suit will definitely be back very soon to do some more whisking.