Something Like Love

by Catherine Dunne

  ‘I trusted her,’ said Rose, her mind racing. She still wasn’t able to absorb everything that she was hearing.

  Sarah nodded, tight-lipped. ‘We all did. Joe had taken his young fellow on so that he could start to slow down a bit; he’s almost sixty. Now he says he must have had the most expensive golf lessons in history. I felt very sorry for him.’ Sarah paused.

  ‘You and I are going to have to do some serious digging,’ said Rose slowly, her mind unable to keep up with what she was thinking.

  Sarah nodded. ‘I know. I came in here afterwards, on Saturday afternoon. I just had to go over the Spice of Life records, to see if I could find anything. I did the best I could, but it’s almost impossible to pin down – you’d need to be the Fraud Squad, or something. The beauty of their plan was, it didn’t matter whether we paid cash, or by cheque, or even credit card. Because they were both in on it, and both trusted by their employers, nobody was likely to query anything. And they knew it.’

  ‘That’s what they were fighting about,’ said Rose, suddenly.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Betty and Angela – last week, at the tennis club. They were like two cats. Betty said she’d seen Angela do something, said she was warning her. I didn’t pursue it at the time, but that must have been what it was. Stealing. Jesus, I just don’t want to believe it!’

  ‘I know. I was nearly sick when Joe told me. I didn’t sleep a wink on Saturday, or last night.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘For what? What could you do over the weekend anyway, except worry? I was doing enough of that for both of us, and I figured you’d had your fill already. Today was time enough.’

  ‘Well, thank you for that; but we are in this together, don’t forget. And I’m the one who hired her.’

  Sarah turned to look at her. ‘And you were supposed to know all this – what, five years ago?’

  Rose shrugged. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Rose, we none of us have a crystal ball, you know. It’s done. We just have to try and do some damage limitation. But the whole thing set me wondering. Remember last year, when we joined forces?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Weren’t you losing a pile of money at that stage, stuff you couldn’t account for?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose, staring at Sarah, seeing her own disbelief reflected in the other woman’s face.

  ‘Well,’ said Sarah grimly, ‘no wonder your profit margins were way down, if all of that was going on. If she’s been stealing from Maguire’s, and from us, I’ve no doubt she was stealing from you. Joe reckons that at a minimum, they’ve lost ten thousand euro – and that’s the internal auditor’s most conservative estimate. At that rate, you wouldn’t be long wiping out your entire profit margin, would you? Even five per cent of your income going astray would have made an impact on a business the size of yours.’

  ‘The difference between boom or bust,’ said Rose, remembering Sam.

  ‘And the problem was, it was all invisible. How can you keep track? Do we have to count every prawn, every onion, every chicken wing? We’re sitting ducks.’

  Rose looked at her. It took a moment for Sarah to realize what she’d said. Both women laughed.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sarah said. ‘Bad pun.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I could kick myself. I remember thinking on a couple of occasions that Maguire’s had got quite expensive: I seemed to be paying more and getting less. But I never did anything about it. I just accepted it. Everything else in this bloody city costs a fortune, why not wholesale food?’

  ‘None of us checked, not in that sort of forensic detail, anyway. It’s called being busy,’ said Sarah. ‘Don’t blame yourself. We were all duped.’

  ‘There’s wine missing,’ said Rose, suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Yes. There are bottles of wine missing. I was two bottles of red and two bottles of white short after the tennis club last week. I thought nothing of it, assumed I had miscalculated because I was in such a hurry on the Wednesday afternoon. That’s what Betty saw – she must have seen Angela steal the wine.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, then you can be sure it wasn’t the first time. She’s probably getting careless now, thinks she has it all sewn up. I bet the last thing she thinks about is getting caught. Joe reckons that she and David probably started very slowly, with the occasional fiver, small change, that kind of thing. When nobody copped, they just got bolder.’

