by Maggie Finn
Ciaran banged his big hand on the table, making tea cups rattle.
‘Rubbish. If the fire was out, where are the shots of the burnt-out windows or the tear-stained survivors? Even snaps of the hard-working firefighters would be something.’
Dom held up a hand.
‘I know, I know, but…’
‘No buts Dom,’ said Ciaran. ‘No excuses. I’m moving the story to page three and we’ll pull a picture of the building from archive for before-and-after. Go down and shoot it with your phone if you have to.’ Without pausing he turned to the woman sitting next to Danny.
‘Niamh, where are we with features?’
‘All ready to roll. Interview with Jessica Murphy, the actress – you know, she’s in that new Dickens adaptation? A piece about the guys rebuilding the Cook Theatre and a thing about how sugar might actually be good for you. Some professor at Trinity College has written a book.’
‘Nice. Good mixture of showbiz, local and public info. Good work.’
She smiled modestly.
‘Danny, tell me about Ross Oil. Anything new?’
Danny had been expecting this. Ross Oil’s failed attempt to build a new power plant in Clover Cove had been the biggest story for the paper for years and Ciaran was keen to squeeze as much value from it as he could.
‘Nothing concrete just yet, boss,’ he said carefully. ‘The press people are stonewalling, won’t admit or deny they’re pulling out of Clover Cove. The feeling I’m getting is that they’re looking for a way around.’
‘What’s the church’s position on it?’
‘Again, very vague. I spoke to an archbishop: they’re broadly in favor of eco-friendly projects and anything that might bring jobs to the area, but the reality is that local bishops have the final say. So if Bishop Ray says “no” to Ross Oil, then that’s the line they’ll take.’
‘But we’re talking millions here, you don’t think the archbishops will overrule for all that cash?’ said Nathan McCarthy. Nathan was young, hungry and Danny’s rival. Danny shrugged.
‘Maybe fifty years ago, but nowadays even the Church of Ireland is worried about bad publicity. They’re unlikely to force it through if it’s going to cause protests – and you know how Bishop Ray loves a picket line.’
‘So do we have an angle?’
‘We could run a story about how the locals have been short-changed, businesses crumbling through lack of investment?’
But Ciaran was already shaking his big head. ‘No, keep pushing Ross Oil Danny, see what you can weasel out of them. Meanwhile, we stick to our current line that we’re outraged about the big foreign corporation steaming in to destroy a local beauty spot. In David versus Goliath, it’s always best for a paper to be on David’s side.’
‘Unless there’s advertising money in it.’ quipped Nathan.
Ciaran glared at him.
‘Are you suggesting I can be bought, Nathan?’
‘No, no, I…’
‘Because I can, especially if someone’s savvy enough to get me a donut before I’ve finished this tea,’ he said, raising his mug. ‘Right, that will do. Let’s go make news.’
Danny was gathering his papers when Ciaran nodded to him. ‘A word, Dan?’
Danny forced a smile. ‘Sure, boss.’
He followed the big man down the corridor into his office, closing the door behind them. Ciaran slid behind his desk and, picking up a folded newspaper, threw it at Danny. Startled, Danny caught it. The New York Globe.
‘Ever read that?’ asked Ciaran.
‘The Globe? Of course. It’s New York’s biggest paper.’
‘Yeah, well I had Patrick Keen, the editor on the phone last night,’ said Ciaran. ‘They’ve been monitoring the Ross Oil story and they want to run part of your piece on the Church blocking the Ross Oil development.’
Danny couldn’t hide his delight.
‘Wow, that’s great.’
His editor shrugged.
‘Well it’s win-win. We get the syndication fees and for them, with the Ross HQ being in Manhattan, it’s local news.’
He pointed a stubby finger at Danny.
‘Thing is, for Pat Keen it’s personal too.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Between you and I, Pat’s wife ran off with some fella high up in the Ross hierarchy and he wants to give them a bloody nose.’
‘Ah. I see. Another reason to keep our anti-Ross stance.’
Ciaran gave a broad smile.
