Quentins by Maeve Binchy
"No!" Ella cried. "No, he can't have gone away."
"He has, apparently. He was out there setting it all up. He has his wife and children there already, his father-in-law went yesterday through London ..."
"How do they know ...?"
Brenda's voice was just a whisper. "When all the clients went around to the office today to check on their assets, they couldn't get in. The place was locked up. They called the Guards and the Fraud Squad . .. and apparently he was on the eight a.m. plane."
"This is not happening."
I took the liberty of getting you a Cognac."
"Thank you," she said automatically but she didn't reach for it.
"And I could call the school for you if you gave me the number and told me who to call."
"That's kind of you, Mrs Brennan, but I actually don't believe any of this. Don is coming in. He keeps his word."
"It's important how you behave now, for your own sake. You don't want to be running into a rake of journalists and photographers."
"Why would I?"
"This idiotic paper said he had a love nest with you in Spain. Gives your name and where you work."
"Well, see!" Ella was triumphant. "They know what you don't, that he'd never leave without me, never." Her voice was getting high, shrill, and very near hysteria.
Brenda caught her by the wrist. "The news programme on the radio knows what this crowd in the newspaper didn't know. They spoke to neighbours in Killiney about the house being closed up. They spoke to Irish people living in Spain, who were all very tightlipped, as you might imagine."
"He couldn't, he couldn't." Ella shook her head.
Brenda released the girl's wrist. "There's an explanation. He'll get in touch, but the main thing is to get you out of here before someone sneaks a call to a journalist."
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"They wouldn't!"
"They would. Don't go home and don't go to your school."
"Where will I go?" She looked pitiful.
"Go upstairs to our rooms. We live over the shop. Drink that down, write out the name and number for your school, and then go straight over to that green door there near the entrance to the kitchen ..."
"How will you know what to say to the school?"
Til know," Brenda said. She didn't add that it would hardly be necessary to say anything. They would all have read the paper and heard the lunchtime news. They would not be expecting Miss Brady back to classes this afternoon.
Ella was surprised to see the big, handsome brass bed with the frill-edged pillows and rose-pink coverlet. It looked too luxurious, too sensual, for this couple, somehow. She took her shoes off and lay down for a moment to get her head straight. But the sleepless night and the shock worked more than she believed they would. She fell into a deep sleep and dreamed that she and Don were carrying a picnic up a hill, but everything was in a tablecloth and getting jumbled together. In the dream, she kept asking why did they have to do it this way, and Don kept saying, "Trust me, Angel, this is the way," and all the time there was a rattling of broken china.
She woke suddenly to the sound of a cup and saucer being placed beside her by Brenda Brennan. It was almost six o"clock. There was no picnic. She couldn't trust Don Richardson any more. Was there the slightest possibility that he might be back in her flat waiting for her? She began to get out of bed.
Brenda said she was going to have a shower. Perhaps Ella might like to look at the six o"clock news on television. Til be in the bathroom just next door if you need me," Brenda called.
Ella turned on the TV and found the news. She watched without thinking until the story came on. It was worse than she thought. Don had gone. That much was certain. And he had been out in Spain last week setting it all up. There were interviews with people who had lost their life savings. A man with a red face who had given money to Don Rich ardson every month so that he could buy a little retirement home in Spain, because his wife had a bad chest and needed good weather. "We are never going to see Spain now," said the man, twisting his hands to show how upset he was.
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There was a tall, pale woman who looked as if she were too frail to stand and talk to a man with a microphone. "I can't believe it. He was so charming, so persuasive. I believe he will be back to explain everything. They tell me I don't own any apartment in that block. But I must. He showed me pictures of it."
Mike Martin, a man she knew, a friend of Don's and described by the newsreader as a financial expert, came on next. Ella had had a drink with him several times. He knew all about her. Don had said he was a bit of a smart aleck, always in something for what he could get out of it, but not the worst. Mike looked horrified by it all and said that it couldn't have come as a greater shock. Don and Ricky were such a pair of characters, of course, and everyone who flies near the sun gets their wings burned now and then.
But then he went on: It looks as if they must have known for about six months. But I still can't believe it. Don Richardson is such a decent fellow, he'd help anyone, you know, fellows on the street, people he met in bars. He was always generous with advice. Other guys in his line of business would say: "If you want my advice, come into the office and consult me." But never Don. I can't imagine him spending months plotting this runaway life, knowing he's leaving people in the lurch. He cared about people. I know he did."
Ella watched, open-mouthed.
The interviewer asked: "And will he miss people, friends, a lifestyle that he had in Dublin, do you think?"
"Well, of course, when all was said and done he was a family man, he loved his wife and boys, they went everywhere with him."
"Wasn't there a rumour that he had this blonde girlfriend, a teacher, who was photographed with him?"
