“May I be of any assistance, Mr Laide?”
“Just tell her my engineer’s report on Manor House will be back tomorrow. I’ll make my final decision then. And do tell her to watch where she’s walking.”
Without waiting for any reply, Jason cut the connection. Just as well Ella was dealing with him. Andrew would probably end up throttling him with his gold chain.
Shrugging off his annoyance, Andrew rang Oliver Griffin again, much to Oliver’s irritation.
“I told you, Fordie. There are no plans for Ballyhaven. Not that I know of anyway. I believe you even checked the five-year plan yourself. What’s your problem? Don’t you trust me?”
Andrew furiously backpedalled, assuring Oliver that he trusted him implicitly. He could not afford to alienate his friend in the Planning Office. Yet when he put down the phone, he was no nearer a decision about the fifty acres. Whether Oliver Griffin knew it or not, there was definitely something in the air for Ballyhaven. The Coxes would not be interested otherwise. The question was, should he and Ella sell now or wait and see what was going to happen there?
He must talk to Ella again. See if she still had her mind set on selling the site in order to buy a seaside cottage in Cuanowen. A little bolthole for her. An escape route. Maybe that was the right idea after all. They both needed an escape from the marriage which was daily becoming colder, more hostile. Or was he just thinking this way because it was what he wanted? Weren’t there more urgent priorities now than an escape route for either of them? Questions, questions, but how was he to get the answers? Ella just shut down, allowed a pall of blankness to drop over her every time he tried to discuss their relationship.
Angrily Andrew kicked his desk. He felt better. Before he got back to work he vowed that they could not carry on any longer the way they were. Ella and Andrew Ford had to make a decision about their future. And they would. When the time was right.
* * *
Ella was very pleased. Her ankle seemed to have healed itself overnight. It was still slightly tender but the swelling had gone down. There would not have to be any embarrassing visit to the Accident and Emergency Department. As she put on her make-up, she wondered why she had lied to Andrew. She had never done that before. But then he had never lied to her before either. They were both bringing their relationship to a new low. Besides, such lying was risky. One chance remark from Jason Laide could reveal how she had really hurt her ankle.
She would have to talk to Jason today about Ballyhaven. She was determined now to sell their site. The more she thought about Cuanowen, the more she wanted to be there. If only she could be on Cuanowen beach this minute, walking along the shoreline, the thunder of waves in her ears, the wind whipping her hair, blowing all her problems out to sea. If only. And why not? Jason Laide would top any offer the Coxes made. It was just a matter of convincing Andrew.
Because she was late going into work, traffic was light. She paused as usual on the steps of Ford Auctioneers and focused her mind on work. Fleeting images of Karen Trevor flittered past and faded. Smile in place, she walked through the front office, saluting, acknowledging greetings.
She allowed her smile to slip when she opened the door to the office she and Andrew shared. Her husband was sitting at his desk, absorbed in paperwork and on her desk was the largest bouquet of flowers she had ever seen. It was a riot of colour and texture, artfully arranged and presented. She looked at Andrew’s bowed head and felt like throwing the flowers at him. How crass! A sop to his conscience. Screw someone else and ease the guilt by buying flowers for your wife.
Andrew did not look up from his work as she picked up the bouquet and read the card. ‘Sorry to hear you tripped on pavement. Hope your ankle gets better soon. Regards. Jason Laide.’
A lucky escape. He could just as easily have said ‘Hope you got over that fall from the gate . . .’ Ella dropped the card back into the arrangement. How did Jason know about her cover story anyway? She could not help but smile. He had an unexpected sense of humour. But the carefully worded card held a warning too. Jason was not a man to underestimate.
“Were you talking to Jason Laide?” she asked Andrew.
He glared at her. Ella felt a very unworthy sense of satisfaction. He must have read the card. He was furious. Jealous. Great!
“Yes, I was. And so were you judging by the size of that bouquet. Just how personal is the service you’re offering him?”
“I’m giving him the time and attention due to a good client. So should you. I hope you were polite to him.”
“I tried to be. It’s not easy. He says his engineer’s report on Manor House will be back tomorrow. He’ll decide then whether he’s going ahead with the purchase.”
“Did you tell him we’re hoping to close the sale on his old house today?”
“No.”
Andrew’s sullen answer told Ella that the conversation with Jason must have been tense. She would have to ring him herself, thank him for the flowers, smooth things over. Pave the way for the sale of the Ballyhaven site. Unless . . .
“Andrew. The site in Ballyhaven. Have you made any commitment to the Coxes?”
“No. They’re away now anyway. Why?”
Ella was tempted to tell him she knew they were away. But that would mean admitting that she had heard Noel Cox’s message to Andrew. That she had pried. That she knew he had lied to her.
“Because Jason Laide is interested in buying the fifty acres too.”
“Jesus! What is going on there? I was onto Oliver Griffin again and he swore blind there were no plans for the area. So why the sudden interest from Cox and Laide?”
“Jason has bought the pub in the village too. You know, that grotty little place with the huge unkempt garden at the back. He has plans to expand it. He said he was going to make a beer garden and put in gaming machines there.”
