This was the first novel that I wrote back in 2001 when I first moved to Spain to live. I had written short stories before and non-fiction health books, but felt the need to bring a little romance and humour into my writing.. the result was the semi-autobiographical Just an Odd Job Girl.

About the book

At 50 Imogen had been married for over 20 years, and was living in a big house, with money to spare. Suddenly she is traded-in for a younger model, a Fast-Tracker.

Devastated, she hides away and indulges in binge eating. But then, when hope is almost gone, she meets a new friend and makes a journey to her past that helps her move on to her future.

Last time  Imogen connects with Peter again and he persuades her that he is a changed man asks her to marry him…

The Final Chapter – A New Life.

I arrived punctually for my appointment with Andrew, and was shown straight in by Elizabeth. She gave me a great boost by complimenting me on my hair and clothes and I was visibly preening as I entered Andrew’s office. I found him with another man in deep conversation, which came to an abrupt halt as I entered.

‘Imogen, good to see you again and may I say how wonderful you are looking.’

You may, I thought smugly, carefully putting the cost of the transformation to the back of my mind.

‘I would like to introduce you to a very good friend of mine. Jack Doyle, meet Imogen Smythe.’

I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting something, but Andrew invited me to sit down.

‘Well Imogen, after we spoke the other day, I passed your C.V. on to Jack. He runs a counselling service for young men and women who are having problems finding jobs – or keeping them – and is looking for an assistant for both the office and ‘after training’ to help with the interviewing. I thought that, with all your varied work experience, and being a mother as well, you could be of great benefit to Jack’s organisation.’

I couldn’t believe it. There was I thinking that my work track record indicated a fly-by-night approach to earning a living, and it was now being turned into an asset. I turned to Jack who smiled encouragingly at me.

He then began to tell me about his organisation, and its aims, and how they needed someone who was efficient, flexible and adaptable to keep him and two other counsellors in order. The pay was not marvellous and I would need to do a training course one day a week for the next six months to enable me to assist in the interviews. But, if I was interested, he was happy to take Andrew’s recommendation and offer me the position. Would I be interested? Of course I would, I was thrilled and accepted delightedly.

‘I think that calls for a celebration.’ Andrew got up and shook my hand.

‘Let’s all go up to Pings in the high-street for some Sake and crispy duck.’

Oh good! My favourite. I happily left the office between Jack and Andrew and over some grilled dumplings and crispy duck, I regaled them with some of the highlights of my reminiscences. I haven’t laughed as much for a long time and as we parted company with Jack on the pavement outside the restaurant, I knew that there were some great times ahead.

I was right. Six months later found me fully trained, and an official member of Jack’s team. I was also going out with Andrew, who had rung me the week I started work and asked me out for dinner on the Friday. We began seeing each other two or three times a week, going to the theatre, dinner and the movies. After a couple of weeks he came to dinner one Friday night and didn’t leave until Sunday. It was lovely, and I felt young and sexy, and desired.

We are getting married next month in a small ceremony, with just my children and Jack. We have booked our honeymoon hotel in Killbilly! I found out that Patrick is still running the place, and was absolutely thrilled that I was coming to stay.

Finally, the icing on the cake. One Friday night, just as I was getting into bed I received a frantic call from Peter.

‘Imogen, please, you have to come over, we are at the end of our tether, the baby won’t stop crying, the doctor has said that there is nothing he can do. You were so good with the children, please we are desperate.

‘How could I refuse? I dressed got in my car and drove down familiar roads until I reached my old home. The gates swung open, and as I made my way up the drive, the front door was flung open. There was my ex husband and the ‘fast tracker’ looking dishevelled, worn and rather grubby. She was awkwardly holding a squalling baby, as it squirmed in her arms. Peter grabbed me gratefully, and rescuing the child from its mother’s arms, he thrust it at me.

The baby looked up at me tearfully as I gently rocked it back and forth. I smiled down at him and saw a likeness to my children. The tears stopped and he gurgled up at me, smiling and chortling. Peter and the fast tracker stared at one another and then at the baby and me. I looked up to see Peter eyeing me from top to toe and I was delighted that despite having thrown everything on in a hurry I still looked pretty good. Was that a hint of regret that I saw on his face, I did hope so? Oh sweet revenge!

