of the staff are ancient, but they don't go round frowning and fretting."
"Do they know, though?" Deirdre persisted.
"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 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.
"I'd 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. Look, I'll clear this away. I have a lovely cheese and grapes. No seeds, Dad. No pips."
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 coqauvin 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.
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 regarded 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.