City Woman (55 page)

She spoke coldly after the tone: ‘This is Devlin Delaney. Kindly call me as soon as possible. We have a few matters to discuss.’ She hung up in bad humour. She had meetings with her
accountant and suppliers for the Galway City Girl which occupied her for the rest of the day and by four-thirty she was quite tired. She thought she’d give Maggie a ring and invite herself
over to her friend’s house for dinner. She was just about to dial when her phone rang. It was Liz.

‘There’s a Mr Colin Cantrell-King on the line. Will you take it?’ Devlin felt her stomach clench into knots: even hearing his name made her feel sick.

‘Will you take the call, Devlin?’ Liz repeated as Devlin tried to speak but couldn’t.

Forty-Nine

‘Hello?’ How Devlin managed to keep her voice normal she would never know.

Colin’s furious tones assaulted her ears. ‘What the hell is going on here, Devlin?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Devlin said icily. Now that she was getting over the shock of hearing that her former employer, lover, and father of her child was on the phone, she was damned
if she was going to let him guess how much he upset her.

‘I’ve had some bitch of a journalist waylay me and start asking questions about you and me and the child you had. I’m warning you, Devlin, I’ll sue you if my name appears
in any papers or if there’s any hint of a paternity claim or an allegation of an affair. How dare you speak to journalists about me! Are you listening to me? Do you hear what I’m
saying?’ Colin was beside himself with anger.

‘
You
listen to me, Colin Cantrell-King!’ Devlin, in turn, felt a cold fury engulf her. ‘I’ve never spoken to
anyone
, let alone a journalist, about you.
I wouldn’t lower myself. You are scum, Colin, the lowest of the low. You were the biggest mistake of my life and I never want to be reminded of it, even by hearing your name mentioned. I
don’t give a hoot in hell about your threats. Just you stay away from me and don’t dare ever to phone me again.’

Devlin slammed down the phone, feeling physically sick. This was Lucinda Marshall’s doing. The two-faced bitch! Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it. Taking several deep
breaths, she flicked through her Rolodex and found the number of the
Sunday Echo
. Briskly she dialled, and asked to be put through to the editor.

‘May I say who’s calling please. And in connection with what?’ came a bored voice down the line.

‘This is Devlin Delaney and it’s in connection with an article that is being written about me.’

‘That would be Features; you’ve got the wrong number.’

‘Could you give me the right number and the editor’s name, please,’ Devlin said as patiently as she could. If one of her employees had shown such apathy on the phone, Devlin
would have sacked him or her on the spot.

She dialled the number for Features and insisted on being put through to Mick Coyle, the editor. Mick was a big, florid, loudmouth who fancied himself as a ladies’ man. Devlin didn’t
like him, despite the fact that he had always been charming when they met at social functions. He was too smarmy for her, hugging women and mauling them. The first time he tried it on with Devlin,
she had very coolly removed his arm from her waist and said politely, ‘If you don’t mind . . .’ He got the message and he’d never tried it on again.

‘Devlin!’ Mick’s raspy voice came down the line, sounding as though she had really made his day by calling.

She came straight to the point. ‘Mick, I want to know what’s going on.’

‘Going on?’ he blustered.

‘Yes, Mick,’ Devlin snapped. ‘This article that’s being written about me. Why is some little creep going out to Ballymun looking for information? Why is Lucinda Marshall
asking my mother and my former boss questions about me? I want this article stopped.’

Mick thought fast and lied through his teeth. ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’s only a bit of background information for Kevin Shannon’s business piece.’

‘Why didn’t Kevin ask
me
?’ Devlin retorted coldly. ‘I could have told him all he needed to know. Mick, I don’t want my private life peddled on the pages of
your paper, so either stop the article or deal with my solicitors. It’s your choice.’

‘OK, Devlin, if that’s what you want. No article,’ Mick declared solemnly.

‘Oh!’ Devlin was a bit taken aback at his capitulation. Maybe she’d misjudged the man; maybe he had some integrity after all. ‘Thank you, Mick, I appreciate
that.’

‘Anything for you, Devlin,’ he said in his most sycophantic tones, then hung up.

