City Lives (40 page)

Ciara paled.

For a moment Devlin felt sorry for her, but then the young woman’s face twisted in contempt and she turned to Devlin.

‘You put me under surveillance after all I’ve done for you. After I’ve worked my butt off for you and this goddamn gold mine of yours. And you begrudged me my little nixers so
much that you got someone to spy on me,’ she spat.

‘Ciara, you were getting very well paid. Over the odds in fact. And doing the odd nixer is a hell of a lot different from defrauding your employers,’ Devlin retorted angrily.

‘Defrauding your employers,’ mimicked Ciara. ‘Well fuck you, you rich bitch, sitting on your ass all day long. Swanning around the country in your swanky sports car. And
you
,’ she pointed a finger at Caroline. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one. A rich widow who didn’t have to lift a finger to make a fortune. Why should you and her,’
she stabbed her finger in Devlin’s direction, ‘reap all the rewards of our hard work? You don’t know what it’s like trying to save for a mortgage, knowing that you’re
going to have to borrow at least a hundred thousand pounds because property has gone up so much. You don’t have to shop for clothes in Dunnes Stores because it costs a fortune to keep a car
on the road, seeing as I only get so much towards running it from you greedy crowd of fuckers,’ Ciara shouted.

Devlin jumped to her feet, incensed. ‘How dare you, Ciara Hanlon. How
dare
you speak to Caroline like that. You insensitive little bitch! And how dare you use my success as an
excuse to cheat and steal from me?

‘I can tell you one thing. You’re far better off than I ever was at your age. I know what it was like to be practically penniless. I was a single parent in Ballymun flats. I
couldn’t even afford to buy clothes in Dunnes Stores, let alone run a car. But I didn’t go out and steal from people or blame them for my circumstances. I took responsibility for my
life and did something with it. You’ve been given every chance and opportunity. You’ve a job and a lifestyle that are the envy of many, but you’ve ruined it because of greed and
jealousy. Whatever I got I worked for and I won’t let an avaricious, lying little thief like you rob me blind and expect me to sit there and take it.’ She was shaking with anger.

‘Right! I’ll go then. I resign. Stuff your job. Here’s your keys.’ Ciara jumped to her feet and flung her bunch of keys on the desk.

‘I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Ciara,’ Andrew said coolly. ‘The police would like a word with you. I called them earlier. And they have a warrant to search your
house.’

‘You’ve called the police!’ Ciara couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re lying! You’re just trying to frighten me.’

She turned to Devlin. ‘You wouldn’t go that far. You wouldn’t be that much of a bitch!’

‘It’s not a question of being a bitch, Ciara,’ Devlin snapped. ‘We discussed long and hard as to whether we should call in the police. Personally I would have preferred
not to. But I have an obligation to protect other employers and also an obligation to you to show you how serious your crimes are. You can’t just expect to say “stuff your job”
and walk away from what you’ve done. From what I’ve just heard it seems that anyone whom you perceive to be rich is a legitimate target, because you feel life owes you more than what
you’ve got. I’m sorry, Ciara, that’s not the way it works.’

‘Don’t you bloody well preach to me, Devlin Delaney. Who the fuck do you think you are? Miss High-and-Bloody-Mighty. You can go and get lost. I’m getting out of here now and
you can’t stop me,’ Ciara’s voice was high and shrill. She ran from the office, down the hall and with trembling fingers unlatched the door. Andrew followed with the folder. He
had seen the squad car out in the car park.

Ciara saw him coming and hurried out the door intent on getting to her car, only to come to a halt when she saw the two uniformed guards approaching.

‘Oh fuck,’ she muttered. There was nowhere to turn.

‘Come along Ciara.’ Andrew placed a firm hand on her wrist as the guards came abreast of them.

‘Here’s the file that I spoke to you about. This is the lady in question,’ he told the older of the two guards.

‘Very well, sir. Miss, come with us, please, we’d like you to answer a few questions down at the station,’ the guard said politely.

Andrew took a white envelope out of his pocket and handed it to the former manageress. ‘Devlin suggested I compile a list of solicitors in Galway, you might need to call one if you have
none of your own.’

‘That was very thoughtful,’ sneered Ciara.

‘It was, actually, Ciara. Personally I wouldn’t have bothered. You don’t deserve it and you’re not worth the trouble,’ Andrew said with contempt.

