“Sam! What are you doing here?” she asked.
“About to have my head bitten off, I gather, by the look on your face.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I’ve been pestered by drunks all night and I can’t stand it a minute longer. I’m just waiting for my taxi.”
“And where’s Sir Galahad – your fiancé, I mean? Is he not protecting you?”
“Oh no, it’s not David’s kind of thing.” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head at the idea. “I come here with the girls every Friday but now they’ve met two guys and I feel like a right gooseberry.”
“Poor Ellie,” he said, trying to suppress a smile. She looked so forlorn and fed-up.
“What about you? I wouldn’t have thought this was your scene either.”
“It’s not. I was dragged here by some friends.” He made a face. “Wish I could leave now too, to be honest with you.”
She could see every girl who passed eyeing him and trying to catch his attention. Just then Chloe and Keisha came into the hallway, on their way to the ladies’.
“Hey, Ellie, we’ve been looking for you!” Chloe cried, looking Sam up and down.
“Fine, well, I’ll see you Monday, Sam,” Ellie said.
“See you!” Sam said, giving a little wave to all three girls and grinning broadly. He knew Ellie would be in for the third degree from the inquisitive looks on her friends’ faces.
“Yummy . . . wouldn’t charge him a penny,” Chloe drawled as Sam started to walk away, winking as he looked over his shoulder at them.
“Hey, who’s the gorgeous hunk?” Keisha wanted to know.
“Naughty, naughty!” Chloe wagged her finger at Ellie.
“Don’t be silly. That’s Sam, the wine lecturer. I just bumped into him.”
“Well, aren’t you the dark horse!” Keisha cried. “You never told us he was so sexy.”
“If you had, I would even have joined the wine course,”Chloe said, pouting.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Listen, I’m leaving now,” Ellie told them as she spotted a taxi pulling up.
How unfortunate that they’d spotted Sam. Now they’d tease her unmercifully about him.
15
Things were so strained at home that Ronan was glad to have the excuse of going to work on Saturday to get away from Louise. He was looking forward to starting work for Sam but also a little apprehensive that he wouldn’t be able to cope.
He was amazed at the size of the shop inside. “I didn’t realise the shop was so big!” he remarked. “It looks quite small from the outside.”
“Yes, it’s deceptive. I extended it back, last spring, but it’s still not large enough for all the wines I want to stock,” Sam explained as he showed him around.
“Oh, gosh, I hope I’ll be able for this.”
“Of course you will,” Sam assured him. “Look, it’s all quite simple. Come!”
He walked Ronan around, showing him where everything was stocked. Ronan observed that it was divided in sections by country and then subdivided by grape variety.
“It’s well organised,” he said, admiring the clearly marked layout.
“That’s thanks to Dermot here,” Sam said, as a young man appeared beside him, a big smile on his face.
“Nice to meet you,” Dermot said to Ronan, giving him a strong handshake. “I’m really glad you’re here. Don’t worry about a thing. You’ll quickly get the hang of it.”
He was charming and Ronan warmed to him immediately. By now his fears had calmed somewhat. What have I got to lose, he asked himself. If he didn’t like it he could always quit, but he was determined to give it a damn good try. Sam showed him where everything was and how to work the register and card machine. He stressed to him the importance of watching out for underage drinkers. Under no circumstances could alcohol be served to anyone under eighteen or Sam could lose his licence. Ronan was to look for ID if he was in any doubt whatsoever.
“It’s not always easy to tell, especially with young girls who are all dolled up, so we have to be ever-vigilant,” he stressed.
“Gosh, there’s more to this than I thought,” Ronan said, trying to remember everything he’d been told. This was different to anything he’d ever done before.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam assured him. “Dermot will be here all day and on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, initially. Just ask himif you need any help. You’ll be fine.”
Ronan hoped he was right.
Sam left and Ronan walked around, trying to familiarise himself with where everything was until the first customer, a little old lady, walked through the door.
