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My own move started later that morning when a big blue van pulled up outside the gate. My dad, in a baseball cap and sunglasses, stuck his head out of the driver’s window and waved. “Hello, darlin’, we’re here with your furniture.”
“We?” I asked, running to hug him as he got out.
“I brought two lads to help out. Paddy and Andy. They’re builders. They’ll have it all inside in no time at all.”
Two burly young men in tee shirts and shorts alighted from the van. They smiled, nodded, and went to the back of the van to unload.
I took a look at my dad, whom I hadn’t seen for at least three months. With his thick white hair and brown eyes, he was youthful and fit, with a wiry body and an impish smile that made older women weak at the knees.
“Howerya, ya old geezer?” I hugged him again.
“Fine, sweetheart.” He held me at arm’s length, studying me intently. “You’ve lost weight. You look exhausted. Are you okay?”
I pulled away. “I’m fine. The past week was a little stressful, but it seems to have sorted itself out. We were able to rent the apartment above mine on a temporary basis, so I won’t have a long commute.”
He smiled and patted my cheek. “Good. Let’s have a look at this new place, then, so we can tell the lads where to put everything.”
“Great. Can’t wait to have somewhere to sit.”
A few minutes later, Dad looked around the living room. “This is a grand room. You’ll be happy here. I brought the blue sofa and your mum’s chair and the coffee table from our family room. And all your books. Plenty of room for them in the bookcases, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’ve got a cat,” Dad exclaimed and picked up Cat, who had escaped from the kitchen. He stroked her glossy black fur. “It’s a handsome fella. What’s his name?”
“It’s a she, and her name’s Cat.”
Dad laughed and put Cat on the floor, where she weaved around the boxes, sniffing at them. “Purrfect name, I’d say. Beautiful animal.”
“I love her. I hope she’ll like her new home.”
“With that garden? Of course she will.”
We didn’t have time for more chatting as “the lads” brought in load after load from the van. Dad had added a lot more than what was on my list, and I was amazed to see the things from my childhood home being carried in.
“The Indian rug from my bedroom!” I exclaimed as it was rolled out on the floor in front of the sofa. “And the lamps from your living room. Dad, you’ll have nothing left.”
“I’ll have plenty,” he said, picking a book from one of the boxes. “I’m thinking of selling the house and downsizing into something smaller, anyway. Do you want the books in alphabetical order or by author?”
“By author,” I said. “But they should be in alphabetical order.”
“Gotcha.” He picked up another book. “I’ll start with the Jane Austen collection, so.”
“Hello?” a voice called from the front door. “Do you need any help?”
“We’re in here, Liz,” I called. “Come and meet my dad.”
Dressed in a pink tee shirt, denim dungarees, and white ballet flats, Liz looked as cute as a cupcake. I could see her face light up as she spotted Dad. She held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Liz, Audrey’s new neighbour.”
Dad put down the books and shook her hand, grinning broadly. “Hi, Liz. Great to meet you. My name’s Sean.”
I could see they clicked at once. They must be around the same age, I realised, and would probably have a lot in common. Wouldn’t it be great if... But I pushed the thought away. I’d been there so many times, introducing Dad to nice women his age and only ending up disappointed. You couldn’t make people fall in love, they had to do it all by themselves. In any case, he always smiled at women this way. It didn’t mean he fancied them, just that he liked women in general.
“How about coffee?” Liz said. “Or a cool drink? I’m sure you’d like to take a break in this hot weather.”
“Thanks, but I’m afraid I have to get back to Abbeyleix,” Dad said with more than a touch of regret in his voice. “I only took a half-day from the bank. And the lads have to get back to their building site or their boss will have their blood.” He looked at me. “Give me a shout if you need anything else.”
I looked around at the furniture, the boxes of kitchen equipment, and the stacks of paintings and laughed. “I won’t need anything else for a long time, Dad. But maybe you could come and help me put up the pictures at the weekend? And some of the curtain rails need replacing.”
Dad put his arm around me. “Sure thing, girl. I’ll bring my toolkit and put everything up for you on Sunday, okay?”
I agreed, and Dad and the lads were on their way back, leaving me with the boxes.
Liz looked at the departing van through the window, a dreamy expression in her eyes. “Your dad’s a nice man. Very charming. Gorgeous smile.”
“I know.” I sighed and shook my head. “He does that to all women.”
Liz’s face fell. “He does?”
“Yes. It’s part of his charm. He likes the company of women. But getting involved with him is a different matter. He’s quite a complicated man.”
“In what way?”
“He lives with a ghost. The ghost of my mother, who died when I was seven. Quite a challenge for any woman.”
Liz looked suddenly uncomfortable. She put her hand on my arm. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Of course that would leave a huge trauma for you both. That’s the problem when you take everything at face value and try to rush into friendships. I keep doing that, and then things turn out to be more complicated under the surface.”
