Oliver could feel a net closing in around him. The time was fast approaching when Laide would realise that Oliver had no influence over Pascal McEvoy and that Pascal McEvoy had very little influence over the passage of the Gambling Bill. It had seemed so simple in the beginning. The fact that Jason Laide was ignorant and ill-informed had made it easier. All Oliver had to do was promise that Pascal McEvoy would support the new Gambling Bill when it came through. Easy. There had been no undue pressure involved. Pascal was a forward-thinking politician. He supported the Bill. He truly believed that a Vegas-style gambling village would attract tourists to Ireland and boost revenue. Pascal felt comfortable discussing the progress of the Bill with Oliver. They were old friends. They could trust each other.
Since Ballyhaven had been chosen as the designated site, Oliver as the Chief Planning Officer for the area had a professional interest too. Besides, Pascal was his friend. A classmate. One of the gang which included Andrew Ford.
Now Jason’s demands were growing with each step forward the Bill took. Oliver’s fabrications had grown in tandem with the increased demands. When the politicians decided on one super casino licence, one designated area, Jason demanded that his name should be the only one given serious consideration. And out of fear, greed, cowardice and desperation, Oliver had guaranteed Jason that Pascal McEvoy would support his application.
To date, given Jason’s unreasonable demands, everything had gone surprisingly well. Oliver had managed somehow to wheedle information from Pascal without arousing his suspicion and to pass on enough to Jason Laide to keep his vicious temper at bay. But Oliver had not reckoned on someone else playing the same game. If his own neck had not been on the line he would have felt some satisfaction.
“Listen, dickhead,” Jason said. “Gary Cox is married to an American. It didn’t take much effort to find out that her old man runs a casino in Vegas. Cox does business with Andrew Ford. Even you should be able to put those pieces together.”
Oliver nodded and held his hands tightly together under the table. He had to. The urge to punch the leering thug across from him was overwhelming.
“So what do you want me to do now, Jason?”
“Find out who the Coxes’ political contact is. It must be someone with clout or else they wouldn’t know about Ballyhaven.”
Oliver nodded agreement, relieved that was all he was being asked to do. The relief was shortlived.
“There’s something else,” Jason said. “Tell Pascal McEvoy I was asking for him.”
Oliver tried to appear calm. Inside he was shaking with fear. He knew Laide well enough to read the threat in that seemingly innocent remark. Jason was implying that he would soon approach Pascal directly. Oliver’s stomach churned at the thought of Pascal McEvoy, or any of his friends, ever knowing that Jason Laide was an acquaintance of his. Ever knowing that Oliver Griffin was a hopeless gambling addict in the grip of a piece of scum. Ever knowing that he had abused his lifelong friendship with Pascal.
Oliver was once the most likely to succeed. Now he was the one with three separate lives: professional, domestic and underworld. All of his lives were nightmarish. Out of his control. Slowly but surely beginning to tangle together. And there was nothing Oliver could do to stop it.
* * *
Ella walked to the door of Ford Auctioneers with her satisfied clients, wishing them well in the house on which they had just put a deposit. Jason and Sharon Laide’s house. The legalities would take a while longer but to all intents and purposes the house was sold. For a very good price and quickly too. Paving Jason’s way to an equally quick purchase of Manor House and maybe the Ballyhaven site. Definitely the Ballyhaven site also if Ella had anything to do with it.
This led Ella to thinking of Cuanowen again. When she got back into the office, she took the printout of the seaside bungalow from Andrew’s desk where he had left it. The views were spectacular. This photo had been taken on a blue-skied sunny day of course. Ella smiled. She would have done the same. Dark clouds and stormy seas were not the stuff of advertising.
On impulse she picked up her phone and rang the auctioneer in Cuanowen. By the time the conversation was finished Ella had arranged with the secretary to view the bungalow on the coming Saturday. She smiled with satisfaction as she entered the date in her diary. Andrew could come along if he wanted. If he didn’t want to he could stay at home sulking or doing whatever it was that occupied his time these days. Or, more likely, whoever.
