by Maggie Finn
The timeframe had forced simplicity, but even with more time, Sean knew he would have done it the same way. It was essentially a Technicolor advert for the West Coast of Ireland, with gorgeous footage of crashing waves intercut with footage of happy young Irish people – actually Eastern European models Sean had flown in from an agency in London – surfing and drinking hot chocolate and looking tanned and healthy and fun.
‘This is The Coast,’ said the caption, then the screen cut to the same happy youngsters sitting around a beach bonfire with a VW Combi in the background – Sean’s combi as it happened – swathed in dancing fairy lights.
‘This is energy,’ said the slogan. Then a drone camera zoomed out over the golden-tipped waves to show the tops of the wave-barrage turbines – actually shot in France, but looking sleek but unobtrusive, technology in harmony with nature.
‘This,’ announced the final text, ‘is the future.’ Fade to black.
Sean looked across; Kevin Judd was just staring at the blank screen. Then he began to clap, slowly at first, then more quickly.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Simple, to the point, powerful. I love it.’
Sean let a long breath out through his teeth. Sean didn’t think Kevin Judd looked like a man who was impressed. He looked like he was about to get fired, but he’d take ‘I love it’ over ‘it’s terrible’ any day.
‘And Caroline,’ he said, looking across at her, ‘If I wasn’t already convinced WestTec were a class outfit, this did it for me.’
Another pause.
‘So what’s the problem?’ asked Sean.
‘This,’ said Judd, reaching inside his briefcase and pulling out a folded newspaper. ‘This is the problem.’
Sean recognized the masthead: The Kilmara Examiner. Caroline craned her neck to look at the headline and frowned.
‘The Best Cakes In Ireland’?
Sean immediately knew: Molly. Who else would be described as having the best cakes in Ireland? He stepped across, reading over Caroline’s shoulder.
‘The Clover Cove Feast – it’s a village fair?’ said Caroline, clearly mystified.
‘Next weekend. Cakes, sandwiches, and the rumour is, boat rides,’ said Judd and Sean laughed, then immediately suppressed it as Judd glared at him.
‘I’m sorry, I’m not getting this,’ said Caroline, ‘How is this a problem?’
‘It’s a problem, Miss O’Hea, because this could undermine all your excellent work.’
‘I don’t see how…’
But Sean put up a hand, because he did see. Or at least, he could put himself in Kevin Judd’s shoes and hazard a guess. If you had the ultra-competitive mindset of a global oil company, this silly afternoon of cotton candy and bunting might actually seem like a threat. After all, Ross Oil had just paid WestTec a ridiculous amount of Euros to produce expensive cinema ads persuading people that Ross Oil plus Clover Cove equalled The Future. And here was a genuine grass-roots campaign saying that Clover Cove was fun and real and actually, quite a cool place. And if people thought Clover Cove was quite cool as it was, they might just decide spending hundreds of millions to change it was not cool at all.
‘I mean, in the short term, it could be…’ began Sean, but Judd cut him off.
‘The short term is all we have,’ he snapped, then ran a hand through his hair. ‘Look, the timing’s real bad, guys. The factor I hadn’t shared with you is that we have a Ross Oil board meeting next week. Leo, our CEO was planning to present your movie to the board, get them all fired up. When the board gets fired up, it means the board shells out millions in funding. Negative headlines?’ Judd shook his head. ‘They make our share price tumble. And the board doesn’t like that, not one bit.’
‘But this is just a local paper in Ireland,’ said Caroline, ‘Who’s going to see it?’
Judd smiled for the first time.
‘No one,’ he said. ‘Because you’re going to make sure of it.’
‘Us?’ said Sean, ‘Look Kevin, we are a media content agency, we make ads and magazines and posters…’
‘Wait Sean, hear Mr. Judd out,’ said Caroline with a meaningful look. A meaningful look that said, ‘I smell money.’
‘Sean, I hear you’re a wizard at this stuff,’ said Judd. ‘Social media, the world-wide web?’
