Quentins (34 page)

“Precisely. And you knew, you
knew
about it, didn't you? Very funny all lads together. Well, let's see what Carmel says.”

“You're not going to tell her?” Frank was fearful now. Carmel was the most fearsome of the sisters-in-law.

“I hadn't intended to, but believe me, Deirdre will if anyone goes near Ella.”

“It will implicate Deirdre too, of course.” Frank began to bluster.

“She doesn't give a damn if she's implicated or not. And indeed, if I thought that this is the kind of thing that
you
go along with, I'll damn well tell Carmel myself.”

“Nuala,” he begged. “You know I've never looked at another woman in my whole life. You know that, don't you?”

“No, I don't know, but I'm sure your brother will know and will tell me all about it when he has had to face Carmel in full flow,” Nuala said.

Ella tried to take it all in. No mention of Ricky Rice in the company that bore his name. “Is there something missing, something we just haven't been able to access?”

“I can't see it.”

“But the very name of the company even? Somewhere in there it must show it belonged to Mr. Rice.”

“That's all here. Look,” Derry said, scrolling down. “Three years ago, there was a deed transfer. Rice gave it all to Richardson. It was witnessed. It's registered. The entire company belonged to Don Richardson.”

“But why did his father-in-law run away with him, then?” Ella felt her head spinning.

“Maybe it was a setup. If it all hit the fan, the father-in-law could run with them. If it cleared, well and good, and the father-in-law could walk home free as a bird. An older man, he might have stronger roots in Ireland.”

“And his daughter, didn't she have shares?” Ella could barely speak.

“Not that it shows here.” Derry shook his head.

“So they can all come home now. Now that he's dead.”

“Well, Lord, Ella. I'm no expert on all this, but it appears to me from reading this for the last two hours that they could. In terms of not being held responsible.”

She was silent.

“They may not want to, of course,” he said hesitantly.

“Derry, I don't feel very well. I don't think I could go back to Tara Road tonight. Would you mind very much if I stayed here?”

“Not at all. I was going to suggest something along the same lines,” he said.

“You were? Good. Then I must ring my parents. Do you mind?”

She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice to her mother. She was going to spend the night in the hotel. There was a lot of work to be done.

“Your mom okay with that?”

“She hasn't been okay with anything I've done for two years, but she didn't make any fuss,” Ella said.

“That was Ella,” Barbara reported. “She said we were not to wait up for her. She's going to stay the night in the hotel. They have a lot of work to do, apparently.”

“I see,” Ella's father said.

“Don't be like that, Tim.”

“I'm not being like anything. She's a grown-up woman. She's free to do whatever she wants to.” But he sounded tight-lipped.

“All I'm saying is that if you'd been talking to her, you'd have felt the same. This isn't anything like the last time. It's not a romance. I have an intuition about it.”

“I'm sure you're right. Neither of us had much intuition about anything last time round.”

“Will we get more coffee and maybe some dessert? You know, to keep us going while we work things out.”

“Yes, that sounds fine.” She sounded vague and distant, as if she had forgotten what coffee was. “What things do we have to work out, exactly?”

He walked around the room for a bit, trying to find the words. For the first time since she met him, he
seemed unsure. When he was speaking about his foundation, about Kimberly, about his work, about his hatred for his father, he had been definite. But now he was searching for a way to say what had to be said.

“Like whether you take the bank drafts for your father. Like whether you should hand this machine in.”

She watched him objectively. A big, square man in his shirtsleeves. Someone so well-known that even Harriet and her friends had heard of him. Tired now, much more tired than he had been earlier. Those lines etched on his face, as if they would never leave.

“What do you think I should do, Derry?” she asked.

“No. No way. It's your call, Ella. I only skimmed the surface to identify what you have to do.”

“Do I have to do these things now?” She knew she looked piteous, putting off the decision.

“Sooner rather than later, I'd say, since you asked me.” His face was worried.

“Why? It's been going on for months. Why can't we wait a little longer?” She looked at him hopefully.

