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During her fourth afternoon in Tralee, Dorothy temporarily misplaced her friends. The morning had been exceptionally hectic, and fatigue had caused her to lose focus for five minutes, only to find herself alone when she snapped out of it.
Jools and Bea had been hurt when nobody expressed much of an interest in seeing the ongoing work at The Unicorn. Picking up on this, Patrick had been the one to suggest a quick visit to Killarney would not eat into the agenda very much. As they had already hired an SUV for the duration of their stay, the gang piled into it and headed off to check out the hotel. Once there, they spent two hours trailing around after Bea as she showed off the new bar and restaurant, as well as the magnificent newly designed kitchen.
It has been quite exhausting, and only Viv had been willing to spend an additional thirty minutes exploring the bedrooms. She was full of praise for what the Laceys had accomplished with a relatively tight budget. Bea basked in the compliments and, behind her back, Patrick surreptitiously gave Dorothy the thumbs-up.
Dorothy felt a twinge of guilt at her own lack of enthusiasm for the tour. She had invested millions in the project, and was looking forward to seeing the completed hotel. It was just that spending a morning on yet another building site held few charms for her these days.
Jools and Bea were so wrapped up in The Unicorn, she supposed it was difficult for them to appreciate her life had rapidly become a sea of mud and decision making. She would have liked to share some of her recent design experiences with them, but knew from looking at their exhausted faces they had no emotional energy to even think about the palace at Howth, never mind dredge up a modicum of interest in its construction.
She trudged along with the others for the bedroom tour. Every now and again she took a picture on her phone and made an oohing sound of appreciation. Helen joined in and also made a point of taking photographs of the spectacular bathrooms. This level of enthusiasm seemed to satisfy Bea well enough, and she began to look positively cheerful.
After a respectable length of time, a protesting Viv was dragged away from her intense perusal of the large suites on the top floor, and bundled into the SUV. The group returned to Tralee with the intention of relaxing and watching a few more films.
Dorothy’s fatigue led to her becoming separated from the rest of the gang after viewing a short movie about angst-ridden teenagers with a penchant for something called ‘bubble’, and she had not laid eyes on any of them for more than ten minutes. She pulled out her phone to call Patrick then felt a drop of rain falling on her head. She promptly took refuge in an attractive looking coffee shop and sent Viv a text to say she was fine and just grabbing a coffee.
Amanda had persuaded her to buy a pair of Cacherel boots that would have cost the equivalent of a week’s salary, had she still been employed by Premier. She had teamed them with her cherry red coat and a little black dress with sleeves adorned with a sprinkling of silver stars. She was carrying one of her Orla Kiely bags and wearing opaque black tights to keep the cold at bay. Dorothy accepted her outfit did not compare to many of the stylish rigouts on display at the festival, but honestly did not care. Next year I might hire a stylist and surprise them all.
With only one exception, all of the tables in the café were fully occupied. There was space available in a large corner booth, where a solitary man with blue-black hair and a goatee beard sat drinking a cup of tea. When Dorothy asked if he would mind sharing, the customer raised no objection. He seemed to be a million miles away and hardly aware of her existence.
A waitress obligingly hung up Dorothy’s coat, then took her order for coffee and a rice cake. As the girl walked off, her table companion seemed to come back to earth. He perused the blackboard listing the daily specials. Then he searched his pockets for something that turned out to be his wallet. The leather case apparently failed to live up to expectations. After a brief glance inside, he sighed heavily. Then he made as if to stand up without placing an order for food.
‘I’m not trying to pick you up or anything like that,’ Dorothy said quietly, ‘but I’ll stand you lunch if you’re hungry. You look like a man with a lot on his mind.’
The goateed stranger reclaimed his seat and stared at her searchingly. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you were trying to pick me up. You’re a lovely looking woman,’ was the unexpected reply. ‘A real dayshent mare as they say in these parts. I like the stars on your dress.’
Dorothy blushed. ‘Charmer,’ she smiled, ‘you must be from Kerry.’
He grinned cheekily and she saw that, despite the wrinkles around his eyes, he was only about thirty-five years old. ‘My parents are from Kerry,’ he said, ‘although I live in Dublin. I’m visiting for the festival and find myself financially embarrassed what with one thing and another. Sorry.’ He gestured for the waitress to take his order.
She shrugged. ‘I used to find myself financially embarrassed on a regular basis when I was younger, but not so much these days. I’m Dorothy Lyle by the way.’
‘I’m Kurt Palmer. You’re not by any chance a rich widow with a love of the arts, are you?’
‘I’m not a widow, although I do know a considerable number of artisans. Are you an artist yourself? You have a sort of creative buzz around you, like a particularly annoying fly. You remind me of a girl I went to school with. She plays the harp for the National Philharmonic now. Silly cow.’
Kurt did not appear to take offence at being compared to a buzzing insect, and half-smiled. ‘I own the smallest production company in Ireland,’ he told her. ‘We make commercials and the odd short.’
‘Do you have anything showing I might have seen?’ Dorothy asked.
He shook his head glumly. ‘Not a chance, with the way things have been going this year. Frankly, we’re on our knees. The company, that is. We’re called Mermaid Productions. I’m here to network. I thought I might hook an investor, but the bigger production boys have them all tied up. If there’s any money to be found in Kerry this week, it may as well be buried in a cave in Kenmare Bay with the seals swimming around it, for all the good it’s doing me.’
