Quentins Page 7

  It was very hard not to ask innocent questions that could sound like an interrogation. So when he returned in time for a swim in the sunset, Ella asked nothing. He was very loving. She had been insane to imagine that he had met up with his ex-wife or estranged wife or whatever she was. Nobody who loved her the way Don did, so passionately, could have spent the day with another woman. Then he said he had to do a bit of work, check that he had all the notes of today's work in his computer, and make the backup disk. She sat and watched him dreamily.

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  "Order up some supper, Angel. I'll be through in half an hour," he said.

  She ordered asparagus and a plate of grilled prawns to follow.

  "Was it a tiring day?" she asked.

  She had considered the remark for a long time. There was surely no way he could take offence at that.

  He looked at her and took her hand. "It was, Angel, very tiring. People are very greedy, you know. A lot of my clients want the sun, moon and stars, and then some more. They think they own me."

  "You don't need them that badly, do you?"

  "We do, really, Angel. Ricky always says that they are the most demanding, the ex-pats, they have nothing to do all day except play golf, swim and read their portfolios."

  "Why can't they come back to Dublin to see you?" she asked innocently.

  "Why do you think?" His face was hard.

  She realised that a lot of them were tax exiles; some of them might have even more pressing need to stay away.

  "Sorry," she said.

  He got up and went over to kneel beside her. "No, I'm the one that's sorry. One of these guys just insists I spend a couple of nights in his hacienda, as he calls it ... He won't let me stay all alone in a hotel."

  "No!" She was shocked.

  "Yes, I'm afraid I have to. What do I tell Ricky? That I won't go out to a huge place with two swimming pools, billiard room, and the works ..."

  "He can't eat into your private time, Don . . ."

  "He doesn't see it as private time. Please don't make a scene, Ella. I'm so upset myself already, I couldn't bear it if you .. ."

  "No, of course I won't."

  "Thank you." He kissed her on the forehead. Then she saw him moving towards the big carved chest of drawers.

  "Not tonight, Don?"

  "He insists. I'm so very sorry. You know how little I want it. This was meant to be our time." He said it with his hands spread out in mystification.

  She must be very careful not to upset him, but she was so annoyed she could barely speak. Imagine her sitting here like a

  fool in a big posh hotel, while Don played billiards and swam with some tax dodger, or worse. To please his father-in-law.

  "Don't be silent on me, Angel."

  "No, of course not. Let's get you packed. The sooner you"re gone the sooner you're back."

  He looked very relieved. A row averted.

  She watched him pack. Don Richardson, the fastidious man who was going away for three days, took one shirt, one change of underwear. And his laptop computer.

  She told him she would be just fine and that she would dress up and cruise the swimming pool and find a new companion. She would have forgotten his name when he got back.

  "Don't forget me, Angel. I am the great love of your life. As you are of mine. One of the reasons I'm doing all this nonsense is so that we can be free to spend long years together, in places like this where I can throw the laptop out into the sea and we never have to go and be nice to boring old clients who are semi-crooks. Do you believe me?"

  Ella did. Why else would he have taken her out to Spain if he didn't love her?

  It "was a long two and a half days, but she kept busy. She went on a bus tour of the area. They passed a cluster of very wealthy homes.

  "They all have two swimming pools and billiard rooms and mountain views from one side and sea views from the other," the guide said proudly. "Mainly English and Irish people, who come very often here," he added.

  It could be the very place where Don was playing billiards to please his father-in-law, Ella thought. She noted what it was called: Play a de los Angeles. Place or beach of the Angels. How ironic it would be if he had to leave his own Angel for a place with the same name.

  "Did you find a new love?" Don asked when he came back, two and a half days later.

  "No, did you?" she laughed.

  "No, but I'm weary. Can our vacation begin now, Angel?"

  So she knew there would be no chat about the client who'd insisted on taking up all his time and wrecking their holiday.

  Don spent a lot of time at the laptop, more than she would have liked. When she woke he was tapping away. Often, after they

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  made love in the evening, he slipped from the bed and seemed to come to life again at the little screen. That's today's world, she told herself. He is doing it so that we can have all these years together when the time comes.

  "Will we go through separately?" Ella asked at Dublin airport.

  "Why?" Don was mystified.

  "Well, in case anyone sees us," Ella said.

  "Like who?"

  "Like Margery," she said.

  "But how could she see us? Isn't she still in Spain?" he asked, confused.

  So she had been right. Margery had been in Spain after all.

  "Ella, it's your mother," Don called out.

  Usually he didn't answer the phone in her flat, but he had been waiting for an urgent call and had given the number.

  "Thanks, Don. Hi, Mother."

  "Oh, Don is there, I gather." Her mother sounded both doubtful and disapproving.

  "Yes, we were just about to go out to a reception together. He said he'd pick me up. Well, what's new?"

  "When will you be on your own?"

  I beg your pardon?"

  "Can I talk to you when you are alone?"

  "Talk away, Mother."

  "Call me back when you are free to talk." She hung up.

  "Shit," Ella said.