“Hello, sonny. You’re new here. Where’s Fiona?”
“I’m afraid the doctor’s ordered her to rest for a few weeks so I’m helping out till she’s back.”
“That’s a shame. What’s your name, dearie?”
“Ronan.” He smiled at the little woman.
“That’s nice. It must be hard for poor Fiona, pregnant and with no husband to help her. I don’t know what the world’s coming to – all these young ones having babies with no man on the scene!” She shook her head sadly.
This was news to Ronan. Sam had said that Fiona lived in the apartment above the shop but he hadn’t realised that she was a single mother. He’d assumed there was a partner involved somewhere.
“It must be very hard for her alright,” he replied. “And what can I get you, Mrs . . . ?”
“Delaney. The usual, sonny. A baby Power.”
Ronan got the whiskey for her, checked the price and wrapped it in a paper bag. Mrs Delaney had exactly the right change ready so it was all quite straightforward.
“Well, Ronan, you tell Fiona I was asking for her when you see her,” she said, before putting the whiskey in her bag. “Bye, dearie. It’s been nice meeting you.”
With a little wave, she left.
“My first customer! Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Ronan grinned atDermot who was hovering around. He was grinning broadly too and Ronan gave him the thumbs-up sign.
“You’ll be fine,” observed Dermot. “We have a lot of regular customers like Mrs Delaney who know exactly what they want. Daytime business is generally quiet. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work Friday or Saturday nights. Then all hell can break loose.”
Ronan settled in quickly and the day flew by. He couldn’t wait now to learn more about this fascinating subject of wine and was looking forward to the Monday-night course with great anticipation.
He got to meet Fiona that afternoon. She came into the shop, her pregnancy very obvious, and introduced herself to Ronan. He passed on the message from Mrs Delaney.
“Ah, the old dear,” Fiona smiled. “She doesn’t really approve of my being a single mother. She’s a bit of a nosy parker but she has a kind heart.”
Ronan liked Fiona straight away. She was pretty – although not in the same league as Louise – and had a bright sunny nature. She looked very young, twenty-two or three he guessed, yet here she was about to become a single mother. Sam had said that she was a great worker and obviously thought very highly of her.
“Do you mind if I sit and chat for a while?” she asked. “It’s usually quiet at this time. I get so bored sitting in the flat with my feet up all day.”
“Be my guest,” Ronan replied, bringing out a stool for her from behind the counter. She hoisted herself up on it.
She was very easy company and Ronan found himself warming to her. She seemed to know the few customers who came into the shop very well and it was obvious they were all pleased to see her.
“Well, I enjoyed meeting you,” she said, smiling at Ronan, as climbed down off the stool.
“Me too,” he assured her. “Drop down anytime. I’m here Wednesday and Thursday nights and all day Saturday.”
“Yeah, Sam told me. I hope you enjoy working here. He’s a great boss. The best.”
Ronan didn’t doubt it.
Ellie and David had a huge row that Saturday night. There was no d
oubt he had changed greatly since he’d started this job with Buckley Steadman. For starters, she now saw him only at weekends and then all he could talk about was work, work, work. Whenever she tried to talk about the wedding, he brushed it aside. It was very upsetting. He didn’t seem at all interestedin it.
Then, over a Chinese takeaway in his flat, he dropped a bombshell.
“I think that we should maybe look for a house on the southside,” he remarked casually.
“What?” Ellie gasped, hoping he wasn’t serious. He’d been talking for some time about selling his apartment in Malahide and buying something bigger close by and, now that they’d decided on a winter wedding, it was becoming urgent. Ellie often stayed over with him on a Saturday night but the apartment was awfully tiny and really only suitable for one person.Once they were married they would definitely need something bigger and Ellie wanted to have a house with a garden. Until then Ellie insisted on living with her parents as she’d always done. She and David had looked at some houses in Malahide and Sutton, which would be very handy for Ellie’s work.
