City Lives

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘How did she think she could get away with it?’ Devlin fretted as she got into Caroline’s car for the short drive.

  ‘Let’s see what she has to say for herself. It will be interesting, to say the least,’ Caroline said calmly as she started up the engine.

  Devlin sat tensely, her hands clasped tightly for the couple of minutes they were in the car. Now that the time had finally come to deal with Ciara, she didn’t feel at all tough and hard. She heartily wished that she was a million miles away.

  Forty

  Ciara smoothed cool cleanser over Brenda Regan’s face. She lightly massaged the area around her eyes. In the background soothing piano music played on tape. Squalls of rain beat against the window. The room was snug and warm. Ciara stifled a yawn.

  A smart rap on the door made her pause in mid-massage. She glanced up, startled.

  Who the hell was this? She’d locked the main door.

  ‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said calmly to her client. Wiping her hands on one of the fluffy towels she walked over and opened the door.

  Caroline Yates was standing outside. Ciara was gobsmacked. What on earth was Caroline Yates doing in Galway? She’d just been widowed. Her rich husband had topped himself. She stepped outside and closed the door of the treatment room behind her.

  ‘How did you get in?’ she asked inanely.

  ‘I have keys, Ciara,’ Caroline said coolly.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry about your bereavement. It must be very tough.’ Ciara spoke in a low respectful tone.

  ‘Thank you. It is,’ Caroline said quietly. She changed the subject. ‘I’m sure you want to know why I’m here.’

  Ciara’s brain raced into action. Something was certainly up, judging by her boss’s tone and cool demeanour. The best thing to do was to act as though everything was normal.

  ‘I’m giving a treatment at the moment, Caroline,’ she said calmly. ‘There was some mix-up yesterday and this woman was overbooked so I offered to do her myself today. Overbooking’s so sloppy and it gives a bad impression. I wanted to reverse it.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Caroline had to admire the younger woman’s fast thinking. ‘Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to discontinue the treatment. You can give us the client’s name and address and we’ll see that she gets a free treatment next week,’ Caroline responded evenly.

  ‘It’s a bit awkward, Caroline. Could you give me another twenty minutes?’ Ciara said smoothly. But she was beginning to feel extremely uneasy.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Ciara. Please convey our regrets and offer the client the free treatment and follow me down to the office when she’s gone,’ Caroline instructed crisply.

  ‘Very well.’ Ciara was most put out. What the hell was going on? She watched Caroline walk back towards reception. It was imperative that she contact her other two clients and cancel their treatments. Fortunately she had numbers for both of them. Just as well she’d brought her handbag with her mobile phone in it to the treatment room instead of leaving it in her office. That would have been tricky.

  ‘Mrs Regan, so sorry for the interruption. Something’s come up and I can’t continue the treatment.’ Ciara oozed regret as she wiped the cleanser off her client’s face.

  ‘Oh how annoying,’ Brenda Regan pouted. ‘And I was enjoying it so much.’

  ‘I know, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll arrange for you to have a free facial whatever day suits you next week. How about that?’

  ‘I’m very busy next week,’ Brenda said petulantly. She sat up and shrugged off the towels.

  Oh shut up and get out, Ciara thought agitatedly. ‘Well, whenever it suits you,’ she pacified.

  Brenda got into her blouse and pulled on the lilac jacket of her Michael H. suit.

  ‘I take it I don’t have to pay for the little you did do?’ she said frostily, patting her hair.

  ‘Of course not, Mrs Regan, and I’m terribly sorry,’ Ciara grovelled as the other woman swept out of the room and down the corridor. Ciara unlocked the main door and let her out. Caroline’s car was parked beside Brenda’s Merc.

  Why she was in Galway, Ciara could not fathom. Unless she had come to get away from all the press hassle in Dublin. Maybe she was spending a few days in the Great Southern. But what did she want in City Girl that had made her come on a Sunday? Ciara was mystified. Perhaps there was a simple explanation. Maybe Caroline had merely gone for a walk and seen the two cars in the car park and the lights on in the building.

