I waited outside, incredibly bored. I might be a little worried, especially about whether the food in this place is less hygienic. So, it could happen.
The sound of retching was heard repeatedly, mixed since I had to stand outside this toilet building. Similar to the sounds of torture in Roman times. Even the sound of Mlle. Voyles feeling nauseous was indistinguishable among those varied sounds.
After about 15 minutes, Mlle. Voyles finally emerged. She entered with a slight shiver, and she came out the same way.
I could tell that her lipstick was blazing on her lips because she had just applied it. More precisely, there was a slight pale skin line separating her pink-creamed lips from her nose. It meant that Mlle. Voyles was trying to touch up her makeup.
Traces of pale color were also visible just under her eye bags, about 0.5 centimeters. Was Mlle. Voyles not skilled in applying makeup? Certainly not. It might sound strange, but I noticed small details like that.
Her breathing rhythm had improved, but her wobbly walk resembled a woman who had just left a nightclub, dumped, and then gulped down a glass of 40% alcohol whiskey.
"Let me take you to the clinic, Mademoiselle?" I acted like a pole when she was about to fall.
When I reached for her palm, it felt really cold. As if she had just entered a refrigerator.
"Oh, no need, sir. Let's catch up with them."
"Unfortunately, that won't happen. Feline just contacted me, saying that Mlle. Howell wouldn't mind if you went to the clinic for a while. They said they would contact us again later,"
"Erm... is that so?" One of her eyebrows raised, but both of her eyes squinted. Well, that indicated she was still a little dizzy.
I nodded confidently, even though the reality was not true. I just made that statement up. After all, if her condition didn't improve later, Mlle. Voyles would end up in the clinic, or worse, the hospital. Improvisation in such situations is an unparalleled choice.
Speaking of her condition, I could only interpret a little. Disregard the reasons, but considering the condition Mlle. Voyles experienced, it was quite logical. Simply put, when nauseous, the digestive system automatically underwent movements that injured the stomach due to the movement itself and stomach acid.
Because of that, the side effects, besides nausea and vomiting, included dizziness, a wobbly walk, cold hands, and of course, she was in a feverish condition. If this happened in normal circumstances and not due to the least desired thing happening, Mlle. Voyles should recover within a few minutes.
I headed towards the wooden coaster that Feline and I had previously gone to for the first time, as it was the second clinic compared to the one near the exit and somewhat far away. At least 55 to 45, I guess?
We approached a building resembling a small beach house where there was one nurse. Unfortunately, there was no air conditioning, although there was a blower instead. The nurse conducted a brief inspection of Mlle. Voyles, luckily finding not too serious problems.
When Mlle. Voyles explained her condition to the nurse, she was allowed and urged to lie down in one of the rest rooms, or a push bed resembling a patient's in a hospital. There were four rooms, separated by curtains.
In two minutes, the nurse came with anti-nausea and fever medicine and a glass of mineral water. I helped to put her white sling bag on the table. After Mlle. Voyles took the two medicines, she stared at the ceiling lethargically. I sat beside her, waiting for her condition to improve.
"Once again, I apologize for this, sir," she said, looking at me with a worried face.
"C'est bon (It's okay), Mademoiselle," I replied briefly.
Between us, there was now only silence, a very awkward atmosphere. Well, it was the first time I waited for a stranger to get better. And for the first time, I had to spend a long time with the typical person who preferred silence to talking.
Because this awkwardness really immersed me in real boredom, maybe I would adopt Feline's principle. Although I tried, not a single word came out of my mouth. I couldn't think of any topics to discuss. Not like Mlle. Howell, who, with her flexible and immersed attitude in the conversation, made us chat easily, even though there was a barrier at times.
Different from Mlle. Voyles, who from any angle was very unsuitable, and my interest in striking up a conversation with her had already disappeared.
"I... actually don't know.... Don't know—why... I came here... just because of our past stories."
Without any trigger, the lighter suddenly lit up. When it was like this, you just had to bring the cigarette closer, and we could relax and chat. A metaphor for the current situation.
"Aren't you here to reunite with your friends, mademoiselle?" I asked casually.
Actually, even though the meeting was postponed for a year, it didn't mean they were really separated all that time. That's if I analyzed M. Marsh's story earlier. But also, it didn't mean that Mlle. Voyles questioned that. Because with that question, it meant something happened between the four of them.
Well, even from the beginning, I realized how the ending of the story presented by M. Marsh applied to the current meeting.
"I know. But I'm here, for the last time. It's just between us, sir, so—"
"Keymark always has a big safe in his mind, mademoiselle," I nodded slightly, giving her space to express her concerns.
At first, Mlle. Voyles hesitated cause her mouth failed to utter three times. It almost lifted to speak but closed again.
"It's harder than imagined...."
Mlle. Voyles said that, in reality, the meeting at Great Yarmouth Joy Beach was their last. A few days ago, Mlle. Howell also informed their group chat that this would be their last meeting since she was destined to fly far away.
Meanwhile, M. Gill in the group also said the same, that he was getting married and moving to another country. More precisely, Sweden.
The messages were sent on the same day.
"Ah, saying goodbye is heavier than you think. That's why you... want to confirm one thing for the last time?"
Mlle. Voyles nodded and said that she would ask M. Gill for the umpteenth time whether this was really the end.
Different from M. Marsh's perspective, which presented a beautiful and impressive story, Mlle. Voyles, on the contrary, said that their third meeting at Norwich Market was not so pleasant.
Exactly on March 1st, Norwich.
Mlle. Voyles said that the meeting was the point where they would discuss their relationships. After strolling around the 200 stalls of Norwich market, they stopped at a café to settle something.
Mlle. Voyles didn't express it too explicitly, but I heard that...
Mlle. Howell was frustrated because a year after their meeting at Happywood Hills, Mrs. Davies breathed her last in the following year, so the amusement park was replaced by Mrs Davies's relatives. Then, in the third meeting, Mlle. Howell almost worked for a full year before leaving.
M. Gill was also frustrated due to family problems that confused him greatly. While his job was also a bit quiet.
The same went for Mlle. Voyles herself.
"Have you also been fired from your job, Mademoiselle?"
"Someone didn't like my attitude and slandered me. In the end, I was alone from the beginning, unable to handle the problem,"
Mlle. Voyles continued the conversation. Ironically, when their careers were at their worst, M. Marsh was promoted to manager. Although the meeting was tough, the solution finally unfolded for the three of them.
M. Marsh said that the three of them could be considered for a job in the company he worked for.
"Alors (so), where is the problem located?"
"At the fourth meeting, July 4th. Summer, at MannaLand."
***
ns 172.70.100.118da2