I'm forty-one years old, Ella, married for eighteen years to Margery Rice, daughter of Ricky Rice, who is theoretically my boss, or at any rate the money in our company. I have two sons aged sixteen and fifteen. Margery and I have a dead marriage - it suits both of us to stay together, at the moment anyway. It certainly suits her father and it suits our two sons. We share a home out in Killiney, by the sea. I also have a business flat in the Financial Services Centre.
"Margery spends most of her day golfing or running charity events. We live entirely separate lives. You would be breaking up nothing, nil, zilch, zero, if you were to say that you would have dinner with me tonight in Quentins at around eight." He put his head on one side as if waiting for her argument.
"I'd like that, see you there," Ella said, and got out of the car. She felt her legs shaking as she went into the staffroom. Ella Brady, who had never taken a class off in her teaching life, went straight to the Principal and said she had to leave the school at lunchtime, it was an emergency. She booked a hair-do, a manicure and a leg wax. She bought fresh flowers for her flat, changed the sheets and tidied the place, examining it with a critical eye. It was probably a wasted effort. But it was wiser to be prepared.
"You got your hair done," he said as she joined him in one of the private booths at Quentins.
"You went home and changed too. Long trek out to Killiney and back," Ella said, smiling.
"Separate lives, Ella, either you believe me or you don't." Don had an extraordinary smile.
"Of course I believe you, Don. Now that that's out of the way, we never have to mention it again."
"And do I have to get anything out of the way? Long-term loves, jealous suitors, possible fiances in the wings?"
"Nothing at all," she said. "Believe me or don't."
"I totally believe you, what a wonderful dinner we are going to have," he said.
The evening passed too quickly. She reminded herself over and over that there must be no brittle jokes about it being time to send him home.
He had dealt with that side of it already. They were meeting as free agents or not at all. He told her about a lunch they'd had in the office today with outside caterers for the first time, and how it must be the hardest job on earth preparing and clearing up after businessmen who all wanted endless vodka and tonics without letting their bosses see just how much they were knocking back.
They were marvellous kids, he said, ran the thing like clockwork, he'd get them more work. Didn't even want to be paid in cash, said they had some accountant who went ballistic over that and everything. Ella said that she thought everyone did.
"Sure they do, of course they do. I was only trying to give these two at Scarlet Feather a break."
"Oh, Scarlet Feather, I know them! Tom and Cathy, they're great people," Ella said, pleased they had someone else in common.
"Yes, they seemed fine. I'd hire them again. They're not going to get rich quick, but that's their business."
He seemed for a moment to think less of them because they weren't going to get rich quick. A shadow came over it all. Maybe Rice and Richardson only liked people who made lots of money.
"How do you know the builders, Eric and his brothers?" she asked.
"Oh, business," he said quickly. "We handle a few investments tor Eric and the boys. And you?"
"My friend Nuala is married to Frank, the youngest brother," she said.
"Some small city. Imagine you knowing that catering couple as well. Anyway, Angel Ella, now tell me about your lunch."
She told him about the elderly teacher who was afraid they would all get radiation from the microwave, and the sports teacher who had lost his front tooth biting into a hard French roll. She told him about the Third Years sending up a petition about school uniform being a danger to girls as they were maturing, since it made them objects of ridicule. None of these things had happened today because Ella had been racing around getting her flat cleaned and her body prepared for what might lie ahead. But as stories they were real incidents from other lunchtimes in the staffroom, and they made him laugh. And with Don Richardson it was going to be important to keep him laughing.
If you wanted to be his friend or whatever there would be no place for moody.
No place at all.
He drove her back to her flat.
"I enjoyed this evening," Don Richardson said.
"Me, too." Her throat was tight and her chest constricted. D she ask him in? They were free agents. Or was it sluttish? Ar why should it be sluttish for the girl, not the man? She would wait and take her timing from him.
"So, since I have your telephone number, maybe we can go again, Angel Ella?" he said. "Yes, please." She kissed his cheek and got out of the car while she still had the strength to do so. He waved and turned the car. She would not spend any time wondering would he drive eleven miles south to Killiney and the dead marriage or one mile north into the city to the bachelor pad. She let herself into the flat and looked accusingly at the vase of expensive fresh flowers she had arranged before she had left. "Fine lure you were to get him back here," she said. The flowers said nothing. Maybe I should get myself a cat or a dog, something that might grunt at me when I come back here alone, Ella thought. But then she might not always be coming back here alone. It was her father's birthday next day. Ella had bought him a gift voucher for a hotel in Co. Wicklow. An old-fashioned place with a big, rambling garden. When she was a child, they sometimes drove down there for Sunday lunch. He used to point out the flowers to her and she would learn the names. Ella remembered her mother smiling a lot there, sitting and pouring out afternoon tea in the garden. Maybe it would be a nice peaceful place for them to go and stay. The voucher covered dinner, bed and breakfast. It could be taken up any time in the next month. Surely they would like that? They loved the idea, both of them. Ella felt tears at the back of her eyes to see such gratitude. "What a wonderful gift, just imagine it," her father said, over and over. Ella wondered why had he never thought of such a thing himself if it was so great. Her mother was delighted too. "The three of us all going down to Holly's and staying the night!" she said. Ella realised with a shock that they thought she was going with them as well. "So when will we go?" Her father was excited now like a child. "A Friday or a Saturday?" she suggested. She couldn't ruin it all now by explaining that she hadn't meant to come with them. "You choose," Father said. Don wouldn't ask her out on a Saturday, that would surely be family time.
They fixed to go the following Saturday. Just as Ella was about to call the hotel and make the booking her mobile phone rang.
"Hallo," Don Richardson said.
She noted that he hadn't said his name. It was arrogant in a way to assume that she knew who it was. But she was no good at playing games.
"Oh, hallo," she said pleasantly.
"Is it okay to talk?" he asked.
"Oh, it's always okay," Ella said, but she got up and moved out towards the spiral steps down to the garden at the same time. She gave an apologetic shrug to her parents as if this were a duty call
she had to take.
"I wondered if you'd like to have dinner Saturday?"
She looked behind her into the sitting-room. Her parents were examining the brochure for Holly's as if it were some kind of map of a treasure trove. She could not cancel it now.
Ella held on to the wrought-iron rail. "I'm so sorry, but I've just arranged something, literally in the last few minutes, and it would of a bit difficult, you see, to . .."
He cut her off.
Never mind, it was on the off chance, there'll be other evenings."
He was about to go. She knew she must not begin to burble at mi", but she was so very anxious to keep him on the line. I wish I didn't have to . . ."