Twisted Love and Money

by Kennedy, Thomas

  “Nice to see you Jeremy “ she said quietly, looking into his eyes.

  He took her hand.

  Then he smiled at a thought. Maybe they would go and see his mother together.

  Chapter Two

  Ann-Marie felt embarrassed. Her mother leaned backwards one leg in the air, the knee bent, as she strained to pull something out from under the canopy.

  Ann, her mother, straightened up with a silver whiskey flask in her hand and a smile on her face.

  “Mother, you are not to get drunk,” Ann-Marie hissed.

  “Relax, Ann-Marie,” her mother instructed. “It’s cold up here half naked, the whiskey will warm my bones. Do you want some?”

  “No thanks.”

  The Lorry had a long trailer made up with mushrooms, flowers, carrots and cabbages, apples and so on, some false and plastic, some real.

  Along the side the sign in green and yellow read ‘O’BYRNE FRESH FOODS.’

  They had been waiting over two hours at the start point for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Various gaily decorated floats intermingled with assorted bands from America, the U.K. and various parts of Ireland, plus antique cars, clowns and trick bicycles.

  There was a general festive atmosphere and crowds of onlookers lined the planned Parade route. Others less patient walked back along the queue of floats waiting to depart. Generally there were people everywhere, children in tow and good-humoured smiles on faces.

  The driver gunned the lorry engine into life as the Parade began to slowly move out. They would be off soon and it was time to get into position. On the trailer, resplendent in costume, Ann O’Byrne and her seventeen year old daughter Ann-Marie both smiled at each other with excitement as the lorry moved, signalling to them that the parade was underway.

  They were wearing ankle length cloaks over their scanty costumes and had been sitting huddled together at the top end of the open trailer, keeping warm in the chilly March weather. Ann was pleased with the weather as more often than not it rained on St. Patrick’s day, but today was bright and chilly, a perfect spring day.

  Ann-Marie picked up one of the baskets from which it was intended they would throw fruit to the onlookers as the Parade progressed. As she walked to the back of the trailer she threw the cloak back over her shoulders to reveal her long legs and her young lithe, well-endowed figure. There was a cheer from behind the trailer and a loud revving of motorbike engines. Ann-Marie had forgotten that her float was to be followed by the ‘O’Donoghue’s Express Delivery Service’ and this company had entered a squad of motorcycle couriers in the Parade.

  Blushing red, embarrassed, Ann-Marie stopped and turned her back to the motorcyclists. Her mother grinned at her and threw back her own cloak to reveal a more mature fuller figure with equally long legs. This was greeted with more cheers and more revving of engines. Ann smiled at her daughter.

  “Sure they are harmless,” she said, “throw them a few bananas.”

  Ann-Marie recovered herself and took a large bunch of bananas from the float. She turned to face the couriers. There were six of them, all young lads in leather gear astride their motor bicycles. Aged between sixteen and nineteen, they were grinning hugely at Ann-Marie’s embarrassment.

  “For the monkeys in the Zoo,” she shouted and threw them a banana each. Four of them caught the bananas but two had to dismount to gather up their prize. They were delighted. The wait for the start of the Parade had left them hungry. To be thrown fruit by a beautiful girl in a skimpy costume, this was heaven.

  Then the Parade was under way.

  Ann-Marie O’Byrne had heard her father was to enter the float in the Parade to advertise the business. She persuaded by her mother to come for fun, ‘a bit of gas’ as she put it. Laughing her father Michael O’Byrne had agreed to let them both go on the float. But Dorothy, her older sister had refused to join them.

  Their business was a large one by Irish standards, dealing in fruit and vegetables including organic foods, mushrooms and exotic fruit. The business had grown rapidly in recent years and dealt directly with retail and supermarkets, but was little known in household terms.

  Michael O’Byrne had decided that a little more public profile would be no harm. As one step towards this he had put a float in the Dublin St. Patrick’s Day Parade.

  The centre of the float was lined with straw baskets filled with apples, oranges and various other fruits. As the Parade progressed Ann and Ann-Marie would throw fruit to the crowds who thronged the route. A public address system attached to the lorry played loud music, interspersed with half-minute commercials on healthy eating and organic food.

  In front of the O’Byrne float Guinness Brewery had a Jazz Band on their float and the music blared out. Behind, the Couriers weaved and dodged on their motor bicycles in practised formations as they followed in the Parade.

  The boys on the motorcycles called, “give us some more fruit Miss…”

  The leader of the couriers was Seamus O’Donoghue. Seamus worked for his Grandfathers firm. He was to go to University in the autumn, but this was after a year with the family firm to ‘get a few corners knocked off’ as his Grandfather had put it, and to learn something about that part of the business.

  Seamus was broad shouldered and had dark hair and intelligent brown eyes. Like the rest of the lads his eyes constantly flashed to Ann and Ann-Marie. This they achieved as they manoeuvred their motor bicycles in and out.

  Laughing, Ann-Marie threw them a morsel from time to time. They whooped joyously, what really pleased them was her smile and the fullness of her bosom as she bent closer to throw them the fruit in a way that would not result in them falling off their bicycles as they caught it.

