Quentins Page 6

  "They don't not know. They don't ask, they don't mutter and

  have suspicions."

  "Well, they aren't your parents."

  "But they're in this century. It's all changed. You know when we were at school they used to say "Ask your mummy and daddy this" or "Tell your mothers and fathers that"? We don't say that any more. It's just not relevant. You can't assume that everyone has one daddy and one mummy at home."

  "So what do you say?" Deirdre was interested.

  "We say: "Ask them at home." Can they have a dictionary, an atlas, sheets of graph paper. Whatever. Even the geriatric teachers accept that it's not magic happy families for everyone these days."

  "Still, you can't blame people for wanting the best for a daughter," Deirdre said. She was worried about her friend.

  If I had a daughter, I'd want her to be happy, not respectable. That's the best anyone can have, to be happy, isn't it?"

  When there was no reply, Ella spoke again. "Deirdre! It's what you just said a minute ago! You said you envied me because I was

  so happy."

  I said obsessed," Deirdre said. "Same thing," said Ella.

  Don brought some clothes and arranged them neatly in Ella's wardrobe. He used Ella's washing machine and ironed his own shirts. Sometimes he ironed her things for her too. Ella's father wouldn't have done that in a million years. "Why not? I'm at the

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  ironing board anyway," he would say with a grin that melted her heart.

  Every two weeks or so she invited her parents for a meal in her flat, always on a night when she knew he would be busy elsewhere. She didn't even have to ask him to move his clothes from her wardrobe and his electric razor from her bathroom shelf. He just put everything into a suitcase and covered it neatly with a rug. It was never mentioned, even when he was unpacking the case, when he would return late that night after her parents had left.

  He always sounded interested in them and what Ella had to report. He remembered everything she told him. Even small, unimportant details. That her father liked seedless grapes because he was afraid of appendicitis. Don would buy some when her parents were expected. He remembered that her mother liked a particular perfume and he bought it in the airport in time for her mother's birthday.

  Td like to meet them socially, you know," he had said more than once.

  "I know, Don, and they'd love you, but it's easier this way," she would say.

  "Is it all easy and happy for you, Angel?" he asked.

  It was happy, yes, but easy, no. They asked too many questions.

  "Ella, your father and I wouldn't dream of interfering in your personal life."

  I know you wouldn't, either of you. What about more Greek salad?"

  "But we do wonder: do you have enough friends and go out? I mean, if you are going to live in this kind of monastic seclusion here in this flat . .. then why don't you live at home and save the rent?"

  "What your mother is saying, Ella, is that we'd love you to have a home of your own."

  "And I do, Dad, and we're in it, having supper," she said, eyes too bright.

  "Your father and I were just hoping .. ."

  "Oh, we all live in great hope. Eook, I'll clear this away. I have a lovely cheese and grapes. No seeds, Dad. No pips."

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  It was getting harder and harder. She wished they could just meet Don. Socially. Without any statement being made.

  It happened on a Sunday not long after that. Don was to go out to Killiney for the day. Margery's father had taken his grandsons out shooting. They had some pheasant and they were going to cook them.

  "Savage kind of thing to do, going out killing small birds for fun," Ella had commented.

  "I agree with you. I never go shooting, as you may have noticed." He held his hands up in surrender.

  "You haven't time," she laughed at him.

  "Even if I had. Anyway, they say they're shooting them for food, and they are eating them," he said as an excuse.

  "Okay, peace, peace. I don't suppose that the chicken that ends up in the coq au vin for Sunday lunch enjoyed it all that much, either. Will you be late? I only ask because I was going to take my parents for an Irish coffee in that new hotel in town, in case you think I'd abandoned you."

  "Great idea. They'd like that," he said. "No, I won't be late as it happens, and I'm too arrogant to think you'd abandon me."

  In the new hotel she was pointing out some of the features to her parents, the paintings of politicians on the walls, the very expensive carpeted area which had been closed off from the public by a silk rope, when she saw Don. He had come in from Killiney by himself. He was looking for her, he was going to engineer a social meeting with her parents. She sat back and let it happen.

  "We did meet in Holly's, didn't we? How are you both?" He looked from one to the other with pleasure. "And Ella, great to see you again."

  She smiled and let him carry the conversation. Had they ordered? No? Good, then let him get them something. What about an Irish coffee?

  Her parents looked at each other in amazement. That's exactly what they were going to have. How had he guessed?

  Ella wondered what would happen if she said he had guessed because she had told him about it in bed that very morning. Nothing good would happen, so she didn't. She watched him move the conversation from himself to getting her parents to talk. He was alert and attentive to everything they said.

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  I

  Ella watched him objectively. She let her mind wander. It was not an act, he did like these people just as he had liked the people at the fund-raising dinner, just as he liked the people in Holly's Hotel, at Quentins, and presumably everywhere. It was a wonderful gift and he used it well.

  She tuned in again as he was talking to her father.

  "I agree with you entirely. You can't ask people to buy stock that you would not buy yourself. That way you lose your integrity."

