When Lola approached the staff officer, Irene said that the interview panel had felt Lola was still a little young and inexperienced.
‘I’m nearly twenty-three!’ cried Lola. ‘I’ve been working here for ages.’
‘Most of the newly promoted executive officers have been in the service considerably longer than you,’ said Irene. ‘I hear you’re upset that Kenny Redmond was promoted ahead of you. But he’s one of the very experienced people, Lola. He’s nearly thirty. It’s only fair he gets his promotion now.’
Lola stood up and walked away.
She was afraid of what she might say.
Philip was hugely sympathetic. He put his arms around her and hugged her and told her that the Civil Service didn’t know a good thing when it was right in front of their noses, and that she was the brightest, smartest person he knew. He said they didn’t deserve her. That she could do better than them. That she was far too lovely to waste her time with people who didn’t know any better. She relaxed into his hold and allowed him to comfort her, and thought to herself that perhaps everyone was right. That all her talk of a career was just nonsense, and that the best thing in her life was Philip Warren and she’d be lucky to have a future with him.
If he ever asked her to share it.
She was still upset about the promotion when she arrived at the Warrens’ house the following evening. Philip had offered to pick her up from the flat, but she’d told him she’d rather make her own way. She was regretting that decision as she walked up the steps to the impressive detached house, because she was suddenly gripped by a wave of anxiety at the thought of meeting his parents. It would have been nice to have him standing beside her, telling her again that she was lovely and clever and the most wonderful girl in the world.
‘So,’ Adele Warren said as she opened the door and ushered her inside, ‘you’re the young lady who’s charmed my son. I’m interested to find out everything there is to know about you.’
Adele’s words immediately intimidated Lola, as did the older woman’s immaculate style. She was wearing a maroon suit, cream blouse and high-heeled shoes, as well as the entire Snowdrop collection. The set looked magnificent on her, the diamonds sparkling fiercely against her still youthful skin. Her spun-gold hair was pulled back into a neat chignon and secured by a jewelled comb. Lola wondered if the diamonds in that were real too.
Lola herself wore her interview dress, which was the most demure item of clothing she possessed. She wished she had kick-ass stones like Adele’s to give her confidence an added boost. And then she thought dismally that she’d have been brimming with confidence if she’d got the promotion.
She stayed silent as she followed Adele into the living room. Philip and his father were standing either side of the enormous marble fireplace, and after Lola had been introduced to Richard, Philip waved her to a floral-patterned sofa, where he sat beside her. Lola crossed her legs at the ankles as the nuns in her convent school had taught her to do. When Richard asked her what she’d like to drink, she asked for a sparkling water, even though she was thinking that her preferred choice of Bacardi and Coke might have steadied her nerves better. She told herself that it was ridiculous to be overawed by Philip’s parents, but she couldn’t help feeling as though she was back in front of the interview panel again.
‘I believe you’ve worn them already.’ Adele raised an eyebrow as she looked at the girl sitting opposite her.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The Snowdrops,’ said Adele. ‘You were staring at them.’
‘I . . . um, yes.’
‘And you liked them?’
‘Who wouldn’t?’ said Lola. ‘They’re beautiful.’
Adele’s expression softened a little. ‘Of course they are,’ she said. ‘All fine jewellery should be beautiful. Every Warren’s piece certainly is.’
‘I plan to buy myself some once I’m successful,’ Lola told her. ‘As a reward.’
‘I see.’ Adele looked at her intently. ‘And what form will this success take?’
‘Getting promoted, of course,’ Lola replied. ‘I want to get to the top grade in the Civil Service. I want to be a principal officer. Or maybe even the secretary of a department. The secretary isn’t someone who takes phone calls and types,’ she added hastily. ‘It’s the person in charge. Usually a man. They’ve had the better opportunities in the past. But hopefully not in the future.’
‘Unfortunately Lola missed out on promotion yesterday,’ said Philip. ‘But if she stays with them, she’ll definitely get it soon. I’m not sure about secretary of a department, though,’ he added with a grin as he turned to her. ‘That might be shooting for the moon a little.’