Sean shrugged modestly. ‘I have some expertise in SEO…’
‘That’s Search Engine Optimisation,’ said Caroline quickly, ‘It means making sure you’re the first thing people see on Google.’
‘Which is exactly what I want,’ said Judd. ‘Take this movie,’ he raised a hand toward the screen, ‘I want everyone to see it, I want it to go viral. When people think of Clover Cove, they’re going to think of this movie. When they search for “Irish Coast”, this is what they’ll see.’
He picked up The Kilmara Examiner and waved it. ‘And I want it to happen before this dumb little county fair.’
Sean looked at the paper and he thought of Molly and her receipts piled up on the counter.
‘Mr Judd, I appreciate your problem, but I can’t…’
‘We’ll do it,’ said Caroline, interrupting. ‘I think what Sean’s saying is that given the time, it’s going to be difficult. But WestTec can do it, don’t worry about that.’
Judd smiled, then bumped a fist against Sean’s arm.
‘Great news,’ he said, ‘I knew I could count on you. Well, I’ll leave you two to bash out the details – I’ll see myself out.’
Sean stood motionless as the American walked out of the office. He felt stunned, as if he’d been hit by an unseen blow. As the office door closed, Sean turned toward his sister.
‘Caroline, we can’t do this,’ he said, his voice lowered. ‘The film is one thing, but actively doing Ross Oil’s dirty work? That’s not right.’
Caroline glanced toward the door.
‘Listen to me Sean,’ she said urgently. ‘We need this.’
‘But it’s wrong, sis. It’s big business using money and influence to crush ordinary people.’
‘Big business is paying our wages. And I don’t want to have to point out an uncomfortable truth, but this business is also paying for mum to be in that hospital.’
That gave Sean pause. WestTec seemed to be doing well, but his mother’s care was expensive and on top of the medical attention, they also had to support their father Aiden.
‘Sean, we need this,’ said Caroline, casting another anxious look toward the office lobby. ‘We either grow or we die. Which is it to be?’
Chapter Fifteen
Molly wasn’t at all happy about this. She had spent the whole of the drive over to the ‘Big Town’ of Kilmara debating with herself over whether she should – or could – actually go through with it. Even Miguel seemed to be against it, stalling twice as they’d climbed the hill to the coast road.
‘Trust me, it’ll be fine,’ said Kate, linking her arm through Molly’s as they walked up the high street. ‘The guy offered to help, remember? And his company’s like, the best media outfit in Ireland.’
‘The guy’ being Sean and the company being WestTec, whose growing reputation was such that Kate had heard of them all the way from Manhattan.
‘It’s a no-brainer, sweetie,’ beamed her friend. ‘We need all the help we can get for your feast and I get to see this gorgeous surfer guy.’
Kate might be enjoying the expedition to Kilmara, but Molly was rigid with anxiety. The last time she had seen Sean, she had criticized his artistic vision for the café and laughed at the work he’d done to improve her brand image. And now she was coming crawling back, begging for his help; he’d probably just tell her to sling her hook.
‘He probably won’t even be there,’ said Molly weakly. ‘He said he was going to London.’
Kate shook her head. ‘Uh-uh,’ she smiled. ‘I called ahead. He’s been held up by some project he’s working on and he’ll be here this afternoon.’
‘Great,’ said Molly. ‘Just great.’
Molly was beginning to wish she’d never had her post-bailiff brainstorm with Kate – and she was certainly regretting sharing Sean’s offer to help with Kate.
‘WestTec?’ Kate had cried, looking at the business card he’d given her that day in the van. ‘They’re like, amazing! We have to go and see him.’
But the embarrassment of going cap-in-hand to Sean wasn’t what was bothering Molly, not really. She was more worried how she would feel seeing him again. After all, he was about to move to another city, another country, in fact. There was no future in their relationship – not that they had a relationship in the first place.
So why do I feel so terrible? She asked herself. Why did she feel like crying every time she thought of Sean flying off to London?