I felt immediately sorry for Liz. Rushing into friendships was something very lonely people often did. Living on her own at her age must be so hard.
I put my hand on hers. “I’m so glad I’m going to have you for a neighbour. And if that coffee’s still going, I’d love it.”
Liz brightened. “It’s ready in the garden. I’ve got some cupcakes from the bakery too.”
“Now you’re talking. But I’d better lock Cat in the bedroom. I don’t want her to stalk the bird table. And I want to get an e-mail off to the publisher to let him know what’s happening at the paper.”
“Okay.” Liz walked to the door. “You know where to find me.”
“See you in a minute.”
Liz stopped and turned. “What time on Sunday do you think your dad will be here?”
***
My e-mail hadn’t placated Christopher one bit. He called me later that day and said we had to have a meeting.
“How about dinner here at the hotel tomorrow evening?” he suggested.
Dinner in his hotel, I thought Wine, chat, flirting, and his bed upstairs... No, please don’t go there, Audrey. “How about lunch at the Bianconi?” I said, my voice crisp. “I’m busy in the evening.” Busy unpacking books, I thought.
“Yeah, okay,” he grunted. “We can do dinner another day.”
No, we can’t. “Good. One o’clock okay?”
“One thirty. I’m playing golf all morning. I’ll need a shower before I meet you.”
I turned my mind away from the image of his naked body in the shower. “Perfect. See you then. Bye, Christopher.”
“Please, call me Kit. All my friends do.”
“I’m not your friend,” I said. “But okay. Bye...Kit.”
“Bye, babe,” he purred.
“I’m not your babe,” I snapped. But he had already hung up.
***
My outfit for the lunch consisted of a black linen shift with a high neckline and a skirt that came to the middle of my knees. Perfectly respectable and the most boring item in my wardrobe. With ballet flats and no make-up or jewellery, it would send the right signals to Christopher: business and no shenanigans on the side.
“He won’t get a chance to get flirty,” I said to Cat as I gathered up my notes and phone and put them in my bag. “Strictly business.”
Cat’s green eyes had that “Who are you kidding?” look as I sprayed some Cristal by Chanel behind my ears and on my wrists.
“Well, I don’t want to smell bad, do I?” I told her. “Even at a business meeting.”
Cat turned her back on me and curled up on the sofa, to which she had taken a particular liking. She was happy in her new place. And so was I. Happy to finally be a grown-up with my own home on my own terms.
And what a gorgeous flat it was, with its spacious rooms and peaceful garden. I had spent all of the previous evening unpacking books and shoving pieces of furniture around, until they all finally found their right places: the sofa in front of the fireplace, flanked by my mother’s easy chair and a leather armchair from my dad’s study. The lamps with their silk shades cast pools of warm light on the Indian rug, and the full moon shone in through the tall curtainless windows. Only half the books had been placed in the bookcase, but they already gave the room that homely feel.
I had gone to bed happy, with Cat snoozing in her basket in the kitchen, guarding me from all evil. And now I was ready to fight for the newspaper that I had come to love and all the people who worked so hard for it. Watch out, Christopher Montgomery, I thought, don’t mess with an Irish girl on a mission.
***
I marched into the dining room at the Bianconi Inn about two minutes past one and was met by a waiter who told me Mr Montgomery was waiting for me in the garden. Only slightly deflated that my grand entrance had been botched, I followed him out to the shady lawn behind the hotel, where tables had been set under the large oak trees. Christopher was sitting at a table by the fish pond looking at his phone. Dressed in white trousers and a pink shirt, his hair damp from the shower, he looked relaxed, if slightly tired. He got up as I approached and pulled out my chair.
“Hello, Audrey. Nice to see you. Would you like a drink?”
“Hello, eh, Kit.” I sat down. “I’ll just have water. I never drink in the middle of the day.”
He gestured at his glass of cold beer. “Not even an ice-cold Carlsberg? Delicious in this heat.”
“Beer makes me burp. Never touch it.”
He laughed and sat down. “Yes, there is that. But I can handle it. Now, what would you like to eat?”
I picked up the menu and scanned the list. “I’ll have the crab salad with some soda bread.”
“Sounds nice and light.” He nodded at a waiter who had just appeared, pad and pen ready to take our order. “Crab salad for the young lady and the smoked salmon on brown bread for me. Bring us a bottle of Ballygowan and another beer.”
“Straight away, sir,” the waiter said and walked away.
Kit put his napkin in his lap and turned to me. “So, let’s talk about the plans, then. A Saturday supplement, you said in your e-mail. Some kind of magazine?”