  "But, Mr Richardson, you wouldn't believe how greedy and impatient young people are these days. The old, safe options aren't good enough ... they want something fast, something now, and I have a terrible time urging a bit of caution." His face looked sad and complaining, as it often did of late.

  Ella heard Don speak in a slightly lowered voice. "It's the same for all of us, Mr Brady. They all want the new car, the boat, the second home .. ."

  "Ah, but it's different for you over there in Rice and Richardson. You have high fliers going in to you, people who already have money."

  "Not so. We get all sorts of people who hear that we're good. It's a lot of pressure to be good every week. You're talking to someone who knows about it."

  Don Richardson was making himself the equal of her timid father.

  I think that every Monday morning," Ella's father said sadly.

  "Well, speaking about tomorrow, let me share something with you that I'm going to do myself first thing in the office .. ."

  Their voices were really low now. Ella heard mention of a building firm which just might be going to get a huge contract. It would be the nearest thing to a safe bet that they could offer to their demanding high fliers. "If it's only a might .. .?" Ella heard her father say fearfully.

  I wouldn't steer you wrong." His warm voice was so strong and reassuring. Don wouldn't steer anyone wrong or lie to them. It wasn't in his nature. Please, may Dad be strong enough to take his advice. If Don said these builders were going to get the contract, then he knew they were. Don knew everything.

  Naturally, the builders got the contract. And, amazingly, her father had actually passed on the tip and he was much more highly

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  Bregarded in his company than before. Her father told her happily that it had been a real act of kindness of that man to give him the word. And Ella forced herself not to sound too pleased.

  Her mother said that the partners in the law firm where she worked couldn't believe that Rice and Richardson had recommended them to do some work. Nothing complicated, just run-of-the
mill testamentary and probate work, but it had done her no end of good. People used to think that it was almost time for her to retire, but not any more. Ella said it was only her mother's due.

  Nick told Ella that Don Richardson must have a filing system in his head. At least twice a week they got a call from someone saying that Don had given them the name of Firefly Films. It was like a seal of approval.

  And finally, the last citadel fell, and Deirdre said she liked him. "You don't have to tell me this, Dee. I'll survive even if you don't," Ella said with a laugh.

  But no, Deirdre wanted to make her position clear. She had been in a trendy nightclub and Don had come up to her. "Very far from all your domestic fronts tonight," Dee had said to him.

  "I know you disapprove of me, Deirdre, and in many ways

  I respect you for looking out for a friend. All I can say is that I love her, but I wouldn't be helping anyone or anything by leaving Margery and the boys now. Ella knows everything there is to be known."

  Deirdre looked almost embarrassed. "I believed him, Ella. I bloody believed him. I even believed him when he told me he was entertaining people from Spain and they had insisted on coming to the nightclub. He does love you. You do have everything."

  "Not everything, Dee. Not the home and the babies," Ella said.

  "Don't worry about it. Women can have babies at sixty these days," Deirdre had said cheerfully. "You have over thirty years before you need to start getting broody."

  As the months went by, Ella felt she had known no other life. Soon those boys would grow up and they could think agai n seriously. But now? It was all fine, so why upset what was working well?

  Don's part of the study "was as tidy as he was. He used a mobile phone and got in the habit of moving out into the hall when he answered a call. The reception was better and he didn't interrupt the television or the music that they listened to. He had a few

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  I

  books on the wall shelves, and business magazines in the rack, but everything else was in a small laptop.

  "Suppose you lost it?" she teased him once. "Suppose we had burglars, or it was snatched from you in the street?"

  "Backup," he said simply. "House rule: we all copy every single thing from that day's transaction on to a disk every evening."

  "And what do you do with the disks?" She was interested. "Surely you could lose a disk just as easily?"

  "What have we here, Ella? An investigation, a tribunal?" He laughed, but his eyes weren't smiling.

  Ella was annoyed with him and showed it. "Sorry, Don. Didn't know the little woman wasn't allowed to be interested. Forget it. Forget I even spoke."

  "Hey, Ella angel, you're being a little bit heavy," he began.

  "No, I'm not. If you asked me a question about school, I'd think you were interested and I'd answer you. I wouldn't accuse you of being part of a Department of Education hit squad."

  "I apologise."

  "No need to. Message received. Don't ask Don about his work. Okay, I'll remember."

  "You're very hurt," he said.

  "No, just a bit pissed off. I'll get over it."

  "Come here, please ... I beg you." His eyes were pleading.

  "What?"

  He opened his little computer. The one that fitted in his briefcase. "First my password. I want you to know that." His face was very serious.

  "Don, this is silly."

  "My password is "Angel". It has been since I met you." He typed it in and the program sprang to life. "Please, Ella, look at the headings. My life is your life. You are welcome to look at any of these at any time."

  "That wasn't what I wanted ... you were short with me, that's all."

  "See, here's Killiney, all the details about bills and expenses are there. Here's the boys" school fees and trust funds under their names, James and Gerald ... and here's travel, and here's Ella."

  "You have a file on me?" Her voice was a whisper.

  "Angel, of course I have." He pointed to a file called "Brady".

  She was in tears now, but he took no notice. He was determined to explain everything, show her how open he was being with her.

