City Woman

by Patricia Scanlan

  She saw red. ‘It will. Believe me, that suits me just fine, mister,’ she retorted.

  ‘I’ll get working on it immediately.’

  ‘Do that!’

  Turning, he strode over to the exit and disappeared through the Arrivals doors. Devlin was left angry and deeply shaken.

  Two

  ‘To hell with you, Luke Reilly!’ fumed Devlin as she revved her engine and roared out of the multi-storey car-park. How dare he talk to her like that! How dare he! ‘Bastard,’ she swore as she drew up to the car-park exit and slid her ticket into the barrier control. As she drove out of the airport and on to the Belfast road she was fuelled by self-righteous anger. Luke Reilly wasn’t the only businessman in the world; there were plenty of others who’d like to be associated with a success like City Girl. Look at Arthur Kelly: he was more than ready to get involved with her proposed Northern venture. If Reilly thought for one second that she was going to go crawling to him to beg him to reconsider, he could just think again.

  She got stuck behind a tractor towing a trailer of hay, and cursed long and loudly using every expletive she could think of. She knew it was childish but she didn’t care; it helped to vent the frustration that enveloped her after her fraught encounter with Luke.

  What was wrong with that man? He had been so angry when she had accused him of emotional blackmail. It gave her the shivers to think of how enraged he had been: his eyes icy flints, his hands like two vice-grips. She had really hit a nerve to make him respond like that because normally he was very calm. He hadn’t been all that calm when he had kissed her, she thought ruefully as she shot past the Donabate turn-off. A driver in the opposite lane of the dual carriageway flashed his lights at her. In an automatic reflex action she took her foot off the accelerator and hit the brakes lightly before gearing down. When she passed the speed trap Devlin was doing a respectable sixty miles an hour.

  She’d been so looking forward to this trip. She just knew that the Belfast idea was a winner and smiled at how casually it had come about. She had been having a Turkish bath one evening after work and found herself sitting beside a petite blonde woman who confided that coming for a swim, sauna and aromatherapy session in City Girl was the thing she most looked forward to on her trips to Dublin. Her lovely soft lilting accent told Devlin she was from the North. She introduced herself as Lynda Jayne and explained that she presented a morning radio programme for Downtown Radio. When Devlin introduced herself, Lynda’s eyes widened and she exclaimed, ‘You’re the brains behind all this! But you’re so young. I didn’t recognize you.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising,’ laughed Devlin, whose face was half-hidden behind a mist of steam. Her appearance was a far cry from the glamorous photo on the City Girl brochure.

  ‘I’d love to do an interview with you,’ said the woman enthusiastically. ‘I take my hat off to women who make a go of things and prove that it can be done. I know my listeners would love to hear your story; I’d love to hear it myself.’

  Devlin realized that her interest was genuine. ‘If you like we can have coffee after your aromatherapy and we can chat about it then,’ she suggested. One half of her wanted to talk to Lynda Jayne woman-to-woman; the other half was thinking that if Lynda broadcast the interview in Belfast, City Girl might gain a few more Northern customers. There were special membership facilities which enabled women from all over the country to avail themselves of its services when they visited Dublin.

  The cup of coffee had turned into a meal and then Lynda and she had gone over to the Horseshoe Bar in the Shelbourne to have a drink and enjoy some people-watching. ‘I love looking at the glam and the glitz; I love reading about the Ladies Who Lunch and all that kind of thing,’ laughed Lynda as she sipped a Black Velvet. ‘There’s a whole scene down here that we just don’t have in the North. Dublin always seems such an exciting city.’

  ‘But I always think Belfast is exciting,’ Devlin remarked. ‘Look at all the shoppers who used to go up in their busloads. It was a chance to shop in Boots, BHS, Marks & Spencers. The other man’s grass is always greener!’

  ‘Hmmm,’ agreed Lynda. ‘We still don’t have anything like this, though.’ She waved a hand at the gossipy gathering that was crammed up against the bar waiting to be served. ‘And as for City Girl . . . well, we could sure do with one of them. I’d nearly move down here to be able to visit once a week. It must be great for you to have all those facilities at your fingertips. I think I’d have aromatherapy or a facial massage every day.’

