§ § § -- May 16, 1983
Chaos was the order of the day on Monday morning. Leslie, with only two weeks of school left, gained permission from Roarke to take the day off from school that day so that she could say a proper goodbye to Tattoo and Solange. Sunday had been spent packing and boxing things for later shipment to Paris once Tattoo and Solange found a place to live that would hold both of them and all the accumulated possessions of their single lives. As a parting gift, Tattoo had presented Roarke and Leslie each with two more of his paintings. Leslie, whose bedroom walls were adorned with the three he had already given her, decided to hang her two in a couple of the bungalows, so that a wider audience could get enjoyment from them.
Tattoo and Solange were leaving on a later charter than that usually used by weekend fantasizers, since they had several pieces of luggage each and there were some other items going along with them. Not only that, but they were also traveling with Solange's parents and Hugo. "The plane'll never get out of the water," teased Julie, who had come along to say her own farewells.
"Since Hugo hasn't shown up yet, we might leave without him," Solange remarked, "which would increase our chances of getting into the air. Tattoo, mon chér, is he always late?"
"Mais oui," Tattoo confirmed testily. "For everything."
At quite the last moment, Hugo hove into view, tugging something along with him and lugging an enormous suitcase that looked old enough to have accompanied a passenger on the Titanic. "There he is," Julie said and gestured in his direction.
"Good Lord," Leslie blurted. "He's got Chester with him. What's with him, has he fallen in love with that chimp, or what?" Sure enough, she was proven correct when Hugo came abreast of the little group and beamed at them all, aiming a lengthy Gallic narrative at Solange and Tattoo. Within seconds Tattoo was rolling his eyes and shaking his head, and Solange was giggling behind her hand.
"What's he saying, Tattoo?" Julie asked.
"He wants to take Chester home with him," Tattoo said disgustedly. "Maybe you were right, Leslie. He's crazy about Chester. Do you realize how far it is from here to Paris? And they're probably going to stop him at customs and quarantine that monkey for at least six months...if they let him into the country at all, that is." With a snort, Tattoo switched to French and told Hugo the same thing.
Hugo merely shrugged and replied, and Solange giggled again. "Hugo plans to use all his charm on the customs officials," she reported. "He anticipates no trouble whatsoever. Either way, he's determined not to leave Fantasy Island without Chester. I wouldn't care if it weren't for the fact that we have the same flights with him all the way home."
Roarke smiled. "Far be it from me to suggest that I would want you to suffer; but since Hugo is so enamored of Chester, I would be more than happy to let him take the chimpanzee." He made a sweeping gesture with one arm towards Hugo. "Hugo, you are more than welcome to Chester."
"Thanks a lot, boss," Tattoo grumbled, and everyone laughed. Hugo shook hands with everyone and headed up the plane dock with Chester loping agreeably along in his wake. Halfway up the ramp, Chester turned around and favored them all with a farewell wave, then bared his teeth and grunted a few times before Hugo said something to him that made him turn back towards the plane.
"I am afraid it's time for you to board," Roarke said gently.
For a long moment Roarke and Tattoo regarded each other. They had been the best of friends for many years and had weathered many adventures and many strange and wonderful fantasies together. "I can't find words for what I'm feeling," Tattoo finally said, "not even in French. The best I can do is to say thank you, boss. Thank you for all the fabulous years I've been here and for being such a dear friend."
Roarke smiled, his eyes glittering suspiciously. "Indeed, my friend, you have spoken my very thoughts. We will sorely miss you around here." He shifted his attention to the pretty young woman beside Tattoo. "Solange, take care of him for us, and make sure he writes."
"I'll do that, Mr. Roarke, I promise," Solange said.
"You better write," Leslie agreed in a shaky voice, and they all turned to her. "I just wish you could stay here to see my graduation." Her voice gave out and she started to cry again; both Tattoo and Solange came to her and hugged her. Words seemed inadequate, so they simply held their embrace until Leslie got a little control of herself. They then bid Julie farewell, and slowly crossed the verdant clearing to the ramp. It seemed that every few feet they had to stop and wave again, but at last they were aboard and the plane was taxiing through the lagoon preparatory to takeoff.