  "These are the day-by-day transactions in these files. These are the ones we put on disk, and since you wanted to know what we do with the disks, we post them back to the office. We all have little ready-stamped envelopes. Now, Ella, you know the password, anything you want to know is there, but don't ever tell me again that I am secretive. That's the last thing I am."

  "How can I tell you how sorry I am?" she asked through tears.

  He stroked her hair. "Angel Ella, I'm the one to be sorry if I sounded sharp to you. I get people asking me questions day and night. It's such a relief to be with you, you don't." His face was full of remorse.

  Tm such an eejit," she sniffed.

  "I love you, Ella."

  I know," she said. I don't deserve you."

  "Your father wouldn't dream of asking you, but then you know me. I'm such a busybody, Ella. It's just that we wondered, do you see a lot of that Don Richardson?" Barbara Brady's voice trailed away with the enormity of her intrusion into her daughter's life.

  "Oh, I run into him a lot around the place, yes. Any problem with that?" Ella looked a long, clear look at her mother.

  "No, no, none at all. It's just that he is married, and all that sort of thing."

  "What sort of thing exactly?"

  "Well, married, I suppose, and with children. Two sons, I heard."

  "Ah, that's nice for him then."

  "Ella, you know we want the best for you."

  "As I do for you and for Dad, too." Ella's smile was radiant.

  "Will you come to Spain at half-term?" Don asked her.

  "I'd love to, but won't it be ... difficult?"

  "No, not remotely. I'd love to show you the coast."

  "I'd love to see it. I pay for my own ticket, though."

  "That's silly, Angel. I have a ticket for you."

  "Leave me my pride and dignity. Won't I be staying in your house? Isn't that enough?"

  "Well, no, I thought we'd stay in a hotel. Easier."

  "Sure." But Ella was quiet.

  I chose it for you in case you "were uneasy about staying in what is in many ways a family house."

  "No, I mean it, sure, that's very sensitive of you, but I have my own money, Don. I'd prefer to pay for the ticket." Tine, Angel," he said. "How many days?"

  "You said you had six days. I booked for that." He smiled at her. "God, I love you, Don Richardson," she said.

  The airport was crowded with families, couples, lovers, groups of girls on package tours. None of them were remotely as happy as Ella. She had six days here. Like a honeymoon.

  She almost hugged herself at the airport as they came out among the other passengers into the sunshine towards all the hoteliers and travel agents waving banners and shouting out names.

  Don had booked a car in advance.

  "Sit here, Angel. I'll go and do the boring bit," he urged. So Ella sat minding their cases and Don's briefcase. She admired him as he walked relaxed and easy to the car desk, his jacket over his arm.

  She thought she saw him paying in cash. He seemed to have a fistful of notes. But that was unlikely. Maybe he was just changing money. He was coming back to her, smiling.

  "Enjoy your vacation, Senor Brady," the man at the car desk called to him.

  "I put your name on the rented car too. He obviously knows who is the important one here," Don said with his arm around Ella's shoulder.

  She was childishly pleased. "I've never driven on the wrong side of the road," she began.

  "A bright girl like you, of course you can do it," he teased.

  "It's very good of you, Don."

  "Not a bit of it. Anyway, nice for you to have the car if I have to do a little work. Come on now, let's go find it and we'll toss a coin for who drives."

  "I think we've tossed it and you won," she said, laughing and taking him by the arm.

&
nbsp; It was a very luxurious hotel. They had a huge balcony, where room service delivered their meal, lit candles for them, and gave Ella a great big white orchid, which she put in her hair. "I'm so happy here," she said.

  "Tomorrow I have to trek off and meet people, do things, set up things. Will you be all right on your own?"

  "Of course I will. I'll just lie out here and read. And get suntanned. And maybe trip up and down to the pool."

  "Good girl. I'll be back by seven at the latest." He smiled lazily at her over his Spanish brandy.

  "Will you take the car?" she asked innocently.

  She saw his eyes narrow momentarily. "I might, Angel, I might not. I'll see, okay?"

  "Sure. I didn't want you to tire yourself out, that's all."

  He relaxed.

  Next morning she watched from the balcony as he went off on his list of meetings. A woman picked him up in the forecourt of the hotel. A woman who looked very like his wife Margery.

  The day seemed endless. There were just so many times you could swim up and down a pool. The thriller she had bought at Dublin airport didn't hold her attention. She wasn't hungry enough for the hotel buffet.

  She took a taxi into town to the harbour and had a glass of wine, some cheese and olives as she looked at the boats bobbing up and down and the tourists walking up and down. She would not ask him. It could have been anyone. She would not call Margery Richardson's house back in Killiney. What would it prove if she were not there? Either you trusted someone or you did not. It was as simple as that. And she must have been mistaken, he would have told her if Margery were in Spain. But suppose just for a moment that Margery were here. After all, she was still involved in her father's business. She had a right to be here. The marriage was over. How often had he told her this? He had taken her on this magical holiday because he loved her and wanted to be with her . . . Wouldn't Ella be very silly to make a big scene about it? However much it cost her, she would say nothing.