‘No one gives a toss about my feelings,’ Chris exploded. ‘Suzy’s taking the kids away. Alexandra’s going to London. You’re having Ellen to tea. What about me? Who gives a damn about me?’
‘Don’t use vile language, Christopher. I can certainly understand how Suzy feels. I wish I had been as strong when I was in her position. I’ve no sympathy for you there at all. And as for that Johnston hussy, I hope she stays in London. She’ll certainly never set foot in my house—’
‘But don’t you understand my feelings at all, Mother?’ he interrupted angrily. ‘I’ve been deserted by everyone.’
‘Christopher, you brought it all on yourself. When you treat people badly, you can expect to be treated badly. You ran away from your responsibilities towards Ellen and Stephanie. You ran away from your responsibilities towards Suzy and the twins—’
‘I’m sick of this. I didn’t come here for a lecture. And it’s a bit late now to be telling me about my faults and failings. If you’d been a better mother, all this mightn’t have happened. If you’d made my father happy, he’d have stayed at home. So don’t you tell me about my shortcomings.’ Chris picked up his car keys and marched to the lounge door. He didn’t care if his harsh words hurt his mother. She’d hurt him!
Katherine looked at him sadly. ‘They say the truth always hurts, Christopher. You and I have to live with that.’
‘I’ll be talking to you,’ he growled and closed the door behind him, sorry that he’d called.
He drove off in a temper. He didn’t want to go back to the apartment. Alexandra was like an antichrist. She was coming up to her period. He’d get no good out of her for the next few days. There was no point in going home. Suzy wouldn’t want to see him. Where could he go? Who could he turn to who would understand his unhappiness?
He thought of Ellen. How he longed to drive to Glenree and feel her arms wrapped around him in welcome! What comfort she had always given him! What love and warmth and joy! But what if he called and she shut the door in his face? What if he called and the Neanderthal was there? He couldn’t depend on Ellen any more either.
He drove towards Donnybrook. He’d stop in Kiely’s and have a pint.
The place was packed. Standing room only. Bad move, he thought glumly as he queued for a drink.
‘Chris? How are you?’ a familiar voice roared in his ear.
Chris’s heart sank. Not Big-Deal-O’Hara.
‘Wait until I tell you about the deal I’ve just closed. The biggest deal ever,’ Lorcan O’Hara boasted. ‘Here, let me buy you a brandy. It’s a night for celebration. You’ll never hear tell of a better deal than this.’
For the next hour Chris listened, bored out of his skull, as Lorcan told him in minute detail of a deal he’d just concluded, selling tape recorders. Lorcan hadn’t earned the title Big Deal for nothing. Because when Lorcan did business, everyone knew about it.
‘I think you should consider upping your life insurance,’ Chris interjected wearily as Big Deal paused for breath. He figured he might as well try and sell a bit of insurance while he was stuck here.
‘Ah! I could be dead in the morning. Why would I leave the old bag a bigger fortune than what she’s got?’ Lorcan laughed.
‘Well, apart from your pension, just say you were in an accident. Say you had a stroke and you were disabled. You’d want to have a lifestyle comparable to the one you have now,’ Chris urged.
‘Well now, I’ll think about it,’ Lorcan promised.
‘You said that the last time we met. You know, Lorcan, now’s the time to be saving for the rainy day. Now, when the money’s coming in.’
‘You know, you’d sell ice to the Eskimos, Chris. No wonder they say you’re one of the best in town. Raise my premiums by another one per cent. I’ll sign the papers the next time I’m in your neck of the woods.’
‘Two per cent,’ Chris pressed.
‘Go away out of that. If I was to up my premiums by two per cent, I’d have no standard of life now.’
Chris laughed. He knew there was no point in arguing. Better one per cent than none.
He drove back to the apartment hoping that Alexandra had gone to bed. All he wanted to do was flop.
His mistress was out. Her car wasn’t in the car park and there were no lights on in the apartment. She hadn’t even told him that she was going out, he scowled, as he let himself into the dark hallway.