  She was very pleased with her quick response about Brenda Regan having a treatment because of overbooking. That was inspired, Ciara congratulated herself, as she dialled the manicure and pedicure client to cancel. She was extremely fortunate to reach both women and rearrange their appointments. That was a relief, she thought as she slipped her phone into her bag. One overbooking was a reasonable explanation – if the other pair had arrived it would look a little suspicious.

  Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Ciara hesitated outside her office. Should she knock, she wondered briefly.

  Definitely not, she decided. After all, it was her office. She marched in only to come to a full stop when she saw Devlin, flanked by Caroline and Andrew Dawson, waiting behind her desk.

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, flustered. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Perhaps you might care to tell us, Ciara,’ Devlin said and her eyes were hard, her tone ice-cold.

  ‘What do you mean, Devlin?’ Ciara widened her eyes and feigned innocence but her heart sank.

  ‘Cut the crap, Ciara. We know all about your little Sunday sessions and your private treatments using City Girl stock, and we also know that you’ve been stealing from stores. Perhaps you’d care to explain.’ Devlin stared hard at her.

  ‘There’s some mistake—’

  ‘There’s no mistake, Ciara.’ Andrew tapped a beige file on the desk in front of him. ‘We have dates, times, places. We have photographs and we have the figures to prove that you’ve been running a very profitable little scam for yourself. We’ve had you under surveillance for quite some time now.’

  Ciara paled.

  For a moment Devlin felt sorry for her, but then the young woman’s face twisted in contempt and she turned to Devlin.

  ‘You put me under surveillance after all I’ve done for you. After I’ve worked my butt off for you and this goddamn gold mine of yours. And you begrudged me my little nixers so much that you got someone to spy on me,’ she spat.

  ‘Ciara, you were getting very well paid. Over the odds in fact. And doing the odd nixer is a hell of a lot different from defrauding your employers,’ Devlin retorted angrily.

  ‘Defrauding your employers,’ mimicked Ciara. ‘Well fuck you, you rich bitch, sitting on your ass all day long. Swanning around the country in your swanky sports car. And you,’ she pointed a finger at Caroline. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one. A rich widow who didn’t have to lift a finger to make a fortune. Why should you and her,’ she stabbed her finger in Devlin’s direction, ‘reap all the rewards of our hard work? You don’t know what it’s like trying to save for a mortgage, knowing that you’re going to have to borrow at least a hundred thousand pounds because property has gone up so much. You don’t have to shop for clothes in Dunnes Stores because it costs a fortune to keep a car on the road, seeing as I only get so much towards running it from you greedy crowd of fuckers,’ Ciara shouted.

  Devlin jumped to her feet, incensed. ‘How dare you, Ciara Hanlon. How dare you speak to Caroline like that. You insensitive little bitch! And how dare you use my success as an excuse to cheat and steal from me?

  ‘I can tell you one thing. You’re far better off than I ever was at your age. I know what it was like to be practically penniless. I was a single parent in Ballymun flats. I couldn’t even afford to buy clothes in Dunnes Stores, let alone run a car. But I didn’t go out and steal from people or blame them for my circumstances. I took responsibility for my life and did something with it. You’ve been given every chance and opportunity. You�
�ve a job and a lifestyle that are the envy of many, but you’ve ruined it because of greed and jealousy. Whatever I got I worked for and I won’t let an avaricious, lying little thief like you rob me blind and expect me to sit there and take it.’ She was shaking with anger.

  ‘Right! I’ll go then. I resign. Stuff your job. Here’s your keys.’ Ciara jumped to her feet and flung her bunch of keys on the desk.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Ciara,’ Andrew said coolly. ‘The police would like a word with you. I called them earlier. And they have a warrant to search your house.’

  ‘You’ve called the police!’ Ciara couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re lying! You’re just trying to frighten me.’

  She turned to Devlin. ‘You wouldn’t go that far. You wouldn’t be that much of a bitch!’

  ‘It’s not a question of being a bitch, Ciara,’ Devlin snapped. ‘We discussed long and hard as to whether we should call in the police. Personally I would have preferred not to. But I have an obligation to protect other employers and also an obligation to you to show you how serious your crimes are. You can’t just expect to say “stuff your job” and walk away from what you’ve done. From what I’ve just heard it seems that anyone whom you perceive to be rich is a legitimate target, because you feel life owes you more than what you’ve got. I’m sorry, Ciara, that’s not the way it works.’