I left them an hour later with my mother’s recipe for teething babies and some advice to Peter on where to find a good nanny. I think outside help was the kindest thing for the baby, and I think Peter realised it would be best for the health of his new marriage too.

I drove home, thinking about Andrew, the wedding and my children, realising just how great life can be – certainly not too bad for just an odd job girl.

©Sally Georgina Cronin – Just an Odd Job Girl

I hope you have enjoyed Just an Odd Job Girl… thanks for joining me Sally

Jacquie Biggar January 4th 2022

After devoting her life to her family, Imogen is replaced by a younger woman (a fast-tracker) after twenty years of marriage and must overcome her self-doubt to move on to the next stage of her life.

Just an Odd Job Girl is a highly entertaining story of a fifty-year-old’s voyage into a working world she thought herself ill-equipped to handle until a new friend shows her just how much she truly has to offer.

There are many laugh-out-loud moments as Imogen relives her past vocations, everything from a nebulous job on the docks to a dentist’s assistant, a job in a funeral home, a restaurant manager, and more. It soon becomes obvious that Imogen is a Jack of all Trades and an asset to any employer.

Many wives and mothers of the era were stay-at-home caretakers for their families. They set aside career aspirations to make a safe and loving home for their children- often at the price of their own sense of value. Then the kids leave home, husbands become restless, and suddenly, the wife is left to absorb the loss and find her way to a new beginning. Not easy for anyone.

This is a highly entertaining read told by a wonderful storyteller. I especially enjoyed the tongue-in-cheek humor and the delightful ending- a well-deserved 5 star read!

You can find my other books and their recent reviews: Sally’s books and reviews 2022

This was the first novel that I wrote back in 2001 when I first moved to Spain to live. I had written short stories before and non-fiction health books, but felt the need to bring a little romance and humour into my writing.. the result was the semi-autobiographical Just an Odd Job Girl.

About the book

At 50 Imogen had been married for over 20 years, and was living in a big house, with money to spare. Suddenly she is traded-in for a younger model, a Fast-Tracker.

Devastated, she hides away and indulges in binge eating. But then, when hope is almost gone, she meets a new friend and makes a journey to her past that helps her move on to her future.

Last time Imogen was forced to take drastic measures when mayflies caused a problem with two guests in the hotel. Imogen continues to tell her story.. and shares the events of the next two years.

Chapter Nineteen – Full Circle

I can honestly say that during the next two years, there really was nobody to compare with Elmer and his wife. Sure, there was the odd hiccup, but on the whole, guests always left vowing to return, which is always a good sign. We had the occasional guests who were not quite as they seemed, and they provided some variety in our day-to-day routine.

There was the middle-aged man who arrived one afternoon with a much younger, blonde wife. His booking had been made about six weeks earlier and he signed the register while keeping one arm around his lovely companion. I don’t mean to be cynical, but in the hotel business you accept that sometimes things are not as they appear to be. The couple were shown to their room and appeared for dinner, late, just as we were about to take last orders.

The next day they did not come down for breakfast and it was nearly one o’clock before they left for the day.

When they returned, at about five in the afternoon, the woman went upstairs to the room. All bedrooms had their own direct dial telephones but we did have a booth in the hall, which housed a public pay phone. The man entered the booth and dialled a number. He left the door open and stood half in and half out as he waited for the phone to be answered.

‘Hello darling, sorry about this, but my bloody plane’s been delayed and I’m still in Munich. What? I can’t hear you, too much noise here. Looks like I won’t get off tonight, so see you tomorrow darling. Sorry, have to go. Running out of change. Love you. Bye.’

With that he replaced the receiver and turned towards the stairs. Just as he passed reception he turned and winked at me and continued on. Unbelievable!

The next day the couple departed and he left a hefty tip for the staff. You couldn’t have wished for a more pleasant pair and yet I found it incredible that someone so pleasant could be so deceitful. What a pity that it didn’t teach me anything! It might have buffered me from the shock I received when I discovered Peter’s ability to deceive, many years later. However, that was in the future.

One other incident, which really sticks in my memory, involved me and a red Chinese dress. One of our Australians, Mick, had a sister who was coming to visit for a few days. She was coming through Hong Kong and Mick asked everybody if there was anything that we would like brought over. I had always loved the idea of owning a red silk, high collared Chinese style dress, as I thought they looked stunning. I asked if perhaps Mick’s sister might be able to find me one in my size and not expecting much success thought nothing more of it. Much to my delight, when she arrived she had found just what I was looking for, and very inexpensively.