“Because of that guy down in the bar, pushing us around, for one thing. Because of your friend with all the brothers-in-law, for another. Because people know you have this and they want to know what's in it, and to get their hands on what they can.”

“I'm not ready yet to make up my mind,” she said.

“As I said, it's your call.”

He went to the phone and ordered coffee. She sat there and watched the traffic of Dublin swirl around Stephens Green.

And then they talked about other things. She told him about her driving test and how she must have been the only person in the world to drive into a motorbike three minutes after she set off. The examiner had said it was entirely the biker's fault and that Ella had been cool and responsible throughout.

Derry said he didn't remember how he learned to drive. Possibly when he was about twelve. It could have been a friend of his father's who taught him. He had often driven his father's van home when the man had passed out.

He asked Ella what else had happened in her odd and restless day. She told him about her lunch with Deirdre, and about the planned lunch party to meet him on Sunday, and the news that the marvelous twins from hell would be there.

He wondered were there any hints about handling them.

“Tell them nothing about yourself,” Ella warned him.

“I'm good at that,” he admitted.

“You are too,” she said, smiling at him.

“I'm sorry. Does that make me some kind of a pain?”

“No, not at all. We're all so blabbermouth here . . . telling everything. You're a refreshing change, keeping yourself to yourself.”

“Ask me anything, Ella, and I'll answer.”

“No, of course I won't.”

“I want you to. I want to be free and open and say what I mean. I've not been that for a long time.”

“Can it be about me and not about you?”

“Anything you like.”

“All right, Derry, if this isn't cheating . . . What would you do about all this if you were me?” With a sweep of her hand, she pointed to the laptop computer.

He paused, but she didn't rush in. She knew that he was going to answer. Eventually he spoke. “I'm not you, Ella. But I promised you that I'd answer and therefore I will. I
would
take the bank drafts for your father, but I know you are not going to do that. And I know without your telling me that he wouldn't take them either.”

She blinked with amazement at his understanding.

“And about the rest of it, I
would
hand it over. That's
what I, Derry King, would do, but I don't know what you, Ella Brady, should do. If it were my own land and my fellow citizens, I would
have
to do that. I would think it was illegal to sit on such information and say nothing. But here it could be different. And I know how much you loved this guy, and don't want people's heavy boots walking around in his business. So this is possibly not an option for you at all. And may never be. Now, Ella, is that up front and blabbermouth, or what?”

She looked at him with such gratitude, she could hardly speak. “Thank you, Derry,” she said eventually.

“No, it doesn't hurt to be challenged.”

“You've been a very good friend to me,” Ella said. “I'd like to do the same for you.”

“Maybe you will,” he said.

“You're right about one thing. I'm not going to take those drafts. There were people who were left much worse off by this whole disaster than we were. And you're right too that my father wouldn't want them either.”

He nodded.

“But the truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do about all this mess here in the computer. You're right, it will have to be sooner rather than later. But there's something else, just one thing I have to do first.”

He put his head on one side to listen to her.

“Could I talk to you about that tomorrow?” she asked him.

“Whenever, Ella,” he said.

“Thanks, Derry.”

And they sat there as old friends do when they are tired, when there's nothing that has to be said because everything is understood.

They made plans for their Saturday. Derry was to take a bus tour of Dublin. Ella would go to Quentins and get things moving. They would not meet again until they went to Deirdre's apartment, at noon on Sunday.

“What shall I bring?” he asked.

“Wine,” Ella said.

“How
much
wine?” he wondered.

“Relax. I know this is Ireland, but just one bottle. White or red.”

“Thanks for marking my card,” he said.

“Thanks for giving me a place to sleep,” she said, taking off her shoes.

“Now please. I am a gentleman, in my heart anyway. Please have the bedroom,” he begged.

“Out of the question, Derry. I sleep on this lovely sofa. Put that blanket over me, will you? I'll be out of here before you wake.” She gave him a big, cheerful smile.

“You're a great girl, Ella, and it's a pleasure to be working with you,” he said as he tucked her feet in.