Julie sighed. "It doesn't seem possible," she remarked wistfully, watching as the plane climbed into the sunny morning sky. "Tattoo was a fixture around here and it's really weird to realize he's gone now. I mean, I don't ever remember you having another assistant, uncle."
"I th-thought he'd always be here," Leslie mumbled morosely. Roarke slid an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.
"I know he meant a great deal to you too, Leslie," he said gently. "And it will take some time to adjust to his absence. But, since you are so close to completing your compulsory schooling now, I daresay you will be taking on many of the duties Tattoo had. And Julie, I will need your help until I can hire a new assistant."
"Any candidates yet?" Julie asked with interest.
Roarke chuckled wryly. "As a matter of fact, I have been flooded with résumés and applications," he said, making both Leslie and Julie stare at him in surprise. "I put out the word only two days ago, and only in the Fantasy Island Chronicle want ads; yet it appears that word has spread at warp speed to every newspaper in existence, and I have heard from would-be assistants from literally around the world."
"Well, then, that should make things interesting," Julie said, grinning. "If you ask me, you should have Leslie help you wade through all that mail. She can help you choose a new assistant; after all, she's going to have to work with him -- or her -- if she's taking over some of the things Tattoo used to do."
"An excellent suggestion, Julie," Roarke agreed. "What have you to say about it, Leslie?"
She smiled wanly. "It might be fun," she said, and Roarke smiled back with understanding. For all their sakes, he hoped to find a suitable candidate soon, although no one could ever replace Tattoo.
§ § § -- May 27, 1983
One by one, the graduates of the Fantasy Island High School Class of 1983 responded to the call of their full names and accepted their diplomas. It had been a rather wild final week for the seniors; the usual pranks were played, yearbooks were issued and passed around and signed at great length, and graduation parties were enthusiastically planned. The teachers, recognizing that the last week was essentially a loss, made little if any attempt to actually teach classes, although the students were required to be in their classrooms in order to be certain they officially graduated without penalty.
Of the seven girls who comprised the "crowd" Roarke had seen so much of in the last three years, Leslie was first alphabetically; so it was she who responded when "Leslie Susan Hamilton!" rang out across the crowd of parents and other relatives attending the graduation ceremony. The graduates numbered a bit fewer than 100, so the whole procession was done within an hour, and by three that afternoon Leslie and Roarke were back at the main house decorating the flagstone patio for the party Leslie wanted to give. She and her friends had decided that they might as well celebrate together, and there would be quite a few parents and siblings in attendance as well as the graduates themselves.
"I know you have been looking forward to receiving that diploma for a long time," Roarke teased Leslie while they were setting up tables and chairs. Mariki was already cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and tantalizing smells wafted through the French doors as they worked. "So how does it feel to finally have it?"
"Kind of hard to believe," Leslie admitted with a grin. "But in some odd way I feel legitimate now. I mean, it always seemed as if I was just this little junior apprentice, like a little kid wanting to do the same things his parents were doing and not being allowed yet. Now I feel like I'm old enough to do all that, now that I know I don't have to worry about school anymore and I can give you a lot more help with the fantasies."
"So you can," said Roarke. "And you and Julie have been doing a wonderful job so far. It truly amazes me how many thoroughly inappropriate people have applied for Tattoo's position."
"Well, everybody wants to live on Fantasy Island, don't they?" Leslie asked and snickered when Roarke sighed. "Let's face it, Mr. Roarke, you'll just have to accept the fact that your island is the most popular place in the world for a vacation."
"And, pray tell, when do I get a vacation?" Roarke shot back, astounding Leslie so completely that the look on her face made him burst into laughter. "I am only teasing you! Does it worry you so much that I might suddenly decide to shut down my operation?"
"Well, you did scare me for a minute there," Leslie admitted, and they both laughed.
Three hours later the party was in full swing. Julie, who had accompanied Frida, insisted on helping Mariki with the food, no matter how much Roarke's cook protested; and between the two of them, no one went hungry. Every so often, the party would pause long enough for one of the girls to receive a graduation gift. Roarke deliberately waited till last before stepping forward with his gift to Leslie, by which time it was approaching nine o'clock and everyone was already beginning to show signs of fatigue from the long and exciting day.