She looked around her office, for once feeling bored and not interested in her work. Her eyes fell on the bouquet of flowers from Jason Laide. That was something she must do. She must thank Jason for the kind gesture and let him know she did not give a fiddler’s damn that he knew she was lying about how she injured her ankle. Unlike her husband, she had nothing to hide. She drowned the little voice in her head which reasonably suggested that Andrew might not have anything to hide either. Maybe, like her, he had lied just for the sake of it. Like hell!
Looking up Jason’s file, she found his mobile number and dialled.
He answered immediately with a curt “Yes?”.
Knowing from his tone that she had chosen a bad time to ring, Ella spoke as politely as possible.
“Ella Ford here, Jason. I just wanted to thank you for the beautiful bouquet. It was very kind of you.”
“Ah! Ella. You’re welcome. Those pavements are a disgrace, aren’t they? There should be something done about them. How’s your ankle?”
“Much better, thank you. I may not sue the corporation after all,” Ella laughed and was surprised to hear an answering laugh, full of genuine good humour, from Jason.
“I’m just winding up a meeting here but since you’re recovered from your unfortunate accident, how about showing me around that site we were talking about yesterday? Would that be possible?”
Ella looked around her at the stack of paperwork and the four walls closing in around her. The decision was easy.
“Fine, Jason. How about I meet you in Ballyhaven in, say, two hours’ time? Give me a chance to go home and get walking shoes in case there are any more cracked pavements.”
“I’ll meet you by the gate then in two hours. Thanks, Ella.”
He had put the phone down before Ella had a chance to say goodbye or before she could remember when she had given Jason Laide permission to call her Ella. He probably had assumed it after she had begun to call him Jason. Cosy. A little too cosy, Ella thought as she drove home to get her walking shoes.
* * *
Andrew was about to ring Ella to inquire if she wanted to join him for a late lunch when he remembered her defensive attitude, her depression, her plethora of bloody problems. Having just come from a meeting with a newspaper which was going to run a feature on Ford Auctioneers he felt all out of patience and charm. A little peaceful time alone was what he needed.
He parked in his usual spot near his office and then walked back the street to his favourite local pub. When he had collected a cold plate from the carvery, he got a pint of beer and made his way to a corner table. The whole pub was gloriously quiet this time of day. His meal eaten, he got out his newspaper and flicked through it. Then he began again, reading more carefully this time. His attention was caught by an article on page two. It was about the new Gambling Bill which was shortly to come before the Dáil. He remembered Ella saying this morning that Jason Laide had bought the old pub in Ballyhaven and was going to fit it out with gaming machines.
Andrew drained his pint and sat back to read the article. By the time he had finished reading it he was frowning. There was something going on here he should have been aware of. This licence for a super casino seemed to have slipped into the new Gambling Bill without much fanfare. Andrew would have assumed a public outcry against licensing gambling on that scale, rallies and debates against glamorising a pastime which could potentially ruin lives. Maybe everyone was like him. Caught unawares by the speed of this new legislation. Then he shrugged at his niggling thoughts of
impropriety. There were too many checks and balances, too many safeguards built into the legislative system for an inadequately debated Bill to be pushed through without transparency. He must have missed all the lead up to this stage. Probably too involved in Ella’s accident and recovery. Or what passed for recovery. One thing was sure though, he would have to find out all he could now. If anybody was going to build a custom-made gambling village, as reported in the article, Andrew Ford wanted to be the one to sell the site for the development. It was with that thought Andrew began to put the Ballyhaven site, the casino and Cox Brothers together. Jason Laide fitted somewhere into the picture too.
As soon as Andrew got back into his office, he opened his contact page and found Pascal McEvoy’s phone number. It was some time since last they had spoken but that didn’t matter. That’s how the old boys’ network operated.