‘Up yours,’ Ciara snarled as she was led away.

Devlin and Caroline watched from the office as the squad car sped off.

Devlin was as white as a ghost. ‘She was vicious, wasn’t she? It was unbelievable. She feels that she’s entitled to what she’s robbed. Luke was right. She’d just go
and do the same thing to someone else if we hadn’t called the police. She doesn’t think that she’s done anything wrong at all.’

‘That’s the frightening thing,’ Caroline remarked. ‘She’s bright, she’s well educated. But she has no conscience about what she’s done. Her resentment
and greed are so great they’ve twisted her thinking completely. Life will have some hard lessons to teach her.’

‘What a waste,’ Devlin sighed as Andrew came back into the room.

‘Let’s go. Caroline and I will clear out Ciara’s belongings tomorrow and go through the books here. I’ll go down and check into my hotel and we could meet up around one
thirty or so and have a bite to eat.’

‘OK,’ Caroline agreed. Devlin nodded. She was shattered.

‘Come on, Dev, you should rest for a while,’ Caroline urged. ‘We had an early start.’

They left the building and locked the doors behind them, all of them relieved that the matter was finally at an end. Whatever happened to Ciara was out of their hands now.

It had been the longest, most frightening day of her life. Ciara sat shivering on her bed, numbed and shocked. She’d actually been locked up in a cell and charged by the
police. They’d thrown questions at her hour after hour from that bloody file that Andrew Dawson had given them, and then they’d come and taken all the stuff she’d taken from
stores and carted it off to the station. And
then
they’d locked her up in a smelly little cubbyhole that had nearly freaked her out.

Fortunately bail had been set, an amount that she could afford, thanks to the solicitor she’d hired. She’d been free to go. And not a minute too soon.

Ciara took a long slug of brandy as she looked at her bulging suitcase. She was finished here, her great plans up in smoke. She had a second cousin in London. She’d take a flight from
Shannon tomorrow because come hell or high water, Devlin Delaney was not going to get the better of her. She could stay with her cousin for a day or two until she got a place of her own. She still
had a couple of thousand pounds in her bank account. She’d withdraw it from the bank first thing and then drive to Shannon airport and a new life. With her experience in the beauty and
leisure business she’d get a job no problem, Ciara thought confidently. She’d have to start from scratch again, that was the only thing. Still, there’d be more opportunities in
London than in this kip of a country where the same clique, the exclusive circle, were the only ones who could make it.

She’d start all over again, but unfortunately she’d never be able to come home to rub that bitch Delaney’s nose in it. Ciara Hanlon was a wanted woman. A woman on the run!

Later that night as Devlin and Caroline sat in front of the fire in Caroline’s new apartment, sipping hot chocolate and eating chocolate biscuits, Caroline turned to her
friend.

‘I was a bit surprised that you didn’t let Andrew challenge Ciara,’ she said curiously.

‘Oh I was tempted to, believe me,’ Devlin admitted. ‘But it would have been running away, I’m the boss when it suits me, kind of thing. I didn’t want Andrew to
think I couldn’t hack it. Or Luke, come to that. But especially Andrew. It does him good to know who’s in charge every now and again. I know he thinks he knows better than we do.
You’ve seen him at meetings.’ Devlin made a face.

‘I’ve seen him all right. Sure doesn’t he think I’m away with the fairies with all my “New Age Claptrap”,’ Caroline said caustically.

‘Do you think that Ciara will ever come to her senses? Or will she always have that huge chip on her shoulder?’ Devlin wondered.

‘Who knows? Choices and paths and all of that,’ Caroline smiled.

‘She was a brilliant manageress.’

‘Yeah, she was. But if it was going to happen I’m glad it happened before we opened the new wing,’ Caroline reflected.

‘That will be our fresh start,’ Devlin declared firmly.

‘Yes, Dev, it will. City Girl’s and mine,’ Caroline agreed, and for the first time in a long while she felt optimistic.

Where had the time gone, Maggie thought in a panic as she flung a selection of Mr Kipling’s tarts, teacakes and cherry buns into her shopping trolley. The Al Shariffs
were coming tomorrow and she wasn’t one bit organized.

‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ wafted gaily through the store greatly adding to her irritation.