"Leslie," Roarke began, "I have been thinking about this for a little while now, ever since a request someone made of me recently. I considered the idea at great length, and perhaps at the cost of some sleep --" this was greeted with laughter -- "and I decided at last to go ahead with it. I have never done this before, which made the decision all the more difficult. But you are certainly worth it, young lady." He went to his desk, just inside the open French doors, opened a drawer and extracted a plain manila folder. "Here you are." He handed the folder to Leslie, who stared mystified at him for a moment before opening the folder and reading the paper that lay within.
Roarke watched her eyes grow enormous as she read, and it was plain that she was skimming the document as rapidly as she possibly could before looking up at him with disbelief in her eyes. "Mr. Roarke..." she breathed. "This is...oh my God...do you really want to adopt me??"
Roarke and Leslie heard, but ignored, the reaction from the other partygoers. Roarke smiled and nodded. "Indeed I do. You've been a delight to have around, Leslie Susan, and I can think of nothing I would like better than to make you officially my daughter. The document is legal and binding, and it awaits only your signature -- if, indeed, you are willing." He looked up and admitted to the group at large, "When Tattoo was married a couple of weeks ago, the reporter from the newspaper requested that a group portrait of the wedding party be taken of, quote, 'Mr. and Mrs. Tattoo, the bride's parents, the groom's cousin, myself, and my daughter.' It was that remark that inspired me to take this step, and all that is lacking is Leslie's consent."
Leslie finally recovered enough from her overwhelmed amazement to lunge forward and throw her arms around her guardian. "Oh Mr. Roarke...I'd be honored," she choked out around the lump in her throat, and squeezed him hard for a long moment before stepping back and looking around at the others. "I've finally got a family again, and this makes it official. Anybody got a pen?"
Laughter broke out and half a dozen pens were offered to her, but the one she accepted turned out to belong to Roarke. It seemed only fitting that she use his pen to sign the document that made her officially his daughter.
Chaos was the order of the day on Monday morning. Leslie, with only two weeks of school left, gained permission from Roarke to take the day off from school that day so that she could say a proper goodbye to Tattoo and Solange. Sunday had been spent packing and boxing things for later shipment to Paris once Tattoo and Solange found a place to live that would hold both of them and all the accumulated possessions of their single lives. As a parting gift, Tattoo had presented Roarke and Leslie each with two more of his paintings. Leslie, whose bedroom walls were adorned with the three he had already given her, decided to hang her two in a couple of the bungalows, so that a wider audience could get enjoyment from them.
Tattoo and Solange were leaving on a later charter than that usually used by weekend fantasizers, since they had several pieces of luggage each and there were some other items going along with them. Not only that, but they were also traveling with Solange's parents and Hugo. "The plane'll never get out of the water," teased Julie, who had come along to say her own farewells.
"Since Hugo hasn't shown up yet, we might leave without him," Solange remarked, "which would increase our chances of getting into the air. Tattoo, mon chér, is he always late?"
"Mais oui," Tattoo confirmed testily. "For everything."
At quite the last moment, Hugo hove into view, tugging something along with him and lugging an enormous suitcase that looked old enough to have accompanied a passenger on the Titanic. "There he is," Julie said and gestured in his direction.
"Good Lord," Leslie blurted. "He's got Chester with him. What's with him, has he fallen in love with that chimp, or what?" Sure enough, she was proven correct when Hugo came abreast of the little group and beamed at them all, aiming a lengthy Gallic narrative at Solange and Tattoo. Within seconds Tattoo was rolling his eyes and shaking his head, and Solange was giggling behind her hand.
"What's he saying, Tattoo?" Julie asked.
"He wants to take Chester home with him," Tattoo said disgustedly. "Maybe you were right, Leslie. He's crazy about Chester. Do you realize how far it is from here to Paris? And they're probably going to stop him at customs and quarantine that monkey for at least six months...if they let him into the country at all, that is." With a snort, Tattoo switched to French and told Hugo the same thing.