“Yes. Frank was saying the other day that it would be a much better investment and, of course, a better address,” David remarked, unaware of the shock he’d just administered to his fiancée.
She looked at him, appalled at the idea. “You can’t be serious?” she cried, barely able to get the words out. He couldn’t be suggesting that they would leave the northside where they’d both lived all their lives and where all their friends and family lived, could he?
“Yes, think about it, Ellie,” he continued, completely oblivious to her distress.
“I work in Ballsbridge now and I would be much closer to the office, not to mention all my colleagues who live southside too. Our social life will be there once we’re married.”
“You are serious,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
David finally realised that something was wrong.
“Come here, pet,” he said pulling her close. “It’s not that far and you could get the DART to work. That wouldn’t be a problem.”
“But I’ve lived in Clontarf all my life. All my friends are here, not to mention Mum and Dad and all your family and friends too. I know no one there. I really would much rather find a house on the northside.”
“We’re only talking about a couple of miles, Ellie,” he said irritably, trying not to lose his temper with her. “We could check out Sandymount or maybe even Ballsbridge . . .”
She cut him off. “We couldn’t afford Ballsbridge or Sandymount. And besideswhat’s wrong with Malahide? You’ve always said you love it there. You love its village atmosphere.”
“Dalkey has a lovely village atmosphere too.”
“You know we can’t afford Dalkey, David. The houses there cost mega bucks and it’s a lot further away than even Ballsbridge.”
He let it drop. He knew better than to insist but he hoped that she would come round eventually.
Then, not realising how upset she was, he foolishly added fuel to the fire.
“Anyway, Frank was saying that we really should have our wedding reception in Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel Killiney. His daughter got married there and they did a super job.”
“What? I’m sure his daughter’s wedding was great but I know where I want to have our wedding and it’s not Killiney Castle, where I’ve never set foot in my life, but Clontarf Castle which is like a home from home to me and my family!”
With that, to his surprise, Ellie burst into tears and stormed out of the room.
Since when is Frank making all the decisions for us? Ellie asked herself as she paced as much as she could in the tiny bedroom. David thinks every word he utters is gospel.
She wiped her tears. David had told her that the wedding plans were in her hands and now all of a sudden he wanted to make the decisions.
There was a knock on the door and David came in.
It took him over an hour to calm her down but he still didn’t commit to anything. He was sure she’d see things his way before long.
16
By Sunday Rachel was exhausted. She’d had a hectic week what with charity lunches and book launches and a political dinner. Carl had even insisted that she accompany him to two funerals that he had to attend. Mind you, they’d turned out to be the most fun. What was it about Irish people and funerals? They were like one big piss-up. She’d thoroughly enjoyed them and Carl had been a bit annoyed at her when she’d got tipsy but while he was busy – networking, as he called it – people were buying her drinks, left right and centre. At one stage she’d had three gin and tonics lined up in front of her.
She wasn’t so stupid as to think these people were interested in her for herself. She knew that they were using her as a way to get to Carl. They saw her only as the other half of an up-and-coming politician. She was slowly coming to the realisation that there were very few genuine people in politics. They were all phonies.
And honestly, the things people expected of their politicians! It was as if Carl was now public property and Rachel was beginning to think that they had no private life anymore. Carl and she were like two ships that pass in the night, these days. She hadn’t expected that it would be quite as demanding as this.
To top it all, here she was spending the afternoon listening to about a hundred screaming children. It was Jacob’s eighth birthday and he’d wanted to hold it in this newest play centre which was the ‘in’ place at the moment. What happened to good old-fashioned birthday parties at home? Nowadays one had to take them to an adventure park or paintballing or something, and each year it was becoming more exotic. Still, it was better to have had it at this venue than to have had them all careening around the house in Howth. She shuddered at the thought.
She’d told Jacob that he could invite ten friends but her son, a chip off the old block, was gregarious and popular like his father and had gone and invited his whole class of twenty-two. What could she do about it? She couldn’t have uninvited them. And it would have broken Jacob’s heart. Said father, of course, was nowhere in sight but was off playing golf in Royal Dublin with some high-powered financiers. Even on the golf course he was networking!