I had long dark hair at the time, and when I put this dress on for the first time, I thought I looked amazing. I wanted to wear the outfit immediately and decided that dinner that night offered the ideal opportunity. There was a fairly revealing slit down the side of the dress, just below where the little silk buttons finished. I wore high-heeled black shoes and I practised walking, up and down my room, trying not to expose too much thigh.

In my several months at the hotel, we had not seen a solitary Chinese guest. From what I could gather, oriental visitors to England preferred to stay in London, for the shopping and nightlife. I was fairly confident that my outfit was both elegant and attractive and I much appreciated the comments I received from staff and guests alike.

Half way through dinner, I was standing in the hall waiting for a large party of non-residents who had booked a table for ten people at nine o’clock. I saw a mini-bus pull up to the front door and several people head for the steps. The doors swung open and there stood nine rather startled Chinese gentlemen and a rather flabbergasted tour guide. To say my smile was sickly was putting it mildly. I had nowhere to go but forward, in full greeting mode. I gestured the party through to the dining room as speedily as possible, desperately racking my brains to remember what the colour red signified in China, was it mourning, or wedding or what. The tour operator was the last through the door and he reached out and touched my arm.

‘Thanks for going to all that trouble, but my clients are actually Japanese.’

Oh well, next time I will ask anyone passing through Tokyo to pick me up a Geisha outfit. For the rest of the evening I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible but it is rather difficult when one is wearing a very tight, high cut, bright red, inappropriate outfit. Patrick thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen and never let me forget it. From that day on I always wore black or blue outfits that, whilst boring and professional looking, were not in the slightest bit embarrassing.

While we are on the subject of Patrick, I should point out that though he was extremely attractive, there had never been any hint of romance between us. I liked and respected him and we became firm friends. Anyway, he had a steady girlfriend who worked as a solicitor in London and came down every other weekend. They had been together for ten years and seemed happy not to make it any more permanent than it already was.

I had managed to relegate Peter to the back of my mind and I was so busy, six days a week, that I had little time for romance. I tried not to go out with guests as I felt that it was unprofessional, but I had little opportunity to meet anyone outside of work. Once or twice, I dated a guest. But, after a couple of glasses of wine I would review my choice in men and I was slightly disturbed to discover that I seemed to be terminally attracted to rather dodgy characters.

There was Tom who came down with a group of golfing buddies, crammed into a Rolls Royce. They had a good time, flirted harmlessly and left on the Sunday. Tom pecked me on the cheek before leaving and booked three rooms for two weekends ahead. Sure enough, he duly arrived with different friends in a different car, a Bentley this time. I asked him where he got the cars from and he told me that he was a prestige car dealer in London and that he had a whole forecourt of this type of car. He asked me out for lunch on the Sunday, which was my day off, and we had a very pleasant time. He made me laugh, which was lovely.

Over the next two months, Tom appeared every other weekend, usually with some friends but often, when he was on his own, he stayed over for a few extra days and we went out on more dates. I was just starting to feel quite fond of him and thought what a nice man he was when he failed to appear one week. I got a cryptic message through one of the receptionists to say that he had been unavoidably detained. I heard nothing else until the following weekend when one of his mates came down on his own to play golf. I asked him if he knew if Tom was all right or not.

‘Yeah, he’s banged up in the nick, got caught flogging those rented Rolls Royces and Bentleys, looks like he’ll be down for about three years.’

I really did seem to have a problem identifying character flaws in the men I went out with. Scratch one prestige car dealer.

That was the extent of my love life for over a year. We were halfway through my second season at the hotel when I noticed that there was a booking for a P. Smythe. I assumed that it was a coincidence, and because we were very busy that week, gave it little thought. Imagine my surprise when I looked up from some paperwork to find Peter standing in front of me.

‘Hi Imogen, I expect you’re a little surprised to see me?’

Rather an understatement I thought.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Not my usual greeting to hotel guests, but surprise had robbed me of my customer service hat.

‘I wanted to see you and thought that if I booked in for a couple of nights we might get a chance to chat.’