I nodded. “Yes. We thought we’d scrap the Wednesday paper and just have an online version that day. We want to update the website to make it more like a newspaper instead of a site with different pages. A bit like The Irish Times layout, if you’ve seen their website.”
“No, I haven’t, but go on.”
“Okay. So then the weekend edition would be the big event, so to speak. It would be a glossy magazine with lots of different sections. We’d have food, health, fitness, gardening, fashion...” I paused. Why was he staring at me? “And we’d also cover more serious things, such as local politics and immigration and social affairs. Homelessness and so on.” I drew breath.
Kit said nothing while we were served our meal. He drank some beer. Picked up his knife and fork and put them down again. “Well,” he started, “that’s a very ambitious plan. How much is all this going to cost?”
I pulled a sheet of paper from my bag. “Mary has worked out a plan. We think we can save money by not having a print version on Wednesday, which also cuts down on the money we spend on distribution.”
“If you all took a pay cut, that would also help,” Kit interrupted, merely glancing at my page.
I stared at him. “Pay cut? We’re working for peanuts as it is. We haven’t had a raise since you bought the paper three years ago. What do you think we are? A Chinese sweatshop?”
He laughed. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”
“No, but if we don’t get a raise soon, the girls will leave. We have a great team there, you know. Excellent staff who will work their guts out for our paper. ”
He picked up his knife and fork again. “Please, calm down. I was joking. I love it when your eyes flash like that.”
I looked down at my crab salad, willing myself to stay calm. Then I looked up and met his teasing eyes. “I’d be grateful if you could keep to business and hold the personal remarks.”
He put his hand on mine. “That, my darling, is going to be very difficult. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman with a feisty spirit. That’s an irresistible combination. You can come here and wear no make-up and that nun’s dress and the flat shoes, but it only makes you even more desirable. Forgive me if I stray from the professional path from time to time, but you’re too much of a distraction. You can’t deny there is a certain, eh, chemistry between us.”
“No,” I mumbled, his touch nearly paralysing me. “But that shouldn’t impact on our professional relationship.”
He removed his hand. “I’ll do my best to act correctly, that’s all I can promise.”
Recovering my cool, I looked back at him. “Kit, I will never succumb to your undeniable charms. You’re my boss. I have my own rules about that kind of relationship. I’ll never sleep with you. That’s final.” I drew breath.
He was silent for a long time. Then he took a long pull of his beer. “What if I fired you? Then I wouldn’t be your boss.”
“Then I’d hate you forever.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d finally give in. I can see it in your eyes.”
I gritted my teeth. “Listen, I didn’t come here to play games with you. If you’re not going to be adult enough to discuss my plan for the paper, I’ll go back to the office and we’ll work to the original deal. We’ll get the circulation back to what it was and stick to your deal or ultimatum or whatever the feck you want to call it.”
Kit laughed and held up his hands. “Okay, settle down. Let’s be professional, then and enjoy our lunch.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my knife and fork, and we ate in silence for a while, until Kit wiped his mouth and cleared his throat.
“So,” he started, “I’ve been considering your plan. It’s good, but there’s no proof it won’t end up costing money if the sales don’t take off at once. But you can go ahead on the same condition as before: You have three months to get it off the ground. After that, the gloves are off. If we lose money, the paper is history. Got that?”
I nodded and put my napkin on the table. “Got it. I take it nobody gets a raise?”
“Not at the moment. We’ll revise the salaries at the end of the three-month period.”
“Right.” I got up. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll be in touch. By e-mail.”
He rose. “Look, Audrey, I like you. A lot. I don’t mean it in a sexist way at all when I say this. I admire your strength, your way with people, and your tremendous guts. But what you’re doing here in this little town running a local newspaper is a mystery to me. You could have a much higher profile in Dublin or even London. We’re looking for an editor for our new project over there. If you’re interested, I’ll e-mail you the details. Could be a great new start for you. More money, and a new career in journalism. What do you say?”
We looked at each other across the table while his words sank in. Did he mean it? Probably not. But the idea tickled my senses. A high-profile job in London? My dad would be so proud. But... “Thank you, Kit,” I said. “That’s very nice to hear, of course. But I’m happy here. I’m a country girl at heart. And The Knockmealdown News is my baby. I want to see it grow up.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You’re a strange girl, Audrey. Not many women would refuse an offer like this. But, strange as it may seem, I understand where you’re coming from. This is a nice town, a nice place to live. I envy you in a way, if you see what I mean. Being part of a community like this is probably better than any glitzy London life. Not that I’d want to change mine for this, but I do understand.” He held out his hand. “Can we be friends?”
I shook his hand. “Not sure about the friends bit, but thanks. Bye for now, Kit.” I dropped his hand and walked away, feeling as if I’d just been on a roller coaster ride. But I left the restaurant with a completely different opinion of Christopher Montgomery than when I had arrived.