For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy

by Clodagh Murphy

  Lesley reminded herself to Google whether excessive eye-rolling could be damaging.

  Miriam gasped suddenly, eyes wide, as if she’d just had a wonderful idea. ‘We should get Tom to put you in the proposal!’ she said to Al with a wide smile.

  ‘Oh, that’s really not necessary—’

  ‘No, I’m sure he’ll find a little part for you. Consider it done!’

  ‘Er ... thanks.’ Al smiled weakly.

  ‘No bother,’ she said, smiling kindly at him. ‘I’m sure YouTube will be nothing to you, Al, with your theatrical background. You’ll probably put us all to shame.’

  Much as she was enjoying this, Lesley felt she had to step in and rescue Al. ‘Mam, there’s no reason for Al to be in the proposal.’

  ‘Of course he should be in it! He’s practically one of the family now.’ She winked at Al, and Lesley cringed.

  ‘Mam!’

  ‘Maybe Tom will return the favour when it’s your turn.’

  Lesley blushed. ‘We’ll probably never see him again once Katrina dumps him after this La La Land fiasco,’ she said sulkily.

  ‘Lesley, don’t start that again. You’ve already ruined one of your poor sister’s romances. Is that not enough for you? She’d be married to Derek by now if it wasn’t for you.’

  ‘He was a cheater!’

  ‘Well, she’d have had to change him, of course,’ her mother said begrudgingly, ‘but all relationships take a bit of work.’

  ‘I did her a favour, and you know it,’ Lesley said.

  Miriam ignored her. ‘We’re starting rehearsals next Monday evening, Al. I hope you’re free then?’

  ‘Um … yes. I can arrange to be.’

  ‘Great! And you,’ she said, turning to Lesley, ‘do something with that bird’s nest of yours. You can’t go on YouTube with that hair.’

  ‘This is the only hair I’ve got!’ Lesley said indignantly. ‘If you’re so worried I’ll mess it up, maybe I shouldn’t even be in this stupid proposal video.’

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ her mother said, pointing a finger at her. ‘You’ll propose to your sister if it’s the last thing you do. Now, more cake anyone? Al, would you like a “scon”?’

  ‘Well, you were a big hit,’ Lesley said when they were outside in Lesley’s car. ‘Even Dad liked you.’ That’s a great fella you’ve got there, Lesley, her father had whispered in her ear as they were leaving. Lesley was a bit stunned. He’d never taken to one of her boyfriends like that before.

  ‘So what did you do to break up your sister’s last relationship?’ Al asked.

  ‘I found out her boyfriend was cheating on her.’

  ‘Oh.’ He grimaced. ‘That’s tough. How did you find out?’

  ‘I carried out surveillance on him – followed him around, staked out his house, that sort of thing. That’s where I earned my stripes as a PI.’

  ‘She had her suspicions about him, then?’

  ‘No, I did it off my own bat. I wasn’t particularly expecting anything. But then I caught him red-handed.’ She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Well, not exactly red-handed.’

  ‘She had a lucky escape, then, thanks to you.’

  ‘She wasn’t as grateful as you might expect.’ Katrina had acted almost as if the cheating was Lesley’s fault – as though not knowing about it meant it wasn’t real. ‘Sorry you were bamboozled into being in the proposal. But it’s your own fault, really. You were the one who insisted I change my Facebook status.’

  ‘What exactly is it going to involve?’

  ‘We’re doing this big musical number – about twenty of their friends and family horsing around lip-synching, basically carrying on like we’re all in love with Katrina and want to marry her.’

  ‘That sounds quite ...’

  ‘Shite! I know. Imagine what’s supposed to be one of the most romantic moments of your life starting off with dad-dancing! Not to mention the pressure for poor Tom, popping the question with everyone they know standing there expectantly.’ She did jazz hands, accompanied by a manic showbiz grin.

  ‘Maybe Katrina will like it.’

  Lesley shook her head. ‘She won’t. She’ll hate it – which is a shame, because Tom’s lovely. But Mam won’t let me tell him, so I have to stand by and watch him crash and burn. Worse, in fact – I have to dance around the fire doing harmonies and pouring on petrol.’

  ‘Well, maybe it won’t be so bad.’