  "Something wrong?" Don raised his eyes from the computer.

  "No, just a rnad mother. You don't ever talk about yours."

  "Nothing to say. She's quiet, lives her own life. Lets other people live their own lives."

  "How admirable of her!" Ella began dialling her mother. "Listen, Don's gone out to get his car. What did you want to say?"

  "Have you seen tonight's evening paper?" her mother asked in clipped tones.

  Ella pretended she needed to get some milk and coffee. She went around to the convenience store. The evening paper had a big gossip column spread over two pages, and specialised in lots of photographs. "Who is the blonde on Don Richardson's arm as he comes back from Spain? The tycoon from the troubled R and R

  firm doesn't look as if he is suffering any of the anxieties that their customers report. R and R need not mean Rice and Richardson, maybe Rest and Relaxation." There was a picture of Ella and Don laughing happily together at Dublin airport.

  Ella felt the energy drain out of her as she leaned against the doorway of the shop. She read the whole paragraph again.

  She was there in full view of the whole of Dublin described as a blonde in the same tone as you might say she was a tramp. What would people say or think?

  But more frightening than any of that, what did it mean that Rice and Richardson was a troubled firm? Could they seriously be in any financial difficulty? Could Don be in danger? The newspapers always exaggerated about things but surely it was dangerous to imply that a company was in trouble unless it were true? The newspaper could well be sued.

  When she got back to the flat, Don was still bent over the computer. She laid the newspaper on the table and went into the kitchen. She needed tea or coffee, something to stop her trembling.

  "Anything you'd like, Don?" she called, forcing her voice to sound normal.

  "Oh, peace of mind would be nice," he said with a hollow little laugh.

  "Two of those on toast then!" she said, trying to laugh. But she
wasn't laughing at all.

  He left the computer and came across to the table where she put a large whiskey and the paper folded in front of him so that he could see the picture and caption.

  "This is what caused the alarm bells with your mother, I suppose?" he said.

  "You've seen it?" she said, shocked.

  "Yeah, Ricky got an early copy."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  I told you before, Angel. Let me worry about the work side of things."

  "But this isn't about the work side of things," she said, bewildered.

  "What else is it about, Ella? Once clients read that other clients have reported difficulties, there'll be a run on the place. Ricky and I have to get our strategy right."

  She looked at him, dumbfounded.

  "What is it, Ella?"

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  "The picture, the picture of you and me." "That's not important."

  "What?"

  "I mean, compared to all the rest that could be going down."

  "But your wife, your father-in-law, my parents, everyone . . ."

  Her voice was shaky.

  "Listen, Angel, believe me, that's the least of our worries." His

  face was white and strained. He looked really ill and it alarmed

  her. So, it was true. Something was wrong. What was happening?

  But Don was so on top of everything.

  "Don, you are going to be able to sort all this out, aren't you?" "Oh, yes. There's always plan B." He gave a mirthless little

  laugh.

  "What's plan B?"

  "It's an expression. If this plan isn't working we have to turn to

  another. It's just a phrase."

  "Do you have a plan B?" she asked.

  "There are loads of plans, but I didn't want to have to change to one of them. I like things the way they are." He looked around the room almost wistfully.

  Ella felt herself shudder for no reason.

  He downed his drink and became all businesslike. I have to go

  out to Killiney."

  I thought you said she was in Spain."

  I go out there for a lot of other reasons than to see my ex-wife, as I tell you over and over, Angel."

  "Will you be coming back tonight, Don?"

  "No, but I tell you, I'll take you to a big treat lunch tomorrow in

  Quentins."

  "We can't, not after the picture of us . .." She indicated the

  evening paper.

  "Nonsense. Everyone will have forgotten that - yesterday's news. Once they know their money's safe, they won't mind how many blondes parade through airports with Ricky and myself." He saw her face. "Joke, Angel."

  "Sure." She saw he was packing his few things in a suitcase. "Getting rid of the evidence?" she said, and wished she hadn't.

  "Should be ready for whatever hits the fan." He smiled. "Please, Angel, I'm stressed out enough as it is. Tomorrow, Quentins, one o"clock. I'll tell you everything then."

  He was rushed and fussed. Calm, cool Don Richardson, who

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  t

  f

  h

  always moved languorously, wasn't moving like that now. Twice he put down his briefcase, his coat, his overnight bag, the evening paper. Twice he picked them all up again. She must not allow him to leave thinking she was in a sulk.

  "Come over here and kiss me goodnight then, if I'm not to have the pleasure, the great pleasure, of you tonight." She ran her hands all over him and he began to respond.

  But he pulled away. "No, Ella angel, that's not fair, that's using weapons that haven't been invented yet . .. Let me get out of here before we end up in the sack."

  "Nothing wrong -with that," she said into his ear. But he escaped her clutches and ran out of the door.

  Then suddenly with a shock she saw his briefcase. He had left his laptop. Did that mean he was stressed or what? He never parted from it for a moment. But at least it meant he was coming back. She had been s o nervous when she saw him packing his things and looking wistfully around the room.