  ‘She’s a little cow,’ said Rose, beginning to get angry all over again. Was nothing safe, nothing what it seemed? ‘What on earth are we going to do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Sarah firmly, ‘for now. The Guards want to let it ride for another week or so, to gather as much evidence as they can. It’s us and two other catering companies so far – they want to wait and see if there are any others involved.’

  ‘So we can’t even fire her?’

  Sarah sighed. ‘I’m afraid not. We’ll have to put up with her for another while.’

  ‘God almighty. How are we even going to look at her? They’re going to prosecute, I presume?’

  ‘Damn sure,’ said Sarah. ‘And so are we. Don’t worry: I’ll deal with that – it will be a pleasure.’

  ‘How do we know the pair of them won’t do a runner in the meantime?’ asked Rose suddenly.

  Sarah shrugged. ‘We don’t. But all the signs are that they don’t know anybody is onto them. Joe said to keep everything normal, to keep exactly the same routine going. They’ll get the pair of them, don’t you worry.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I hope so. When I think of how much she might have stolen from me over the years . . .’

  ‘Don’t go there,’ said Sarah. ‘We don’t know when all of this started. There’s nothing to be gained from hindsight.’

  ‘They say things happen in threes. Christ, is there anything else lurking in the bushes?’

  ‘Come on,’ said Sarah. ‘We’d better go in: don’t want to arouse any suspicions. This is sure going to be a fun week.’

  They closed the van doors behind them. Rose watched as the lights flashed again and locks snapped smartly into place. She felt strangely calm, shock hovering somewhere in the distance, somewhere on the innocent outer reaches of the car park. It hadn’t absorbed her yet.

  ‘Claire and Katie know?’

  Sarah nodded, handing her a box full of courgettes and black, shiny aubergines. Rose thought how beautiful they looked; out of place, somehow, amid all the dust and ashes of betrayal.

  ‘Yes. I nearly had to tie Katie down. She’s positively murderous.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ said Rose. ‘I have the guts of a hit list right now. It’s growing longer by the day.’

  Sarah grinned. ‘Could be worse. We could have gone under. Look on the bright side.’

  Rose held open the door for her. ‘Right. Let’s go. Oscar-winning performances all round. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off her.’

  Katie handed Rose and Sarah a cup of tea, and left the office without a word. The two women sipped in silence. They had retreated to the office for the early part of the morning, going through the arrangements for the following week. It was a mechanical task, a routine one: something they felt demanded nothing from them, other than their presence. They went through their checklist together, subdued, assigning the various tasks as they went.

  Just as they reached the end of the list, Rose’s mobile rang. She didn’t recognize the number.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, cautiously.

  ‘Rose? Pauline here.’

  ‘Good morning, Pauline.’ That was fast, she thought. Ben must have been straining at the leash.

  ‘I promised I’d call you just as soon as I had any news. Ben’s solicitor contacted me first thing this morning. He’s faxed some stuff over to me. We need to go through it together. You told him to contact me, then?’ Her tone was crisp, businesslike. As yet, it invited no
discussion.

  ‘No, no I didn’t. Brian met him the other night. He gave Ben your name, without realizing.’

  ‘Ah. How are you fixed over the next couple of days?’

  How, indeed. ‘You name the time.’

  ‘Well, this evening around five is free, or we could meet at eight in the morning? Whichever suits best.’

  ‘This evening,’ said Rose quickly. Let’s get it all over with at once, she thought. I don’t like Mondays.

  ‘Okay, that’s fine. See you then.’

  ‘Thanks, Pauline. ’Bye.’

  Sarah looked over at her and raised one inquiring eyebrow. ‘Something else to brighten up your day?’

  ‘Yep. More good news. I told you things happened in threes.’

  Joan ushered her into Pauline’s office. ‘Tea or coffee, Rose?’ she asked.

  ‘Coffee, please, Joan. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need it. That, or something a lot stronger.’

