Maeve Binchy - Quentins

"You are of course, Angel Ella, and we'll be together as we were always meant to be."

She could hear something click on the phone behind her. May it be Derry picking up.

"I didn't come out to meet you in Stephen's Green to talk about this, Don," she said.

"Why did you come then, if you don't love me, want to go away with me to have a life together? Why else did you come?"

"To say goodbye and to say sorry, I suppose."

"Sorry? You're not saying sorry for anything, Angel. You haven't given anything to anyone. It's all somewhere waiting for us to collect."

"No. I gave it in."

"Before or after you talked to me?"

"After," she said, looking at the ground.

He smiled almost dreamily. "I knew, I was right about that, that I could tell when you were lying."

"Well, can you tell now? Can you tell that this much is true .. . that as soon as I put the phone down I rang the Fraud Squad and they came round and took the laptop. And we went and got the bag from the safe deposit. And they took that too." She looked at his face. He did believe it now.

"Why did you do this to me?"

"To have the courage to look you in the face and say it's over and you should give yourself up. Say you're sorry. Put your hands up. There has to be something that can be rescued. Do your time, give the boys some dignity in their father. And your wife, too, for that matter."

His face seemed contorted now. "Will you shut up. Do you hear me? Shut up, mouthing these pious wishes. Are you going to come in and visit me in the gaol for twenty-five years and wait until you are an old woman?"

She was very scared of him now, afraid that he would hit her. "I'm only just up the road from you," she shouted over her shoulder, hoping it would reach the phone behind her.

"What are you talking about?" he cried.

I'm saying where I am to stop myself being frightened of you, Don, and the horrible look in your eyes. I'm in Stephen's Green beside the ducks. That's where I am, and I'm not afraid. It's the middle of Dublin City. You're not going to add to all you've done by hurting me."

"Hurt you, Angel? Are you mad? I love you," he cried.

"No, you never loved me. I know that now."

"I came back for you

"You came back for your computer," she said.

His eyes seemed very mad. Had they ever been like this before?

"Go away, Don," she said in a weary voice. "Please, go away."

"Not without you."

"You don't want me any more. I've given away what you thought I had. You should never have come back."

"You are such a stupid, stupid fool, Angel."

"Oh, yes, Don, I was, I know that now."

He was very near her and he looked totally out of control. "You could have had everything, Angel, anything you wanted." "I want you to go. Maybe you might even get away. Escape before they catch you. You've plenty of friends who'll hide you."

"Not so many nowadays, Angel. Not without the computer."

Then she saw people moving towards them. Out of the shadows, behind the trees and bushes of the park. The mother duck had taken the little ducklings away from the scene as if she knew it wasn't the place for them to be. A place where a grown man sobbed like a child to policemen and howled out, "I did it for you, Angel. I did it all for you."

And here Ella Brady trembled and shook in the arms of Derry King, who held her as if he was never going to let her go.

Chapter Sixteen.

The meeting in Quentins that night was cancelled. There had been too much drama. No one could concentrate on a possible film documentary when real life itself had been so full of passion and fear. Over and over, people told each other the events of the evening. Nick and Sandy told Deirdre how they had run out to get a taxi to Stephen's Green when they heard from Derry what was happening. Brenda and Patrick told Tom and Cathy how Blouse had been crossing Stephen's Green on his way back to the restaurant and had seen it all. There was Mr. Richardson crying out and roaring like a child. Barbara Brady told anyone who would listen that she had finally found her courage and her voice possibly when it was too late. But she would remember for ever that she stood up to Don and told him she didn't care what happened to him in the future.

Sasha was told by her uncle Mike Martin that she was to unpack at once and re-establish herself in the Killiney house. Mike Martin himself was going abroad. Mr. Richardson would not be coming back, and the best move was to establish squatter's rights immediately.

Nuala rang Deirdre to say that two of Frank's brothers had been in Stephen's Green also, in case the laptop was being handed over. They had been phoned by Mike Martin as a last-ditch stand. They had been horrified by Don's behaviour, and said that Ella had hired an American lawyer to protect her interests.

Square kind of a fellow called King.

There were photographs in the morning's paper of Don Richardson in custody and some eye-witness accounts of the scene. But there was one picture of Ella captioned "woman being consoled at the scene". Only those who knew her recognised her. Neither the press nor the public made any connection with Love Nest Ella of many months back. Except Harriet, who had met Ella on the plane to New York. She might get a couple of hundred euros if she rang a newspaper and tipped them off. But still, Ella was a nice kid. She deserved a break.

And there were so many other ways of making money. The sharp-eared witnesses who were meant to have heard everything said that Don Richardson had called out over and over: "I did it all for you." This was hard to interpret.

Some of the feature writers said that he may have been calling out to his beloved wife who, it was understood, was still in Spain but expected imminently in Ireland. Some thought to stand at her husband's side. Others thought to answer charges.

Since the long-planned dinner in Quentins was postponed until everyone was calm enough to deal with things, everyone seemed to assume that Ella would go back to the hotel with Derry.

"I don't suppose there's a way you'd like to try the bed tonight?" he said.

"Jesus, no, Derry. I've been through enough today without considering that side of things," she said.

"I didn't mean in bed with me in it, I meant you have the bed with me on the sofa."

"Oh, I see," she said. "Sorry."

And for some reason they found this very funny, and laughed all through the ordering of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.

They played a game of chess as they had often done. They talked not at all about Don Richardson, where he would be tonight and what would happen to him. They didn't talk about Quentins either. In fact, they hardly talked at all.

And by the time Ella lay down on the sofa, which she insisted felt like home to her now, her eyes looked less frightened and her voice sounded much less shaky.

"I don't want to delay you in Dublin, Derry. We really will get down to work tomorrow."

"I'm in no hurry to leave. There's a great deal to be done here," he said as he kissed her lightly on the forehead and spread a rug over her. But America?" she said drowsily.

"Will survive for a bit without me," Derry King said. What could have happened in that week that made everyone change their minds about the documentary? And where did it start first?

Possibly in the kitchen of Quentins.

Blouse Brennan was going through the boxes of fruit. Expertly he was dividing them into the areas where they would be needed: limes and lemons at the bar, fresh berries over at the pastry table so they could be dusted with icing sugar and added at the last moment to desserts.

"I bet you they'll film you doing that, Blouse. You look very graceful," Brenda said admiringly.

Blouse reddened. "They won't have me in their pictures," he said.