I have to admit that my heart was pumping and I felt flushed as I looked at this older and softer version of the Peter I had known. I was also intrigued as to why he wanted to see me.
‘I am off tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Perhaps we can talk then?’

I knew that we would see each other throughout the day and I was grateful that we would be too busy to spend any time talking. I wanted to gather my own thoughts first, before being subjected to Peter’s persuasive manner.

I caught glimpses of him as he came in from a walk in the grounds, and as he had a pre-dinner drink in the bar. I showed him to his table, blushing and stammering like a schoolgirl. What was I doing? For goodness sake! This was the bastard who had made me feel so worthless. I was not going to be suckered into that one again.

He went to bed early. He was in a room at the top of the house, number forty. I saw he still had his light on at midnight so perhaps he was as unsettled as I was.

The next day was beautiful, a really clear sparkling morning. My night’s sleep had been restless and I was apprehensive as to the day’s outcome.

After breakfast, Peter appeared in reception and we went out to the car park. He was obviously doing quite well as he was now driving a convertible sports car. He opened the passenger door for me, which was a lot more consideration than he had shown in the past, and I climbed into the little bucket seat as he slid in beside me.

‘It’s such a lovely day, I thought we would head for the coast, would that be okay with you?’

More consideration, goodness me, where would it all end? I nodded my agreement and we spent the next hour negotiating the winding country roads that led to the coast. It was time for coffee by the time we arrived and we parked outside a pub perched on a cliff above the sea. We sat outside in the sunshine and Peter went in and ordered our coffees and some biscuits. He sat on the bench opposite me when he returned and reached across the wooden table. He took my hand in his own and I tried to pull away.

‘Please Imogen, give me a chance, I want to make it up to you.’

I looked at him and was persuaded by his contrite expression to give him at least five minutes.

It was an interesting few minutes, filled with apologies and declarations. He told me that he had gone out with several girls since we split up, but he had always found there was something missing. He found that he was comparing everyone to me and realised that he missed me, and loved me. Well, there’s a turn up for the book. I admit to rather enjoying all these revelations, and I could feel myself being drawn into the warm and cosy picture that was being painted for me. Eventually, five minutes became three hours, lunch, a walk on the beach and a rather pleasant interlude in the dunes.

We got back to the hotel at about eight that evening. On special occasions, Patrick was happy for me to eat in the dining room on nights off and I went and found him in his study.

‘Do you mind if I eat with a guest in the dining room tonight Patrick, and perhaps you would like to join us.’

Patrick who was ploughing through some tax forms was relieved to be let off the hook.

‘What’s the occasion Imogen?’ He knew that I would only ask to eat with the guests if it was a special event.

‘I’m getting married.’ I replied succinctly. Patrick shot up from his chair.

‘Who the hell to? You haven’t had a date in ages.’ So, he had been counting too.

‘Room forty.’ I replied and laughing I turned on my heel leaving Patrick speechless behind me.

The rest as they say is history. I finished off the season and then went home to be married in our local church. Peter had come down to see me several times in that last three months, and we were very happy.

I thought we had been very happy until the end. So how much of it had been an illusion? I hoped that it really had been only the last year, I could live with that, and maybe it was time for me to accept what had happened and be thankful for all the good years we had enjoyed rather than dwelling on the misery of recent times.

* * *

I had loved my journey back to the past and it had revitalised me and shown me what fun I used to be and how much I had loved life. It had also reminded me just how capable, adaptable and efficient I could be. I still felt the same inside as I did in my early twenties.

Forget the sagging body, wrinkles, and grey hairs. The inside is what counts.

In a short while I would be seeing Andrew again, and with my new image and attitude, I hoped that perhaps one thing might lead to another with him. Who knows what the future might hold? I put on one of my new outfits, makeup and fluffed my hair. Today was the first day of the rest of my life.

©Sally Georgina Cronin – Just an Odd Job Girl

I hope you will join me again next week for the final chapter about Imogen’s colourful work history.

Jacquie Biggar January 4th 2022

After devoting her life to her family, Imogen is replaced by a younger woman (a fast-tracker) after twenty years of marriage and must overcome her self-doubt to move on to the next stage of her life.