  The rest of the lads just enjoyed the outing, and saw being in the Parade as a bit of fun. But Seamus was much taken by Ann-Marie’s spirited performance and resolved to approach the O’Byrne float after the parade. He had a knot in his stomach at the thought of making an approach, but the sight of the two women in their costumes had warmed his blood and he knew he had to talk to them even at the risk of rejection.

  The Parade lasted nearly three hours and some of the earlier sparkle had to be pumped up for the Reviewing Stand at the end of the Parade. They gunned their bikes past the Reviewing Stand and then they were free.

  Seamus gave each of his team an envelope, compliments of the company, a cash bonus for their attendance at the Parade. The group immediately decided on a few jars out the Firhouse road in Delaney’s Bar on the Southside of the city.

  “I’ll follow later,” Seamus promised, “I want to talk to that girl on the O’Byrne float before she disappears.”

  This was greeted with hoots of laughter and the lads zoomed away on their bikes. Seamus caught up on the O’Byrne lorry and followed. It drove slowly off O’Connell Street, out of the crowds watching the Parade and circulated back towards the south east side of the city.

  When they had come to the end of the Parade Ann and Ann-Marie had climbed down and joined the driver in the cab.

  “Drop us off at the back of Trinity College,” Ann had instructed. They intended to walk from their to their car, a large expensive BMW, which was parked in the Underground Car Park in the Setanta centre off Kildare Street.

  The lorry driver pulled in past Trinity College, along Merrion Square. The city centre was thronged with people and traffic and this was the nearest the driver could get to their car without getting clogged up in traffic. He pulled in, indicators flashing.

  “I’ll just tie down the loose stuff on the float,” he said getting out of the cab. “You ladies can get changed,” he added discretely.

  He got out of the cab and then began to tie a large tarpaulin over the trailer. Seamus pulled in behind. Joe, the lorry driver saw him and remembering him from their pre-parade conversation, he looked surprised, but then smiled. “Hello Seamus, did you follow us from the Parade. Where are the rest of your lads?”

  “They went to the pub. They volunteered me to thank the ladies
for the fruit off the back of the lorry.”

  “Better give them a minute they are changing in the cab.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Seamus offered. His nerve was failing, but he was in too deep now.

  They began to draw the Tarpaulin over the trailer pulling from the back forward. When the trailer was covered they went back, one on each side and began to tie down the Tarpaulin to the metal catches on the side of the trailer. Seamus worked towards the front end on the outside. As he was about half way there the cab door opened. A leg appeared in jeans, and then another leg followed by a bottom in jeans. He realised it was the older of the two women. However it was the younger he wanted to meet.

  “Hello there,” Ann saluted as she climbed down, “where did you come from?”

  “I was on the bikes behind. I wanted that is the lads asked me to follow on and say thank you for the fruit. Thanks.”

  Ann eyed the young man. She liked his handsome looks that were well set off by his leather jacket and jeans.

  “No problem,” she replied, friendly, “It was great fun. Here let me do that, you can leave it to Joe and me we’re well used to it. Nice to have met you.”

  She moved Seamus to one side and with experienced hands began to tie down the tarpaulin. Abashed Seamus smiled and hopped on one foot.

  “I’ll go then,” he offered.

  “Thanks Joe,” he shouted across to Joe on the other side of the trailer.

  “I’ll just thank the other lady,” Seamus said in desperation to talk to Ann-Marie. Moving as he spoke, he pulled back the cab door and stuck his head into the cab. He was met by a shriek and was hit in the face by one of the cloaks the ladies had worn in the Parade.

  “Beg your pardon,” he said lamely.

  Ann-Marie’s head appeared at the window of the cab.

  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded, her face bright pink.

  “I was behind on the motorbike. I just wanted to say thanks for the fruit.”

  “Piss off.”

  “Sorry.”

  Ann-Marie relented as she watched him go morosely back to his bike. She noticed his wide shoulders and strong frame.

  “Just hang on a minute.”

  Joe and Ann looked at each other and said nothing. They carried on putting the finishing touches to tying down the load. Seamus sat sideways against his bike.

  Ann-Marie emerged in jumper and jeans and dropped to the ground. Seamus spread his hands in a silent apology, making a wry face.

  “What did you say you wanted?” she asked.

  “The boys, they wanted... they sent me after your lorry to thank you two ladies for the fruit. It was great, we got starved waiting for the Parade to start.”

  “Where are the lads now?” Ann-Marie asked.

  “Delaney’s bar for a few pints.”

  “Tell them they were welcome.”

  “Thanks.”

  As he spoke, Seamus threw a leg over the motor bicycle.

  “I’d offer both you ladies a lift except there is only room for one passenger on a motor bike.” He smiled with his eyes, looking at Ann-Marie as he spoke.

  “I’d love a go. Can I have a lift around Merrion Square?”

  “Ann-Marie!” her mother protested.