* * *
Because she had her flat shoes on Ella had been able to enjoy her stroll around the fields. Jason seemed to have been impressed too. He had stopped walking on several occasions and had just stood looking around him, a faraway look in his eyes. It was obvious that he had plans for this site. The little brook at the edge of the glade seemed to have made up his mind.
“Can you imagine if this area was landscaped?” he asked. “Keep some of the old trees, maybe plant some willows by the stream. It would be a beautiful feature.”
Ella nodded agreement at first but then began to worry. If Jason was this enthusiastic about building here, did that mean he was no longer interested in Manor House? He had his back to her now, facing towards the setting sun. The sky was infused with shades of orange and yellow light but it was already getting dark in the woods. She felt a little uncomfortable and for the first time questioned the wisdom of being in this isolated area with a man she barely knew. She patted the pocket of her coat, feeling for her mobile phone. She felt its outline just as Jason twirled around to face her.
“That then would be south,” he said, pointing over her shoulder. “I like all my buildings to be south-facing. Maximise natural light and heat.”
“Of course. But shouldn’t we be getting back? It’s dangerous walking the fields in the dark.”
“Yes,” Jason agreed. “We might trip and hurt our ankles.”
They were both laughing as they made their way back to their cars. When Jason suggested a drink in the pub he would soon officially own, Ella did not hesitate in agreeing. There were questions she needed to ask Mr Jason Laide.
The three customers in the bar looked as if they were part of the décor. Shabby, old and dull, they faded into the background and Ella soon forgot they were there as she and Jason chatted about Sharon and Salzburg, about skiing and the type of holidays they liked, about trivial and surprisingly entertaining things. Jason was in his nice mood. A good time to broach the subject of Manor House.
“I believe your engineer’s report on Manor House is due tomorrow. You’ll be making a decision then, Jason?”
“I’ve already made my decision. Sharon likes Manor House. She wants it. Subject of course to what the engineer says. You never know with these old buildings. They can look beautiful but still be in terrible condition.”
Ella fiddled with a coaster on the table, pushing it around in circles. She must find out what this man’s interest in the fifty-acre site was but she knew instinctively, if not from experience, how volatile his moods could be.
“Spit it out,” he said.
She smiled at him, glad that he had paved the way. “I’m just wondering what your interest in the fifty-acre site is. If you’re going to build there, why would you want Manor House?”
“I intend building there. But not my home.”
“I see. But you’re becoming pretty involved in Ballyhaven, aren’t you? First the pub, now the site. And there are other people showing interest as well.”
His eyes narrowed and immediately his face lost its pleasant expression. His mouth tightened a little and a purplish tinge spread up from his neck. Ella had to suppress a shiver. This man was a Jekyll and Hyde.
“I’m sorry if you think I’m prying, Jason. I was just wondering if you had lost interest in Manor House. That’s all.”
He leaned across the table towards Ella and fixed her with his penetrating icy-blue gaze.
“I know there are others interested in your fifty acres. I want it. As you so rightly guessed, I have plans for it. I’ll give you a thousand more per acre than your highest offer, whatever that is. What do you say?”
As he spoke he reached across and caught her hand. Ella stared at the thick fingers with the ginger hairs and square nails as they closed around her pale, slim hand. A thrill of fear, revulsion and excitement ran through her. There was a warning and a promise in the touch. She could imagine those same chunky fingers crawling gently all over her body or strangling the life out of her.
“I’d have to talk to Andrew,” she said. “The site is in joint ownership.”
“Do you think your husband talks to you about everything? Are you aware of every deal he does, every move he makes? You’re an intelligent woman. You must know he has secrets from you. Private things he would prefer you did not know. Do I have to say any more?”