‘Piss off,’ she muttered, causing an elderly man pushing a trolley adjacent to her to give her a strange look and move off smartly.

So much had happened in the past few weeks. Their trip to Powerscourt Springs. Richard’s death and funeral. Caroline moving to Galway. Now the arrival of the Al Shariffs was on top of her
and she seemed to have nothing done. Maggie felt utterly overwhelmed. She ticked off biscuits and cakes from her list and headed for the meat counter. Her heart sank when she saw the queue.
She’d be here all morning. She’d thought the queues wouldn’t be too bad if she went shopping immediately after dropping the kids to school. It looked as though every other mother
had had the same idea.

Two trolleyloads later she headed for the off-licence. Another queue stretched in a long snaky line.

‘To hell with this,’ she muttered. Terry could call into an off-licence on the way home, she still had to buy a Christmas tree and decorate the house.

She drove home and unpacked the car. Dozens of white plastic bags of shopping filled the hall. Her heart sank. The thought of unpacking everything and finding room for groceries, and filling the
fridge was so off-putting, she was tempted to go straight back out again and buy the Christmas tree.

She compromised and packed all the fridge and freezer food away, and then took off to try and find a particularly good and voluminous tree to impress the Al Shariff children.

‘Get the biggest one you can find, Mam,’ Michael had urged. ‘So they can see what a real Irish Christmas tree looks like.’ The children were very excited at the impending
arrival of the Al Shariffs. Between that and Christmas they were up to ninety and driving Maggie bananas.

Terry was working flat out, or so he told her, so that he could take some holiday. You’d think he was doing her an enormous favour by taking the few days off, when it was all his fault in
the first place that the Al Shariffs were spending so long with them. Maggie pondered this resentfully as she went through serried rows of sweet-smelling pine trees, looking for the one that would
make Michael proud.

A tall, perfectly shaped specimen caught her eye, and she asked the young lad looking after them to hold it out for her. It was lovely, she had to admit. With a magnificent bushy bottom and a
perfect symmetry.

‘How much?’ she asked.

‘Thirty pounds, mam.’

‘You’re joking!’ Maggie was horrified. Thirty pounds for a Christmas tree. It was daylight robbery.

‘It’s a particularly fine tree, mam.’ The young fella went into his sales patter.

‘Oh just give it to me.’ Maggie didn’t have time for this. ‘Put it in the boot for me and I hope you enjoy your holiday in the Bahamas. I won’t be able to afford a
holiday after this.’

The young lad laughed. ‘And a happy Christmas to you too, mam,’ he said cheerily as he swung the tree with effortless ease into the boot of the car.

Unable to see out the rear-view mirror and with the boot of the car hopping up and down, Maggie crawled home at five miles an hour. She was panting and scratched to bits by the time she managed
to extract the tree from the boot. The young lad who had sold it to her had made it look so easy, but it was a mighty tree and at one stage Maggie had her arms around it trying to keep it upright
and it was like doing a crazy waltz in the driveway as the tree went one way and she hung on grimly trying to straighten it up. Orla Noonan
would
have to be sweeping her garden path,
Maggie thought irritably, as she tried to look as though waltzing around her drive with a Christmas tree was the most natural thing in the world.

Orla and Billy had never spoken to them after the ‘incident’. But Maggie didn’t get hung up on it. It was their loss. To be a friend you had to behave like a friend, and Orla
Noonan had never managed that. The children still played on the street together and Maggie was glad of that. At least her neighbours weren’t so petty as to bar all contact.

She finally managed to haul the tree into the garage. She’d decorate the rest of the house but Terry could put up the tree, she decided, as she gazed at her scratched hands.

No doubt Alma would have the perfect manicure, she thought wryly. Alma was always creaming her hands and elbows. Maggie was hoping to get her hair cut first thing in the morning to look a bit
presentable.

She worked like a Trojan for the rest of the day, putting away the shopping and decorating the house. Normally she enjoyed putting up the Christmas decorations but today she was too harassed. As
the tin of snow got blocked for the umpteenth time, as she sprayed icicles on her red-taped decorated porch, she cursed like a trooper and longed to fling it out the window.

‘Mam! The porch is MEGA!’ Michael enthused when he arrived home from school. His eyes were alight with excitement and pleasure and, for a moment, all her hard work was worth it as he
and the girls went from room to room exclaiming with delight over the decorations.