He shrugged out of his coat and stood, undecided whether to sit and watch some TV or go to bed. It was after half eleven and he was tired. Bed was his best option tonight. Ten minutes later he lay in his cold lonely bed. There was no point staying awake for Alexandra. He couldn’t get into her bed just for a cuddle. She wasn’t the cuddly sort. He remembered how nice it had been snuggling up with Ellen. Sadness swept over him. He missed her. Imagine his mother inviting her to tea. Obviously she liked Ellen. She must do or she’d never invite her to the house.
A thought struck him and his eyes opened wide in the dark. Of course . . . The answer to all his problems . . . Who said life didn’t have happy endings? Chris smiled. What a brainwave. It was so simple. So perfect. It was time to put his misery behind him. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Now, Ellen, don’t let me down. There’s twenty of us coming next Monday, not eighteen as originally planned. And remember, Bonnie will be looking for something to moan about. Don’t give her the opportunity,’ Sheila instructed down the phone.
Ellen gritted her teeth. ‘Mam, if you’d prefer to go to the Glenree Arms it’s quite all right with me.’
‘No! No! We want to come. It was a fair vote. Most of the committee were in favour. And I, to remain impartial, abstained. So Madam Daly can’t say it was my vote that swung it. Now will I get your father to make the brandy butter? You know there’s no one like him for making brandy butter. And then we can keep some of it for ourselves.’
‘Right, Mam.’
‘I’ve told your father to give you the best turkey and ham in the shop for the luncheon. It will be Miriam who’s cooking it, won’t it? You know the way you’re inclined to let things overcook, although you’re not bad at making the stuffing.’
‘Mother, I have to go. I need to get organised. The teachers are coming in after school for a Christmas dinner,’ Ellen said impatiently.
‘Oh, we’re not the only group having a Christmas do then?’ Sheila sounded surprised.
‘No, Mother, you’re not. I’ll start organising yours now.’ She clattered the phone down. She was fit to be tied. It was the Friday before Christmas week. They were up to their eyes, and the guild lunch was causing more trouble than it was worth. This was the third phone call she’d had from Sheila about it. There’d be more. She was half-sorry the guild hadn’t voted for the Glenree Arms. Ellen could understand her mother’s anxiety. Bonnie Daly and her friends would never let it pass if anything went wrong with the meal.
She was getting a headache thinking about the damned thing.
‘You’ve to cook the turkey. Mother’s instructions. I overcook things, if you don’t mind,’ she informed Miriam.
Miriam laughed. ‘Stay calm, Ellen. There’s three of us. We’ll be fine.’
‘I think we need someone to help out,’ Ellen fretted. ‘Or should we just close for the duration of the lunch?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Denise chipped in. ‘If we put them all out of harm’s way upstairs, we can keep downstairs free for our regulars. We could get Maria Walsh in to clear tables and wash the dishes.’
‘Right. What will we give them for starters?’
‘Melon?’ Miriam suggested.
‘Bit boring.’
‘Prawn cocktail?’ Denise ventured.
‘Oh yeah. That always looks good. And it’s nice and light.’
‘What soup?’ Miriam asked.
‘Pepper and garlic.’ Ellen grinned. ‘That would shut them up. Our cream of potato and carrot will do fine. Then turkey, ham, roast and cream
potatoes, carrots, peas, celery and Brussels sprouts, with cranberry sauce and gravy.’
‘I’m hungry already.’ Denise popped a piece of raw carrot into her mouth and crunched on it.
‘Plum pudding and brandy butter or trifle for dessert,’ Miriam rounded off the menu. ‘You’d better go shopping, Ellen.’
‘I could get a dozen bottles of wine, I suppose, in case any of them want it. You know how Lizzie Regan likes her drop. We could give it to them on the house. And a sherry before lunch,’ Ellen mused.
‘We’ll have Bonnie singing her silly little head off before she knows it.’ Denise’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.
‘That’s that arranged then.’ Ellen gave a sigh of relief and went off to write out a shopping-list.
The minute he saw it, Doug knew it was the Christmas present he wanted to buy Ellen. It was a gold filigree chain with an exquisite cross hanging from it. The cross was set with tiny diamonds, which sparkled under the spotlight in the jeweller’s display cabinet.