  ‘Believe me, Lynda: running City Girl leaves precious little time for anything else,’ Devlin said dryly. ‘But I’ll admit I make the most of it when I can.’

  They had a most enjoyable evening, Lynda being the kind of woman one could listen to for hours. Devlin agreed, with no worries at all, to be interviewed. Lynda’s researcher, Florence, arranged a linkup between an RTE studio and Downtown Radio. Sitting alone in the studio with a microphone in front of her, Devlin couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. She had done many TV and radio interviews since opening City Girl but no matter how many she did, she felt butterflies in her stomach every time. People assured her that it was good to be a bit nervous; it was time to start worrying, they said, when you got blasé about it. Florence’s calm tones as she arranged the sound-check helped a little. Lynda’s voice came down the line asking if she were OK and then they were on the air. Lynda was so skilful that Devlin felt as though she were sitting beside her in the Coffee Dock having a chat.

  As a result of the interview there had been many calls to City Girl from women wishing to avail of the special offer Devlin had organized for members from the North. Whenever Lynda came down south to visit, Devlin had coffee with her and enjoyed meeting the vivacious woman.

  Several weeks after the broadcast, she had been having lunch with her father, as was their weekly custom. They had gone to the Coffee Dock in Jurys as Gerry was meeting some business men at the hotel, later in the afternoon. They were having coffee and Devlin was teasing her father about how bank-managerish he looked when a male voice with a strong Northern accent hailed them. It was Arthur Kelly, a long-time friend and customer of her father.

  ‘Sit and have coffee with us,’ her father invited the jovial Derryman, shaking hands with him. Arthur grinned at Devlin as he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Great interview with Lynda Jayne, kiddo! I nearly crashed the car when I heard your voice coming across loud and clear. Ach, I couldn’t believe it was my wee girl.’

  In the course of the conversation that followed, Devlin mentioned the interest in City Girl that the interview had created up North and in an almost off-hand remark had mused, ‘I wonder how a place like City Girl would do in Belfast?’

  Arthur sat up straight. ‘Now there’s an idea, lassie!’

  Devlin’s eyes widened. ‘Arthur, do you think . . . ? Are you saying . . . ?’

  ‘By golly I am.’ Arthur’s eyes were flashing with excitement, his ruddy face aglow.

  ‘You pair!’ laughed Gerry. ‘Calm down now.’

  ‘But Dad, this could work! I bet there’s a market there ripe for exploitation.’ Devlin was bubbling with excitement. This was just what she needed. Luke and she had discussed expanding and a feasibility study they had commissioned in Galway had been very encouraging. They were in the process of finding suitable premises. Having a City Girl in Belfast would be the icing on the cake.

  Gerry left them to it and Devlin and Arthur sat for another hour discussing all aspects of the scheme. They agreed the preliminary steps. Devlin’s first priority was to have a chat with her accountant. She wanted to have all her facts and figures when she presented the idea to Luke.

  Devlin sighed deeply as she arrived at the outskirts of Balbriggan. He would have been as excited as she was if he’d seen the file in her briefcase. She was sure of it. Now, because of their row, he hadn’t seen one comma of the business plan and she was going to have to tell Arthur that she hadn’t had a cha
nce to get Luke’s opinion. She was sure Luke hadn’t meant it when he talked about pulling out of City Girl. That had been said in the heat of the moment. He was as committed as she was. When he cooled down she’d get him to go over the plan and meet Arthur.

  If only they hadn’t had that stupid argument. She supposed it wasn’t all Luke’s fault. He had a point about knowing where he stood. And she hadn’t helped things by kissing him back. It had been a wonderful kiss, too. Devlin had been taken aback by the desire that had rippled through her. It had been a long long time since she’d felt anything like that. After being made pregnant by Colin and having her baby it was as if her sexuality and sensuality had shut down. After the accident she had become withdrawn. Even now when men – and there were many who wanted to get to know her – asked her out, she always refused.