“You're a sort of hero,” she mumbled.

“What?” he asked.

But she was asleep.

At nine
A
.
M
., Derry woke to the phone. It was Kimberly. “God, you were asleep! I'm just so sorry. I was wakeful and thought I'd call you,” she said.

“No, I have to get up, it's fine,” he said.

“All I want to know is, did you survive,” she asked.

“I think so. I haven't seen much of the place yet.”

“But no dramas, no scenes, no regrets?” she wanted to know.

“No, none of those things, Kim,” he said.

He looked at the door to the sitting room, which he had left open. Was Ella awake? Listening? He had better go and see. “Hold on, Kim,” he said, and walked next door. The sofa had a folded blanket and beside it was her computer. With a note on top.

You are a generous man, Derry King. I will never forget your kindness to me last night. Please, can I
leave this machine with you to look after for me? I will have made my decision about what it contains by Sunday night, and I so appreciate your help. Love, Ella.

He went back to the telephone. “Sorry, Kim. I thought it was room service. No, everything's fine here, as you said to me years ago. It's an ordinary place, not full of dragons, as I thought it might be.” He heard her breathe more easily.

“Thank God, Derry. That's what I wanted so much for you. You deserve it,” she said.

He sat for a while thinking about their conversation. In his whole life he had never lied to her so much. Everything was
not
fine here. He had not been checking for room service. There were more dragons in this place than he had encountered for a long time. None of them having anything to do with him but everything to do with Ella Brady.

“I
'm sorry for staying out all night,” Ella said. “I hope you weren't worried or anything.”

“No, not when you called, of course not,” her father said.

“I meant worried that I was going to start yet another unsuitable affair.” She managed a slight smile.

“No, heavens no,” he protested.

“Derry's not in the same league at all, totally different. He's all work, no time at all for relationships of any kind. Anyway, you'll meet him tomorrow at Dee's place.”

“And is he enjoying Dublin?” Ella's mother asked.

“Hard to know. He plays it very close to the chest.” Ella's face was thoughtful. She seemed miles away.

“Will you be at home today?”

“No, Mother, I've a lot of things to sort out!” Again she was distant.

“I want you to think about something very seriously. All the money you lost because of Don, it's there, you know, in this safe deposit box, bankers drafts, cash, bearer's bond, whatever. You've read the letter. You know where it is. I haven't looked, but I know it's there. If you want to take it, I'd be happy for you to do that.”

“Now, Tim,” Barbara said in triumph. “I
knew
she would feel like this. Your father said not to mention it to
you, but I said you'd see sense about it all. After all, it was his last wish that you should be seen all right and not to have to work like a dog.”

“Oh, I'm not taking one euro of it, Mother, but you and Father, that's different. It's your choice.”

“And of course, if we don't take it, then it just lies there.” Barbara Brady was almost pleading.

“Or we could give it to others who were defrauded,” Ella said crisply.

“We don't want it,” her father said.

“Tim!”

“Discuss it today. Tell me what you come up with tomorrow. Oh, and there's another thing, Dad. In your talking to people, did you think that Don or Ricky was the brains of the outfit?”

“Ricky Rice, they said, but Don injected all the charm and the sort of razzmatazz into it.” Tim Brady spoke ruefully. A man reduced to living in a wooden house in his garden because of someone's charm and razzmatazz.

“Would it surprise you to know that Ricky Rice owned nothing, that it was all in Don's name? Ricky is free to come back here any day he wants to and may well do so now that Don is dead.”

“He'd never have the gall. He couldn't face people who've lost money,” Ella's father said.

“If he wasn't a part of it, then why did he flee?” Ella's mother was practical.

“I don't know. I've been thinking about that all night,” Ella said.

“They were always together, he and Don, and he was crazy about his grandchildren. Maybe he couldn't bear to let them go.” Tim Brady tried to work it out.

“But why wasn't his name on things?” Ella wondered.

“There must have been a good reason,” Tim Brady said.