‘This is it,’ said Kate, stopping at a set of tall double doors set with smoked glass, the logo – an entwined ‘W’ and ‘T’ – etched in relief right in the middle. Molly followed Kate up a set of stairs to a reception area with a large modernist desk. The décor was impressive: sleek and modern. The receptionist, however, looked formidable. Kate didn’t seem deterred and walked straight across.
‘Kate O’Riordan and Molly Maguire to see Sean,’ she said confidently.
‘O’Hea,’ added Molly.
‘Yes, Sean O’Hea,’ said Kate with a winning smile. The receptionist wasn’t swayed.
‘Mr. O’Hea?’ said the woman. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘Not an actual appointment, but we’re friends.’
‘Well I’m afraid Mr. O’Hea’s in a meeting at the moment, but if you could leave me your contact details, I’ll be sure to…’
Kate glanced at Molly, then lowered her voice. ‘It’s a personal matter.’
The receptionist was a pro.
‘As I say, I will let Mr. O’Hea know you came by,’ she said more firmly, ‘But right now he’s busy.’
Just then, the door to their left opened and an older man walked out. He had short grey hair, a tweed jacket and a briefcase. He looked at them, smiled politely, then did a double take.
‘Kate?’ he said.
Kate’s head swiveled.
‘Kevin? What on earth…?’
The man laughed, holding his hands wide in a ‘well, what do you know?’ gesture. ‘Well, it’s a small world huh?’
Molly saw Kate’s eyes narrow.
‘And what brings you here, Kevin?’ she asked.
The man smiled slowly – the smile, Molly thought, of a storybook wolf.
‘Just a little business. The guys here have been helping us with a project we’re working on.’
‘A project in Clover Cove, by any chance?’
That smile flashed again.
‘I hear you decided to stay there,’ said Kevin, ‘Must be a beautiful place.’
‘It is… right now. So what’s Leo latest plan?’
Kevin turned to Molly, ignoring Kate’s question and held out his hand.
‘Sorry, so rude. I’m Kevin Judd, Ross Oil. Kate and I used to work together in NYC back in the day.’
Molly shook his hand, completely thrown. This man worked for Ross Oil? And Sean’s company were helping him?
‘Uh, I’m Molly Maguire,’ she stuttered.
Kevin looked at her with interest. ‘The Molly Maguire of Molly’s Café?’
Molly looked at Kate with confusion.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I run the café. How did you…?’
Kevin held up a newspaper. ‘I read all about it in the Examiner. Sounds like this feast’s going to be fun. Pity I can’t make it.’
Molly caught Kate’s expression: it was the look of someone who had just received bad news.
‘Kevin…’ she began, but the man was already pushing through the door, his briefcase swinging. ‘Good to meet you Molly. And Kate? Give me a call – we should do lunch, yes?’
And then he was gone, leaving Molly with a growing sense of disquiet. Ross Oil? Here? She had just a moment to worry about it, then here brain was flooded with anxiety about something else. Because Sean was walking into the lobby.
‘Molly?’ he said, his face lighting up into a smile of what looked like genuine pleasure. ‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said, walking across and taking her hands. ‘But I didn’t know you were coming, is this about the feast…?’ He trailed off.
‘Ross Oil?’ said Molly. ‘You’re working with Ross Oil?’
‘Yes, but you have to understand that…’
‘Understand?’ snapped Molly, suddenly furious. ‘Oh I understand alright. You’ve taken your twenty pieces of silver!’
‘Molly,’ said Kate, putting a hand on her arm, but Molly shook it off.
‘No Kate, this isn’t right! That Ross Oil man had the local paper in his hand, that means he’ – she jabbed a finger toward Sean – ‘he knows exactly what Ross Oil is planning in Clover Cove. Isn’t that right, Sean? Isn’t it?’
‘But they’re not doing the project, Molly,’ said Sean, a pleading note in his voice. ‘We made them a film about it, but Ross can’t do anything when the church is standing in their way.’
Molly glared at him.
‘If that’s true, then why do you look so guilty, Sean? Look me in the eye and tell me you truly believe Ross Oil won’t get their way.’