  ‘Don’t you bloody well preach to me, Devlin Delaney. Who the fuck do you think you are? Miss High-and-Bloody-Mighty. You can go and get lost. I’m getting out of here now and you can’t stop me,’ Ciara’s voice was high and shrill. She ran from the office, down the hall and with trembling fingers unlatched the door. Andrew followed with the folder. He had seen the squad car out in the car park.

  Ciara saw him coming and hurried out the door intent on getting to her car, only to come to a halt when she saw the two uniformed guards approaching.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ she muttered. There was nowhere to turn.

  ‘Come along Ciara.’ Andrew placed a firm hand on her wrist as the guards came abreast of them.

  ‘Here’s the file that I spoke to you about. This is the lady in question,’ he told the older of the two guards.

  ‘Very well, sir. Miss, come with us, please, we’d like you to answer a few questions down at the station,’ the guard said politely.

  Andrew took a white envelope out of his pocket and handed it to the former manageress. ‘Devlin suggested I compile a list of solicitors in Galway, you might need to call one if you have none of your own.’

  ‘That was very thoughtful,’ sneered Ciara.

  ‘It was, actually, Ciara. Personally I wouldn’t have bothered. You don’t deserve it and you’re not worth the trouble,’ Andrew said with contempt.

  ‘Up yours,’ Ciara snarled as she was led away.

  Devlin and Caroline watched from the office as the squad car sped off.

  Devlin was as white as a ghost. ‘She was vicious, wasn’t she? It was unbelievable. She feels that she’s entitled to what she’s robbed. Luke was right. She’d just go and do the same thing to someone else if we hadn’t called the police. She doesn’t think that she’s done anything wrong at all.’

  ‘That’s the frightening thing,’ Caroline remarked. ‘She’s bright, she’s well educated. But she has no conscience about what she’s done. Her resentment and greed are so great they’ve twisted her thinking completely. Life will have some hard lessons to teach her.’

  ‘What a waste,’ Devlin sighed as Andrew came back into the room.

  ‘Let’s go. Caroline and I will clear out Ciara’s belongings tomorrow and go through the books here. I’ll go down and check into my hotel and we could meet up around one thirty or so and have a bite to eat.’

  ‘OK,’ Caroline agreed. Devlin nodded. She was shattered.

  ‘Come on, Dev, you should rest for a while,’ Caroline urged. ‘We had an early start.’

  They left the building and locked the doors behind them, all of them relieved that the matter was finally at an end. Whatever happened to Ciara was out of their hands now.

  It had been the longest, most frightening day of her life. Ciara sat shivering on her bed, numbed and shocked. She’d actually been locked up in a cell and charged by the police. They’d thrown questions at her hour after hour from that bloody file that Andrew Dawson had given them, and then they’d come and taken all the stuff she’d taken from stores and carted it off to the station. And then they’d locked her up in a smelly little cubbyhole that had nearly freaked her out.

  Fortunately bail had been set, an amount that she could afford, thanks to the solicitor she’d hired. She’d been free to go. And not a minute too soon.

  Ciara took a long slug of brandy as she looked at her bulging suitcase. She was finished here, her great plans up in smoke. She had a second cousin in London. She’d take a flight from Shannon tomorrow because come hell or high water, Devlin Delaney was not going to get the better of her. She could stay with her cousin for a day or two until she got a place of her own. She still had a couple of thousand pounds in her bank account. She’d withdraw it from the bank first thing and then drive to Shannon airport and a new life. With her experience in the beauty and leisure business she’d get a job no problem, Ciara thought confidently. She’d have to start from scratch again, that was the only thing. Still, there’d be more opportunities in London than in this kip of a country where the same clique, the exclusive circle, were the only ones who could make it.

  She’d start all over again, but unfortunately she’d never be able to come home to rub that bitch Delaney’s nose in it. Ciara Hanlon was a wanted woman. A woman on the run!

