Dyan Sheldon - Away for the Weekend

She and Gabriela have been up for hours. Several miracles had to be performed: on Beth Beeby’s short, badly cut hair the colour of cardboard; on Beth Beeby’s plain face, as exciting as a boiled egg. And then they had to pick the perfect outfit for the first part of the morning’s programme – the awards’ ceremony.

“That’s it,” says Lucinda, fastening the last of a jangle of gold necklaces around Gabriela’s neck. “Let’s see how you look.”

Gabriela takes a gulp of air. She hasn’t felt this nervous since her first day at middle school, when she changed her outfit three times, brought an extra pair of shoes with her in case she’d picked the wrong ones, and decided to buy her lunch rather than risk showing up with a loser lunch box. “Well?” she asks. “What do you think?”

Lucinda steps back and gives Gabriela a critical appraisal. There was nothing they could do about the length of Beth’s hair, but they dyed it blonde and gelled it so that it circles her head like a halo. Gabriela, an artist not only with a needle and thread but with a make-up brush as well, has changed Beth’s plain features and sallow complexion into a face that might look at you from the cover of a magazine. The open-toed platforms and filmy dress in a patchwork of different patterns complete the transformation.

“It’s incredible,” Lucinda says at last. “I mean, I knew we could make you look better, but you look better than better. You look—” She hesitates for the bat of an eyelash, as if she’s afraid to say the secret words. “You totally look like one of us!”

Gabriela allows herself a few seconds of being pretty pleased with herself, then she puts Beth’s glasses on again so she can actually see and turns back to the mirror for a final check. “But I still don’t look like me.” She frowns at her reflection (in which, if you looked very hard, you might see the unremarkable face of Beth Beeby peering through). “Everybody’s going to know it’s someone else.”

“You look more like you without the glasses, so if they don’t get too close they probably won’t notice,” judges Lucinda. “Anyway, it’s only Taffeta who really matters. If you can keep out of her sight till the show starts, it’ll be OK.”

Gabriela raises one carefully brushed eyebrow. “You think?”

“I know . Everybody’s going to be all wrapped up in themselves. Besides,” says Lucinda, “even if somebody does say something, you are you, right? You’re not Beth pretending to be you. You made that dress. You did your face. You did your hair. You know what to say and how to act. Guaranteed, you’ll be able to talk them round.”

Gabriela makes an exaggerated gesture of relief. “Phew! At least I don’t have to pretend to know anything about books any more.”

“What are you doing in there?” Delila rattles the doorknob. “It’s almost show time. Professor Gryck’s going to go into meltdown if we get there late.”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Beth gives herself one last look in the mirror, puts her spare pair of glasses on, and opens the bathroom door.

Delila whistles. “Well, kiss my grits,” she says, laughing. “Will you look at you!” Slowly shaking her head, her eyes move up and down the girl in the sober grey dress and sensible shoes. “You look almost like you!”

Beth steps in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. “What about the hair?” She squints at her reflection through the thick lenses. “You think the hair’s all right?”

Beth and Delila have also been up and busy for hours performing miracles while the rest of their group dreamed and snored, turning the silk purse that is Gabriela Menz into the sow’s ear that is Lillian Beeby’s only child. They cut off Gabriela’s blonde curls, darkened them with a box of henna from the hotel’s drugstore and flattened them with Gabriela’s electric hair straightener. Topped off with the understatement that is Beth’s wardrobe, it’s possible that Mrs Menz herself would walk by her without wondering, even for a nanosecond, if that girl reminded her of Gabriela.

“The hair looks dynamic. A little longer than it was, but no one’s going to notice that.”

“You mean because nobody looked at me that closely to begin with?”

“That’s right.” Delila puts on a deep, portentous voice. “It’s grey and brown and it’s wearing glasses – it must be Beth Beeby!”

Beth laughs. “I knew there had to be some advantage to being geeky and invisible. I just could never figure out what it was.”

Delila picks up her bag. “So I guess it’s time to strut our stuff.”

“At least I can walk without falling over,” says Beth.

At one side of the lobby of The Hotel Xanadu, stands a calendar of the day’s events. Welcome Tomorrow’s Writers Today: Cary Grant Conference Hall, it says in plastic letters. Underneath that, also in plastic letters, it says, Welcome The City of Angels College of Fashion and Design: Grace Kelly Room.

On one of the sofas in front of the desk, with a view of both the elevators and the calendar of events, sits Otto Wasserbach in a pinstriped suit and horn-rimmed glasses. Otto has been sitting here since the restaurant opened for breakfast, pretending to be reading a very thick thriller, but in reality keeping watch for Gabriela and Beth. Meanwhile, Remedios Cienfuegos y Mendoza, having made certain that only one elevator is working, has been riding up and down in it for hours. It has been, to say the least, a long and tedious morning. Otto’s book, compared with his own experiences, is about as exciting as a cup of warm milk; and if there is anything more boring than silently and swiftly going up and down and down and up in a metal box, Remedios doesn’t want to know what it is.

Nonetheless, they are both feeling confident as the breakfast hours pass and the time for the day’s events draws nearer. There is no way today’s plan can go wrong. Remedios has taken everything that might possibly go wrong into consideration and has prepared for every contingency. There are distractions that can be made; delays that can occur; diversions that can be created – should one of the girls make an appearance before the other comes downstairs. That is Otto’s job. One way or another, Gabriela and Beth will find themselves in the same place at the same time. It won’t take a second to switch them back, and the change should be complete even before they take their seats.

Remedios is almost wishing that she’d brought a newspaper with her so she’d have something to do, when the doors open and several chattering girls step in, among them Lucinda and her room-mate, almost glowing in the bright colours of their make-up and clothes. Remedios doesn’t look at them, but keeps her head lowered so that no one sees her smile but the floor. At the next stop, Delila and her room-mate get in. Remedios can’t believe her luck. This is going to be even easier than she’d hoped. Gabriela and Beth stand only inches away from Remedios – close enough to one another to touch, but not so much as giving each other a fleeting look. The elevator hits the ground like a feather falling on a cushion, and, in the instant before the doors swish open, Remedios lays a gentle hand on the girls in front of her. Bingo!

Otto peers over the top of his book as the elevator doors open. And nearly cries out loud. They’re both inside! Standing next to each other. If he needed a signal that they’re doing the right thing, then this is it. He leans back with a sigh of relief, and watches the girls walk out, hurrying towards the calendar of the day’s events. The last person out of the elevator is Remedios, a smile on her face like a sunny day.

“Holy Hosanna!” says Otto as Remedios fairly floats towards him. “You did it!” But he wouldn’t be Otto without a second thought. “You did do it, didn’t you?”