“Gaming machines? Didn’t I read something about new legislation coming in about gaming and betting? More relaxed laws?”
Ella shrugged. Since the accident her interest in current affairs had not gone beyond the affair she now suspected her husband of having.
Andrew sat back in his chair and tried to figure out the mystery. Either Oliver Griffin was lying or it was a huge coincidence that two separate groups of very astute business people had suddenly decided Ballyhaven had a future in which it was worth investing.
“We could play them off against each other. Push up the price. What do you think?”
“I don’t agree,” Ella said shaking her head. “Jason Laide is too valuable a client to play games with.”
“That’s a stupid point of view! The Coxes have been the backbone of our business. If either of them should have a preference, it would have to be Noel and Gary.”
“Jason said he would top any offer they made.”
“What? Have you discussed it with him without even consulting me? Since when do we work independently of each other?”
How about since you started lying to me, pretending to have a business meeting with people who were not even in the country? It was what she wanted to say but something told her this was not the right time to let Andrew know what she knew. He could too easily talk his way out of it.
“It just came up in conversation with him,” she said as calmly as possible. “So have you given any thought to the idea of buying a holiday home in Cuanowen?”
“I have and I think it would be a nice escape hatch but I don’t see that it would be a good use of money at the moment. If we sold Ballyhaven – if – we could open another branch of Ford Auctioneers. I’d like to open up in the next county. People are beginning to move out there. Now is the time to set up –”
Andrew suddenly stopped talking. What was he thinking of, suggesting he and Ella open another branch of the business they ran together? Less than half an hour ago he was wondering if their marriage could survive.
Ella didn’t seem too impressed by his idea either. “But we work too hard as it is. In fact we do nothing but work. What
quality of life would we have if we added a far-flung office to the one we already run?”
They were both silent as they thought of the dismal quality of their lives at the moment. Each of them clung to their own dreams of escape. Andrew to his growing fascination with Maxine and Ella to her belief that a home by the sea, a safe, clean, Karen Trevor-free environment, was what she needed to begin to live again. To regain her sanity.
Ella picked up a printout and walked over to Andrew’s desk. She handed it to him.
“This bungalow is for sale on the shoreline in Cuanowen. I want to sell our site and buy it.”
Andrew glanced at the page with little interest. “You just want to run away. To hide. You’re not thinking this through.”
Ella smiled at him as she picked up her bouquet of flowers to put them in water. “I’m sick of thinking things through, Andrew. I want this bungalow. You think about it and let me know your decision.”
Then she walked out of the office, the flowers in her arm, leaving her husband wondering just how much more of his wife’s erratic behaviour he could tolerate.
Chapter 14
The taxi dropped Maxine in the city centre. When she got out she stood for a moment, breathing in traffic fumes, listening to the engine sounds and footfalls of the busy main thoroughfare. People rushed past, each intent on their own mission, each focused on their own particular goal. Maxine took a moment to hide in the anonymity of city life. To feel safe.
Glancing at her watch she realised she would be late for her appointment with her accountants if she didn’t hurry. She took off her hat and shook out her hair. As it tumbled around her shoulders she got the slight aroma of cigarette smoke and mustiness. The stench of Mountain View Terrace. The lingering scent of poverty.
Charles Rea was waiting for her, her files on the desk in front of him, a welcoming smile on his broad face. He was the founder of Rea & Co Accountants and dealt personally with only his most prestigious clients. Maxine flashed a smile of satisfaction back at him. It had taken her a long time and a lot of hard work to earn this type of attention in Rea & Co.
She began her rehearsed speech, outlining her plan. Charle’s face got more incredulous with each passing minute. By the time she finished, he looked stunned.
“Why ever would you want to go down this road, Maxine? You risk losing everything you have accumulated.”
“But I could also multiply everything tenfold. Manor House is a big investment, yes. But it’s a good one.”
“It’s too risky. You’d be using all your resources to buy the property. Manor House is old. What kind of condition is it in? I assume you couldn’t open it up as a restaurant without conversions and repairs. You would have to employ staff, spend money on advertising. You would be looking at big borrowings. And it takes time to build up a clientele in the restaurant business. You have no track record in catering. Have you thought this through at all?”
Maxine stared at him, knowing that despite her careful management of her earnings, Charles Rea still thought of her as a dumb blonde. She had been the one who had invested in biotechnology company shares when other people did not even know they existed, the one who had bought artwork from little known artists and had watched her investments appreciate as the artists became household names. She had an instinct for making money but yet this blob in the suit in front of her did not respect or appreciate that. Besides, buying Manor House was far deeper than just an instinct. It was a need. It was her fate. Karma.
“I don’t think you can have been listening to me, Charles. The sale of Manor House includes thirty acres of prime real estate. I intend applying for planning permission and then selling the land off in parcels. Have you any idea how much money I could make on that alone?”
“Have you any idea how long that process would take? What are you going to do for income in the meantime? If you intend keeping on your modelling career, how are you going to get the restaurant up and running? If you retire from modelling, where will the money to service overheads come from? This is not a good plan, Maxine. I must advise you against it.”
