Maeve Binchy - Quentins

She was silent.

"They may not want to, of course," he said hesitantly.

"Derry, I don't feel very well. I don't think I could go back to Tara Road tonight. Would you mind very much if I stayed here?"

"Not at all. I was going to suggest something along the same lines," he said.

"You were? Good. Then I must ring my parents. Do you mind?"

She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice to her mother. She was going to spend the night in the hotel. There was a lot of work to be done.

"Your mom okay with that?"

"She hasn't been okay with anything I've done for two years, but she didn't make any fuss," Ella said. "That was Ella," Barbara reported. "She said we were not to wait up for her. She's going to stay the night in the hotel. They have a lot of work to do, apparently."

I see," Ella's father said.

"Don't be like that, Tim."

I'm not being like anything. She's a grown-up woman. She's free to do whatever she wants to." But he sounded tight-lipped.

"All I'm saying is that if you'd been talking to her, you'd have felt the same. This isn't anything like the last time. It's not a romance. I have an intuition about it."

I'm sure you're right. Neither of us had much intuition about anything last time round." "Should we order more coffee and maybe some dessert? You know, to keep us going "while we work things out."

"Yes, that sounds fine." Ella sounded vague and distant as if she had forgotten what coffee was. "What things do we have to work out, exactly?"

Derry walked around the room for a bit, trying to find the

words. For the first time since she met him, he seemed unsure. When he was speaking about his Foundation, about Kimberly, about his work, about his hatred for his father, he had been definite. But now he was searching for a way to say what had to be said.

"Like whether you take the bank drafts for your father. Like whether you should hand this machine in."

She watched him objectively. A big, square man in his shirtsleeves. Someone so well-known that even Harriet and her friends had heard of him. Tired now, much more tired than he had been earlier. Those lines etched on his face, as if they would never leave.

"What do you think I should do, Derry?" she asked.

"No. No way. It's your call, Ella. I only skimmed the surface, to identify what you have to do."

"Do I have to do these things now?" She knew she looked piteous, putting off the decision.

"Sooner rather than later, I'd say, since you asked me." His face was worried.

"Why? It's been going on for months. Why can't we wait a little longer?" She looked at him hopefully.

"Because of that guy down in the bar pushing us around, for one thing. Because of your friend with all the brothers-in-law, for another. Because people know you have this and they want to know what's in it, and to get their hands on what they can."

"I'm not ready yet to make up my mind," she said.

"As I said, it's your call."

He went to the phone and ordered the coffee. She sat there and watched the traffic of Dublin swirl around Stephen's Green.

And then they talked about other things. She told him about her driving test and how she must have been the only person in the world to drive into a motorbike three minutes after she set off. The examiner had said it was entirely the biker's fault and that Ella had been cool and responsible throughout.

Derry said he didn't remember how he learned to drive. Possibly when he was about twelve. It could have been a friend of his father's who taught him. He had often driven his father's van home when the man had passed out.

He asked Ella what else had happened in her odd and restless day. She told him about her lunch with Deirdre, and about the planned lunch party to meet him on Sunday, and the news that the marvellous twins from Hell would be there.

He wondered were there any hints about handling them.

"Tell them nothing about yourself," Ella warned him.

"I'm good at that," he admitted.

"You are, too," she said, smiling at him.

Tm sorry. Does that make me some kind of a pain?"

"No, not at all. We're all so blabbermouth here . ,. telling everything. You're a refreshing change, keeping yourself to yourself."

"Ask me anything, Ella, and I'll answer."

"No, of course I won't."

"I want you to. I want to be free and open and say what I mean. I've not been that for a long time."

"Can it be about me and not about you?"

"Anything you like."

"All right, Derry, if this isn't cheating ... What would you do about all this if you were me?" With a sweep of her hand, she pointed to the laptop computer.

He paused, but she didn't rush in. She knew that he was going to answer. Eventually he spoke. "I'm not you, Ella. But I promised you that I'd answer and therefore I will. I would take the bank drafts for your father, but I know you are not going to do that. And I know without your telling me that he wouldn't take them, either."

She blinked with amazement at his understanding.

"And about the rest of it, I would hand it over. That's what I, Derry King, would do, but I don't know what you, Ella Brady, should do. If it were my own land and my fellow citizens, I would have to do that. I would think it was illegal to sit on such information and say nothing. But here it could be different. And I know how much you loved this guy, and don't want people's heavy boots walking around in his business. So this is possibly not an option for you at all. And may never be. Now, Ella, is that upfront and blabbermouth or what?"

She looked at him with such gratitude she could hardly speak. "Thank you, Derry," she said eventually.

"No, it doesn't hurt to be challenged."

"You've been a very good friend to me," Ella said. I'd like to do the same for you."

"Maybe you will," he said.

"You're right about one thing. I'm not going to take those drafts. There were people who were left much worse off by this whole disaster than we were. And you're right too that my father wouldn't want them, either."

He nodded.

"But the truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do about all this mess here in the computer. You're right, it will have to be sooner rather than later. But there's something else, just one thing I have to do first."

He put his head on one side to listen to her.

"Could I talk to you about that tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Whenever, Ella," he said.

"Thanks, Derry."

And they sat there as old friends do when they are tired, when there's nothing that has to be said because everything is understood.

They made plans for their Saturday. Derry was to take a bus tour of Dublin. Ella would go to Quentins and get things moving. They would not meet again until they went to Deirdre's apartment, at noon on Sunday.

"What shall I bring?" he asked.

"Wine," Ella said.

"How much wine?" he wondered.

"Relax. I know this is Ireland, but just one bottle. White or red."

"Thanks for marking my card," he said.

"Thanks for giving me a place to sleep," she said, taking off her shoes.

"Now please. I am a gentleman, in my heart, anyway. Please have the bedroom," he begged.

"Out of the question, Derry. I sleep on this lovely sofa. Put that rug over me, will you? I'll be out of here before you wake." She gave him a big, cheerful smile.

"You're a great girl, Ella, and it's a pleasure to be working with you," he said as he tucked her feet in.

"You're a sort of hero," she mumbled.

"What?" he asked.

But she was asleep. At 9 a.m. Derry woke to the phone. It was Kimberly. "God, you were asleep! I'm just so sorry," she said. I was wakeful, I thought I'd call you."

"No, I have to get up, it's fine," he said.

"All I want to know is, did you survive?" she asked.

"I think so. I haven't seen much of the place yet."