‘You’re too cynical for one so young, Dan, but you’re right. Anyway, Pat’s been following our stories – your stories actually – and he’s been saying some very complimentary things about you.’
Danny hoped he wasn’t blushing.
‘Don’t let this go to your head,’ added Ciaran casually. ‘But Pat’s coming over in a few days.’
‘To talk to me?’
Ciaran chuckled.
‘I doubt that, Dan, wonderful company though you are. No, The New York Globe are part-owners of Kingpress, the corporation which owns this newspaper, and they’re having a conference in Dublin. I’m just giving you the heads-up that Pat might want to speak to you and if so, be on your best behaviour, hmmm?’
Danny gave a sly smile.
‘Aren’t I always?’
‘No. And don’t go getting any ideas about jumping ship either.’
‘No, no ideas, boss.’
But he was. Danny was getting lots of ideas. And one of those involved Ross Oil.
Chapter Five
The little bell jangled as Tessa pushed into Molly’s café. Sunlight was slanting across the scrubbed pine tables with their little glass vases stuffed with heather from the clifftops.
‘Anyone home?’ Tessa called, just as Molly walked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Once again, Tessa was struck by how pretty her friend was. Her long black hair was pinned back in a sloppy bun, there was a smear of something – flour or icing sugar – across her cheek and she looked like she’d been up since five in the morning, but her green eyes still shone and her smile was dazzling. It was astonishing that Molly wasn’t being besieged by suitors 24/7.
But then that seems to be a problem all around, doesn’t it, thought Tessa.
‘Just me this morning,’ said Molly, ‘Had a couple of surfers in just after I opened, but that’s been it. But it’s still early, isn’t it?’
Molly was always positive, another way ‘the Good Lord has blessed her’, her Grandmother would have said. It certainly didn’t seem to concern Molly that the delicious home-baked cakes she kept under a glass cloche on the counter rarely sold more than a third; she and Tessa usually had to finish them off. For which Tessa’s tastebuds were always grateful. Her hips, not so much.
‘I’m sure it’ll perk up,’ smiled Tessa.
Molly glanced at the clock on the wall; a novelty thing with sardines in place of hands. The café was kitsch and frankly, naff, but Molly seemed to make it all work.
‘Tea?’ she asked, pouring a cup from a teapot shaped like a cat: the front paws formed the spout.
‘Sure, why not?’
They were just sitting down at a table in the bay windows when the bell tinkled again.
‘Kate!’ cried Tessa, jumping up to embrace her friend.
Since the American had come to Clover Cove on behalf of Ross Oil, Kate, Tessa and Molly had become something of a unit. All young, all female and all single; until, that was, Kate fell head over heels in love with Connor, the handsome but brooding landlord of Clover Cove’s only pub.
It wasn’t until Kate stepped back that Tessa noticed her scowl.
‘Uh oh, something we said?’
‘Not you,’ said Kate, ‘Him.’
‘Connor?’ Asked Tessa in surprise.
‘Who else?’
Tessa and Molly exchanged alarmed expressions.
‘Oh no, is the honeymoon over?’
‘No. Yes. Maybe. I’ve moved out.’
Molly’s mouth dropped open.
‘Well, perfect timing,’ said Tessa, indicating a chair, ‘We were just about to have tea.’
Kate frowned more deeply. ‘I am an American, remember?’
‘Coffee, then,’ smiled Molly, stepping over to the big silver coffee machine. ‘Just give me a sec.’
Tessa squeezed her new friend’s arm. ‘So what’s happened? About Connor I mean.’
Kate turned towards Molly, her eyes flashing. ‘Is it just him or are all Irish men so maddening?’
‘Oh no, what’s he done?’
‘It’s not what he’s done, it’s what he hasn’t done. Ask him why Three Sisters Corner up towards the coast road is called that and he’ll talk for hours, giving you some story about witches and a white horse and…’
‘…and the brave prince who stole their gold,’ said Tessa and Molly almost in perfect sync. ‘We’ve heard that one too,’ smiled Tessa.