‘Indeed,’ said Adele. ‘Where are you from originally, Lola? Who are your people?’
Lola cleared her throat, but her mouth was suddenly dry and she took a large gulp of her water, which made her cough. It was Philip who stepped in with the answer, telling them about the farm at Cloghdrom.
‘A dairy farm?’ Adele was completely out of her depth.
‘Yes. It’s not a big herd, but they’re great producers,’ said Lola. ‘They’re a Jersey cross-breed.’
Adele blinked.
‘Cross-breeds are generally more profitable,’ added Lola.
‘Is your farm profitable?’ asked Richard. ‘I always thought farms only survived because of handouts.’
‘We don’t get handouts,’ said Lola. ‘We get some government grants; nearly every farmer does. But my dad works very hard.’
‘Ah. Grants. So that’s what they’re called these days.’ Adele shrugged and brought the discussion on farming to an abrupt close by telling them that dinner was ready.
The dining room was at the back of the house, with large French doors leading to a long garden. In the centre, an oval rosewood table set with a full complement of cutlery and napkins gleamed beneath the lights. Lola wondered if this was the way dinner was served at the Warrens’ every day. Then she told herself she was being stupid. The extravagance was for her. Philip’s mother wanted to make an impression. Not that she needed to try. Lola was more than impressed already.
But as she took her seat at the table, it suddenly struck her that Adele wasn’t trying to impress her at all. She was simply showing her how different Philip’s life was to hers. How far apart they were. How much better it was to be a Warren than a Fitzpatrick.
Not good enough twice in a week, thought Lola. I’m not half as smart as I thought I was after all.
When Lola saw that Adele had decided to serve snails as a starter, she knew that a gauntlet had been thrown down. She glanced across the table at Philip, but he was buttering a roll and didn’t see the expression on her face.
‘I’m sorry.’ She studied the small bowl of stuffed shells Adele had placed in front of her. ‘I can’t eat these.’
‘I thought they’d be a treat for you,’ said Adele.
‘Snails? A treat?’ Lola was flabbergasted.
‘They are, you know,’ said Adele. ‘You grew up on a farm, Lola. You should be able to eat anything.’
‘Snails aren’t high on the list of farm produce,’ Lola said. ‘I’ve no problem with a sirloin steak or a pork chop. Or chicken or lamb. But we don’t do snails.’
‘Have you tried them before?’ asked Adele.
Lola shook her head.
‘In that case you’re saying no based on emotion, not logic. Taste one. If you don’t like it, you needn’t finish it.’
Lola took a deep breath. She’d been challenged and she hated passing on a challenge. But she had a sinking feeling that the snails would defeat her.
‘If you’d prefer, I can do you a mixed salad,’ Adele said.
‘But snails are actually quite nice,’ said Philip. ‘Mum cooks them in garlic butter. And they’re easy to get out of their shells. Look. I’ll show you.’ He picked up the tongs beside his plate, gripped a shell with it and speared the meat with the fork provided.
‘Why didn’t you me
ntion the garlic before?’ Lola smiled brightly. ‘I love garlic.’ Copying Philip, she gripped a shell, fished out the snail, closed her eyes and popped it into her mouth. She swallowed it whole.
‘Well?’ Both Philip and Adele spoke at the same time.
Honesty or not? wondered Lola. And does it matter?
‘Very . . . garlicky.’ She speared a second snail and swallowed that too. When she’d finished the bowl in front of her, she used some of the crusty bread to mop up the garlic butter.
‘Well done.’ It was Richard who nodded approvingly when she’d finished. ‘You should never refuse food without tasting it. Who knows what culinary delights you might miss.’
If that’s a culinary delight, I’m a principal officer, thought Lola as she buttered another slice of bread and vowed that she’d never eat another snail in her life.
Although she no longer felt in the slightest bit hungry, Lola finished the salmon fillet that Adele had cooked for the main course without comment. Philip’s mother had chosen cheese rather than a sweet dessert, and Lola took a small triangle of Brie, steadfastly ignoring the Cashel Blue and some of the other, smellier pieces. As they ate, Adele peppered her with questions about the farm.
