Mike Martin, a man she knew, a friend of Don's and described by the newsreader as a financial expert, came on next. Ella had had a drink with him several times. He knew all about her. Don had said he was a bit of a smart aleck, always in something for what he could get out of it, but not the worst. Mike looked horrified by it all and said that it couldn't have come as a greater shock. Don and Ricky were such a pair of characters, of course, and everyone who flies near the sun gets their wings burned now and then.
But then he went on: It looks as if they must have known for about six months. But I still can't believe it. Don Richardson is such a decent fellow, he'd help anyone, you know, fellows on the street, people he met in bars. He was always generous with advice. Other guys in his line of business would say: "If you want my advice, come into the office and consult me." But never Don. I can't imagine him spending months plotting this runaway life, knowing he's leaving people in the lurch. He cared about people. I know he did."
Ella watched, open-mouthed.
The interviewer asked: "And will he miss people, friends, a lifestyle that he had in Dublin, do you think?"
"Well, of course, when all was said and done he was a family man, he loved his wife and boys, they went everywhere with him."
"Wasn't there a rumour that he had this blonde girlfriend, a teacher, who was photographed with him?"
"No. You better believe one thing," Mike Martin said. I may not know a lot about Don, and I sure as hell didn't know what he's been up to in the last six months in terms of his clients ... but one thing shines out. He never looked at another woman. Come on, now. If you were married to Margery Rice, would you?"
And then they cut to a picture of Margery Rice presenting prizes at a youth charity, very tiny and immaculately groomed, watched by her husband with pride.
Ella put the cup down.
Brenda came back into the room in her slip and put on a fresh black dress and arranged a lace collar in position.
"He knows about me and Don," she said. "I've met him many times."
"Well, isn't it just as well he kept his mouth shut?" Brenda said.
"No, it's not, it's better people know the truth. Don loves me. He told me so last night."
"Listen to me very carefully, Ella. I have to go down and serve a room full of people who will be talking about nothing else. I will have a polite, inscrutable smile on my face. I will say it's hard to know and difficult to guess and a dozen other meaningless things. But I know one thing. Only you must survive this, you must call your parents, tell them you're all right, decide what to do about your job and then go and find some of your friends, your own friends, not his. He only has business friends."
"You don't like him, do you?"
"No, I don't. My very close friends have lost their savings. Thanks to Mr. Charming."
"He'll give them back," Ella cried.
"No, he won't. Fortunately it's not very much. She and her fellow don't have very much, but they were saving hard and Mr. Richardson told them how to double their money. They believed him."
"He often said people were greedy," Ella said.
"Not these two, if you knew them. But that's neither here nor there. Survive, Ella, and rejoice that he may have loved you - well, at least enough not to let you or your family lose any of your savings in his schemes."
"No." She stood up. Her legs felt weak.
"What is it, Ella?"
"It's just my father. He's always going on about ideas Don gave him, hints here, a word there ... he wouldn't have been so foolish .. ."
"When were you talking to your parents?"
"Yesterday, but they said nothing. They were going on about my picture in the paper. If there was anything to say they'd have said it then."
"Nobody knew the extent of the scandal then. People only began to know it this morning."
They looked at each other in alarm.
"Ring them, Ella."
"He couldn't ... he didn't."
"You heard what they said on the television ..."
Brenda Brennan pointed to the white phone beside the bed.
Ella dialled. Her mother answered. She was in tears. "Where were you, Ella? Your father thought you'd gone to Spain with him. Where are you?"
"Is Dad all right?"
"Of course he's not all right, Ella. I have the doctor here with him. He's ruined."
"Tell me, tell me, what did he lose?"
"Oh, Ella, everything. But it's not what we lost that matters, it's what the firm lost. What his clients lost. He may have to go to gaol."
That was when Ella fainted.
Mrs. Brady hadn't hung up. That was something. At least Brenda could keep her there for long enough to get her address. She held Ella's head downwards so that more blood would flow towards the brain.
"I have to get home to them," Ella said over and over.
"You will, don't worry."
"Your restaurant - won't you be needed downstairs?"
"Head down," Brenda insisted.
Then she summoned Patrick's younger brother, Blouse. "You know where Tara Road is?"
"I do. I often deliver vegetables to Colm's restaurant if he's short."
"In about fifteen minutes, when she's up to it, drive her there, will you, Blouse?"
"Where are the car keys?" he asked.
Brenda turned out the contents of Ella's handbag. The keys were all on one ring.
It had a cherub on it.
"Angel," said Ella weakly.
"Yes, we have the keys." Brenda crammed everything back into the handbag, pausing only a fraction of a second to glance at a picture of Don Richardson smiling at the girl who had loved him. Ella's eyes were open and she was watching. Otherwise, Brenda would have torn it into a dozen pieces.
Ella gave Blouse directions to her parents" house. When they arrived, Ella's mother ran to the car. "I suppose you're one of his friends," she said when Blouse helped Ella from the car.
I'm not really anyone's friend, Madam. I'm Brenda's brother in-law. She asked me to drive this lady home."
"From where, exactly?"
"From Quentins Restaurant," he said proudly.
"Leave him, Mam. He's got nothing to do with anything."
"What do we know what has to do with anything?" Her mother looked as if somebody had given her a beating.
"Where's Dad?"
"In the sitting room. He won't go to bed. He won't take any sedation. He says he has to be alert if the office rings him."
"And have they rung him?"
"Not since lunchtime. Not since we learned that Don has left the country. There's no point in anyone ringing anyone now, Ella. It's all gone. All gone."
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," she said.
"Well, I'll be off now, then," Blouse Brennan said.
"Thank you very much, and will you thank your sister?"
"Sister-in-law," he corrected.
"Yes, well, say I'm very grateful."
"It's nothing," he said.
"How will you get back?" Ella's mother realised that he had left the car keys on the table.
"Which end of Tara Road is shorter to the bus?" he asked cheerfully. He was so unconcerned, he lived in a world where you drove people home in their own cars and took a bus back to a kitchen or scullery or wherever he worked. A world where people weren't greedy and didn't win and lose huge sums of money over business deals. He would never know anyone who lied and lied and lied like Don Richardson had lied. Even to people who loved him. Particularly to people who loved him. But Ella was too tired to care any more. All she wanted was to reassure her father that the world hadn't come to an end. She wanted to look him in the face and tell him that it would be all right. It was just that with every passing second, it seemed so unlikely that this was true.
He looked like an old man, a paper-thin old man whose skeleton was covered with a very fine parchment. When he smiled it was like a death mask. I didn't know, Dad. I didn't have any idea," she said.