Hugo merely shrugged and replied, and Solange giggled again. "Hugo plans to use all his charm on the customs officials," she reported. "He anticipates no trouble whatsoever. Either way, he's determined not to leave Fantasy Island without Chester. I wouldn't care if it weren't for the fact that we have the same flights with him all the way home."
Roarke smiled. "Far be it from me to suggest that I would want you to suffer; but since Hugo is so enamored of Chester, I would be more than happy to let him take the chimpanzee." He made a sweeping gesture with one arm towards Hugo. "Hugo, you are more than welcome to Chester."
"Thanks a lot, boss," Tattoo grumbled, and everyone laughed. Hugo shook hands with everyone and headed up the plane dock with Chester loping agreeably along in his wake. Halfway up the ramp, Chester turned around and favored them all with a farewell wave, then bared his teeth and grunted a few times before Hugo said something to him that made him turn back towards the plane.
"I am afraid it's time for you to board," Roarke said gently.
For a long moment Roarke and Tattoo regarded each other. They had been the best of friends for many years and had weathered many adventures and many strange and wonderful fantasies together. "I can't find words for what I'm feeling," Tattoo finally said, "not even in French. The best I can do is to say thank you, boss. Thank you for all the fabulous years I've been here and for being such a dear friend."
Roarke smiled, his eyes glittering suspiciously. "Indeed, my friend, you have spoken my very thoughts. We will sorely miss you around here." He shifted his attention to the pretty young woman beside Tattoo. "Solange, take care of him for us, and make sure he writes."
"I'll do that, Mr. Roarke, I promise," Solange said.
"You better write," Leslie agreed in a shaky voice, and they all turned to her. "I just wish you could stay here to see my graduation." Her voice gave out and she started to cry again; both Tattoo and Solange came to her and hugged her. Words seemed inadequate, so they simply held their embrace until Leslie got a little control of herself. They then bid Julie farewell, and slowly crossed the verdant clearing to the ramp. It seemed that every few feet they had to stop and wave again, but at last they were aboard and the plane was taxiing through the lagoon preparatory to takeoff.
Julie sighed. "It doesn't seem possible," she remarked wistfully, watching as the plane climbed into the sunny morning sky. "Tattoo was a fixture around here and it's really weird to realize he's gone now. I mean, I don't ever remember you having another assistant, uncle."
"I th-thought he'd always be here," Leslie mumbled morosely. Roarke slid an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.
"I know he meant a great deal to you too, Leslie," he said gently. "And it will take some time to adjust to his absence. But, since you are so close to completing your compulsory schooling now, I daresay you will be taking on many of the duties Tattoo had. And Julie, I will need your help until I can hire a new assistant."
"Any candidates yet?" Julie asked with interest.
Roarke chuckled wryly. "As a matter of fact, I have been flooded with résumés and applications," he said, making both Leslie and Julie stare at him in surprise. "I put out the word only two days ago, and only in the Fantasy Island Chronicle want ads; yet it appears that word has spread at warp speed to every newspaper in existence, and I have heard from would-be assistants from literally around the world."
"Well, then, that should make things interesting," Julie said, grinning. "If you ask me, you should have Leslie help you wade through all that mail. She can help you choose a new assistant; after all, she's going to have to work with him -- or her -- if she's taking over some of the things Tattoo used to do."
"An excellent suggestion, Julie," Roarke agreed. "What have you to say about it, Leslie?"
She smiled wanly. "It might be fun," she said, and Roarke smiled back with understanding. For all their sakes, he hoped to find a suitable candidate soon, although no one could ever replace Tattoo.
§ § § -- May 27, 1983
One by one, the graduates of the Fantasy Island High School Class of 1983 responded to the call of their full names and accepted their diplomas. It had been a rather wild final week for the seniors; the usual pranks were played, yearbooks were issued and passed around and signed at great length, and graduation parties were enthusiastically planned. The teachers, recognizing that the last week was essentially a loss, made little if any attempt to actually teach classes, although the students were required to be in their classrooms in order to be certain they officially graduated without penalty.