‘So if Irishmen love to tell a story, how come when I have some gossip I want to discuss, he clams up and does his silent, brooding act?’
Tessa touched Kate’s hand.
‘Honey, that’s just men full stop. Trust me, I’ve been all over the world. They’ll spend half an hour on some rambling joke or anecdote, but when you want to talk about something important, they look at you like you’ve suggested they have a tooth out.’
Molly nodded.
‘And Connor, well… he is the strong silent type after all, isn’t he?’
Kate shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’
‘And that’s why you moved out?
She gave a reluctant smile. ‘No, not really.’
‘Uh-oh, now she’s blushing,’ smiled Molly. ‘Is there something we should know?’
‘Let’s just say things are going well. Were going well, until he started being so pig-headed. So that’s why I thought I should move out of the Suites and Spa.’
‘I’m confused,’ said Tessa. ‘It’s going great with Con and that’s why you’re moving?’
‘Just around the corner, into the old guest house.’
Molly’s face turned pale.
‘With Ma Brennan?’
Kate laughed.
‘I can see why you might say that, Mrs. Brennan can be quite fierce, but she’s a sweetheart once you know which buttons to press. Anyway, moving into the guest house was to avoid any more talk.’
‘Talk of a wedding?’ said Molly and Tessa in unison.
Kate shook her head firmly.
‘Talk of a scandal.’
‘I had no idea you were such a temptress, Kate O’Riordan.’
Kate rolled her eyes.
‘Neither did I. And I thought it was complicated dating in Manhattan, but at least there, no one would bat an eye about who lived where. Small villages on the other hand….’
Tessa gave a rueful nod. Another of the reasons both she and Molly were single. In rural Ireland, dating was a minefield of ancient courting rituals made all the more tricky by the fact that everyone already knew each other. Even if you found a man you liked, there was always a strong chance he was the brother or cousin of someone your mother had been to school with and – very possibly – had a blood feud with. Or they went to the wrong church or supported the wrong team or… the list of rules went on and on. It was a wonder the Irish population was still managing to grow.
‘Anyway, forget the shortcomings of men,’ said Molly. ‘What’s the gossip?’
Kate opened a tote bag and dropped a file on the table with a thump.
‘This. Just arrived from New York this morning.’
They all looked at it as if it were some holy relic.
‘What is it?’ asked Molly in a hushed voice. ‘Is it from Ross Oil?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Not from David?’
Kate pursed her lips. ‘No, thankfully.’
David Schwartz was Kate’s ex-boyfriend and ex-boss at Ross Oil, who had dramatically flown into Clover Cove by helicopter bringing an open check book and a giant engagement ring for Kate. But Kate had discovered that David was secretly dating her so-called best friend back in Manhattan and had never had any intention of marrying Kate; he was only using the proposal as a bargaining tool to get the energy plant deal signed.
‘David flew back to the States the day I threw that drink over him.’ She shook her head. ‘It makes you feel so stupid, doesn’t it?’
‘What does?’
‘A few months ago, I was actually thinking David might be ‘the one’, imagining us settling down in a little co-op together. And then it turns out he’s this enormous eejit.’
Tessa laughed. Her new friend was trying to assimilate into the village ways, but with her accent it sounded daft.
‘We’ve all made mistakes,’ said Molly kindly. ‘My old nan used to put it this way: “every single relationship you ever have is completely wrong, until it’s right.” The point is, when it’s right, it’s right and you can stop fretting.’
‘Well, so far so good. With Connor, I mean.’
‘So you’ll forgive him?’
‘There’d better be flowers and major sucking up.’
Tessa couldn’t help feeling relief that Kate’s spat with Connor was just that – a spat. They were so well suited and so evidently in love, that if they couldn’t make it work, there truly was no hope for anyone else. And love was the only thing Tessa really wanted in her own life. Money, career, material wealth, they could all take a back seat as long as she had true love like Kate and Con. But Cupid never seemed to fire arrows in her direction. Or if he did, they seemed to miss by a mile.
‘Okay, so what is this?’ She asked, tapping the file in front of them.
