Maeve Binchy - Quentins

It was a very unreal time. She would have been lost without her friends. Deirdre had been there day and night whenever she was needed. Sometimes they said nothing, they just listened to music. Sometimes they played gin rummy. Deirdre helped her to pack up all her things in the flat and move them back to Tara Road. Ella wanted to burn the sheets on the bed. Deirdre said this was no time for dramatic gestures; she would take them to the laundry and then give them to a charity shop.

It was Deirdre who explained to the landlord that Ella would not be in a position to pay any more rent, and could they cut the agreement short? Deirdre often made sure she was there in the evening, about supper time, so that the family would have to give the appearance of normality and sit down and have something to eat.

Sometimes Deirdre asked her, "Do you still love him?"

Always Ella answered, "I don't know."

Deirdre asked would she take him back suppose he did ask her? Ella took the question very seriously. "I think not, and when I look at my father's face, I think surely I'd never be able to look at Don again. But then I keep hoping there's some other explanation for the whole thing, which of course there isn't. So, crazy as it sounds, I must have some feelings for him still."

And Deirdre would nod and consider it too. Deirdre had insisted on only one thing: that she go in to the school and face them immediately. So Ella went to see the school principal.

Til leave whenever you want me to," she said.

"We don't want you to."

"But where's the bit about us giving a good example to the little flock?"

"The little flock would buy and sell us all, Ella, you know it, I know it."

"I can't stay, Mrs. Ennis, not after this scandal."

"What did you do? You were taken in by a man. You won't be the first or the last to have that happen to you, let me tell you. You're a good teacher. Please don't go."

"The parents?"

"The parents will gossip for a couple of weeks and the kids will make jokes, then it will be forgotten."

I don't know if I can face it."

"What's to face? You have to look at people whatever job you do. And presumably you have to earn a living."

"Oh, I do, Mrs. Ennis, I do."

"Then earn it here. Go on just to the end of the school year anyway. See how you feel then."

I might want to get out of teaching entirely, you know, try something different."

"If you do, then do it, but not in mid-year. You owe us this, and you owe it to yourself not to run away, like he did."

"You've been very understanding. Imagine an Irish convent school allowing a scarlet woman to stay on."

"You're not very scarlet, Ella, just a bit pink-eyed at the moment. Get back into those classrooms. The one thing we can all say about teaching is that it's demanding enough to take your mind off other things."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ennis."

"Ella, he won't get away with it totally, you know. Even if he doesn't get a gaol sentence. He'll get some sort of punishment."

Ella shrugged. "Whatever."

"He will. He can't swan around here any more, go to golf clubs, yacht clubs, be recognised in restaurants."

"They've all those things in Spain, too."

"Not the same at all. Anyway, none of my business. Hang in there for the rest of the year, will you, and then we'll talk again."

"You're very kind, very understanding."

"Well, we've all been there, Ella, and just between us, the late Mr. Ennis, as he is often respectfully called, is not late, he's just out of the frame. He had a different view of his future which involved my savings account and a girl young enough to be his daughter, so of course I understand."

For days afterwards, Ella wondered whether she had imagined this conversation. It seemed highly unreal as did everything else these days. It was as if she were watching all these conversations on a stage rather than taking part in them.

First Sandy phoned. She still worked with Nick in Firefly Films.

"I just rang to say that if you were looking for extra work, there's always a bit of night work going here."

"Thanks, Sandy, that's very nice of you. Nick okay with this?"

"Yeah, but you know the way he is. He didn't want to ask you in case you thought he was patronising you or patting you on the head or something."

"I wouldn't think that."

Then are complicated."

"Tell me about it, Sandy."

"What'll I tell Nick?"

"Tell him I'd love it, anything at all." And Brenda Brennan offered her work when Ella had telephoned to thank her for all the kindness. "If you want any weekend work here in Quentins, just ask. I know it's only a few euros when what you need is thousands, but it might be a start."

"Half the city wants to work in Quentins, you can't let me waltz in there ahead of the rest."

"There's a bit of solidarity among women, Ella. You got a punch in the face and now you need a hand up as well. You'll find a lot of people will offer one." "Ella Brady?"

"Yes?" She always sounded jumpy and nervy on the telephone

now. It was a bad habit and she must get out of it.

"This is Ria Lynch from down the road."

"Oh yes, indeed."

There had been a time when this woman, rather than Ella, had been the subject of gossip all over Tara Road. Her husband had left her, and in a very short time Ria had taken up with Colm, who owned the successful suburban restaurant. The place had buzzed for a while, but now they were as settled and staid as any regular married couple. What could she be calling about?

I heard you were badly hit by Don Richardson, and I want to give you some advice. I thought I'd talk to you rather than your parents."

"Yes?" Ella had been a little cold. Unasked-for advice wasn't too welcome these days.

"Don't let your father sell the house to raise money. Change it into four flats; they were flats already - you're halfway there. You'll get a fortune for renting them. Then take your garden shed, make it bigger and live in it for a couple of years."

"Live in the shed?" Ella wondered if the woman was deranged.

"Look, it's enormous. All it needs is a couple of thousand spent on it, put in plumbing, and it can be made into two bedrooms, and a living-room with a kitchenette."

"We don't have a couple of thousand."

"You would have in weeks if you let your beautiful house. I'll take you and show you Colm's old house if you like. It's a gold mine. Everyone wants to live in this road these days, and there's so much money about."

"Why are you telling me this, Ria?" Ella had hardly ever talked properly to this woman before.

"Because we've all been through this - bankruptcy, a fellow not being what he said he was."

Ella wondered if this was true. Had half the country been cheated and duped? One night she dreamed that he had sent her a text message on her mobile phone. Just two words: Sorry Angel, It was such a real dream Ella had to get up in the middle of the night and check her phone. There was nothing there but a message from Nick. I really need your help for a competition . . . Say yes." She phoned him next morning. He brought a sandwich up to the school and they had lunch in her car. His enthusiasm was as boyish as ever. There was going to be a film festival on a theme. Some aspect of Dublin life which would illustrate all the changes there had been in the city over the years.

"What kind of change do you mean? Architecture or something?"

"No, I don't think everyone will go for that," Nick said.

"Well, what then? The growth in Irish self-confidence?"

"Yes, but we can't just make a film saying everyone's becoming more confident. Lord, just look at those confident faces passing by . . . there has to be something that binds them together, some theme."

"And if we found one, what do we do next?"