Quentins Read online

  Deirdre shrugged. "No, because I'm sure you have some very good reason for behaving like a prize arsehole."

  "Deirdre, please, there's no call for that kind of language."

  "There's every call. Ella's had enough worries. She was looking forward to seeing you, and you as good as spat in her face."

  "But, Dee, she knew what she was doing, going on luxury holidays all on Frank's money and his family's investments. You have no idea the mess that Don Richardson left behind him."

  "She spent one long weekend with him, her half-term from school, she bought her own ticket, you fool."

  "I heard ..."

  "You heard what you wanted to hear, Nuala. I know what went on, including the fact that the man she met at your party lied to her, betrayed her, humiliated her, left her father without a name, house or reputation to call his own. I don't care what you know or think you know. Let's look at the facts: Ella is working sixteen hours a day to make up what the bastard took from her parents . . . and she doesn't even have the comfort of having a picnic lunch with someone she once thought was a friend."

  There was a great silence.

  "Why did you come then, if this is the way you feel?" Nuala said in a very small voice.

  "To tell it to you straight."

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  "Please tell her I'm very sorry. I didn't think it through."

  "No, I'll tell her nothing, you know her phone number. Tell her yourself."

  Nuala began to take her phone out of her handbag.

  "Not here, it's not allowed," Deirdre said.

  Nuala went to the ladies" room. Brenda Brennan asked was everything all right.

  "Yes, Mrs Brennan."

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the young lady who got proposed to here in this restaurant?"

  "The very one."

  "And did it all ... er ... work out ... all right and everything?" Brenda Brennan could sense the tension.

  "Yes, I suppose it did, he's a greedy money-mad pig of a man, but he's reasonably faithful to her and she seems content enough. The only problem in paradise is that they were burned badly by Don Richardson, of course."

  "They're not alone there."

  "No, but she had the nerve to imply that Ella had gained something out of it all."

  "Everyone knows that's not the way things were. I thought she and Ella were friends?"

  "So did Ella," Deirdre said.

  "Well, thank heavens Ella has at least one good friend in you."

  "And in you, Mrs Brennan. She's very grateful to you."

  "She's working too hard, that's my only worry. She's white as a sheet. Patrick and I worry about her health, and whether she'll be able to carry on. She's taken on far too much for any one woman."

  They saw Nuala coming to the table and Brenda nodded and left to talk to another customer.

  "She had her mobile on answer," Nuala said.

  "Yes, well, she'll be working, trying to pay back what that bastard stole from her father and his clients. Working while we have lunch here in Quentins."

  "Don't make me feel worse, Deirdre. Life isn't actually a bed of roses with me either, you know."

  It never is, Nuala," Deirdre sighed. "Come on, let's have the pasta starter and the seared tuna for main course, and you can tell me what Frank's been up to now."

  "How on earth did you know he's been up to something?" Nuala was stricken.

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  "Your face, Nuala. It's written all over it. You have suspicions, isn't that it? You think he's looking at some woman over there in London in a certain way."

  "Oh, Dee, you can read minds," Nuala said.

  "There's probably nothing in it at all." Deirdre began giving the speech that Nuala wanted to hear. "After a few years, all couples go through this. It's only we, the old maids, who get to hear about it. They don't tell other wives."

  "But it's been going on a bit." Nuala was doubtful.

  "It could have been going on a bit just in your mind, you know. Frank is like his brothers, charming to everyone. It could be a matter of nothing," Deirdre said.

  Nuala's eyes were shining. "That's exactly what Frank says. He says it's all in my mind."

  "Well then, there you are," said Deirdre wearily.

  There was a very positive letter from the King Foundation. The application had been read and had been moved on to a shortlist. There were various other technical details to attend to, and criteria to meet, but in general they had met all the main requirements and they were on to the next level. The letter was signed "Derry and Kimberly King". Nicky and Sandy wished that Ella were there to share it with them, but she "was giving private tuition to these extraordinary twins. They would celebrate with her later. Meanwhile, they held hands and rejoiced at having got so far.

  If we do get it made and it goes to festivals and we get known and have plenty of money, what would you do with it?" Sandy asked suddenly.

  "What would we do with it, you mean?"

  "No, I mean you, actually."

  He looked at her, dumbfounded. "We'd get better premises, wouldn't we? New equipment. Take on someone full-time, have a honeymoon of some kind, get a really good, glossy brochure out. Isn't that what you'd do?"

  "Yes," she said, her cheeks getting pinker. He had actually said honeymoon.

  "You'd do all that too?" Nick teased her.

  I would, yes." She didn't look at him.

  "But there's one thing, Sandy. We can't have a honeymoon without getting married first."

  I know," she said.

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  "So are you going to ask me to marry you?" he went on.

  "Doesn't the man do that?" Poor Sandy was still not sure if he was teasing her or proposing.

  "Not always. The better decision-maker usually does it. You"re the better decision-maker in our company."

  "And should I wait until we got rich, do you think?" Her anxiety was so obvious now he couldn't bear to let it go on any longer.