"No. You better believe one thing," Mike Martin said. I may not know a lot about Don, and I sure as hell didn't know what he's been up to in the last six months in terms of his clients ... but one thing shines out. He never looked at another woman. Come on, now. If you were married to Margery Rice, would you?"
And then they cut to a picture of Margery Rice presenting prizes at a youth charity, very tiny and immaculately groomed, watched by her husband with pride.
Ella put the cup down.
Brenda came back into the room in her slip and put on a fresh black dress and arranged a lace collar in position.
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"He knows about me and Don," she said. "I've met him many times."
"Well, isn't it just as well he kept his mouth shut?" Brenda said.
"No, it's not, it's better people know the truth. Don loves me. He told me so last night."
"Listen to me very carefully, Ella. I have to go down and serve a room full of people who will be talking about nothing else. I will have a polite, inscrutable smile on my face. I will say it's hard to know and difficult to guess and a dozen other meaningless things. But I know one thing. Only you must survive this, you must call your parents, tell them you're all right, decide what to do about your job and then go and find some of your friends, your own friends, not his. He only has business friends."
"You don't like him, do you?"
"No, I don't. My very close friends have lost their savings. Thanks to Mr Charming."
"He'll give them back," Ella cried.
"No, he won't. Fortunately it's not very much. She and her fellow don't have very much, but they were saving hard and Mr Richardson told them how to double their money. They believed him."
"He often said people were greedy," Ella said.
"Not these two, if you knew them. But that's neither here nor there. Survive, Ella, and rejoice that he may have loved you - well, at least enough not to let you or your family lose any of your savings in his schemes."
"No." She stood up. Her legs felt weak.
"What is it, Ella?"
"It's just my father. He's always going on about ideas Don gave him, hints here, a word there ... he wouldn't have been so foolish .. ."
"When were y
"Yesterday, but they said nothing. They were going on about my picture in the paper. If there was anything to say they'd have said it then."
"Nobody knew the extent of the scandal then. People only began to know it this morning."
They looked at each other in alarm.
"Ring them, Ella."
"He couldn't ... he didn't."
"You heard what they said on the television ..."
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Brenda Brennan pointed to the white phone beside the bed.
Ella dialled. Her mother answered. She was in tears. "Where were you, Ella? Your father thought you'd gone to Spain with him. Where are you?"
"Is Dad all right?"
"Of course he's not all right, Ella. I have the doctor here with him. He's ruined."
"Tell me, tell me, what did he lose?"
"Oh, Ella, everything. But it's not what we lost that matters, it's what the firm lost. What his clients lost. He may have to go to gaol."
That was when Ella fainted.
Mrs Brady hadn't hung up. That was something. At least Brenda could keep her there for long enough to get her address. She held Ella's head downwards so that more blood would flow towards the brain.
"I have to get home to them," Ella said over and over.
"You will, don't worry."
"Your restaurant - won't you be needed downstairs?"
"Head down," Brenda insisted.
Then she summoned Patrick's younger brother, Blouse. "You know where Tara Road is?"
"I do. I often deliver vegetables to Colm's restaurant if he's short."
"In about fifteen minutes, when she's up to it, drive her there, will you, Blouse?"
"Where are the car keys?" he asked.
Brenda turned out the contents of Ella's handbag. The keys were all on one ring.
It had a cherub on it.
"Angel," said Ella weakly.
"Yes, we have the keys." Brenda crammed everything back into the handbag, pausing only a fraction of a second to glance at a picture of Don Richardson smiling at the girl who had loved him. Ella's eyes were open and she was watching. Otherwise, Brenda would have torn it into a dozen pieces.
Ella gave Blouse directions to her parents" house. When they arrived, Ella's mother ran to the car. "I suppose you're one of his friends," she said when Blouse helped Ella from the car.
I'm not really anyone's friend, Madam. I'm Brenda's brother in-law. She asked me to drive this lady home."
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"From where, exactly?"
"From Quentins Restaurant," he said proudly.
"Leave him, Mam. He's got nothing to do with anything."
"What do we know what has to do with anything?" Her mother looked as if somebody had given her a beating.
"Where's Dad?"
"In the sitting room. He won't go to bed. He won't take any sedation. He says he has to be alert if the office rings him."
"And have they rung him?"
"Not since lunchtime. Not since we learned that Don has left the country. There's no point in anyone ringing anyone now, Ella. It's all gone. All gone."
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," she said.
"Well, I'll be off now, then," Blouse Brennan said.
"Thank you very much, and will you thank your sister?"
"Sister-in-law," he corrected.
"Yes, well, say I'm very grateful."
"It's nothing," he said.
"How will you get back?" Ella's mother realised that he had left the car keys on the table.