Sean pressed his lips together, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
‘I knew it,’ said Molly, her voice catching. ‘And you’re helping them? I thought you liked me, Sean.’
‘I did – I do, Molly,’ he said. ‘I really do.’
‘So why?’ Molly was dimly aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks, but could do nothing to stop them. ‘We’re trying here, Sean. All of us, as a village, all of my friends – my real friends – they’re trying their best. But we can’t fight the bulldozers, Sean. And we can’t fight,’ – she swept an arm around the sleek office foyer – ‘We can’t fight all of this.’
Sean took a step toward her. ‘Molly, I’m so sorry. But my mum, my family, they’re all relying on me. Please try to understand.’
Molly backed toward the door.
‘Just go to London,’ she said, her voice hoarse. ‘Just go.’
‘Molly,’ shouted Sean, but Molly was already running down the stairs, out through the doors and down the street.
Chapter Sixteen
Sean had been up all night. Most of it, anyway. He’d nodded off at his desk somewhere in the early hours and was woken by the squawking of seagulls nesting on the office roof. Sean hadn’t even known there were any gulls in the area. The things you discovered when you woke up with your keyboard imprinted on your face.
He got up, stretching and rolling his stiff shoulders and walked to the coffee machine, swilling out the last of the pot. He grimaced. Barely warm. Still, it should give him the perk up he needed to get over the finish line. He looked back at his screen – ‘This is The Coast’ freeze-framed in a screen shot – and felt a stab of sadness. Everything was changing. Everything.
He was finishing this one last job. He was moving to another country. He was leaving everything he knew and loved behind. His family, his surfboard. Molly.
Sean closed his eyes and pictured her face standing in the office lobby. Anger, disappointment, sadness. And she’d been right, hadn’t she? He’d messed the whole thing up. What was it she had said? ‘We’re about a million miles apart?’
Well, soon they really would be. Well, three hundred and ninety-six, as the crow flies; Sean had just looked it up.
The crazy part was he barely knew Molly Maguire, but he’d been so sure when he’d seen her that first morning, so sure. But that was love, wasn’t it? It had a way of blindsiding you. Just like his parents. When they had fallen in love in a ski resort – very daring for Irish teenagers in the 1980s – and married in Kilmara, they won’t have ever imagined they would be ending their marriage trapped inside a ten by twelve bedroom, struggling to recognize each other. But that was the hand they’d been dealt and they made the best of it. Well, Da did an
yway. When Sean saw him holding Mum’s hand, talking softly to her, reminding her of times long past, soothing her, joining the dots of her confusion, he saw love light up the room. They weren’t ballroom dancing as they’d done during their courtship, they weren’t traveling the deserts and mountains as they’d planned for their retirement, but somehow this was stronger because it came hard. Was love that was never tested really love? If everything came easy, was it worth having? Maybe leaving Ireland was exactly what he needed. If he didn’t test himself, would he ever really know what he wanted?
‘Ach, you can always come back,’ he smiled to himself, sitting back down in his creaky office chair and putting his headphones on. It wasn’t prison, it was Chelsea. There were flights from Gatwick to Knock every day. No one was asking him to get a tattoo or anything.
He imagined a big red heart with an arrow through it, the words ‘Sean 4 Molly’ scrolling over the top. Sean chuckled to himself. Maybe not.
‘Something funny?’
Sean actually jumped in the air. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected he may have let out a squeal. Whirling around, clutching his chest to keep his hammering heart inside, he saw Caroline standing there with his headphones in her hand.
‘What the…?’ he managed. ‘Why are you sneaking up on me? What are you doing here?’
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ said Caroline. ‘I come in sometimes. And I could ask you the same thing.’
‘I… wanted to finish.’
‘At this time in the morning?’ she said skeptically.
‘You’re always telling me I’m wasting my time getting up early to surf.’
‘Touché. So which is it? The Ross Oil thing?’
Sean shifted in his chair.
‘All the loose ends, really.’
Caroline craned her neck to see his screen and Sean hastily clicked off.
‘What was that?’ she frowned. ‘Some US tourist site?’