Well, that was that, Devlin decided with satisfaction. What a day! Hearing from Colin had really unsettled her. No wonder he was rattling. If any hint of a scandal appeared in the papers it
would be an out-and-out disaster for him. Medical consultants, like Caesar’s wife, were supposed to be above suspicion.

She buzzed down to Special Occasions, and when Rhona answered she asked to speak to her mother.

Lydia came on the line. ‘Yes, Devlin?’

‘Do you want to come up and have a coffee with me in the Coffee Dock before I go home? I phoned the features editor of the
Echo
and he told me there’d be no article about
me.’

‘I’m very glad of that, dear,’ Lydia said. ‘I’d never have forgiven myself if anything I’d said caused you embarrassment.’

‘Well, it won’t, so come on. I’ll see you upstairs in five minutes.’ Devlin decided not to mention the fact that Lucinda Marshall had also been annoying Colin. As she
tidied up her desk, she smiled. She’d like to have been a fly on the wall at the meeting between the gynaecologist and the journalist. It would be nearly worth having an article written about
her just for the supreme discomfort it would cause him! As far as she and Colin Cantrell-King were concerned, there was no such thing as forgive and forget.

Mick Coyle buzzed his secretary. ‘Gillian, get me Lucinda, Kevin and Larry on the double. I want them in here for a meeting. Pronto!’

‘Yes, Mr Coyle,’ Gillian said politely, from the box her boss had the nerve to call an office.

‘Tell them to drop whatever they’re doing and get their butts in here. And don’t listen to any excuses.’

‘Yes, Mr Coyle,’ Gillian repeated, giving him a vicious two fingers. ‘Yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir. How high will I jump, sir?’ she muttered sarcastically as she
began dialling the numbers of the three big names on the
Sunday Echo
.

‘Devlin, we’re going to have to cut back on costs. We’ve gone over budget and I don’t like that.’ Luke fastened his seat belt in preparation for
take-off. Devlin yawned. It was the crack of dawn and they were taking the six-thirty flight home from Galway, where they had spent the previous day inspecting the new City Girl complex that was
nearing completion.

‘I know that, Luke, but at least the building is purpose-built. We don’t have to lease it, it’s ours. Surely that counts for something!’

‘In the long term, yes, but we’ve got to be very careful that we don’t overstretch ourselves. That can cause terrible financial hassle. We’ve got to make sure we
don’t develop cash flow problems.’

‘I know,’ Devlin sighed. ‘I’ll have another look at the fixtures and fittings and see if we can’t do better somewhere else.’

‘Have a look at the costings for the pool too. I mean, is it absolutely necessary to have a mosaic mural of Clew Bay?’

Devlin grinned sheepishly. ‘I just wanted the best for the place and you’ll have to admit that the designs we saw for it were just stunning.’

‘There’s a recession on, Devlin. Mosaic murals are all very nice but in this economic climate your common or garden bathroom-type tiles will do very well.’

‘OK,’ Devlin agreed reluctantly. The Galway building had been her brainchild. It was the first time that she had been able to design a purpose-built complex from scratch; with Dublin
and Belfast they had been constrained by the architecture of existing buildings.

Devlin and her architect had thoroughly enjoyed the task and maybe they had gone a bit overboard. Devlin knew that Luke was right and this was one of the rare occasions that he had put his foot
down. Usually, once he approved the plans, he let her get on with it. Obviously he and Kieran, her accountant, had been chatting. She reached out and squeezed his hand to show there were no hard
feelings.

‘It’s a pity you have to go back this morning. I wish you could have stayed for the weekend,’ she said wistfully.

‘Me too, but those Dutch businessmen that I’m dealing with are going to be in London today and it’s a good opportunity to touch base.’ He brightened. ‘Maybe you
could fly back with me?’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Devlin laughed.

‘Come on, come on. You haven’t been over since Christmas!’

‘True,’ declared Devlin. ‘But Friday is always terribly busy in City Girl.’

