City Lives (21 page)

‘Ignorant bastard!’ growled Olivia as she sat in the car beside Caroline. ‘Did you hear him? Did you hear him, Caroline?
Girls!
How dare he say your work is a doddle.
Is he for real?’

‘Yes, unfortunately. We’ll probably get writs in the morning threatening to sue us for slander, libel and defamation of character or whatever it is they sue for.’ Caroline
grimaced.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Caroline, the judge would take one look at him and one look at us and lock him up. In a mental asylum probably,’ she added for good measure.

They guffawed, imagining the scenario.

‘I was proud of you, O’Neill. I bet Tony Macken has never been called a condescending git before,’ Caroline said in approval as she circled the Green.

‘Imagine being married to that! And we thought we had problems. Poor, poor Mrs Macken,’ Olivia said dryly. ‘The old saying is true, there
is
always someone worse off
than you.’

It was one of the most enjoyable nights out she’d had in a long time, Caroline reflected as she parked her car in the garage beside Richard’s, having dropped Olivia home. She yawned.
She was looking forward to getting into bed.

The light was on in the lounge, she saw with surprise, as she let herself into the penthouse. Her heart did a somersault. Maybe Mrs Yates had taken a turn for the worse and Richard was waiting
up to tell her. Perhaps, when she’d been out enjoying herself, her mother-in-law had died.

Caroline took a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst.

‘Richard, is everything all right? You’re up late,’ Caroline said hesitantly as she walked into the room.

‘What’s this?’ he demanded truculently, waving a large brown envelope at her.

‘What do you mean, what’s this?’ Caroline answered irritably. ‘How do I know? I haven’t opened it yet.’ Obviously Mrs Yates hadn’t died. But Richard was
in a foul mood about something. She started getting annoyed. She’d just had a lovely evening. How mean of Richard to go and spoil it.

‘How can you be so selfish, Caroline?’ Richard jumped to his feet, startling her, as he thrust the brown envelope at her. ‘How can you be so self-centred as to consider moving
out at a time like this? How typical of you. It’s all me, me, me. You alcoholics are all the same. Everything centres around you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else is going through.
Your lives and your feelings are more important than anyone else’s. That’s what they teach you in AA, isn’t it? Put yourself first and to hell with everyone else,’ he
ranted.

‘What
is
wrong with you? What’s this all about? Why are you saying these horrible things?’ Caroline was completely bewildered by his onslaught.

‘Don’t put on your little-Miss-Innocent act with me, Caroline. You’re just as sly and devious as anyone else out there. But I never thought you’d be so insensitive and so
ungrateful, after all I’ve done for you. To go behind my back like this.’ He waved the brown envelope aggressively close to her face.

‘What are you talking about, Richard? I don’t know what you’re going on about.’ Caroline snatched the envelope from him. It was already opened. She pulled out a brochure
and saw an apartment complex advertised for sale. She turned the envelope over and saw that it was from Murray & Murray Estate Agents and Auctioneers. It was addressed to her.

Caroline was horrified. ‘You opened my post!’ she raged. ‘That envelope was addressed to me. How
dare
you, Richard! That’s outrageous. You’ve no business
to do such a thing. What possessed you? How could you treat me with such a lack of respect? I can’t believe this.’ Caroline was so angry her voice was shaking.

‘Cut the crap, Caroline. The truth is you’re off sneaking around looking at places. What were you going to do, skulk off some day after I’d gone to work and when I came home
you’d be gone? That’s what you were going to do, wasn’t it?’ Richard said furiously.

‘No it isn’t. You know very well that I wouldn’t do that, Richard. I told you I was going to leave. I’m not going to do anything behind your back. But I’m going.
And I’m going to get a divorce. This marriage is over, Richard. If you could call it a marriage,’ she added bitterly.

‘You were damn glad to marry me when I asked you. You couldn’t get the ring on your finger fast enough,’ Richard retorted nastily.

‘You should never have asked me.’ Caroline rounded on him, equally angry. ‘You used me so that you could carry on your relationship with Charles. It was despicable, Richard.
You ruined my life.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he sneered. ‘You couldn’t wait to escape from the drudgery of looking after your father and your brothers in that crummy little house in
Marino. I gave you a life of luxury—’

‘A life of
luxury
,’ Caroline scoffed. ‘But what else did I have? Nothing. No cherishing, no loving. And no sex. Imagine what that’s been like for me, Richard.
You were all right. You had Charles. I had no-one.’