Ella drove down to the Liffey and parked her little car. She walked around the apartment buildings where Don Richardson had his little hideaway, the place he was meant to be living when he stayed all that time with her. They were small and purpose-built. Not much movement around the place on a Sunday morning. So perhaps people would come out and buy papers and milk for their coffee. She must inquire what had happened to his little flat there. Who had bought it, who lived a life in those four walls now.

Then she drove back to look at her own flat. The place where she had been so happy with Don. It was rented now by two girls who worked in the television station down the road. Ella had found them in twenty-four hours, once she decided to move. She had slaved to leave the place looking perfect, and even donated some of her own possessions. Like the comforter. She could never sleep under it again.

She parked across the road and looked at the place thoughtfully for a long time. If it had not been for meeting Don Richardson, she might be living there still to this very day. Her garden was shabby. Had she ever noticed that before? She longed to go over and tidy it up a bit, take away some of the autumn leaves and dead stalks of flowers. But what would they say if they had seen her, the women who worked in the television station? They had already thought her eccentric. After all the time they met her, she was famous, her photograph every day in the evening newspaper, usually beside the words “love nest.” If they were to spot her back months later, kneeling in their garden, then they really
would
be alarmed.

She drove past the school where she had taught. She had been happy there too, before Don Richardson had been part of her life. The kids had been mainly great.
She wondered how the new teacher was getting on. Was she able to cope with loudmouths like that brassy Jacinta, who always answered back and went as far as she could get away with? Still, no point in sighing over them. Kids would learn with whoever was put in front of them. They were very resourceful.

Which reminded her about Maud and Simon. Who were coming to lunch tomorrow. She
must
find out how they were related to Tom or Cathy, whichever it was. They kept saying that Cathy's parents were not really official grandparents, but then, they got everything so confused. Dee said she did hear once, but it was all so complicated and far-fetched that you'd be asleep by the time it was explained.

She drove south of Dublin, then through the suburbs and by the sea to Killiney, where Don and Margery had their elegant home. Where his sons had played tennis, where his father-in-law had visited so often, it was like his second home. Ella knew the address but she had never seen the place. Today she needed to look at it.

It said Private Road, but there was no gate keeping you out. Just the words and the size of the house would do that, keep you away, unless you had business there. She drove slowly along, noticing the gardeners here, the window cleaners there, the activity of an autumn Saturday morning in a wealthy area. She saw the big cars parked in the driveways, the women who dressed to go to the supermarkets and shopping malls, the expensive security systems. This was where Margery Rice had lived for years with her father, husband and sons. Yet she must have lived a lot of the time on her own. Her sons had been at school, her father out working, her husband in the arms of Ella Brady. And today Margery was calling herself Mrs. Brady and living in Playa dos Angeles, in Spain. Did she want to be back
in this splendid house with the immaculate green grass? Had it been sold, or did they rent it out? Would Margery and her father, if they were so blameless about everything, come home and take up where they had left off?

She got out of her car, went to lean on the gate. She had to study this place and see if it told her anything at all about what might have happened.

A woman came out to speak to her. She was about twenty-five, with jeans, untidy hair and a two-year-old by the hand. “Can I help you at all?”

“No, I'm just looking at these lovely homes. I used to know people who lived here, the Richardsons.”

“Oh, yes, indeed.”

“Did you know them?” Ella asked.

“Only knew
of
them. I'm sort of house-sitting this place. My uncle rented it after they left. He was a great friend of theirs.”

“He must have been very cut up when Don died.”

“Yes, I think he was,” the girl said, rescuing the child who had run away.

“He's sweet, isn't he?” Ella said when the child had been retrieved.

“He's Max. He's a handful. It makes it difficult to go out and work, so that's why it was wonderful to get this place right out of the blue. My name's Sasha, by the way.”

“I'm Ella.”

“Would you like to come in and have a coffee?”

Ella thought for a moment. The name Ella hadn't rung any alarm bells, reminding the young woman of love nests. So why not, then? She followed Sasha into Don and Margery's house.