Just an Odd Job Girl is a highly entertaining story of a fifty-year-old’s voyage into a working world she thought herself ill-equipped to handle until a new friend shows her just how much she truly has to offer.

There are many laugh-out-loud moments as Imogen relives her past vocations, everything from a nebulous job on the docks to a dentist’s assistant, a job in a funeral home, a restaurant manager, and more. It soon becomes obvious that Imogen is a Jack of all Trades and an asset to any employer.

Many wives and mothers of the era were stay-at-home caretakers for their families. They set aside career aspirations to make a safe and loving home for their children- often at the price of their own sense of value. Then the kids leave home, husbands become restless, and suddenly, the wife is left to absorb the loss and find her way to a new beginning. Not easy for anyone.

This is a highly entertaining read told by a wonderful storyteller. I especially enjoyed the tongue-in-cheek humor and the delightful ending- a well-deserved 5 star read!

You can find my other books and their recent reviews: Sally’s books and reviews 2022

This was the first novel that I wrote back in 2001 when I first moved to Spain to live. I had written short stories before and non-fiction health books, but felt the need to bring a little romance and humour into my writing.. the result was the semi-autobiographical Just an Odd Job Girl.

About the book

At 50 Imogen had been married for over 20 years, and was living in a big house, with money to spare. Suddenly she is traded-in for a younger model, a Fast-Tracker.

Devastated, she hides away and indulges in binge eating. But then, when hope is almost gone, she meets a new friend and makes a journey to her past that helps her move on to her future.

Last time  Imogen is surprised by the initiative shown by two of her staff at the opening weekend party, but has to draw the line somewhere….

Chapter Eighteen – Some guests and their Foibles

A number of guests stand out in my memories of the two seasons that I stayed at Killbilly. We had many Americans staying with us, generally for one or two nights, during their tours of the West Country. They loved the faded charm of the hotel and took copious pictures of the high ceilinged rooms and the delightful grounds. And I have to say that everyone was a pleasure to serve as they were charming, polite and grateful for the old style service that we offered, even if it was delivered with an Australian accent. However, one particular American couple were clearly used to a slightly different level of accommodation. Air conditioning, ice in the rooms and twenty-four-hour food service.

They were looking for something to criticise right from the moment they walked through the large wooden doors and into the reception area. They had probably had a miserable journey on a hot day in a car too small, with no air conditioning, and had no doubt got lost several times. That however was no excuse for the way they spoke to the receptionist when they arrived and so I decided to step in and ease them upstairs to their room. Michael took their bags, all ten of them, and I led the way to the guest elevator.

I have to say that they were both rather large, and it was a very tight squeeze for the three of us in the small lift. We were all a little hot and bothered by the time we arrived at their room and I stood aside as first the man and then the woman entered. It was one of our larger rooms with two double beds and a lovely view over the front garden. It was a very warm day and the window was open to allow a gentle breeze to waft through the room.

‘Oh my god, Elmer look at the bugs, there’s bugs in the room, I can’t stay here.’

Startled, I desperately tried to find these bugs that Madam was referring to. By the open window, I caught a quick glimpse of a couple of mayflies that had drifted in from the garden.

‘It’s okay, those are just little mayflies, they are completely harmless.’ I tried to reassure the hysterical woman.

Elmer glared at me.

‘Where’s the screens for the windows, get them fitted immediately.’

Screens? I can only assume that he was referring to mosquito netting, which would have been totally redundant in the depths of the Cornish countryside. I apologised, and explained that we did not get much call for them even in the height of summer. Elmer crossed to the window and slammed it shut, rattling the glass. He returned to his distraught wife and elbowed her out into the hall.

‘Get us a room without bugs! Otherwise, we will be leaving immediately.’

Tempting though this thought was, I felt I should make some effort to accommodate our two disgruntled guests, as they were booked for three nights and we really could not afford to lose the revenue.

‘Please wait here while I check to see if we have another superior room available, I won’t be long.’

With that I dashed downstairs to the reception area and checked our reservations. We were fully booked from tomorrow for several days, but by moving some guests around, I managed to free up another room for three nights.

I shot back up the stairs and showed the bristling couple into a room on the other side of the hotel. Luckily, because this one was not being used until the next day, the chambermaid had not opened the window, and as far as I could tell, without the aid of a microscope, it was relatively bug free. I was sorely tempted to mention mites that were probably infesting the room in their millions, but held my tongue. Thankfully, Elmer and his lovely bride deemed this room just about acceptable and I went in search of Michael and the luggage.