  ‘You’re kidding! It’ll be hideous.’

  ‘I know. I was just trying to be nice.’

  16

  ‘Where are we off to, then?’ Lesley asked on Monday afternoon when Al picked her up. He had rung the previous evening and said there was somewhere he wanted to take her.

  ‘Going to see a man about a dog,’ he said as he pulled away from her house.

  ‘Just FYI, I don’t like surprises. As my boyfriend, you should know that.’

  He glanced at her. ‘Okay, we’re going to the Players Theatre.’

  ‘Is that your idea of a date? Going to a matinee in the middle of the afternoon like a pair of fecking pensioners? I know you’re paying me, but I won’t be putting that on Facebook.’

  ‘Hey, calm down,’ Al laughed. ‘It’s not a date. Jane suggested I talk to Conor, remember? He’s the director of the theatre.’

  ‘Wait, is this the same Conor who barged into Dinner Dates that night? Helen O’Neill’s husband?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. He’s an old family friend.’

  ‘How does Jane think he could help?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. But he has a rep in our family as a sort of all-round Mr Fix-It.’

  ‘Well, he sounds like a very unsavoury character, if you ask me – “fixing” things for his friends while he hides behind a mild-mannered theatre director facade.’

  Al laughed. ‘He’s not shady. He won’t “off” Stella, if that’s what you’re worried about. Jane just thought he might have some ideas. He is a good problem-solver.’

  Conor’s office was on the top floor of an old Georgian building adjacent to the theatre itself. It was a large high-ceilinged room, with an ornate ceiling rose and decorative coving. Across a wide expanse of thick moss-coloured carpet, Conor sat behind an imposing mahogany desk. He was writing in a thick leather-bound diary as they entered, and looked up at them briefly.

  ‘Al,’ he said, nodding hello.

  ‘This is Lesley,’ Al said.

  Conor put down his pen. ‘Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.’ He waved them to a couple of squashy armchairs in front of his desk.

  Al and Lesley sat, and watched Conor in silence as he picked up his pen and resumed his writing, his movements unhurried and careful.

  ‘Right,’ he said finally, closing the book. He looked up and flashed them a business-like smile. ‘What can I do for you two?’ He clasped his hands on his desk and leaned towards them, giving them his full attention.

  ‘Well,’ Al began, ‘it’s about Peter. I suppose you’ve heard that he’s engaged?’

  ‘Yes,’ Conor said. ‘Bloody idiot! Rafe’s in quite a tizzy about it, isn’t he?’

  ‘None of us are exactly thrilled.’

  ‘No. Understandably. How does Jane feel about it?’

  ‘She’s not happy,’ Al said. ‘Naturally she’s worried about Peter.’

  ‘Naturally. I never understood what those two were thinking, getting divorced.’

  ‘Anyway, she suggested I talk to you. She thought you might be able to help. I’m not sure what exactly she expected you to do, but I said I’d come and see you, so – here I am.’ Al smiled awkwardly.

  Conor peered at Al over the top of his glasses and said nothing. Then he opened the big diary and began flicking through pages. ‘We have the theatre festival coming up in October ... Have they set a date for the wedding yet?’

  ‘They’re thinking of September.’

  ‘So soon.’ Conor sucked air in through his teeth like a plumber about to give a
n exorbitant estimate, and flipped back through the diary.

  ‘Right. We’re doing some of Beckett’s shorter plays in September,’ he said, tapping a page as he spoke. ‘I could put Jane and Peter into Endgame. Lorcan’s directing. Rehearsals would be in August.’ He looked up. ‘How does that sound?’ he asked, his eyes flicking between them both questioningly.

  Lesley thought it sounded like a nightmare, but she said nothing. She had no idea what it had to do with stopping Peter marrying Stella anyway. Even if Peter was busy with the play in September, they could easily shift the date of their wedding. It would only delay it by a month or two at best.

  Conor was still looking at them with a satisfied expression, as if he had just presented them with the perfect solution. He clearly wasn’t the mastermind Al’s family took him for. Lesley turned to Al and was glad to see he looked as confused as she felt.

