Deirdre had told her not to be too available. "Bad for me, Tuesday or Wednesday are fine, though."
"Tuesday then, I suppose, since it can't be earlier. Suppose I brought a bottle of truly lovely wine, would you cook me a steak?"
"It's a deal," said Ella, who wondered how could any human get through the number of hours between now and Tuesday at eight o"clock. They had the Full Irish Breakfast, and Miss Holly came to talk to them. "Nice to meet Don Richardson last night." Ella's mother wanted to show that they were anyone's equal.
"Ah, yes, wonderful family man, Mr. Richardson," said Miss Holly, nodding in approval. "You see it all in this business, Mrs. Brady, believe me, so many of our so-called business leaders don't have the same standards as they used to, no indeed."
"Brings his family here a lot then, does he?" said Ella in a strained voice, stabbing at the sausage on her plate as if she wanted desperately to kill it.
"Well, no, he works so hard, you see. Usually it's just his wife and her father and the children, but Mr. Richardson always rings and orders them some special wine, and when he can he's with them."
"That's nice," said Ella, suddenly feeling a great deal better.
She kissed them goodbye at Tara Road and refused to think about the fact that they might spend a lonely wordless afternoon now that she was no longer there to be the central point of their life. She had done her best to get them to sell this big place. To liberate some money so that they could go on a cruise, get a better car or whatever they might like. She knew that it wouldn't matter where they lived or how much money they had, they were not going to take their future in their own hands and make the best of it. Which was what she, Ella, was going to do. She was going to get involved with this dangerously attractive man, no matter how many turnings there would be in the road ahead. And if she got hurt then she got hurt, that's all there was to it.
Her phone rang . She pulled in to the side of the road but it wasn't what she had hoped. It was Nick, her old mate from college.
"Oh, Nick," she said.
"Well, I've had warmer receptions," he said.
"Sorry, I'm coping with traffic," she lied. "No, you're not, you fibber, you've pulled in, I'm in the car behind you." "Is this a police state or what?" she said and leaped out of the car to give him a hug. "I saw you ahead of me and I wondered if you'd like a late lunch."
"Like it? I'd love it, Nick."
They sat companionably as he told her all about the dramas in his life and she told him nothing about the dramas in hers. Nick was such an easy person to talk to, such a friend. No need to explain anything or wonder about what he was thinking. It was all there on his handsome, freckled face and in his big green eyes. He was wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses on his head. It would have been so uncomplicated to love someone like this instead of what she had got herself into. She looked at Nick affectionately. He would never know what she was thinking.
When they had last met he had just set up a small independent film production company called Firefly Films with two others and they were doing quite well. Much better than they had hoped. They still did a fair bit of bread and butter work like videos of weddings and advertising things, a lot of word of mouth. That's what it was all about in Dublin today - Nick had been able to point a job to Tom and Cathy who ran a catering company called Scarlet Feather. And apparently it had gone well so now Tom and Cathy in return had got him a job to film and edit a big fundraising event tonight. Huge money, the guy wanted to pay in cash but, hey, that was okay too.
"Tonight?" Ella's eyes were dancing.
"Yeah, he wants a nice, neat fifteen minutes of the highlights showing as many celebs as possible and literally just the best sound bites, no long tedious speeches . .. we could do it in our sleep." "Nick, can I come with you? To help. Please." "Hey, Ella, you don't want to be involved in any of this kind of business!" Nick was startled. "Please. I beg you. I'll get you coffee, I'll carry your bags." "Why?"
"I just want to, we're friends. You wanted to have lunch with me and I said yes, why can't I say I want to go on this gig with you tonight and you say yes?"
"You'd be bored."
"Please, Nick."
"Okay, but you do get to carry my bags, do you hear?"
"I love you, Nick."
"You love someone certainly; you're as high as a kite," he said. "But it's not me." She met them outside the hotel later in the evening. She hardly recognised Nick, he "was so businesslike and efficient.
"This is Ella. She knows nothing but she's here to help," he said casually.
Ella grinned. "I always wanted to be in movies," she said, joking.
"Well, you picked the wrong team, tonight's only video," said a small, earnest-looking girl who did not at all like the tall, blonde Ella coming in on the act.
"Look, I promise I won't be in the way." Ella concentrated on the girl, the two men were no trouble and couldn't have cared less about her. "Just tell me what to do or to get out of the way and I'll do it."
"Well, okay, thanks then." The girl was gruff.
"What's your name?" Ella asked. "Sandy."
"Well, Sandy, I mean it, anything I can do?"
"Why are you here?" Sandy was blunt. She fancied Nick greatly and probably in vain. But as far as she was concerned, Ella was a threat.
"Because I'm keen on someone who's going to be here and it was the only way I could get in." There is never anything as good as total honesty.
Sandy believed her immediately.
"And is he keen on you?"
"Not enough," Ella answered, and they were friends for life.
She tidied away their gear into corners, got a pot of coffee from the kitchen, asked the office to let them have three photocopies of the seating plan rather than the one they had been given. And was in fact quite useful and helpful until she saw Don Richardson come in with Margery on his arm.
This time she wore dark green silk and what looked very like real emeralds. She knew everyone and they were all kissing her on the cheek. Today was a Sunday yet she looked as if she had come straight from the hairdresser, she must have somebody come to her house. She was like a little porcelain doll. Ella felt tall, ungainly, sweaty, and out of place. From behind a pillar she watched as Don spoke swiftly to Nick telling him what needed to be done, where to position himself. And then she did no more to help anyone in Firefly Films, she stood there twisting a table napkin around in her hands and watching Don Richardson. He had said tonight was bad for him to meet her because he had to do a lot of glad-handing.
She wasn't even sure what the words meant.
Now she knew. It was shaking hands and at the same time gripping the other person's arm firmly above the elbow. It was looking into their eyes and thanking them for their support. It was turning to introduce them to other people with a fixed smile of gratitude. And Don Richardson did it very well.
Ella had no idea how long she stood there while others in the great dining room ate through a five-course meal. But Don didn't sit down either, he moved from table to table, talking here, laughing there, always nodding imperceptibly at Nick if he wanted him to turn the camera on groups. Margery sat at a table and talked easily with politicians and their wives. Margery's eyes never roamed the room looking for him, wondering was he hesitating too long at this table, laughing too animatedly with the two bosomy women who did not want to let him go. Was this because she knew how to play it? Giving him a long lead meant he always came home? Or had he been telling Ella the truth, that they really did lead separate lives?
There was dancing now, but Firefly Films" work was over. Don Richardson hadn't wanted to film any red-faced groping on the dance floor. The party supporters would want to see a video of themselves looking decorous, mixing with the party leader, with cabinet ministers and celebrities. That's what Nick and Ed and Sandy were going back to the office to do now, edit the video and copy it for Don Richardson. It had to be in his office next day by lunchtime. It would mean working all night.