It was fully furnished. There were paintings on the walls by artists she knew that Don liked. There were Don's kinds of books. Nothing could have changed. This house was as they had left it the day they disappeared.

“I'd have thought it would be . . . you know, more bare.”

“So did I when my uncle approached me. You see, Max doesn't have any father on the scene, if you know what I mean, and I'm a bit of a family problem one way and another!” She smiled engagingly. She was an attractive person. She showed Ella how she had covered a lot of the good pieces with sheets so that Max wouldn't get his sticky fingers all over them. There was a view of the sea from one side of the house and of the countryside stretching down to the Wicklow Mountains from the other. It was a dream house. No wonder Sasha felt she had fallen on her feet to get to stay there.

“And does your uncle stay here too?”

“He comes and goes, but he travels a lot. Mike's not someone you'd pin down.”

“Mike?”

“That's my uncle's name. Mike Martin. You must know him.”

“I've seen him on television, certainly,” Ella said, looking around her nervously. “And are you expecting him today, do you think?”

“Oh, he never says, just turns up.”

Ella put down her coffee and said she had to go.

Sasha was disappointed. “To be honest, I was hoping you'd stay. They're all so old round here, and desperately rich. You're more normal.”

But Ella moved very quickly. Mike Martin was the man who was looking for her and the laptop.

“You didn't say how
you
knew the family,” Sasha said as she came to see her off.

Ella thought for a moment. She would tell Mike anyway. No point in hiding anything now. “Actually, I'm a bit of a problem in my family too, Sasha. The reason I knew them was that I was in love with Don Richardson. I was mad about him, and my heart is broken because he's
dead. I just wanted to see where he lived when he was alive.”

“Oh my God,” Sasha said.

“So perhaps if you didn't tell your uncle Mike, it might be better. For all of us.”

Sasha nodded vigorously, and Max held out a face covered in ice cream for a good-bye kiss.

Nothing would be said about her visit.

For the moment.

Ella had bought a sandwich and a carton of milk. She drove up to Wicklow Gap, where you could sit and see nothing but hills and sheep and rocky paths down to a river in a valley. She always loved it there, and somehow things seemed clearer.

She took the throw rug out of the car and sat for a long time with her eyes on the quiet scene around her. Sometimes cars passed by and once or twice they parked nearby to look at the view from this vantage point. But nobody bothered her, and she wasn't really aware of them. And eventually the place worked its magic, as it always did, and she got back into her car and drove home.

Her parents were eager to discuss money, but Ella told them there was no need. “Just one phrase,” Barbara Brady pleaded. “Your father won't take it and therefore I have agreed.”

“But not with your heart, Mother.”

“My heart's not important in all this. He's right. There are people worse off than we are, and it wouldn't be fair.”

“I don't have to do anything about it until tomorrow night. You can have more time,” Ella said.

“And what are you going to do tomorrow night?” her mother asked fearfully.

“I'm not quite sure, Mother. That's the truth. I
think
I know, but I'm not totally certain just yet.”

Deirdre said she'd have everything ready by noon, and that Ella should collect Derry from the hotel and bring him along early so that he didn't have to come in to a room full of strangers.

He was horrified when he saw that Ella was driving. “Somehow I never thought of myself as trusting my life, what's left of it, to you.”

“I take deep offense at that. You drove me around New York and I put up with that,” she said, avoiding a bus neatly.

“Are there any traffic cops here at all?” he asked through his fingers, hiding his eyes.

“Don't be silly, Derry. It's easy today. You should see a crowded weekday at rush hour. Thing to remember is that no one indicates left and right.”

“Including you?” he asked.

“I don't want to confuse them.” She grinned.

“I'm going to change the habit of a lifetime and have a stiff drink,” he said when they got to Deirdre's.

“Thanks be to God,” Deirdre said. “Ella said you sipped at one white wine for three hours and I was wondering what we'd do with you, especially when you meet everyone. Maud and Simon came an hour early to set up their puppet show.”

“It's all very different,” said Derry King as he sat down and allowed the panic he had felt over Ella's driving to subside.