  "I'd love if we got married, rich or poor," he said.

  "Oh, Nick." Her smile was so broad, he picked up a Polaroid camera. "I want to show this to our grandchildren some day, tell them what you looked like the day you proposed."

  The phone rang just then. It was Mike Martin, a friend of Don Richardson's in the past, he had put some work their way. Nick was surprised to hear from him.

  It's not a job, alas, those are thin on the ground these days with the climate we have now."

  "That's for sure," Nick agreed sadly.

  "It's more of a personal favour. You know Ella Brady, I believe."

  "Yes." Nick was cautious.

  "Well, you remember a friend of hers. Someone who no longer lives in this land - who went to Spain?"

  "Do you mean Do n Richardson?" Nick asked baldly.

  "Yes. Well, I was trying to be more discreet."

  I have no need to be discreet. That was his name. This isn't a police state. We can say people's names, surely?"

  "No, but the guns are out for him, Nick. You know that."

  "The guns may well be out for him, but they are hardly tapping my phone about him." Nick felt very annoyed with this man.

  "Did you lose money, Nick? I know for a fact that Don is doing his level best."

  "I'm sure he is, his very level best. No, I didn't lose anything, but I have great friends who were ruined."

  "And believe me, they will be recompensed, compensated."

  "That's not what we read in the papers."

  "What do journalists know? And it's actually about that I'm calling. Is this a convenient time?"

  "Yes. You interrupted a marriage proposal, but it can be continued when we've finished talking." Nick leaned over and stroked Sandy's face.

  I never know whether to take you seriously or not."

  "I know, it's a worry."

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  Nick let a silence fall.

  "Anyway, our friend hasn't been able to contact Ella."

  "I think Don probably knows Ella's phone
number."

  "It's not as simple as that."

  "It probably is, or he could send a letter, a postcard, an email."

  "I'm going to cut to the chase, Nick. You're not being as cooperative and understanding about the problem as we'd hoped."

  "We?"

  "Urn ... Don and I."

  "You're with him as you speak?"

  "That's neither here nor there. What I was going to do ..."

  ". .. was cut to the chase. I heard you."

  "There's this briefcase with a laptop computer."

  Til bet there is."

  "Which Mr Richardson inadvertently left in Ms Brady's apartment ..."

  "That must have been a day or two ago."

  I beg your pardon?"

  "Don Richardson ran out of here four months ago. He must have missed his briefcase before now."

  "Now is when he's looking for it, Nick."

  "Well, he can come home and pick it up, can't he?"

  "He can't find Ella. She's not in that apartment. She's not in the house in Tara Road."

  "And I imagine he knows why. They had to sell everything, give up everything, because of him."

  I don't think he sees it that way . .."

  "You do surprise me!"

  I'd like to give you a phone number. Please give it to Ms Brady and ask her to call Mr Richardson."

  I wouldn't hold your breath, Mr Martin."

  "I'll dictate the number, and I'm sure you'll be responsible enough to pass it on."

  "I'll take lessons in responsibility from your pal Don, will I?"

  "Have you a pen or pencil?"

  "Yes, but what's to stop me giving this to the newspapers, the authorities, or some of the people he robbed blind?"

  "I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Nick," said Mike Martin, and read out a number. Then they both hung up.

  "What was that all about?" Sandy asked, round-eyed.

  "About a tactless oaf who interrupted you when you were about

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  to kneel down in front of me ... wait, wait ... and meet me kneeling down in front of you, and we were going to ask each other the most important question of our lives."

  "And that guy in Spain?"

  "Can wait his turn like everyone else," said Nick, kneeling down on the floor.

  Barbara and Tim Brady were having a late lunch in the little bit of garden they had kept for themselves beside their Annexe. Through the bamboo hedge they could see the Main House, where they had lived until three months ago. All of it now let at astronomical rents. Oddly, they didn't miss it nearly as much as they had thought they would.

  Looking back on it now, they realised it had been too big for them. And lonely, too. Somehow, since they had come here, it was much more companionable, and they saw so much more of Ella as she dashed in and out and grabbed cups of tea. Her friend Deirdre called a lot, which was nice. They still had a great deal of anxiety and the nightmare about the debts they owed and the people in Tim's office who had lost money. But all in all, it was a happier time, a better quality of life. They hardly dared to admit it to anyone except each other. And they were able to talk to each other these days. Which was another change for the better.

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  C"i

  " t's not too hard, when you put your mind to it," Simon said. "That's what I've always found," Ella agreed. "But of course, there's no real point to it," Maud said.

  "I don't know. There's a sort of a point, like it's a principle, a formula. When you know how to do it once, you can always apply it again."

  "But when would you ever want to apply it again?" Maud wondered thoughtfully.

  Tor exams, I suppose," Simon said. "Do we really need to do that whole page of problems before next week?"

  "Yes, you do if I'm to be sure you've understood it and move on to the next thing."

  "Nobody else at school has to do a page of problems," Maud said with a slightly downturned mouth.

  I know, Maud. Aren't you lucky that they're paying extra for you to learn more?" Ella said.

