| |
Many years had passed since Horace first explained to Dorothy that the Irish calendar was based on the seasons of the ancient Celts. According to the customs of the tribe, it had officially been autumn since August first. It was a balmy day and, Celts or no Celts, Dorothy was wearing strappy sandals and a light dress with only a cardigan over it for protection.
The school holidays were well and truly over and, consequently, the streets were jammed with motorists as harassed parents resigned themselves to many months of grind before the Christmas break. Feeling almost nervous of the traffic volumes, she resolved not to brave it alone.
Just for a change, she exited the Falcon building by the front door instead of the garage. Brian, the senior concierge, was on duty, and obligingly hailed a passing taxi on her behalf. She thanked him with a smile, jumped in the back, and asked the driver to take her to the city centre.
She was doing her level best to stay positive about the Simone situation. The purchase of the proposed love nest on Boomerang Beach was in the hands of the lawyers. The vendors were part of a chain, and all interested parties had been asked to exercise patience because the paperwork would inevitably take some time to complete.
Simone and Charlie were currently residing in a tiny house Charlie’s family had owned for many years. Once they vacated, their plan was to add to their income stream by renting it out to holidaymakers. They had waited seven months for the perfect beach house to come along. Their email said it was their dream home. Rather than running the risk of jeopardising the purchase by being pushy, they had resigned themselves to a further delay before the deal was finalised.
Even factoring in this time lapse, the lovers hoped to be installed in their new home by the end of November. According to Simone’s latest email, the happy couple had also purchased Charlie’s uncle’s bar, thereby enabling him to retire.
As if this was not excitement enough for any two people, the local surf school had amalgamated with the bar, and created a joint enterprise. The latest photographs from Oz depicted the usual group of tanned and shining surfers. Without exception, they were grinning and clutching upright boards in a variety of vivid hues. In Dorothy’s opinion, they all looked disgustingly outdoorsy and content.
For a horrible moment, she wondered if her friend was sleeping with other men as well as Charlie. Was it possible Simone was involved in some sort of free love setup, and working her way through the surfers? Perhaps she should jump on a plane to Sydney and find out for herself?
Dorothy pictured Saul’s face if she suddenly announced her intention of taking off to the southern hemisphere for a month, thereby abandoning him and the building project. The architect would freak out, and who would blame him?
With scarcely three months to go before she officially moved to her new residence, it was a case of all hands to the pumps. The schedule was extremely tight, and her input was required on a weekly basis at a minimum. Perhaps it would be better to wait until she was in the new house before arranging a visit to Boomerang Beach. That would also give Simone and Charlie a chance to settle into their new home.
There was a strong possibility that Bel or Viv, or possibly both ladies, would wish to accompany her. They would require plenty of notice for a trip of that duration, and would not thank her for trying to force it.
Dorothy reluctantly admitted there was no sense in a dramatic and headlong rush to Oz which would potentially spoil the experience for them all. There’s a time for everything Dorothy Lyle. This is a time for patience.
From: Dottie8888@chatulike.ie
To: SRedmond@chatchat.com
Date: September 17th, 2011
SUBJECT: UNICORNS AND RUBY
G’day Si,
How are you? Well, I hope. I am home safely from Spain. I enjoyed the two weeks at the villa very much, and I think the rest of the gang did as well. I deliberately did not get involved in many chats about my recent activities. I am mindful of the fact there are now some aspects of my life which will not necessarily appeal to other folks. Like the hotel for example.
BTW, as per your idea, I asked Bea and Jools to make sure tea and coffee making facilities are laid on in all rooms. I mentioned about fixed head showers being very impractical, although they had already decided to install flexible ones. They also like my suggested name, The Unicorn. At least they say they like it. Even if they don’t, I think they will go with it because they are grateful I haven’t asked them to install a diving pool. Will everybody slag me about it forever more?
So, back to the villa. For the most part I stayed quiet and let the others do the talking, only mentioning my acquisitions or plans when specifically asked. If anybody seemed to be unnecessarily inquisitive, I started chatting about Elaine’s plans for the greenhouse and chicken coop, and that soon had them changing the subject! LOL.