  Ella wasn't hungry. She put away the food she had been about to cook. She called her mother and said that it was idiotic to get into a tizzy about what a stupid paper wrote. And that it was just a picture of friends who had met at the airport or on the plane or whatever.

  "Or on a holiday in Spain," her mother said.

  "Or that," Ella said.

  "Your father and I wondered."

  "It's a mistake to wonder too much," Ella said.

  "Don't be offensive, Ella."

  I'm sorry, Mother. I'm just worried about something else, as it happens."

  Ts he still there? In your flat?" her mother whispered.

  "No, Mother, I'm all on my own. Come round and check."

  "I only want what's best for you. We both do."

  "We all want what's best. That's the problem," Ella said with a great sigh and hung up.

  Then she phoned Deirdre. It was an answering machine. "It's Ella, Dee. Be very glad you're not at home. I was going to groan and grumble and complain for a bit at you, but, well, now I can't. You must have seen the paper. It's not as bad as it looks. Don is very confident about it all, and I'll know much more after tomorrow lunchtime so I'll tell you everything then. Do you

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  remember when we thought that life was a bit tame and dull? Wasn't it nice then?"

  She hung up and sat at the table for a long time. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but she had better go to bed and try.

  At three she got up despairing, and made tea. At four she opened the laptop computer. She typed out the word "Angel" that he had said was the password. It didn't come to life as it had when he typed it. It just said Password Invalid. She closed the machine and waited until dawn. Then she dressed carefully and went to the school. She supposed that she must have taught her students normally, on some kind of autopilot. But she couldn't remember a word she had said. Then it was lunchtime, and she drove to Quentins.

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  Chapter Four.

  Mrs Brennan ushered her to a table for two. "Will you have a drink while you're waiting, Ms Brady?" "No, thanks. I have to teach this afternoon. Better not be breathing fumes over them. One glass of wine with lunch will be my limit."

  Brenda Brennan laughed. "They're not all as wise as you are, Ms Brady. They often go back to run big companies or indeed the country after considerably more than one glass of wine, I tell you."

  "You'll have to write your memoirs," Ella said.

  "No, I want to go on serving meals for a long time. No point in closing us down." She moved on to other tables, always a pleasant word here and there, never staying too long anywhere. She was amazingly elegant, Ella thought, and gracious. No wonder the place was so successful.

  Brenda Brennan could make generalised remarks, but she would never say anything specifically indiscreet. Brenda would have realised that Ella was meeting Don Richardson, known family man. She might even have seen the photo in yesterday's paper. But she would give no hint. Of course, she had an easy life, Ella thought enviously. She was married to the man she loved, the chef Patrick Brennan. Eucky Brenda, she had no nerve-racking lunch ahead of her.

  Ella wondered if she should order a brandy, but decided against it. Whatever he said, Ella would take it. She would not be like she was last night, whimpering and talking about herself and her

  picture in the paper. Clearly he had his problems. She could have kicked herself for behaving so badly when he needed her most.

  At one-fifteen he wasn't there. It was very unlike him. At one thirty she began to worry. Quentins was not the kind of place that hurried you or told you that the kitchen would be closing. But at twenty minutes before two, Ella went to the ladies" room. Brenda Brennan hated mobile phones at the table and she had to try and phone him.

  There was no reply from his mobile. And no message recording service. This was very unusual. She would order something to eat. Or should she call the school first? Or should she te
lephone the house in Killiney? Or the office of Rice and Richardson? "Don't fuss, Ella," she spoke to herself aloud. She decided she would order food, something cold for both of them, and then when he eventually arrived there would be something to eat.

  As she returned to her table, she noticed that Brenda had ordered her things moved to a private booth. Her book and glass of mineral water were there, waiting for her. Also, what looked like a small brandy.

  Ella looked around her in surprise. Mon, the waitress, was nearby.

  "Here you are, Ella. Much more cosy set-up if you're meeting a fellow." Mon had a huge smile and two jaunty little bunches of hair which stuck out at angles from her head.

  "Yes, but

  "Listen, compared to most that come in here, Ella, you don't have anything to worry about. That fellow's mad about you, we often say it behind your back, so why not to your face?" Mon was eager and reassuring.

  "Did Don ring and ask to change the table?" Ella asked Mon.

  "No idea." Mon was cheerful. "Mrs Brennan said do it double quick, so it's done."

  Ella felt a great sense of alarm. Whatever he wanted to tell her must be terrible if it had to be told in a secluded booth. Then she noticed Brenda Brennan slipping in opposite her. She carried an early copy of the evening paper for today.

  "Ella," she said urgently.

  What had happened to all the "Ms Brady" bit of an hour ago? "What is it?" She was full of fear.

  "One or two customers recognised you. I thought best you be in here."

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  She opened the paper, and there it was again - the picture of Ella laughing up at Don at the airport. But why had they printed it a second time?

  "When he comes in, he'll explain."

  "He's not coming in, Ella. It was on the news at one-thirty. We heard it in the kitchen. He's gone to Spain. He left on the first plane this morning."