‘I’ll take that one, please.’ He pointed it out to the assistant. He watched as the young girl carefully laid it on a bed of black velvet in a long slender box. He was delighted with himself. Every time he came into town he’d been on the lookout for something special. Now he’d found it.
A small gold bracelet with a single charm caught his eye. The charm was a tiny kitten. Stephanie would love that, he thought. He could buy her a new charm every Christmas. It would be a special thing between them.
He’d already bought her a set of Spirograph. Stephanie was very creative and artistic. She spent hours colouring and drawing. He had the cards to prove it. She’d enjoy experimenting with all the designs.
He asked the assistant to wrap the bracelet for him and paid for his purchases with a happy heart. It would be a great Christmas. They were going to decorate the tree in Ellen’s flat tomorrow night. He was really looking forward to it.
It was almost like having a family of his own. Maybe soon, they would be his family. He was going to ask Ellen to marry him. It was what he wanted more than anything. He was going to ask her on New Year’s Eve. The beginning of the new decade. And the beginning of a new life for them. And he wasn’t going to entertain any negative thoughts that she’d say no. They were meant to be together. He was certain of that.
He studied the engagement rings. Some of them were beauties. They’d look lovely on Ellen’s slender finger. He was tempted to buy one there and then, but he hesitated. Just say she didn’t like the one he picked? She was going to have to wear it for the rest of her life. She should be the one to choose. They could choose it together. Whistling, Doug strode down Grafton Street. New Year’s Eve couldn’t come soon enough for him.
‘Alexandra!’ Marcus Lynn’s unmistakable deep voice at the other end of the phone gave Alexandra a start.
‘Yes, Marcus?’ She didn’t let on she was surprised to hear from him. How on earth had he got her number?
‘I insisted Malachy give me your number. He was most reluctant to.’ Marcus must have known what she was thinking. He sounded wryly amused. ‘I gather you left poor Mal with a rather large flea in his ear.’
‘Huh!’ Alexandra snorted. ‘He can dish it out but he can’t take it. And they’re the worst sort, believe me. Now, Marcus, I’m sure you’re not phoning me to discuss that conceited old windbag. I’m busy,’ she said curtly.
‘I’m sure you are.’ Marcus cleared his throat. ‘Look, I feel bad about you getting the boot. I didn’t think there’d be repercussions like that.’
‘Well, there were, and there’s nothing you can do about it now,’ Alexandra retorted with an edge to her voice. What the hell was Marcus annoying her for? He was hardly going to ask her for a date!
‘Well, actually there is something that I can and have done, if you don’t mind my taking the liberty.’
‘Oh!’ Her voice took on a friendlier tone.
‘You know Arthur Reynolds, the property tycoon?’
‘Yes,’ Alexandra said cautiously. Arthur Reynolds was a multi-millionaire who led a jet-setting lifestyle. He’d been the number one client at Weldon’s, her former company. He had a finger in plenty of pies. Property, supermarkets, magazine publishing. He was only forty and he was unmarried. And he was even better-looking than Marcus.
‘He’s a friend of mine.’
He would be, Alexandra thought ruefully.
‘So?’
‘He’s leaving Weldon’s. They sent him a bill that was way over the top just because of who he is. He wasn’t impressed. They backed down immediately, once he queried it, and they couldn’t have been nicer but they picked the wrong man to try and screw. That’s why Arthur’s a multi-millionaire. He doesn’t let people take advantage.’
‘The bloody idiots,’ Alexandra snorted. ‘They get so greedy and start ripping people off. There are some people you can rip off, Marcus, and some you can’t. The secret is knowing who to do it to. They should have kept him so sweet. They’ll never get a client as big as that again.’
‘Malachy’s got wind of it. He’s sniffing around.’
‘Oh, he would. He’s got a nose like a bloodhound. He looks a bit like a bloodhound too, actually, with those hanging jowls,’ Alexandra said viciously. She would never forgive Malachy for being so spineless. ‘I bet Stingy-Arse-Evans is wetting himself with excitement at the thoughts of nabbing Big-Cheese-Reynolds.’