‘So your brother will take over from your father?’ she said.
‘Of course,’ said Lola. ‘Like my dad took over from my grandfather.’
‘The same as Warren’s,’ said Philip. ‘My grandfather, my father and then me.’
‘It’s not exactly the same,’ said Adele. ‘One’s a farm, the other a family heritage.’
‘The farm is our family’s heritage,’ Lola told her.
‘Although we’ve built up the business from nothing,’ said Adele, ‘whereas you’ve always had the land.’
‘But it’s a family concern,’ conceded Richard. ‘And in that way we’re a little bit alike.’
Lola smiled gratefully at him. It was clear that Richard was happy to take a back seat to his wife, but also that he helped to soften her harder edges.
‘The big difference is that we don’t get government handouts,’ Adele observed. ‘Which is what they are even if you prefer to call them grants.’
‘They’re necessary!’ Although Lola’s interest in farm management was limited, she certainly wasn’t going to have her family rubbished by the Warrens. ‘You’d be eating nothing but snails if it wasn’t for farmers. And farming is a seven-day-a-week job.’
‘So is running a business like Warren’s,’ said Philip. ‘And you’ve got to remember that we’re dealing in really expensive gemstones.’
‘Some of our cows cost as much as your stones,’ retorted Lola.
All three Warrens laughed at this.
‘I hardly think you can compare Clover the cow with the Adele Rose.’ Adele wiped her eyes with the corner of her napkin as she spoke. ‘Do you have any idea how much pink diamonds cost?’
Lola shook her head.
‘A lot more than a cow, I promise.’ Philip was still laughing.
He wasn’t on her side, thought Lola in surprise. He thought he was better than her too.
Richard began to lecture her about fancy diamonds, which apparently was the term for coloured gems, and when he mentioned how much some of them were worth, she was astonished. When all was said and done, they were still simply bits of stone, she thought. Or, as she’d now learned, carbon.
‘I don’t know if I’d like a coloured diamond,’ she said when Richard had finished. ‘People might think it was something else. And if you’d spent all that money, you’d hate it if someone thought it was only glass.’
‘Nobody would think the Adele Rose was glass,’ his wife assured her.
‘I’ll keep it in mind when I can afford to buy one,’ said Lola.
‘Or when someone buys one for you,’ said Philip.
‘I’m not sure Lola knows people who could afford Warren jewellery,’ Adele said.
Lola’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the older woman. It was clear that Adele wanted to put her in her place, but for the life of her she couldn’t understand why. She didn’t need to be shown that the Warrens were richer and more successful than the Fitzpatricks. She knew that already.
Richard broke the sudden silence, this time talking about the origins of the shop and how hard his own father had worked to build it up. He was a good storyteller, thought Lola, and the history of Warren’s was an interesting one. But the evening hadn’t been particularly enjoyable and she was eager to leave.
Eventually, after finishing her coffee, she told them she had to go.
‘It was very nice meeting you,’ she lied to Adele.
‘You too,’ lied Adele in return.
‘It was a delicious meal.’
‘I told you you’d like the snails.’
‘Oh, I didn’t really.’ Lola was tired of being nice. ‘But the garlic butter was good.’
‘Perhaps it was unfair of me to offer them to you,’ conceded Adele. ‘You clearly would have been more comfortable with something like chicken.’
‘We raise our own chickens at home,’ said Lola. ‘We wring their necks too. I learned to do it at a very young age. Well, goodbye, Mrs Warren.’
‘Goodbye,’ said Adele.
As she walked out of the door, with Philip beside her, Lola could hear the sound of Richard’s laughter following them to the street.
She went to Cloghdrom the following weekend, without Philip.
Her mother, knowing that Lola hadn’t got the promotion she wanted, wrapped her arms around her, hugged her close and told her not to worry, that it would happen one day. Lola allowed herself to be comforted, even though she was getting tired of people talking about ‘one day’ when she’d wanted one day to be now. But it was good to be among people who loved her and only cared for her best interests, even if she didn’t always agree with them. And it was nice to know that the food wouldn’t be a challenge.