That evening, as was my practice, I stood at the entrance of the dining room and showed the guests to their designated table for the duration of their stay. During the meal I would circulate through the dining room, making sure that everything was in order and assisting the waiting staff if things got a little backed-up.

I had returned to the door, having just shown a particularly lovely couple to their table and happened to glance up the wide flight of stairs that led to the first floor rooms. I caught my breath! Coming down the stairs were Elmer and Mrs. Elmer. The two of them, side by side, completely filled the stairway. However, this was not what grabbed my immediate attention. It was rather the attire that they had chosen for the evening. They must have read a book on country house etiquette and dress code and had gone all out to comply with ‘regulations’. He was wearing full evening dress with a bright scarlet cummerbund and matching bow tie.

Compared to his lovely wife he was relatively subdued. She was wearing a full length taffeta evening dress in bright green, it had a wide flowing skirt that accentuated the width of her generous hips and had a very low cleavage that showed an ample bosom bedecked with every single piece of jewellery she owned.

The sight was breathtaking and I tried hard to keep a professional smile on my face as they glided towards me. Up close, I was almost blinded by the sparkling gems, including a tiara that perched precariously on top of her pink-blonde bouffant hairstyle. Behind me, in the dining room, were about forty people who were wearing smart casual clothing and who were going to be totally unprepared for the sight of their dinner companions. I had managed to restrain myself but could not guarantee the reaction of the assembled diners, or for that matter the Australian waiting staff.

I smiled and bade them good evening. They swept imperiously past me and entered the dining room. I managed to steer them across the room towards their table by the window. Of course, it had to be the table furthest from the door.

As we manoeuvred our way across the floor, all sound ceased. I could feel forty pairs of eyes tracking our progress, and prayed that there would be no snigger, or gasp, from the crowd.

My two guests however, took this silence as astounded appreciation of their turnout and actually turned to tables on their way to the window and gave little regal waves. I thought the room was going to explode any minute and desperately tried to seat Mr. and Mrs. Elmer and quickly as possible. I hurriedly put their menus in front of them and backed away as if in the presence of royalty.

The room let out a collective sigh and conversation resumed, although in hushed tones and whispers. I saw that many guests were smothering hysteria with a great deal of British backbone and thanked goodness that the Australians had held themselves in check. As I looked around, I realised that this was because there was not one member of the Australian waiting staff in the dining room. I went through to the kitchen, and the chef gestured with his knife towards the back door into the garden. There I found eight members of the down-under contingent in convulsions. Their laughter was infectious but I felt I ought to remind them that they had to get back to work and continue serving our dinner guests. I made them promise to behave themselves when serving Elmer and his wife and decided that perhaps one of the local girls would be a more reliable waitress. That settled we went about the evening’s business.

After eating their way through six instead of four courses, the couple squeezed into the lift and disappeared up to their room. I wondered what other outfits the ten pieces of luggage might hold. I was beginning to have serious doubts as to whether I would be able to keep a lid on things for two more nights.

I need not have worried. The next morning, Elmer ordered breakfast in their room. We normally only served a full cooked breakfast in the dining room, but Elmer insisted that they wanted the whole works delivered in ten minutes and we could keep that continental rubbish.

Anything for a quiet life!

Eventually, around midday, the couple appeared downstairs, ordered a packed lunch and disappeared in their car for an excursion. The chambermaid managed to get into their room and when I saw her half an hour later, she commented on how disgustingly the room had been left. I sympathised and said it was only for a couple of more days and returned to the office.

The excursion seemed to last only as long as it took to eat the packed lunch and then they were back. They went up to the room and within seconds the phone on my desk rang.

‘There’s bugs in the room again girlie. Whoever cleaned this room has left the window open. And another thing.’ He paused for breath and I wondered what was coming next.

‘My wife has a head cold and your maid put her toothbrush in the same glass as mine and I’m going to catch her germs. I want a rebate on the room rate.’

So, there we have it. Crunch time. Now, I firmly believe that the customer is always right, but even I have to draw the line somewhere. I knew that whatever we did in the next three days it would never be good enough for this demanding and unreasonable couple. Assuring Elmer that I would be upstairs within a few minutes with a solution to his problem, I replaced the receiver and got out my address book.