Patrick loved the villa. He really needed the change of scenery because he recently broke up with his boyfriend, and was still quite sad over the whole thing. He says even though he will miss waking up to sea views, he is delighted to have me home and in some sort of routine after my prolonged absence from the piano.
Guess what? He says when I sing I sound like somebody called Ruby Murray! This seems to please him very much, and he has gone off to find me some sheet music from the 1950s. Strange but true. This is a good sign because it means Patrick thinks I have made good progress. If he is encouraging me to play popular songs, he thinks I have reached the next level and don’t need to be playing classics all the time. Yippee. Of course, I have more time to practice than most people, but I am still mightily pleased with myself.
Dean Watson is back in town and Bel and Gerald invited me on another double date last night. I was quite tired after all the jollity in Mallorca, but I admit I was curious to see him again and agreed to the plan. We went to the Tiger’s Roar on the Lansdowne Road. That’s the Michelin-star restaurant Gerald owns a share in. I am not sure how big his share is. I only know he is part of a consortium that owns 51%.
The quality at the TR is always wonderful, and the service is first-rate, but whenever I’m there I often find myself wishing the menu was a teeny bit more user friendly. I often have to play it safe, choosing a salad as a starter, followed by cod or hake, because I’m terrified of experimenting with something called lambs sweetbreads, followed by pigeon rolled in liquorice charcoal, which frankly sounds disgusting.
Dean was even more charming and polite this time. As I said before, he is not what you would call classically handsome, although he really takes care of himself which makes him very attractive. There’s something about a man smelling good enough to eat that does things to a woman’s senses. I like him well enough, and I must admit the last time we met I thought he liked me too.
This time it was different. I got the strong impression I am not his type. Something has definitely changed since the last time he was here. I suspect he is in a relationship back home now, although he obviously didn’t feel able to mention it at dinner.
What’s it like in Oz? The dating scene I mean. Is it like here, where you either have a boyfriend or you don’t? Or is it like America where there are relationship stages and all of that ‘serious’ and ‘exclusive’ and ‘sex on the third date’ business, which all sounds rather complicated.
My feelings are not especially hurt over Dean. After all, a man can’t be expected to be attracted to every available woman who crosses his path. Although I can’t help feeling a tiny bit disappointed. Even though I have no serious intentions towards him, and he lives in London, which is not exactly convenient, it would be a boost to the old self-confidence to meet a man who fancies the pants off me, as Naomi always used to say.
Ah well. Perhaps it’s for the best. God works in mysterious ways and all that. Dean might turn out to be a crossdresser, or a devout Catholic or something far worse. I had better go because Sharon is expecting me for yet more treatments. Hi to C. Love Dot x
Sharon was delighted to see her back in Dublin, and happily tutted in disapproval over the state of her client’s nails. It was fortuitous that Dorothy had booked a mani/pedi as well as a back massage, because her twenty digits had not withstood the sun, sand, sea and salt at all well.
It took Dorothy precisely two minutes to detect that Sharon was not her usual good-humoured self. After some gentle prodding, the therapist eventually confessed the underlying cause of her bad humour.
The lease agreement on Divine was up for renewal at the end of the year, and Sharon’s landlord had given her notice of his intention to increase the rent by thirty percent. He was perfectly entitled to do this, because the contract provided for an upward only rent review.
Sadly, as a result of the economic downturn, Sharon’s business had fallen off by ten percent. There were new, state-of-the-art treatments constantly becoming available in the beauty business, although these inevitably required a certain level of investment. Without the necessary capital to inject into the business, she did not have a fighting chance against the larger salons.
The unhappy result of this state of affairs was Divine was in a downward spiral. Without the required funding, Sharon could not offer the new treatments. Without the new, up-to-the-minute treatments, she would be unable to increase her revenues. If she stayed where she was and renewed the lease with the higher rent, she might survive or she might not.
If she chose not to renew, then where was she to go? She had to work somewhere, and to do so she needed a salon. She certainly was not prepared to work from home or become a mobile beautician, as such a lifestyle would not fit in with her family commitments.