‘What about that sleazy foreigner you picked up in London?’ Richard said snidely. ‘And I’m sure you weren’t
lonely
in the Emirates. You married me because
it suited you. So accept some responsibility for your actions and don’t lay all the blame on me.’

Caroline felt a surge of pure hatred. It was so typical of Richard to play dirty if he felt he was losing an argument.

‘You beat the living daylights out of me, Richard. Don’t forget that,’ she yelled, wanting to hurt him just as he had hurt her. ‘You’re a wife-batterer. Should I
accept responsibility for that? That was all my fault too, was it?’’

‘Shut up! Shut up about that. You love to rub my nose in it, don’t you. God Almighty I’ll be well rid of you,’ Richard snarled as he marched out of the room and gave the
door a resounding slam.

Caroline’s heart pounded so loudly she thought it was going to burst out of her chest. She felt faint after the unexpected vicious row. It had been brewing ever since Mrs Yates had
suffered her heart attack, nevertheless Caroline was stunned by the ferocity of his anger and resentment. All the old wounds had been ripped open. The bad old days were back with a vengeance.

Caroline knew what was wrong with him. He was feeling out of control. Richard was such a controller. Now his mother had put paid to his future and he was going to be tied to her and to his firm,
and it looked to him as though she, his only support, was walking away from him. She who had always deferred to him, was no longer deferential. He had lost his power over her too.

She had to move on, Caroline told herself yet again. She wasn’t the timid, fearful, pathetic young girl he had married, any more. He couldn’t handle that. Timid and deferential had
suited him down to the ground because he’d never had that before and it made him feel powerful and strong. Sarah Yates had a lot to answer for, Caroline thought viciously. Tears welled up in
her eyes. Why was this happening? Hadn’t she learned enough through misery? When did the lessons come through joy? Serenity? She’d paid her dues and struggled to get her life back on an
even keel. Why, when things had seemed to be going right, should it all go so wrong?

Richard was so angry he wanted to lash out and smash something. With great difficulty he resisted the urge to pick up the Belleek china bowl of potpourri on the hall table and
fling it against the long narrow mirror on the opposite wall. He slammed his bedroom door and threw himself on the bed.

‘Fucking bitch!’ he muttered viciously. ‘Poxy, fucking, ungrateful cow.’

Why did she have to throw it in his face that he’d hit her? Why couldn’t she forget that it was all in the past? He’d felt like hitting her tonight, he raged. If he had stayed
in the room any longer he would have. It would have been so satisfying to shut her mouth with a punch and watch the fear ignite in her eyes. Then she might have a bit more respect for him. Nobody
gave a shit about him or his feelings. Not his mother, not Caroline, no-one. He felt like a nothing.

If Mangan and the rest of the law library lot saw him now, how they would revel in his misery. He wasn’t particularly liked among his peers. He knew that. He was too ambitious. Too
successful. Too envied. He could see behind their façade of hearty handshakes and hail-fellow-well-met crap. Little did they know, he thought sorrowfully. His life was a shambles. A
disaster. And what had he got to look forward to?

Nothing.

‘Devlin, I’ve just had a call from a very irate woman in Galway, complaining that she’s tried three times to book in for a full-body aromatherapy massage and
she hasn’t been able to get an appointment for a month. She claimed it’s because all the manageress’s friends are getting cheapies and there isn’t room for anyone else.
According to her, it’s well known in Galway that if you know Ciara Hanlon, she’ll look after you. She was hopping mad. I’ve told her I’ll get back to her,’ Liz
informed her boss just as Andrew Dawson walked into Devlin’s office.

‘What was that?’ the accountant asked sharply.

Liz looked at Devlin. She nodded and once again Liz relayed the message.

‘I’ll look into it today, Liz,’ Devlin responded calmly but her eyes were on Andrew. He looked troubled.

‘Fine.’ Liz closed the door quietly and went back to her desk.

‘What’s wrong, Andrew?’ Devlin asked.