‘You know you’re going to need an administrator soon, Devlin,’ Luke said seriously. ‘You can’t run the Dublin City Girl, oversee Belfast and Galway and make more
plans for expansion. It’s something we’ll have to give some consideration to – and sooner rather than later.’

‘Definitely,’ agreed Devlin, ‘but it won’t be the same not running the place on a day-to-day basis. I suppose I’ll always feel the Dublin City Girl is special, and
I’ll have to acquire someone special to run it.’

‘How about Liz?’

‘Oh no!’ Devlin exclaimed.

Luke was surprised at her vehemence. ‘I think she’s a very capable woman.’

‘She is,’ Devlin assured him. ‘And she’d do a great job. But I couldn’t lose a superb PA like Liz. She’s my right arm.’

‘Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t like to lose Dianne. She’s an excellent PA.’

‘How
is
Dianne these days?’ Devlin grinned, remembering how cool the other woman always was when Devlin had reason to speak to her.

Luke rubbed his jaw and frowned. ‘Well, now that you mention it, she doesn’t seem to be herself. She was off sick a while back for the first time since she started to work for me.
She seems a bit edgy lately. Maybe she’s a bit run down.’

‘You’re probably working her too hard,’ Devlin said wickedly.

‘Do you think so?’ Luke asked in concern.

‘Oh, don’t be daft, I was only joking.’

‘I’ll get her something nice in the duty-free. It might cheer her up.’

It was a short though bumpy flight, and as they started their descent, Devlin peered out the window at the lights of Dublin below them. In the distance she could see the twinkling lights of the
airport and the steady flashing of the beacon on the control tower. She could just make out the dark outline of the Ballymun towers rising into the sky and she thought of Mollie and Eddie and the
twins and reflected how lucky she was to have friends like them. At least she didn’t have to worry about that interview. It seemed like a bad dream – her mother getting drunk, the call
from Colin – and even though it had happened at the beginning of the week, she felt as though it had been a lifetime ago. All she wanted to do was to forget about it. Luke had been angry when
she told him, and had wanted to meet Lucinda in person to tell her to lay off. But Devlin put her foot down.

The plane was rolling from side to side in the wind as the runway unfolded like a dark ribbon beneath it. Devlin decided on the spur of the moment that she
would
fly to London with
Luke. After the week she’d put in, she deserved a little break, and they hadn’t seen much of each other since Christmas. And, she further reasoned, Luke flew across the Irish Sea to see
her far more than she did to see him. Fair was fair, and she had as much responsibility for nurturing their relationship as he had.

‘I hope I can get a seat on the same flight as you,’ she remarked, as the plane landed and raced down the runway.

‘Great!’ exclaimed Luke with pleasure. ‘You can always sit on my knee. I’ll suffer the discomfort!’

‘I bet you would,’ Devlin laughed.

By the time Devlin and Luke left the airport and were speeding along the motorway, the rain had stopped and the sun had made a watery appearance. They were on their way to
collect some clothes from Devlin’s penthouse for her weekend in London. They had had breakfast at the airport and Devlin estimated that it would take her fifteen minutes to get home, ten
minutes to pack, and that a taxi would have them back at the airport with time to spare for their nine-thirty flight. Now that she had made up her mind to go, she was really looking forward to the
weekend.

She switched on the car radio to listen to the news and especially the weather forecast, which predicted howling gales and rain. Perfect weather for a weekend in bed, Luke teased, as the
advertisements came on. Devlin laughed. ‘You’ve a one-track mind, mister.’ She leaned over to switch off the radio and almost crashed the car, transfixed by the words that came
across the airwaves.

‘The bastard, oh the fucking bastard!’ Devlin whispered in shock, her face the colour of blotting-paper.

Luke’s voice pierced the icy fog in her brain. ‘Pull the car over! Pull over on to the hard shoulder, Devlin.’ Like an automaton she obeyed.

‘Luke, why? Why do these things happen to me? Why can’t I have some peace in my life? Why am I being punished like this? That bastard told me he wouldn’t run any interview. Did
you hear that ad? They’re out to crucify me.’ She put her head in her hands and burst into tears.

Luke put his arms around her. ‘It’s all right, Devlin. Take it easy.’