Sighing she popped two Ibuprofen in her mouth. She wished that she could have a drink to calm her down but that was obviously out of the question with all these kids to supervise.
Hassled and exhausted, Rachel got the children home and while Jacob rushed off to play with his new PlayStation game, Becky retired to her bedroom and her dolls to tell them all about the party. Today was Paloma’s day off.
Rachel kicked off her shoes and poured herself a large – make that very large – gin and tonic. As she felt the cool liquid hit her throat, she started to relax. What a day! But it had been worth it to see Jacob’s happy little face as he blew out his candles. He’d hugged her then and had said it was the best birthday party ever. That had made it all worthwhile.
She finished her drink in double-quick time and then, as there was no sign of Carl, she poured herself another. By the time he arrived home she was totally relaxed and even a little tipsy. It was obvious that he’d had a few too after his round of golf. They ordered a take-away and, as Rachel was tucking the kids up in bed, Carl opened a lovely bottle of Rioja to go with it. Afterwards she could barely drag herself up the stairs to bed. It cheered her up to think that tomorrow night she would have her wine course. She fell asleep dreaming of rivers of wine flowing down a mountainside.
17
Zita was in foul humour on Monday morning at work. The old, bad nightmares had returnedand she’d woken up several times last night, bathed in sweat and shivering violently. She’d had to drag herself out of bed in case she fell back into the dream and as a result she was cranky from lack of sleep. There was nothing she could do about it.
To make matters worse, she had gone down to Westmeath on Sunday to visit her aging mother, which was always guaranteed to upset her. Her father had died shortly after she’d got back to Ireland and she’d been persua
ded, against her better judgement, to go to his funeral. She and her mother had come to a sort of truce although there was no love lost between them. She would never forgive her parents for not believing her when she’d told them of the terrible sexual abuse she’d suffered but something inside her drew her back to the only family she had.
She visited hermother about twice a year. She was one of those moan-a-minutemothers who complained constantly and always managed to make you feel it was your fault that she was miserable. No matter that Zita’s aunt told her that her mother had always been a miserable sod, Zita always managed to come away feeling guilty. This last visit was worse than usual and she had been relieved to escape from the depressing and oppressiveatmosphere of the house where she grew up.
Work wasn’t going well either and Zita was more determined than ever to do something about it. Tonight was her wine course and she planned to make a concentrated effort to cultivate Rachel Dunne as a friend.
When Ronan got home from work on Monday evening, Louise was humming to herself and in great form altogether. She was all dressed up, obviously ready to go out. He could hardly believe it. What a turnaround! However, anything was better than seeing her sitting listlessly in front of the telly. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Your dinner’s in the fridge. You just need to reheat it,” she told him as she applied the final touch of lipgloss to her lips.
“You look lovely. Where are you off too?” he asked her.
“Just out for a drink with the girls,” she replied, flashing him a dazzling smile.
“Please don’t drink and drive,” he said. “Take a taxi home.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Is that a new leather suit?” he asked. “I haven’t seen that on you before.”
“No, it’s an old one of Melissa’s but it doesn’t fit her anymore.” She avoided his eyes as she sprayed Chanel Allure on her neck and wrists.
Ronan didn’t believe that for a minute. He’d known Melissa for almost seventeen years and she’d been as chubby then as she was now. No, there was something fishy going on here. He felt the muscles in his stomach contract with fear. Please, Lord, don’t let her have been shopping again! With a feeling of dread he went into the study to check his credit-card account online. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a list of purchases, made . . .let’s see . . . two Sundays ago . . . which totalled €905 and there was also a lodgment made to the account the following Friday of €905. What was going on? He was mystified. He could hardly believe that even Louise could have spent that much money in one afternoon. But as for the lodgment of €905, well, that was a complete mystery.
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