‘A top-secret report from Ross Oil. It’s from my friend Jeremy, he’s in Corporate over at Ross and I asked him to keep his ear to the ground for anything relating to Clover Cove.’
‘Ooh, industrial espionage,’ said Molly with excitement.
‘More like Jeremy’s a bigger gossip than Orla at the post office and he couldn’t wait to give me the full skinny on the situation.’
‘Which is?’
Kate pulled a pained face. ‘Not good. Well, not good if you were hoping they’ve gone away. Jeremy spoke to Leo – he’s the big cheese at Ross Oil, the man at the top and Leo told Jeremy he’s “super-focused” on Clover Cove.’
‘Super-focused?’ repeated Tessa. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’
Kate shook her head.
‘No. That’s the trouble with corporate players like Leo. You can tell him ten reasons why it would be better to move the project up to Sligo or down into the Shannon Estuary; good reasons like he’s going to save a million dollars, but men like Leo – they just don’t like to lose. And Leo’s very capable of playing dirty.’
Molly snorted.
‘Men are such children, aren’t they?’
Kate’s cheeks flushed slightly.
‘Most of them.’
‘So what’s the report about?’ asked Tessa.
‘They’re looking into running the cables up past Battleship Bay.’
Tessa looked at her friend in surprise.
‘Charles Balcon’s land? But I thought that was off the table after the church proved they own the beach and the cliffs?’
Kate shrugged.
‘This is only a report, a feasibility study into how it could be done, the costs and logistics. It doesn’t say anything about the politics of getting it done. But the worry is the date. The report was commissioned after Bishop Ray produced his ancient charter showing the church owns the beach.’
‘So you’re saying it could still happen? Ross Oil could still build their project in Clover Cove?’
Kate nodded.
‘Certainly. All it would take for the church to change their minds.’
Tessa looked at Molly.
‘But Bishop Ray would never do that, would he?’
The dark-haired girl pouted.
‘Depends what Ross Oil is offering I
suppose.’
They sat in silence for a while.
‘So what are we going to do?’ said Molly finally.
‘Do?’
‘Well, we can’t just sit here and wait for your man Leo to bribe enough people to let him plonk his horrid oil tankers in the harbor, can we? If the boys are going to play hardball, we’ve got to play harder.’
Kate nodded and turned to look at Tessa. She noticed that Molly was staring at her too.
‘Me? What can I do?’
‘You know Charles Balcon, right?’
Her heart sank.
‘Oh no, I’m not going back there.’
Charles Balcon had been her last relationship – if you could call it that. She had begun to date the handsome landowner soon after she had moved into the studio on the beach; he was hard to miss, riding his horses across the sand early in the mornings. Seeing one of Tessa’s seascapes in the studio window, he had invited her to Dingle Regatta, driving her down in his red sports car. He’d been charming, attentive, funny and evidently quite keen. They’d been for dinner at the Watch House, the best restaurant in the county and even out to Galway for the theatre, but for Tessa, something had been missing, something just hadn’t clicked. Tessa still couldn’t put her finger on what had gone wrong, but it had petered out and after a terse conversation at the village summer fete, Charles had stopped calling. Nobody’s fault, no big bust-up, just… Cupid had missed again. Tessa looked at Molly for support. ‘You know that didn’t go well, Moll. And Charles and I, we’ve barely spoken in about a year.’
Molly shrugged.
‘But it would be in a good cause, Tess. And no one’s asking you to go on a date, just speak to him.’
‘But what’s he going to tell me?’
‘What wouldn’t he tell you?’ said Kate warmly. ‘Look at you Tessa, you’re gorgeous – what man’s going to say no to you?’
Tessa squirmed. Other people’s assessments of her attractiveness always seemed wildly overblown. People said, ‘Oh, but you’re beautiful, men must be falling over themselves to ask you out.’ Tessa’s own experience had been that they were either too intimidated and ran the other way or felt they had to treat her badly from the outset. But she could see from the looks on her friend’s faces that she wasn’t going to be able to wriggle out of this one.