“You advised me not to buy Plantok Biotechnology shares. Remember? Two years before they discovered the cure for Alzheimer’s Disease.”
Charles shifted his broad butt uncomfortably on his throne-like seat. He had the grace to blush a little. “Well, yes,” he admitted begrudgingly, “you do have a good nose for a successful investment. And before you mention it, I admit your art buying is inspired. You have a very valuable collection now. But nevertheless, buying Manor House and going into a business you know nothing about would be risking everything you have worked for. Unless you share the risk. Form a partnership with another investor.”
“I work alone, Charles. No partners. I need to know from you how best to manage the resources I have in order to buy Manor House. So . . .?”
Charles nodded slowly, his jowls wobbling as his head bobbed. His scowl was soon replaced by a well-practised neutral expression. “As long as you note my words of caution, Maxine. I don’t want you coming back to me in a year’s time asking me why I didn’t stop you in this foolishness.”
Maxine smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Charles. I take full responsibility. Now would you please get down to work?”
It was an hour before Maxine left the offices of Rea & Co. By then she knew that it would be possible, if very risky, for her to put in a bid on Manor House. She also knew it would be impossible for her not to.
* * *
When Jason reached his cottage in the quiet suburbs, Oliver Griffin’s car was already parked outside. Oliver got out of his car and they walked to the door together. As soon as the front door had closed behind them, Jason turned the full force of his fiery stare on Oliver.
“What in the fuck is wrong? Why do you need to see me so urgently?”
“It’s Andrew Ford,” Oliver said, nervously turning his car keys in his hand.
“What about him?” Jason demanded.
“He’s prying. Asking a lot of questions about Ballyhaven. I can’t keep putting him off much longer.”
Jason stormed into the kitchen, filled the kettle and plugged it in. Oliver followed meekly, standing, not sure what to do next.
“Sit down for fuck’s sake,” Jason said impatiently. “Tell me what’s going on.”
As Jason made tea, Oliver told him of Andrew’s inquiries about Ballyhaven.
“He even came to the office and looked up the five-year plan.”
“Of course he did. He’s an estate agent. He needs to know what the plans are. They all do it. In fact anyone is entitled to look at those plans. For Christ’s sake! Is that what you called me here for?”
Oliver picked up his keys and began to twist them nervously in his fingers again. Suspicious, Jason sat down at the table opposite him and stared as Oliver began to stutter and stumble over his words.
“Well, there’s something else. Umm … you won’t like this. Our man, our politician, Pascal McEvoy, says the Gambling Bill is going before the House next month.”
“So? Isn’t that good?”
“Yes. But I’m afraid there’s a lot of opposition building up. It’s not going to be as easy to get through as he thought.”
Jason began to spoon sugar into his tea as if he had not heard. Oliver cringed. He knew this man’s quiet anger was more cruel and vicious than his exploding temper. He waited while Jason stirred and then drank a big mouthful.
“I can destroy you. And that poxy politician too,” Jason said softly.
Oliver bowed his head. There was no denying the truth of that. There was no denying either that Jason Laide was not the only power working behind the scenes of this Gambling Bill. There should have been months, even years of bumbling debate, argument and counter argument, select committees, house committees, pressure groups, interest groups, mothers of seven, Opus Dei, white papers, green papers. Instead, after decades of archaic gambling and lottery laws, amended to allow the National Lottery take place, this new Bill ful
l of sweeping changes was being rushed through. Of course gambling in general, particularly online betting, was generating increasing amounts of revenue, but the super casino proposed would be in a different league. Mega investment, mega profits.
“What do you know about the Cox brothers?” Jason asked. “The building contractors and developers?”
Oliver looked at him in surprise. What was there to know about the Coxes except that they had turned their once-small building business into a multi-million-euro goldmine through astute investment? And also that they were nice people, Noel and Gary, not like the piece of shit Laide.
“I met them several times on planning issues. They’re working on a warehouse development at the moment. Why?”
“Because a source tells me the Coxes have put in a bid on the Ballyhaven site too. They’re trying to pressure Andrew Ford into selling to them.” Jason frowned as he thought of his source. All the five foot nine of smouldering sexuality that was Maxine Doran. She was too slow on this job. Ballyhaven should belong to Jason Laide by now.
“Do you think they know it’s the designated area for a super casino?” Oliver asked and immediately regretted his question.
Jason’s glare was full of scorn. “You moron! Of course they know. Why else would they want to buy land in the arse-end of the county? What else would make them want to move out of the city? Besides, it was always obvious that little clause couldn’t be kept secret for long.”
“Well, I’m surprised the exact location has leaked out so quickly. It was decided less than two weeks ago. Only a handful of people know.”
“We know, don’t we? Have you any brain in your head? This super-casino licence is a licence to print money. Whoever gets it will have it all. Profits, status, prestige, power. People would sell their souls to get their hands on it. You can’t believe we are the only ones who realise that. Shit, man, I should have let the loan sharks wipe you out a long time ago.”
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