  Later that night as Devlin and Caroline sat in front of the fire in Caroline’s new apartment, sipping hot chocolate and eating chocolate biscuits, Caroline turned to her friend.

  ‘I was a bit surprised that you didn’t let Andrew challenge Ciara,’ she said curiously.

  ‘Oh I was tempted to, believe me,’ Devlin admitted. ‘But it would have been running away, I’m the boss when it suits me, kind of thing. I didn’t want Andrew to think I couldn’t hack it. Or Luke, come to that. But especially Andrew. It does him good to know who’s in charge every now and again. I know he thinks he knows better than we do. You’ve seen him at meetings.’ Devlin made a face.

  ‘I’ve seen him all right. Sure doesn’t he think I’m away with the fairies with all my “New Age Claptrap”,’ Caroline said caustically.

  ‘Do you think that Ciara will ever come to her senses? Or will she always have that huge chip on her shoulder?’ Devlin wondered.

  ‘Who knows? Choices and paths and all of that,’ Caroline smiled.

  ‘She was a brilliant manageress.’

  ‘Yeah, she was. But if it was going to happen I’m glad it happened before we opened the new wing,’ Caroline reflected.

  ‘That will be our fresh start,’ Devlin declared firmly.

  ‘Yes, Dev, it will. City Girl’s and mine,’ Caroline agreed, and for the first time in a long while she felt optimistic.

  Forty-one

  Where had the time gone, Maggie thought in a panic as she flung a selection of Mr Kipling’s tarts, teacakes and cherry buns into her shopping trolley. The Al Shariffs were coming tomorrow and she wasn’t one bit organized.

  ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ wafted gaily through the store greatly adding to her irritation.

  ‘Piss off,’ she muttered, causing an elderly man pushing a trolley adjacent to her to give her a strange look and move off smartly.

  So much had happened in the past few weeks. Their trip to Powerscourt Springs. Richard’s death and funeral. Caroline moving to Galway. Now the arrival of the Al Shariffs was on top of her and she seemed to have nothing done. Maggie felt utterly overwhelmed. She ticked off biscuits and cakes from her list and headed for the meat counter. Her heart sank when she saw the queue. She’d be here all morning. She’d thought the queues wouldn’t be too bad if she went sho
pping immediately after dropping the kids to school. It looked as though every other mother had had the same idea.

  Two trolleyloads later she headed for the off-licence. Another queue stretched in a long snaky line.

  ‘To hell with this,’ she muttered. Terry could call into an off-licence on the way home, she still had to buy a Christmas tree and decorate the house.

  She drove home and unpacked the car. Dozens of white plastic bags of shopping filled the hall. Her heart sank. The thought of unpacking everything and finding room for groceries, and filling the fridge was so off-putting, she was tempted to go straight back out again and buy the Christmas tree.

  She compromised and packed all the fridge and freezer food away, and then took off to try and find a particularly good and voluminous tree to impress the Al Shariff children.

  ‘Get the biggest one you can find, Mam,’ Michael had urged. ‘So they can see what a real Irish Christmas tree looks like.’ The children were very excited at the impending arrival of the Al Shariffs. Between that and Christmas they were up to ninety and driving Maggie bananas.

  Terry was working flat out, or so he told her, so that he could take some holiday. You’d think he was doing her an enormous favour by taking the few days off, when it was all his fault in the first place that the Al Shariffs were spending so long with them. Maggie pondered this resentfully as she went through serried rows of sweet-smelling pine trees, looking for the one that would make Michael proud.

  A tall, perfectly shaped specimen caught her eye, and she asked the young lad looking after them to hold it out for her. It was lovely, she had to admit. With a magnificent bushy bottom and a perfect symmetry.

  ‘How much?’ she asked.

  ‘Thirty pounds, mam.’

  ‘You’re joking!’ Maggie was horrified. Thirty pounds for a Christmas tree. It was daylight robbery.

  ‘It’s a particularly fine tree, mam.’ The young fella went into his sales patter.

  ‘Oh just give it to me.’ Maggie didn’t have time for this. ‘Put it in the boot for me and I hope you enjoy your holiday in the Bahamas. I won’t be able to afford a holiday after this.’