We had an ongoing rivalry with a hotel about five miles away. Patrick had taken me there for dinner shortly after my arrival to show me what the competition was like. An ex catering-corps major, who always referred to himself by rank, ran the hotel and I have never been in such a pretentious establishment in all my life. The staff were clearly terrified and we heard them being roared at, in the distance, as we ate a fairly mediocre but incredibly expensive meal.

Patrick confided that, for several years, Major Scott had been in the habit of ridiculing Killbilly and the way that both Patrick’s parents, and then he, had run the hotel. He was particularly scathing about the Australian staff and the relaxed way the establishment was run. It was time for pay-back and it was with this in mind that I rang the number of the Major’s hotel and got through to reception.

‘Good afternoon, this is Killbilly hotel here, I wonder if you could help us?’ There was a stunned silence on the other end.

‘Uh, yes, certainly, what can we do for you?’ I could sense a certain amount of suspicion in the hesitant voice on the end of the phone.

‘We are fully booked and we have an extremely wealthy American couple who require a superior room for the next two nights. Do you have one available at all?’ I could here rustling in the background and whispered conversation. The one thing that Major Scott could not do was whisper.

I smiled in anticipation, having set the bait.

‘Yes that will be absolutely fine, we have one of our best rooms available and if you can give us the name of the party we will expect them in the next hour or so.’

Perfect! Armed with this information I sped upstairs and knocked on Elmer’s door. He opened it and stood in the doorway quite clearly spoiling for a fight. I smiled sweetly and pushed past him into the room.

‘It is quite clear that we are unable to match your extremely high standards and so I am delighted to tell you that I have booked you a superior room at a very prestigious hotel in the next village.’ I paused for effect.

‘I will only charge you for dinner last night, which I noticed you both enjoyed immensely. In this case, I will not charge you for your room for the night. I trust that is acceptable? The hall porter will be here in half an hour to collect your luggage.’ With that, I swept out of the door and into the corridor.

Elmer was out after me like a shot, visions of very expensive hotel rooms looming in his mind.

‘There’s no need for that, just get rid of the bugs and tell that maid of yours to leave our toothbrushes alone in future. I’m sure we can work something out.’

‘Absolutely not.’ I insisted, shaking my head. ‘If we can’t supply the service that you expect then of course we must make every effort to find you somewhere that can. Michael will be with you shortly, may I respectfully suggest that you begin packing so that we can get you on your way.’

I’m afraid he did not stand a chance, and it was with much satisfaction that I deducted the hefty dinner bill from his credit card and waved the two of them off an hour later.

One of our local chambermaids had a cousin who worked for Major Scott, and a week later she regaled us with the details of the confrontation between Elmer and the Major. Apparently, there was a certain amount of property damage and a number of other guests left the establishment never to return again. When I told Patrick the story he was delighted and thought that after all these years of being put down by the Major it was worth losing a nights room-rate.

©Sally Georgina Cronin – Just an Odd Job Girl

Next time – life comes full circle.

Jacquie Biggar January 4th 2022

After devoting her life to her family, Imogen is replaced by a younger woman (a fast-tracker) after twenty years of marriage and must overcome her self-doubt to move on to the next stage of her life.

Just an Odd Job Girl is a highly entertaining story of a fifty-year-old’s voyage into a working world she thought herself ill-equipped to handle until a new friend shows her just how much she truly has to offer.

There are many laugh-out-loud moments as Imogen relives her past vocations, everything from a nebulous job on the docks to a dentist’s assistant, a job in a funeral home, a restaurant manager, and more. It soon becomes obvious that Imogen is a Jack of all Trades and an asset to any employer.

Many wives and mothers of the era were stay-at-home caretakers for their families. They set aside career aspirations to make a safe and loving home for their children- often at the price of their own sense of value. Then the kids leave home, husbands become restless, and suddenly, the wife is left to absorb the loss and find her way to a new beginning. Not easy for anyone.

This is a highly entertaining read told by a wonderful storyteller. I especially enjoyed the tongue-in-cheek humor and the delightful ending- a well-deserved 5 star read!

You can find my other books and their recent reviews: Sally’s books and reviews 2022