Ella tried to withdraw her hand but the entrapping fingers tightened. She did not want to think about what Jason had just said. She could ask him. Obviously he knew something about Andrew. He probably knew who Andrew was seeing, which tramp he was screwing. Everybody must know. Tears of humiliation began to fill her eyes. Jason let go her hand and gently touched her cheek. His thick fingers were tender as they trailed from her cheekbones to her chin. The tears spilled over and he wiped them away. Ashamed, Ella opened her bag, got out a tissue and blew her nose. How had the dignified and sophisticated Ella Ford come to this? Sitting here crying in front of a barely civilised man. It was Andrew’s fault. Fuck him! She put the tissue back in her bag and clicked it shut. Closing her eyes for a second she visualised Cuanowen, the strand, the cliffs, the cleanness and freedom of it. The new build bungalow with the under-floor heating. Andrew owed her. She opened her eyes, forced herself to smile at Jason and offered him her hand.
“Deal,” she said. “A grand plus the highest offer we receive per acre.”
“On condition that the contract is signed soon. Very soon.”
Jason took her hand and then, leaning across the little table, kissed her on the cheek. She smelled his expensive aftershave and felt the sweat on his bristled cheeks. Grabbing her coat, she stood and left the pub as quickly as she possibly could. Too quickly to see Jason nod to the three customers who had witnessed the deal being made.
* * *
Ella drove speedily away from Ballyhaven, anxious to leave the memory of the thick, ginger-haired fingers and the sweaty cheeks behind her. The smell of Jason Laide’s aftershave was still in her nostrils as she pulled up at Ford Auctioneers. The front office was in darkness. Glancing at her watch, she realised it was after closing time. All the staff would be gone home. As she reached the front door she saw that the lights were on in the back of the building. Andrew must be doing some overtime. Probably biding his time until he went to meet his mistress, his bit on the side.
Ella’s anger grew as she stormed through the empty reception area. All residual traces of guilt about making the deal with Jason Laide dispersed in the heat of her anger. She looked forward now to seeing Andrew’s face when she told him. See how he could explain to his precious Cox brothers that they were pipped at the post where the Ballyhaven site was concerned. She threw the door of the office open. Andrew was sitting at his desk. He looked up, startled, as Ella stood motionless in the doorway, her eyes staring, her mouth hanging open in shock, her face ghastly pale.
Ella could not move. She felt as if her limbs had turned to stone, as if her heart had turned to ice. Karen Trevor was sitting at the desk opposite Andrew, her face turned towards Ella, the blood trickling down her forehead, her mouth open in a scream of terror, her hands reaching out, pleadin
g for help. Karen stood and began to move towards her in slow, determined steps, the hands, the staring eyes getting nearer and nearer. Ella tried to move but her feet were cemented to the ground. She tried to breathe, to call out but her lungs were paralysed. Karen was nearer now and she could feel the deathly cold of her. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that if Karen reached her, if she touched her with her ghostly hands, then she too would be condemned to eternal terror. Forever screaming silently and begging for help. Karen made a sudden move forward. The image began to waver in front of Ella, the room began to darken. She knew she was going to faint but she did not want to fight it. Unable to breathe, unable to move, she welcomed the darkness which engulfed her.
Maxine caught Ella just as she was about to hit the floor. She was too late to prevent her hitting her head against the doorjamb.
“Jesus!” Andrew shouted as he dashed across the office to where his wife had fallen. He cradled her in his arms and examined the cut on her forehead. It was deep and already blood was streaming down her face.
“Call an ambulance,” he ordered Maxine.
When she had made the call Maxine came back to the door where Andrew was still holding Ella in his arms.
“I’m very sorry, Andrew,” she said. “This is my fault. She must know about us.”
Andrew looked up at Maxine. “Of course it’s not your fault, Max. Ella has problems since the accident. Who knows what goes on in her mind? There’s no way she could know about us. Anyway, you were here on business, weren’t you?”
Maxine nodded. True, she had come here to officially express her interest in buying Manor House. To make a bid. But whatever Andrew wanted to believe, Ella must know that they were having an affair. What else could have caused this intense and extreme reaction? Maxine felt a huge wave of sadness engulf her then. The only meaningful relationship she had ever had in her life was nothing more than an affair. How could the feelings she and Andrew shared be described by that one tawdry word with all its implications of furtiveness and sleaze?
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