Dorothy was a great listener, and allowed the therapist to pour out all her troubles. Nonetheless, she refrained from offering any potential solutions. She sensed Sharon simply wanted a neutral person to listen. Part of her reason for remaining quiet was because she wanted to think long and hard about the situation before commenting. Hitherto, she had not considered the possibility of getting involved with a salon, even as a silent partner.
As the therapist talked her way through the dilemma, Dorothy felt a frisson of attraction run through her at the idea of becoming part-owner of such an establishment. If Sharon agreed to go into business with her, the first item to tick off the list would be larger premises. Dorothy knew she would need more help than was currently at her disposal if that objective was to be successfully achieved. Besides, even a silent partner needed to protect her interests. She would be a fool to get involved in such a venture, then sit back and hope for the best.
When Dorothy left Divine two hours later, she looked and felt pampered. She had an appointment scheduled at the Irish Foundation Trust, but decided against taking a taxi. The Trust building was situated on an area of Suffolk Street less than a mile from the salon. The day continued mild and there was no hint of rain so she chose to walk the short distance.
Sharon had insisted on applying some of the mineral makeup she knew her client loved, as well as a new shade of lipstick in a trendy shade matching her shoes. In her coral and green knee-length silk dress, and sporting her freshly applied cosmetics, Dorothy almost skipped the distance between Divine and the Trust premises.
She was aware of how well she looked, and did not feel even remotely like a frumpy forty-year-old. Take that, Dean Watson. I suppose you have a leggy twenty-year-old sexpot stashed away in London. I bet she’s not worth anything near one hundred million yo yos, is she? Huh!
When Dorothy reached her destination, she carefully negotiated the six stone steps and rang the doorbell. The building in which the Trust conducted its daily activities was impressive by anybody’s standards. It was a three storey Victorian property which would very likely have set them back three hundred thousand euro per annum in rent if they were merely tenants.
On her first visit to the premises some three months earlier, Dorothy discovered the property had been willed to the Trust by a grateful contributor. The man in question had lost everyone dear to him and believed that, after his death, the house should go to an organisation which would make good use of it.
It was rare for Dorothy to visit the Trust. The whole point of using them was so that contributors like her did not have to worry about the day-to-day administration of any fund they had set up. In her case, it was a sports fund created with the intention of benefitting Irish youngsters and increasing interest in the lesser-known sports. She had not divulged the true source of the income to the Trust managers.
She did not feel it appropriate to tell them the money had come from a lucky bet on the golf which had netted more than two million in winnings. The reason she found herself at their offices today was because, Deirdre, the manager, had requested the meeting. She wanted Dorothy to be brought up to speed on how the Trust was allocating her donation amongst the nation’s amateur sporting clubs.
Dorothy felt they could just have easily emailed her the update, but suspected they hoped to impress her, and possibly get her to part with another million for other causes.
Since returning from her Spanish holiday, she had given her friends and family a gift from her Darren Clarke winnings. She remained tight lipped about the bet, and told all parties she was getting an exceptionally good return on her investments, and felt it only right to spread the love a little.
Her lottery win had been a record breaking one. She was already an object of envy, even amongst those closest to her, and did not want to get their backs up by admitting to having won even more moola. She had not even mentioned the latest win to Claudia. This was partly because she did not want to admit to a new interest in gambling, but also because she was afraid the guru would attempt to re-route the cash to some sort of investment or savings product. The money had been an unexpected bonus and Dorothy fully intended to spend it. To hell with investments! I have a house to finish and kids to spoil.
She had already used a huge chunk of the win to pay for the construction of her new house, and also opened long-term savings accounts for each of her twins. Even taking all of this into account, there was still plenty of dosh left. She really should be thinking about giving the Trust the go ahead to create another million-euro fund, but her heart was not in it. She had so much on her mind, her head was ready to burst, and she felt like a cat chasing its own tail.
The idea of getting involved in yet another scheme filled her with dread. She resolved not to give into their request immediately. She would defer the final decision for a couple of months and put more thought into it. Feeling better for having reached this decision, she went to the reception desk and asked for Emily, the sports fund administrator.