‘We have a problem, Devlin. It’s very interesting that that call should come today. I’ve just been going through Galway’s figures and comparing them with Dublin and
Belfast for the last quarter. And something’s not right. They’re ordering double the amount of creams, waxes, oils and so on, but their figures don’t tally. And the overheads are
marginally higher than before. Electricity, heating and so on. I think there’s a scam going on.’

‘I don’t believe it! There must be a mistake, Andrew.’ Devlin was shocked. ‘None of the girls would do anything like that.’

‘Something’s going on,’ he reiterated.

‘But who do you think is doing it? Or is there more than one? How? Why? This is
terrible
.’

‘Well, you heard what Liz said. It sounds like Ciara is implicated,’ Andrew said slowly.

‘But she wouldn’t do anything like that. She couldn’t. She’s an excellent manageress. She’s done a great job in Galway,’ Devlin exclaimed, unable to believe
that the friendly, competent, stylish young woman who’d run Galway City Girl since its inception would be involved in dishonest business practice. It was unthinkable. Devlin had spent a lot
of time in meetings and on the phone with Ciara in the past few months, and she’d been full of enthusiasm and plans for the new extension. Very much a company woman.

‘Maybe someone with a grudge made that phone call,’ Devlin suggested agitatedly.

‘Something’s not right with the figures, Devlin, I’ve had a feeling over the last quarter that something was going on but I wanted to make sure. We have to investigate it.
Better to nip it in the bud now,’ Andrew said crisply. ‘Why don’t you ring that woman and see what she has to say?’

‘OK,’ Devlin said slowly. ‘I just can’t believe that any of the staff would rip us off.’

‘Devlin, we’re not living in nirvana, unfortunately. Given the opportunity there’s plenty of people out there ready to rip you off. Honesty in business is rare and you’re
lucky that you haven’t come up against a crooked cookie before now. I’m going to see about putting someone in place to keep an eye on things. You call that woman.’ Andrew hurried
out of her office, anxious to get moving on the problem.

Devlin buzzed Liz on the intercom and asked her for the caller’s number. She dialled with a hint of apprehension. She had a feeling that all was not going to be well.

A clear, well-modulated tone answered. ‘Willowfield House. Hello?’

‘Could I speak to Mrs Charlotte Adams please?’ Devlin asked politely.

‘Speaking,’ came the crisp reply.

‘Hello, Mrs Adams, my name is Devlin Delaney, I own City Girl. I believe you’ve had a problem booking a treatment. Perhaps I could help.’

‘Oh . . . Oh yes, hello. Thank you for calling back,’ the woman responded coolly. ‘Well, I think you should know that there are some difficulties trying to book
treatments.’

‘It’s a very busy centre,’ Devlin pointed out.

‘I realize that. But I’ve heard this discussed at lunches and dinners and indeed at my bridge club and tennis club, and it seems from what I can gather that if one is a friend of the
manageress, there’s no problem booking in. And seemingly some of the ladies have even had treatments on Sundays when the place is closed. How does one get into this clique? There’s
nothing I’d like better than a facial on a Sunday afternoon. I must say I’m not at all impressed, Miss Delaney.’

Devlin’s eyes were out on stalks at her caller’s information. Treatments being carried out on a Sunday! What on earth was going on? She gave no hint of her disquiet, however.

‘I’ll phone them myself and make sure you get an appointment, Mrs Adams. And I’d like you to have another treatment of your choice with our compliments. I’ll inform
reception in Galway,’ Devlin responded courteously.

‘Oh . . . well . . . That’s most kind of you.’ The tone became less snooty. ‘I’m sorry to complain of course, it’s rather irritating to have to do so. I know
that Hanlon girl gives treatments in people’s homes and I’m sure I could have booked her for one of them, but it’s not quite the same as going in and having one in the luxury of
City Girl’s surroundings, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do indeed,’ Devlin said evenly. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve experienced delays. I’ll sort it this morning. If you care to ring reception after lunch
they’ll be able to book you in. Thank you for calling.’

‘Not at all. Thank you for dealing with my complaint.’ Charlotte Adams sounded much happier as she hung up but Devlin was extremely troubled as she put the receiver back. Her finger
pressed another button on the console and Andrew’s voice came down the line.

‘Yes Devlin?’

‘You’d better come in here, Andrew. Things seem to be going from bad to worse,’ she said heavily.

The accountant’s face grew grim a few minutes later as she relayed details of her phone call.