  “Oh mother, don’t be stuffy. I’ll meet you at the Setanta centre at the car. This boy can drop me up, its only two minutes away. I’d love a go on a motorbike. Please…”

  Ann wondered should she put her foot down but the boy looked respectable. He was rooting in the pillion box on the bike and produced a second crash helmet. What the hell, Ann thought, it is a Parade day, let her have some fun.

  “O.K., but no further, I’ll meet you there in two minutes.”

  In a flash Ann-Marie was on the pillion of the motorbike and Seamus, not quite able to believe his luck, helped her on and with the helmet and then he took off before anyone could change their minds.

  Ann waved at them as they took off, worried frown on her face.

  Then, saying good-bye to Joe, she made her way to the car. Maybe she thought, if she passed a pub on the way she’d have a quick gin. It would only take a minute and the Parade was thirsty work. Ann-Marie would be a few minutes and she might as well wait in the pub rather than be stuck waiting in the car park.

  Ann felt an anxiety. What had she done? The boy was a stranger. But if she had said no she would have had another row with Ann-Marie. She had not been up to it. Things had gone so well today. And the boy looked all right.

  Ann-Marie held onto Seamus, arms around his waist, as they sped up Kildare Street and around Molesworth Street and back to the Setanta Centre. It was a matter of minutes. Exhilarated Ann climbed off the bike and handed back the helmet, shaking out her long fair hair. He watched her admiringly and was startled when he met her clear blue honest eyes.

  Ann-Marie sensed his admiring look and they made eye contact when he took off his helmet with its wrap around dark Perspex. They both smiled and looked awkward.

  “Would you like to go for a drive on the bike sometime?”

  “My Dad says that Bikes are death traps.”

  “Do you always follow your Dad’s ideas?”

  Her eyes flashed. “No, but I happen to agree with him.”

  “I’d love to take you out.”

  “My mother would not approve of me going out with a motor bike messenger.”

  “And would you agree with her?”

  She looked him in the eye. “No,” she said.

  “Will you come?”

  “I’d have to be home early.”

  “Next week?”

  “Wednesday the week after next, I’m very tied up next week.”

  “Six p.m. suit? I can be earlier. I knock off work at five thirty.”

  “Six is fine.”

  “My name is Seamus.”

  She laughed and Seamus fell in love with her laugh.

  “I’m Ann-Marie.”

  “Where would you like to meet?” he asked.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Out towards the Naas road.” Seamus replied.

  “I live over near Templeogue.”

  Seamus considered. “ I’ll take you to the cinema in the ‘Tallaght Centre’” he suggested. “I’ll collect you at your house, if you like?”

  “No way. My mother would have a fit. I’ll meet you there. After the pictures I’m going straight home. No messing. O.K?”

  “O.K., I’ll be there at six. Looking forward to it.”

  “Cool.”

  He touched her cheek for a moment with his finger and then he was gone.

  Chapter three

  It was just before eight o’clock on a dull drizzly day in London as Christine took off her coat and stowed it in a closet.

  About forty, dressed in neat tan coloured trousers and matching blouse, Christine was of average height, neat, busy, small busted, childless but well married, valuing her good job and anxious to please.

  Crawford kept her as his personal secretary because she was industrious, obsequious, and efficient.

  Her sensible leather soled and heeled shoes made no noise on the thick carpet pile as she crossed the large office.

  “Thank you Christine.” Crawford flickered a smile as she placed some post in his in-tray.

  “Is Simmons in yet?”

  “Would you like to see her now?”

  “Please. Tell her it is about her report on Supermarket growth areas.”

  Christine smiled, “Coffee sir?”

  “Thank you.”

  Christine went to the bar on the right hand side of the office. Earlier the Crawford would have set up the coffee percolator. He was always in before half seven, when he was in town. She carefully put the fine china cup and saucer on the bar and poured him a cup, adding two spoons of sugar and some milk. Just the way he liked it.

  “Thank you Christine,” he said as she placed the cup beside him.

  “Your list of appointments is on top of your post sir. As you reques
ted you are free until ten.”

  “Thank you Christine. I need some Red Time on Thursday, probably two hours.”

  “Yes sir, I’ll juggle the diary,” Christine said and turned to leave.

  “Don’t forget Simmons,” he added pleasantly and she smiled. The smile said, ‘as if she would.’

  He watched her walk across the large office. Red time was thinking time, time when he concentrated on his own key tasks and managing. Every week he grabbed four or five hours from his busy schedule of meetings.

  When Christine got outside to her own desk she phoned Simmons. She was crisp and formal, as was her habit when dealing with very beautiful young women. This was not the first protégé Mr. Crawford had mentored. They came and went but she, Christine, went on forever. She drew great confidence from her view that Mr. Crawford would not consider managing without her for a moment.

  “The Managing Director would like to see you.”

  “When?”

  “Now, if you are free. It is to do with the Supermarket report.”

  In less than three minutes she was standing in front of Christine’s desk.

  “You may go in now,” Christine instructed.

  Janet was already at the door, she knocked once and with a flash of a smile to Christine she entered the room.

  She was always impressed at the scale and opulence of Crawford’s office, fitting though it was for the Managing Director of a large Multinational Corporation.

  “Morning Mr. Crawford,” she said cheerfully.