  ‘Um ... that sounds very interesting,’ he said hesitantly. ‘The whole Beckett thing, I mean. I’m sure it’ll be great. But you know Jane doesn’t act anymore.’

  ‘She will if I ask her,’ Conor said calmly.

  ‘And Peter’s been ill. He’s not really fit to go back to work yet.’

  ‘It’s a short show, just an hour and a quarter, and there’ll only be six performances. It’ll be a nice way for Peter to ease himself back into work.’

  ‘But what about the dustbins? Wouldn’t that be a bit of a strain for him?’

  ‘Your grandfather was crippled with arthritis when he did it. Peter’s a trooper. He’ll be fine.’

  ‘What’s this about dustbins?’ Lesley asked, frowning.

  Al turned to her. ‘In Endgame, this old couple, Nagg and Nell, are in dustbins for the whole play. You can only see the tops of their heads sticking out.’

  ‘Oh!’ She looked at Conor. ‘That sounds like elderly abuse to me.’

  ‘That’s certainly one interpretation,’ Conor said complacently. ‘You’ve never seen it? You must come.’

  Lesley didn’t think that’d be happening. ‘Thanks, but I hate the theatre.’

  Conor guffawed, as if she’d just told the best joke.

  ‘She’s serious,’ Al said. ‘She really does.’

  Conor’s laughter stopped abruptly and he scowled deeply, looking at Lesley as if she was some kind of alien monster.

  ‘Anyway,’ Lesley said, ‘I don’t see what shoving Jane and Peter into dustbins on a stage has to do with Peter marrying Stella.’

  ‘Explain it to her, Al,’ Conor said.

  ‘Um ...’ Al looked blank. ‘I’m afraid I don’t get it either,’ he admitted.

  Conor sighed wearily and leaned on the desk. ‘Peter and Jane are actors,’ he began, as if explaining something very simple to a couple of particularly stupid children.

  ‘Jane isn’t anymore,’ Lesley interrupted.

  ‘They met in a rehearsal room,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘They’ve spent half their lives on stage together. The theatre is their world, their family. Get them back in a show together and they’ll soon come to their senses and remember who they are. They’ll forget all this nonsense about splitting up and marrying other people.’

  ‘Oh! Do you think that will work?’ Lesley asked.

  ‘Of course it’ll work.’

  His confidence was compelling. ‘You know, you could be right.’

  ‘I am,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m always right. Ask Al.’

  ‘He is,’ Al said.

  ‘Now, if there’s nothing else—’

  ‘No, thank you for your time,’ Al said.

  ‘Hang on!’ Lesley said quickly, holding up a finger to Al. ‘There is one more thing you could help me with,’ she said to Conor.

  ‘Oh?’ Al turned to her, eyebrows raised.

  ‘I’m going to ask him about Katrina,’ she said to him in a loud whisper.

  ‘Your sister?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m going to ask him what we should do about the whole proposal fiasco.’ It was like being in the presence of some sort of oracle. She had to grab the opportunity while she had his attention.

  ‘Who are you going to ask, the cat’s mother?’ Conor said.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ Lesley said, turning to him. ‘That was rude. I’d like to have another question, please.’

  ‘Go ahead. What’s this about your sister?’

  ‘Well, she has this boyfriend, you see, and he’s lovely, only he’s also a bit of an eejit. He’s going to propose to her, and he’s making a real song and dance about it – literally.’ She explained the whole proposal-by-flash-mob plan, resisting the urge to preface her speech with ‘Oh, great and powerful Oz’.

  ‘So, what do you think we should do?’ she asked when she’d finished.

  ‘Well, my advice would be to keep the choreography simple, stay away from jazz hands, and depending on your budget—’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Lesley waved a hand to stop him. ‘I’m not looking for advice about the routine. That’s all sorted.’

  ‘Really? What song are you doing?’

  Lesley hesitated. She really didn’t want to say it out loud. ‘“All of Me”,’ she admitted, cringing.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Conor gave her a weary look.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And her father’s going to be involved?’

  ‘Look, I know! Not to mention me, her sister. It’s horrible, and it’s going to be a disaster. Katrina will hate it, and she’ll hate Tom for doing it to her. But Mam won’t let me warn him because she’s desperate to be on YouTube—’

  ‘So you want to find a way to call it off?’ Conor interrupted.