  But Luke was different. It was Luke who was responsible for her forthcoming lunch with her mother. He had persuaded her to try for a reconciliation with Lydia and she had been dying to tell him that she had taken the first step in that direction. She knew that Luke would never hurt her like Colin did but she was as scared as hell of getting involved. If she could explain her fears to him maybe he would understand. When she got home tonight she would phone him and try to make him see. The thought cheered her up, because having rows with Luke made her miserable. She wondered if he would kiss her again. Part of her hoped he would, and she chided herself for her inconsistency.

  The meeting with Arthur went better than she could have hoped. He had just come from a meeting in Dundalk with a colleague who had a site on the outskirts of Belfast that Arthur felt might suit their plans.

  ‘I’m also looking at a premises near Donegall Square, which is the one I’d really like. It’s central but I know an insurance company is after it as well as ourselves. If we can get it though, girlie, we’ll have hit the jackpot. The market research report I commissioned showed a very positive response and the competition is nothing to be feared. Not for an up-market project like City Girl! Och aye! there’s plenty of aerobics classes and gyms and the like but nothing that comes close to what we have in mind.’

  ‘My accountant didn’t turn the idea down out of hand as I thought he might. In fact, I’ve figures here that he’s come up with. We could apply for grants under various business expansion schemes.’ Devlin passed the figures over to Arthur.

  ‘He’s very thorough, this accountant of yours,’ Arthur said approvingly as he read the figures. ‘He’s got it all covered. I see he’s been in touch with CTT as well.’

  ‘Kieran leaves no stone unturned, and if he didn’t think there was something in this, I wouldn’t be sitting here with these figures,’ grinned Devlin. She was very fond of her parsimonious accountant, who kept her feet firmly on the ground and often poured cold water on her wilder flights of fancy. With the guidance of Kieran and Luke she had avoided quite a few pitfalls in the past, so she always listened carefully to what they had to say.

  Full of enthusiasm, she and Arthur agreed to carry on costing and planning. They decided that Devlin should visit Belfast as soon as Arthur had firm information on the location of premises. Driving home late that afternoon, Devlin felt quite lighthearted. She wouldn’t bother going in to the office, she decided: she’d go home, shower and change and phone Luke at his hotel.

  As she stood under the shower soaping herself she actually felt a bit nervous. It was a bit like arranging a first date, she thought in wry amusement. She hoped he had cooled down. She would apologize for accusing him of using emotional blackmail. No wonder he’d been so insulted. That wasn’t Luke’s style at all. Wrapping herself in a soft towelling robe, Devlin walked into the bedroom and dialled the number of Luke’s hotel.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she heard the receptionist say. ‘Mr Reilly cancelled his reservation; he said he was flying back to London this evening rather than tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Devlin murmured, hanging up. She shivered a little, despite the warmth of the evening sun shining through her French doors. He must still be mad, she thought glumly, and a heaviness descended on her spirits. She felt terribly lonely all of a sudden. Impulsively she dialled his home number; he might be there already. She wanted to hear his voice; she wanted to say sorry; she wanted so much to tell him all her news about the meeting with Arthur and the phone call to her mother. There was no reply, only the recording on the answering machine. Uncharacteristically she was stuck for words as she heard his deep voice at the other end of the line inviting her to leave her name and number. She hated answering machines. She hung up and her finger hovered over the digits as she tried to make up her mind whether or not to call his office. Taking a deep breath, she dialled his private number. The line was engaged.

  So he was there. It was hardly his highly efficient PA still working at this hour. A glance at her alarm clock told her that it was six-forty. She’d try again in ten minutes, she decided, as she switched on her hairdryer and began to blow-dry her blonde bob.

  Five minutes later the phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘Hello,’ she said dry-mouthed, half-expecting it to be Luke. It was Maggie and she didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry.

  When she called his number again twenty minutes later the phone just kept on ringing.

  ‘Oh Luke, why couldn’t you be there?’ she muttered unhappily.