  The older woman patted her on the arm. ‘You’re in good hands here,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Good to see you, Rose.’ Pauline stood up and put out her hands for Rose’s jacket. Take a seat.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She sat, feeling that, for nearly a decade now, the most significant reflections on her life had all taken place in this armchair. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Hit me.’

  Pauline pulled a folder towards her.

  ‘Well, it looks as though your ex-husband has decided to up the ante.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you spoken to Ben recently?’

  ‘Yes – just like you and I discussed. And it’s been conciliation all the way. I haven’t rowed with him, not even once. Mind you, I had to sit on my hands when he appeared in my front garden last Monday – remember? The afternoon he brought the estate agent with him? He didn’t realize I was home, and I certainly didn’t let him know that I’d seen him, either then or later. And I sat on my hands again last Wednesday, when he called to the house and Lisa was on her own. I didn’t mention that either. In fact, I’ve been remarkably restrained, now that I think about it.’

  Pauline nodded, making a note. ‘Interesting. So, you’ve had no conversation about house sales as such, or splitting the proceeds or anything else.’

  Rose shook her head vehemently. ‘Absolutely not. All we’ve spoken about is the kids. He agreed to give me time to make sure Lisa was okay with everything, and then we’d sit down and talk finances.’ Rose accepted the cup of coffee Joan offered her, smiled her thanks.

  ‘He’s already seen Brian; he knows I broke the news to Damien – to all of them: he even thanked me for doing it. We spoke briefly this morning and we’ve agreed that I bring Lisa to meet him on Wednesday afternoon. It was all as clear as day. So what “ante” is he upping, and why does he feel the need to do that? I understood we had an agreement.’

  ‘Well, that might have been before he sought legal advice.’ Pauline pulled several faxed pages out of the folder on her desk. ‘We’ll get the originals of these in a day or so, but I was anxious to know what Ben was looking for, once I got his solicitor’s letter this morning.’

  ‘Who is it? Who’s his solicitor?’

  ‘A guy called Paul McGowan.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  Pauline looked straight at her. ‘A ball-breaker. Ben’ll be paying through the nose – which is interesting in itself for a man who’s claiming to be broke. But McGowan is no fool either – he’ll want to hammer out a deal.’

  ‘So, what is Ben looking for?’

  ‘Well, for one, he’s claiming that you’ve already agreed to sell the family home and split the proceeds fifty–fifty.’

  Rose stared at her. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘I’m afraid I am.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  Pauline took a deep breath. ‘He’s saying that he made regular maintenance payments to you over the years.’

  ‘What!’

  Pauline raised a cautionary hand. ‘That he sent money to you for the children as often as he could, whenever he could afford it – cash sometimes, cheques, postal orders on other occasions.’ She paused.

  ‘He’s lying. You know that.’

  Pauline continued. ‘He claims that he was unemployed for long stretches of the time he spent in England, that he was subsequently ill with depression and unable to work. He has come back to Dublin to try and pull his life together – this is his last chance to do so. He is very remorseful about having walked out, but claims he was under intolerable pressure at the time: business pressures, personal pressures, illness. The whole gamut.’

  Rose shook her head, numbness crawling into the spaces that disbelief had just left vacant. ‘I can’t believe this. You should have seen the suit he was wearing when he turned up ten days ago – and the shoes.’

  Pauline kept on reading, referring to the pages in front of her. ‘He also says that he is willing to develop a full relationship with his children. He says that he has initiated discussions with you to make sure he causes minimum disruption to their lives, but that he is very anxious to make amends to them. He looks forward to regular meetings with each of them.’

  ‘Okay – that bit is fine. I’ve no problem with any of that.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Pauline. ‘There’s more.’ She turned over the final page and Rose saw that she had highlighted something in red. ‘He repeats himself. Given his difficult personal circumstances in the past, and the fact that he nevertheless made best efforts to maintain his children, he feels it only just that the proceeds of the sale of property are divided equally between both parties.’ Pauline looked over at Rose. ‘Got that?’