  ‘Yes. Please!’

  Conor regarded her in silence for a moment, twiddling his thumbs as he thought. The silence went on so long, Lesley thought he was stumped.

  ‘Pre-emptive strike,’ he said then, decisively.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your sister does want to marry this person, yes?’

  ‘Yes, she does. We all want her to marry him.’

  ‘Then suggest to her that she propose to him – and get her to do it before this song-and-dance debacle is planned to go off.’

  Lesley blinked. ‘Pre-emptive strike!’ she said wonderingly. It was genius. Why hadn’t she thought of it? Probably because it was genius and she wasn’t. ‘It’s brilliant! Thank you so much,’ she said as she stood. She was tempted to go around the desk and throw her arms around Conor, but she got the feeling he wasn’t the huggy type.

  ‘If that doesn’t work, at least get this Tom to change the song you’re doing. I’d suggest “Marry You” by Bruno Mars. At least that’s more upbeat, and less creepy for her father to sing to her. Still odd as fuck in the circumstances, but what wouldn’t be?’

  ‘Thanks. Really, I’m so grateful.’

  ‘Happy to help. Well, goodbye,’ he said, waving them off. ‘And good luck!’

  ‘Your family are right about him,’ she murmured to Al as they went to the door. ‘He’s brilliant, isn’t he?’

  Lesley was so buoyed up by her meeting with Conor, that she didn’t even mind going to rehearsal that night. Confident that it would all come to nothing in the end, she felt quite cheerful as she horsed through several rounds of ‘All of Me’ with family and friends in the playing field of a local school where one of Katrina’s friends was headmistress.

  ‘Well, I’m glad to see you’ve changed your tune, Missy,’ her mother said to her, eyeing Lesley’s smiling face with narrow-eyed suspicion.

  ‘I even brushed my hair, see?’

  The routine was unbearably corny, couples waltzing around, gazing into each other’s eyes as they mouthed to the lyrics of the song blaring from Tom’s car stereo.

  ‘You’re a very good singer,’ Lesley said to Al as he crooned along in her ear. He had a lovely deep, rich voice.

  ‘Thank you. I was in the choir at school.’

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’

  ‘You’re a lovely dancer, Al,’ her mother said, as she and Lesley
’s dad glided past. It turned out Al could properly waltz, and he even made Lesley feel quite graceful as he whirled them around the playing field.

  ‘Thank you, Miriam. I took ballroom classes for a while when I was younger.’

  ‘Is there anything you’re not good at?’ Lesley asked grumpily.

  Al just smiled at her, unperturbed. ‘Have you thought about how you’re going to persuade Katrina to propose?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but I’d better do it soon. We don’t have much time.’

  ‘Maybe you should try and get Tom to change the song anyway, just in case.’

  ‘I suppose I should. Though it’ll still be a disaster.’

  ‘But at least the ick factor wouldn’t be quite as high.’

  Lesley gasped. ‘The ick factor! That’s it! You’re a genius, Al.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s how I’ll get Katrina to propose – Miranda Hobbs.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know – Sex and the City. Miranda!’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t say I’m familiar.’

  ‘Well, all you need to know is that she was the best one, and Katrina idolises her.’

  ‘Bringing in the big guns, then?’

  ‘Believe me, pal,’ she said, patting his shoulder, ‘once I set Miranda on her, this shitshow is toast.’

  Lesley didn’t waste any time in putting her plan into action. She wanted to plant the seed in Katrina’s mind before she left for France – light the fuse and flee the country, as it were. So on Friday evening, she suggested they get a pizza and have a Sex and the City marathon, picking three episodes each to rewatch.

  ‘Not counting “A Woman’s Right to Shoes”,’ she added, because it was a given they’d both pick that. She let Katrina go first, just in case, but she was confident she didn’t have to worry about her choosing ‘The Ick Factor’ – the episode where Miranda proposes to her boyfriend Steve. Sure enough, it was her first choice.

  ‘God, this show was so good,’ Lesley said when they were deep into ‘A Woman’s Right to Shoes’. ‘I hate when people rubbish it and say it’s all about the consumerism. Especially this episode. It so misses the point.’