"Which end of Tara Road is shorter to the bus?" he asked cheerfully. He was so unconcerned, he lived in a world where you drove people home in their own cars and took a bus back to a kitchen or scullery or wherever he worked. A world where people weren't greedy and didn't win and lose huge sums of money over business deals. He would never know anyone who lied and lied and lied like Don Richardson had lied. Even to people who loved him. Particularly to people who loved him. But Ella was too tired to care any more. All she wanted was to reassure her father that the world hadn't come to an end. She wanted to look him in the face and tell him that it would be all right. It was just that with every passing second, it seemed so unlikely that this was true.
He looked like an old man, a paper-thin old man whose skeleton was covered with a very fine parchment. When he smiled it was like a death mask. I didn't know, Dad. I didn't have any idea," she said.
"It's not your fault, Ella."
"It is. I introduced him to you. I made you think he was my friend. I thought he loved me, Dad. He told me last night that he loved me. You see, I was sure he did."
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She knelt beside him. Her mother watched from the door with tears on her face.
"Dad, I'm young and I'm strong, and if I have to work day and night to make sure that you and Mother are all right, I will never take a day's holiday until I know I've done all that can be done."
"Child, don't upset yourself." His voice was very hesitant, as if he were having trouble breathing.
"I'm not a child, Dad, and I will be upset, very upset till the day I die that this should happen, because I made such a stupid, stupid error of judgement. But you know, Dad, even at this late stage, there could be an explanation. Perhaps it was all his father-in-law's doing."
"Please, Ella. Everyone trusts people when they love them," her mother said.
Her mother? Instead of bawling her out, she actually seemed to understand.
"No, I couldn't be like ordinary people, normal people like you and Dad, who found someone decent to love. I had to find a criminal, someone who ruins people and steals their livelihood and their savings."
"I don't mind losing the savings, Ella, that was just greed. I wanted to make a profit so that we could buy you a little house."
"A what? But I don't want a little house."
"But we kne w you "weren't ever going to come and live here, so we wanted you to have a small place with character, and what with property being so dear, you'd never get that on a teacher's salary
"Father, what did you lose? Tell me."
"But I don't mind about what we lost. It's the office. He had been so helpful, you know, always seemed to be in the know."
"Yes, he was in the know, all right."
"And those first bits of advice that I gave people went down so well ... I took risks, Ella. I can't blame anyone but myself . .. it's just, it's just ..."
"Just what, Dad?"
"Just that two weeks ago, he said it would be easiest and quickest if I gave him the money direct to invest for a few of my clients. I'd never done it before. You know the laws and rules there are about that .. . but Don made it all sound so normal, somehow. He said he was going out to Spain. He could invest it there and then save
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time, cut a few corners. Why not? That's what he said, and you know I did think . .. why not?"
"I know, Dad. Who are you telling?" She stroked his hand. But her mind was far, far away. It was in Spain. The bastard. He had conned her father out of money which he had spent in that hotel. Don had spent the money that he pretended to be investing for her father's clients in shoring up his love nest for himself, wife and kiddies. While the daughter of the victim lay in the hotel swimming pool, waiting for him. Was there anything in the whole history of faithless love as sick and pathetic?
"Dad, you won't really have to go to gaol?"
I will certainly have to go to court," he said.
"But wasn't Don a legitimate adviser? You know, with a licence and everything ... surely you can't be held responsible?"
"All that would have helped if my clients were his clients, but they weren't. I only took his advice, his tips, his hints, as hearsay."
"Dad, your bosses, they know . . ."
"They know me for what I am, a weak, foolish old man," he said, and then for the very first time she began to cry.
She would recover. She knew that sometime in the future
Everything passes, even scandalous stories like the disappearance of Ricky Rice and Don Richardson, and soon the front pages had other stories to tell. There was an official inquiry announced, of course, and people became much more cautious about investing anything anywhere. There had been much speculation about whether the family was really in Spain or had gone further afield. After all, there were extradition laws in Europe now. People could not hide in one member state from the law they had broken in another. Perhaps they were in Africa or South America.
Ella had been questioned by detectives. Did Mr Richardson say anything about any plans to relocate in Spain when he and Ella had been on holiday there? Ella told them grimly that she knew of no such plans. The pain in her face seemed to convince them. She was as much a victim as many others had been.
Then the interest died down. In the media, if not for those whose hearts had been broken. The man with the red face, who had put all his money in a retirement villa for his wife, didn't forget. Nor did the pale woman who thought she had made a
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wonderful investment and owned an apartment in the south of Spain. The friends of Brenda Brennan, who had saved money for a wedding party, decided to laugh and make the best of it. They were people of middle years. Maybe fate was telling them they would have been foolish to have had a big celebration. Possibly a plate of sandwiches would do them fine.
Tim Brady took early retirement from his firm and spent his days filling out forms and dossiers about how and why he had given advice based on the casual snippets of information he had heard from a man he hardly knew. Barbara Brady offered to take early retirement from her firm of lawyers saying that she didn't want to embarrass them by staying on. Delicately, they managed to convince her that nobody knew who she was and it didn't matter anyway, and possibly theirs was a household that might need a little money coming in.