Over dinner, she told them about her evening with the Warrens.
‘Snails!’ Gretta shuddered. ‘How did you even swallow them?’
‘With great difficulty,’ admitted Lola.
‘You must really love him to put even one of them in your mouth,’ her sister said.
‘He’s lucky I’m still going out with him after that evening,’ said Lola. ‘Although he’d probably say I’m the lucky one.’
‘Bring him here,’ said Eilis. ‘I’ll show him what proper food is. And it’s time we met him in any case.’
‘Just because he brought me to meet his parents doesn’t mean I have to bring him to meet you,’ said Lola.
‘If you’ve got to the meeting-the-mammy stage . . .’ Gretta winked at her while her parents exchanged glances.
‘Oh, please!’
‘Is there a reason you won’t bring him?’ asked Eilis. ‘Are we not good enough?’
‘Of course you are.’ Lola’s voice was fierce. ‘You’re worth a million of those stuck-up Warrens. You wouldn’t dream of making him feel uncomfortable like Adele Warren did to me.’
Eilis frowned. ‘Does she think you’re not good enough?’
‘I don’t think she’d think anyone was good enough,’ said Lola.
‘The cheek of her.’ Eilis’s face was red.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Lola.
‘I’m not having anyone looking down on my family!’ Eilis was still fuming.
‘And I’m not having the old bat look down on me either,’ Lola assured her. ‘I can’t see myself being asked there again anyhow.’
‘But if you and Philip are going steady . . .’ Eilis didn’t finish the sentence.
And Lola didn’t say anything at all.
Chapter 5
Blemish: a scratch or mark on the surface of a stone
Philip and his father went to Basle the following week. Lola was glad about that because it gave her more time to think.
She hadn’t spoken to him much about the dinner afterwards. His comments as he’d brought her home were that she�
��d stood up well to his mother and he was proud of her. She’d remarked that she hadn’t thought it was meant to be a test, and he’d laughed and said that meeting Adele for the first time was always a test of sorts, but that she was a sweetheart when you got to know her. Lola didn’t say that she hadn’t the slightest desire to get to know his mother, or that ‘sweetheart’ was the last word she’d ever apply to her.
‘Are you looking forward to him being back?’ asked Shirley the night before he returned. ‘If Sean didn’t call me for a week, I’d be devastated.’
Sean was Shirley’s new boyfriend. They’d been seeing each other for the past month and Shirley claimed to be head-over-heels about him, although as that was her default setting for new relationships, it didn’t mean much.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Lola. ‘I’ve missed him.’
‘Jeez, Lo-Lo, you don’t sound entirely convinced. I thought you were madly in love with him. Don’t tell me that after a few days apart you’ve changed your mind.’
‘It’s hard not to love him,’ said Lola. ‘He’s handsome, he’s fun, he treats me really well. OK, so he’s a bit arrogant, but why wouldn’t he be, he’s way better than me. It’s just . . . I sometimes wonder if I love him enough.’
‘Enough for what?’ demanded Shirley.
‘Enough for a lifetime,’ replied Lola. ‘Though given that he hasn’t made any commitment, it’s beside the point, isn’t it?’
‘I could learn to love a man like Philip for a lifetime,’ said Shirley.
‘D’you fancy him yourself?’ Lola was startled.
‘Who wouldn’t?’ asked Shirley. ‘And you’re stone mad if he asks you and you say no. He’s a far cry from Gus McCabe, after all.’
Philip called the following day and asked Lola to meet him at the shop. She was happy to hear his voice again, and as soon as she’d finished work, she rushed into the ladies’ to get ready.
‘Hot date?’ asked Irene as she pushed open the door and saw Lola applying carmine-red lipstick.
‘Meeting my boyfriend,’ said Lola.
‘You young ones have a great life.’ Irene ran a brush through her wiry hair. ‘There was none of this gallivanting off with fellas when I was your age.’
What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author Page 4