  Maud was debating this when Ella's phone rang. It was Nuala. She was in tears. She was so sorry, she was such a fool, she had quite rightly had the head bitten off her by Deirdre. She'd love to talk to Ella. That is, if Ella would ever forgive her.

  "Sure, I'll forgive you," Ella said. "That bastard upsets everyone, makes them behave out of character, that's all."

  Maud and Simon exchanged glances.

  "But Nuala, I have to go. I'm at work at the moment."

  "Dee says you never stop."

  Chapter Six.

  I31

  "No, I'm fine. I'm entering the social phase of work now. Isn't that right, Maud and Simon?" she said to the children.

  They looked at her, startled.

  "What on earth does that mean?" Nuala asked with a giggle.

  "It means that Simon and Maud are going to put away their books, get me a huge mug of tea, and I'm going to tell them all about my very unhappy life," Ella said.

  "You sound absolutely unhinged, Ella, but I'm so glad you forgive me. You can behave however you like. I'll call you tonight."

  "Not between six and midnight," Ella said cheerfully and hung up her phone.

  She had just got to telling the twins the bit of her very unhappy life where she hadn't been chosen for the hockey team.

  "It doesn't sound terribly unhappy," Maud complained.

  "No real, awful things," Simon added.

  "If you wanted to be on the First Eleven, and should have been, then that's pretty terrible," Ella protested.

  Her phone rang again. This time it was Nick. She listened and her face got red and then white again. The twins watched her with interest. "The bastard," she said eventually. "The class-A bastard." She took down a number on the back of her notebook. "Thanks, Nick, I'll get back to you on this." Her voice was slightly shaky, but a promise was a promise.

  Those children had got their heads around quadratic equations. Now she had to tell them the story of an unhappy life. "So the day of the school's hockey final approached . .." she began.

  "Could you tell us about the bastard, please?" Maud asked politely. "It sounds much more interesting."

  All evening she thought about that slimy Mike Martin, out there in Spain with Don, after telling the television cameras that he couldn't understand the disappearance, the flight, the whole thing. He had told the nation that Don Richardson adored his wife, the lovely Margery Rice. Now he was contacting Ella, the mistress, and looking for a computer.

  The only thing this proved was that there was something in the laptop that they didn't want found. Now that was interesting. Very interesting. And also a little frightening. It was only a matter of time before they found where she lived. Someone would tell Mike Martin that they lived in the garden shed on Tara Road. And

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  then surely he would come to collect the computer that belonged to the great Don Richardson, and presumably must contain some of his secrets. Ella had assumed that Don must have deleted every file in it, and that was the reason why his password, "Angel", didn't work.

  It was packed with her things in storage at the Annexe in Tara Road. She hadn't thought about it in weeks. She wouldn't think about it now, she was working too hard. And also because she did not want to believe that it had not been left there purposely. And so he would not be coming back for it himself. Ever.

  "God, Ella, you look dreadful," Nick said when they met down by the Liffey for coffee.

  "Thanks, Nick, and I always think you look very handsome, too," she said.

  "No, you look as if you've been on a ten-day binge. You've got huge dark circles under your eyes."

  "Yes, Nick. Sorry, Nick. Now tell me, is there any good news on the search for investors?"

  "There's other news first ... Sandy and I are going to get married," he said sheepishly.

  She flung her arms around him. "I'm so pleased. You'll be very happy, both of you."

  "Why do you say that?"

/>   "Because you're such friends. That's a huge start."

  "Weren't you and Don friends?"

  "No, as it happened, it didn't seem to matter at the time, but looking back on it, of course that was the huge gap in it all."

  "What are you going to do about his bloody computer?"

  "I gave it away," she said, looking straight at him.

  "No, you didn't, Ella."

  "Why should I keep it?"

  He looked at her, his head on one side. I know you, for heaven's sake. You didn't give it away. Who would you give it to, for one thing?"

  "I don't have it." She looked mutinous.

  "You do, Ella. You're talking to me, your friend. I know you have it and you must give it to the Fraud Squad as quick as possible and don't have these goons coming after you. Give it in, be done with it, I beg you." His face was troubled.

  "There's nothing in it, anyway."

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  "So what's the problem then?"

  "It's not something you do, informing, sneaking, getting people into trouble."

  Nick looked at her in disbelief. "Listen to yourself speak for a moment. What has he done, Ella? Think for a moment. Just because you loved him doesn't make you remotely his sort of person. We're just not the kind of people who do everything under the table and run like rats when it all goes up in flames."

  "Okay, Nick, don't go on."

  "I have to go on. You seem to have lost your marbles on this one, Ella. You did not give it away. If you had, he wouldn't be looking for it all over the place."

  "There's nothing on it."

  "There must be some information in there. Why do you think he's set Mike Martin on to you? Saying give us a number to phone. Or else."

  "He didn't say "Or else", did he?"

  "No, but it was in Martin's tone."

  "What do you think I should do, Nick?"

  If you won't give it to the police then go away," he said.

  "I can't go away. You know that. This isn't the time for a holiday. My head would explode."