‘That’s what I like about you, Alexandra,’ Marcus laughed. ‘You have such a unique way of putting things.’
‘Why are you telling me all of this, Marcus?’ Alexandra asked tetchily.
‘I’m telling you because he’s considering taking on a PR to work exclusively for him as another option.’
Alexandra sat bolt upright in the armchair she’d been lounging in.
‘He’s looking for a PR?’
‘As I say, it’s one of the options he’s considering. Are you interested?’
‘Don’t ask daft questions, Marcus!’
‘Right. I’ll get on to his secretary and get her to call you right away to arrange a meeting. He’s impressed with what you’ve done for me. I told him you’d left Stuart and Stuart’s because of professional differences. I implied that they wouldn’t give you a decent budget. That will cover the reasons for your leaving.’
‘You didn’t have to do any of this. So why did you?’ Alexandra was curious.
‘No, I didn’t have to do it. But I didn’t mean you to get the sack. Professionally you’re a great PR. There’s just one thing I should warn you about.’ Marcus hesitated.
‘Spit it out, Marcus. Is he in a committed relationship? Is that what you’re trying to say?’ she asked dryly. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson there.’
‘Actually you’re barking up the wrong tree. Despite public appearances, Arthur is . . . er . . . let me put it this way, he’s not really a ladies’ man.’
‘What do you mean?’ Alexandra was mystified.
‘Oh, Alexandra, use your intelligence. All those flashy blondes. Relationships that never last. All those pictures in the society pages. Lives at home alone . . . do I have to spell it out?’
‘Good heavens.’ Alexandra’s eyes widened. ‘But he’s so gorgeous-looking. He’s a fine thing. Are you certain?’
‘Alexandra, you’ll be wasting your time, so don’t even consider it. And keep it strictly to yourself. This is completely off the record. Now will I get his secretary to call you or not?’
‘Why not?’ Alexandra didn’t give a hoot if Arthur liked to dance around his mansion in pink tutus waving an umbrella. His personal life was his own business. As long as he kept it out of the papers. But he was one of the last men in the world she would have thought homosexual. She had no problem with that. To each his own was Alexandra’s motto.
Her eyes sparkled. Just think of the money she’d have to spend. Ron Evans would go into a decline at the thought of it. And imagine snaffling a client of Arthur Reynolds’s calibre from under Ma
lachy’s greedy little snout. How delicious! How absolutely divine!
‘Good luck then. No hard feelings?’ Marcus was as straight as a die.
‘None! Thanks, Marcus.’ Alexandra hung up first. She stood up out of the chair and did a twirl. This was the biggest opportunity that had ever presented itself to her. She had to get the job, she just had to.
She waited by the phone, willing it to ring, and when it did she almost jumped out of her skin.
‘Miss Johnston? Arthur Reynolds’s secretary. Mr Reynolds would like to arrange a business meeting with you before he goes skiing for New Year. How does the twenty-ninth of December suit?’
‘Just a moment.’ Alexandra pretended to check through her diary. Normally she’d make them change the date. No point in letting them think she was too eager. But if Arthur was going skiing, she wanted to be in the ring good and early. Malachy would be like a terrier with a bone if he thought there was a chance of nabbing Arthur Reynolds. Over her dead body. Malachy thought she was on the floor. Ha! She’d show those shits. She’d go from success to success. Leaving that Mickey Mouse cheapskate company would be the best thing that ever happened to her. She gave her diary pages another little flick.
‘That’s fine,’ she cooed.
‘Ten-thirty, then, in Reynolds House, Baggot Street.’ The secretary was brisk and businesslike.
‘Ten-thirty,’ Alexandra agreed and hung up. She’d have to come home early from London. She’d miss the sales but she didn’t care. This was the most important interview of her career. If she got this job the sky was the limit and Malachy MacDonald and Ron Evans could weep into their plum pudding.
‘Oh Mammy, this is the best day of my life,’ Stephanie exclaimed breathlessly as she followed Doug upstairs, reaching out to touch the prickly tip of the huge Christmas tree he was hauling up behind him. The rich pine scent filled the hallway. Stephanie inhaled with pleasure.
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