  ‘I’m listening,’ said Rose, knowing that there was worse to come.

  ‘Mr Holden intends to make his permanent home in Dublin, and he is very willing to enter into an agreement regarding future maintenance of his family. However, his position at the moment is that of starting in business all over again: he has no resources. Conversations with his former wife have indicated that, and I quote: ‘Mrs Holden is the proprietor of a thriving business, one whose original development would not have been possible without the use of the equity in the family home as collateral.’

  ‘You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.’

  Pauline shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, Rose. Basically he’s saying that it’s his turn now. You didn’t need his money because you had plenty of your own, and he contributed in the past whenever he could, despite being down on his luck. This is his last chance, and he’s entitled to half the proceeds if he’s to survive and maintain his children into the future. That’s it, in a nutshell. I have to say, even I didn’t expect such a blatant tissue of lies. I’ve seen some in my time, but this one takes the biscuit.’

  Rose gripped the arms of her chair. She had the extraordinary sensation that she might somehow take flight if she didn’t anchor herself to the old, solid armchair. Her body felt wispy and insubstantial, as though she was no longer subject to the laws of gravity. She tried to focus on what Pauline was saying, tried to make sense through the fog of disbelief.

  ‘Don’t worry, Rose – this is just the opening salvo. Don’t take it personally. He’s going to fight for the best possible deal for himself, so he’s going for broke. I asked you to come here as soon as possible so that you’d know what sort of a fight we have on our hands. We’re only getting started.’

  ‘Is it actually possible that my “thriving business” is now a liability?’

  Pauline looked at her keenly. ‘I presume you never told him that you had any sort of business?’

  ‘Absolutely not! I told him that financially, I’d survived, that the kids had survived, and that the house was our home – that’s all I said before I threw him out that night, the night he came back. Other than that, all I’ve said is that I’d be prepared to sit down and talk about finances, once the kids were sorted. I’d even have been prepared to go for mediation, but after a communication like that,’ Rose gesture
d angrily towards the pages in Pauline’s hands, ‘I don’t think there’s even any point in suggesting it. He has no idea I want to sell the house. This is all just one huge, arrogant demand – assumption – lie – whatever, on his part. This is his children’s home we’re talking about! What do I do now, Pauline, for God’s sake?’

  ‘I want us to keep this out of court,’ said Pauline, firmly. ‘I want us to negotiate. And that means you have to keep your nerve. If he’s prepared to lie like this now, then he’s prepared to lie before a judge, too. Don’t forget, our system is an adversarial one: and far too many people in these circumstances are prepared to fight dirty.’

  ‘Court gets you the law, but not justice,’ said Rose, remembering something Mike had once said.

  ‘Something like that, yes. That’s why I want to get agreement outside of the system, to tie everything down securely without going before a judge. Our best chance is to agree a deal with him now and not to enter the court process at all.’

  ‘But what guarantee is there that he’d keep to an agreement – to any agreement? He did a runner in the past; what’s to stop him doing another one?’

  Pauline nodded. ‘That’s why we’ve got to negotiate hard around the issue of the house. You want your portion of the sale to cover all the past arrears in maintenance, and to look after the kids’ future needs. You need to have a full and final financial settlement, over and done with. Because you’re right.’ Pauline looked at her over the tops of her glasses. ‘He could disobey a court order regarding maintenance: for example, if he left the country. Then we’d have to get him back into court, and start all over again.’

  ‘If we could find him,’ said Rose indignantly.

  ‘Indeed. Would you believe it if I told you that less than twenty-five per cent of all lone parents – fathers and mothers – are in receipt of maintenance from their former spouses? There’s a good chance that a fair proportion of them have done a disappearing act: divorce, Irish style – remember Dad used to say that? But don’t worry. We have a few aces up our sleeves, too.’

  ‘We do?’ said Rose, feeling a small nudge of hope.