Of the seven girls who comprised the "crowd" Roarke had seen so much of in the last three years, Leslie was first alphabetically; so it was she who responded when "Leslie Susan Hamilton!" rang out across the crowd of parents and other relatives attending the graduation ceremony. The graduates numbered a bit fewer than 100, so the whole procession was done within an hour, and by three that afternoon Leslie and Roarke were back at the main house decorating the flagstone patio for the party Leslie wanted to give. She and her friends had decided that they might as well celebrate together, and there would be quite a few parents and siblings in attendance as well as the graduates themselves.
"I know you have been looking forward to receiving that diploma for a long time," Roarke teased Leslie while they were setting up tables and chairs. Mariki was already cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and tantalizing smells wafted through the French doors as they worked. "So how does it feel to finally have it?"
"Kind of hard to believe," Leslie admitted with a grin. "But in some odd way I feel legitimate now. I mean, it always seemed as if I was just this little junior apprentice, like a little kid wanting to do the same things his parents were doing and not being allowed yet. Now I feel like I'm old enough to do all that, now that I know I don't have to worry about school anymore and I can give you a lot more help with the fantasies."
"So you can," said Roarke. "And you and Julie have been doing a wonderful job so far. It truly amazes me how many thoroughly inappropriate people have applied for Tattoo's position."
"Well, everybody wants to live on Fantasy Island, don't they?" Leslie asked and snickered when Roarke sighed. "Let's face it, Mr. Roarke, you'll just have to accept the fact that your island is the most popular place in the world for a vacation."
"And, pray tell, when do I get a vacation?" Roarke shot back, astounding Leslie so completely that the look on her face made him burst into laughter. "I am only teasing you! Does it worry you so much that I might suddenly decide to shut down my operation?"
"Well, you did scare me for a minute there," Leslie admitted, and they both laughed.
Three hours later the party was in full swing. Julie, who had accompanied Frida, insisted on helping Mariki with the food, no matter how much Roarke's cook protested; and between the two of them, no one went hungry. Every so often, the party would pause long enough for one of the girls to receive a graduation gift. Roarke deliberately waited till last before stepping forward with his gift to Leslie, by which time it was approaching nine o'clock and everyone was already beginning to show signs of fatigue from the long and exciting day.
"Leslie," Roarke began, "I have been thinking about this for a little while now, ever since a request someone made of me recently. I considered the idea at great length, and perhaps at the cost of some sleep --" this was greeted with laughter -- "and I decided at last to go ahead with it. I have never done this before, which made the decision all the more difficult. But you are certainly worth it, young lady." He went to his desk, just inside the open French doors, opened a drawer and extracted a plain manila folder. "Here you are." He handed the folder to Leslie, who stared mystified at him for a moment before opening the folder and reading the paper that lay within.
Roarke watched her eyes grow enormous as she read, and it was plain that she was skimming the document as rapidly as she possibly could before looking up at him with disbelief in her eyes. "Mr. Roarke..." she breathed. "This is...oh my God...do you really want to adopt me??"
Roarke and Leslie heard, but ignored, the reaction from the other partygoers. Roarke smiled and nodded. "Indeed I do. You've been a delight to have around, Leslie Susan, and I can think of nothing I would like better than to make you officially my daughter. The document is legal and binding, and it awaits only your signature -- if, indeed, you are willing." He looked up and admitted to the group at large, "When Tattoo was married a couple of weeks ago, the reporter from the newspaper requested that a group portrait of the wedding party be taken of, quote, 'Mr. and Mrs. Tattoo, the bride's parents, the groom's cousin, myself, and my daughter.' It was that remark that inspired me to take this step, and all that is lacking is Leslie's consent."
Leslie finally recovered enough from her overwhelmed amazement to lunge forward and throw her arms around her guardian. "Oh Mr. Roarke...I'd be honored," she choked out around the lump in her throat, and squeezed him hard for a long moment before stepping back and looking around at the others. "I've finally got a family again, and this makes it official. Anybody got a pen?"
Laughter broke out and half a dozen pens were offered to her, but the one she accepted turned out to belong to Roarke. It seemed only fitting that she use his pen to sign the document that made her officially his daughter.