  She tried his home again around nine and got the machine again.

  Thoroughly fed up she sat listening to her Mary Black discs.

  She called again at eleven and he still wasn’t home. Maybe he was seeing someone. Maybe he was out with a woman. The thought left her feeling miserable. She got into bed and lay tossing and turning until sleep finally came.

  Luke stretched and yawned, rubbing his bleary eyes as he sat up and tried to work out where he was. ‘God Save the Queen’ was being played on the television and he leaned over and switched it off. He must have fallen asleep. He hadn’t meant to spend the night on the boat but it was so late now he decided he might as well. He didn’t particularly relish the thought of going back home anyway.

  The waters of the Thames lapped soothingly against the sides of the boat and through the portholes he could see the lights of London twinkling like Christmas tree decorations. In all his life he had never felt so alone, so confused and so utterly browned-off. He buried his head in his hands, trying to erase the image of her face, that face that haunted him. When he saw her waiting at the airport so unexpectedly, Luke had felt ridiculously happy. When she had put her arms around him as if she were really glad to see him and kissed him back he had really thought he was getting somewhere at last.

  ‘Oh Devlin, Devlin, what are you doing to me?’ he muttered. When she accused him of emotional blackmail, he had felt such anger! He had actually wanted to shake her. Now, all he felt was a weary resignation that he was never going to have the relationship he longed for with Devlin.

  He knew that she had been terribly damaged emotionally by all she had gone through. He had tried to be patient and restrained but after all these months it was obvious that he was making no headway with her. Luke was nothing if not a realist. You could bang your head against a stone wall for only so long. The time had come to call a halt. Now that City Girl was well established and Devlin had proved herself so capable, she no longer needed his assistance. It would be no trouble for her to find another business partner; her father would be able to help out there.

  Anyway he had more than enough to keep him occupied on this side of the Irish Sea. With the downturn in property values, his company had been buying, refurbishing, letting, and eventually when the recession ended they’d sell and make a handsome profit.

  No, he’d meant it when he told Devlin City Girl was hers. He’d had enough. He’d told Dianne to arrange a meeting with his solicitors first thing in the morning. He’d instruct them to start proceedings to dissolve the partnership.

  With a heart heavier than the anchor of his boat, Luke switched off the lights of the saloon and wen
t into his cabin. He undressed in the dark and got into bed. He wondered how Devlin was feeling. Had she even given him a thought? Knowing her, he guessed that she was up to her eyes in projections and costings and design layouts after her meeting with that Northern businessman. Imagine wanting to open a City Girl in Belfast! The woman was mad. He folded his arms under his head and lay back, listening to the creaking of the boat. Maybe she wasn’t, though, he mused. There were great incentives for setting up a business in the North and maybe a City Girl there would take off as dramatically as it had in Dublin.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you, so forget it,’ he growled. ‘And from now on, you’re having nothing to do with her.’ He turned over on his front and buried his head under the pillows but it was a long time before he slept.

  ‘You’re the one that I want . . . oh oh oooh, honey, oh yes, indeed . . .’ sang Dianne Westwood as she smoothed pear and pawpaw moisturizer into her creamy skin. She was giving herself the works. Cleansing, toning, moisturizing. Plucking eyebrows, manicuring nails. She was in great form.

  Luke had arrived back at the office totally unexpectedly and in a foul humour. He wasn’t due back until the following day. She herself had made the flight and hotel reservations, and yet there he was as large as life striding through the office at five-fifteen, telling her to arrange a meeting with his solicitor first thing in the morning.

  ‘Will tomorrow afternoon do?’ she asked him calmly, after hearing Andrew Hunter’s PA say that a morning meeting was totally out of the question.

  ‘No it will not do!’ Luke snapped. ‘Tell Hunter’s PA to arrange a breakfast meeting.’ The meeting had finally been arranged although the woman at the other end of the line had been a bit miffed. But she knew it was more than her job was worth to discommode Luke Reilly, who was one of the office’s biggest clients.