Their food arrived and Dorothy gratefully added milk to her coffee and took a fortifying gulp. Kurt attacked his Panini with gusto, and she watched him silently for a minute, glad to see he was not playing with his food and pretending not to be hungry. As the caffeine and carbs worked their magic, she began to relax and forget about whatever else she should be doing and who might be worried about her.
She eyed Kurt over her cup. He was attractive in an arty way. She wondered if Rosa would be interested in him, but concluded an impoverished producer might not have quite what it took to attract her very picky assistant.
‘Are you looking for an investor for a particular project, or for day-to-day cash flow?’ she pulled her mind away from Rosa’s taste in men and ventured to ask.
Kurt raised his head from the rapidly disappearing Panini and regarded her in surprise. ‘It’s for a feature-length production,’ he replied slowly. ‘That’s a film in layman’s terms, or a motion picture if you’re from over the pond. I had it all lined up to start shooting next week. Then a fortnight ago, my backer went bust and did a runner to Brazil. The word is, he owes the banks two billion.’
‘Did you write the story yourself?’ Dorothy asked.
‘My brother, Miles, and I wrote it together,’ Kurt replied with a heavy sigh. ‘We have copyright on the script, but no money to make it. We’ve been turned down for even basic funding by the IFB, that’s the Irish Film Board. We can’t even get a lousy two hundred grand out of the tight bastards. You’d swear I was expecting to shoot the movie on film the way they reacted to my application.’
‘You mean there’s another way?’ Dorothy was riveted by this glimpse into a hitherto unknown world.
Kurt gawked at her, askance. ‘Nobody except the likes of Tarantino shoot on film these days,’ he sounded incredulous. ‘It’s all digital now.’
‘Gosh,’ she grinned impishly. ‘You live and learn. So how much will it cost to make?’
‘It’s hard to say,’ was the despondent reply. ‘Half a million would go a long way, and with seven hundred thousand I could really make it work. I know I could.’
‘You’re the director?’
‘That’s right, and Miles is the producer. We have some fantastic talent all lined up. At least we did until last week when I had to break the bad news about your man fecking off to Brazil.’
Kurt sighed mournfully and picking up a spoon began to stir his coffee. He appeared to slip back into a trance-like state as he watched the implement going round and round.
‘So what’s your movie called?’ Dorothy decided to risk asking the question, as he was starting to get on her nerves a little.
‘Christy.’
‘And what’s it about, pray tell?’
Kurt Palmer relaxed his shoulders and began to tell her all about his movie, and she listened entranced. When he had finished, she sat up straighter and looked eager.
‘If I become your new backer, what percentage of box office will you give me? If you and Miles hold copyright to the script, that leaves me with fewer options. I wish Rosa was here. She probably dated her share of movie producers back in the Big Apple, if I know Rosa Barnett, and I do.’
Kurt was clearly stunned by this unexpected development. ‘Are you serious?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Absolutely. I rarely joke about large sums of money.’ Dorothy gave him her best smile. ‘I’m like Howard Hughes or Bugs Bunny, or one of those types. I suppose the best thing is for you to come to a meeting back in Dublin with Rosa, that’s my assistant, and Nicholas, that’s one of my team of lawyers, and see if we can reach an agreement. Let me give you Rosa’s details.’
She picked up her bag and extracted a business card. She was pleased she had decided against bringing her favourite tote to the festival, since this one was being seriously kicked about. Kurt obediently took the proffered card. After a quick glance at it, he gawped at her once more.
‘I have to go now,’ she told him kindly. ‘I have three missed calls from my friends. They probably think I’ve been abducted by aliens or something equally adventurous. I’m going back to Dublin tomorrow night, so make sure you call Rosa first thing tomorrow. You can’t afford to waste any more time. I’ll speak to her later and let her know what’s going on. Is that all right, Kurt?’
‘That’s fine, Dorothy, if you’re sure,’ he managed to blurt.
‘I’ll be surer after we speak to Nicholas, or whoever the relevant person is at CCK, but I think we’ll be fine. It’s only a movie after all. It’s not as if I’m staking you in a gold mine or something equally crazy. I must pay before I forget.’
She extracted some bills and quickly settled the tab. After a brief hesitation, Dorothy handed Kurt two fifty-euro notes. ‘That’s something in advance,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you fading away from hunger in the next forty-eight hours. Try to relax, Kurt. Bye for now.’
She left him staring after her open-mouthed.
That evening, while she was changing for dinner, she called Rosa.
‘S’up, Boss?’ Rosa’s standard greeting echoed down the line.
‘Rosa, why do you always call me boss?’
‘Because Saul does.’
‘Ah, yes. Did he by any chance share the swimming pool dream with you?’
‘In full technicoloured detail. That guy loves telling the story of the dolphin who calls you boss, and sounds like Sam Elliot.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you all? He’s a seal not a dolphin.’
‘Sure, Boss, the seal guy. No problem.’ Rosa sounded highly amused. ‘I’m glad you called. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something called the Employment and Investment Incentive Scheme. The Irish revenue runs it. There are huge tax breaks for angel investors, provided you don’t own more than thirty percent of the shareholding. It would be an ideal vehicle for you.’
‘That sounds great, Rose.’ Dorothy was genuinely pleased at this piece of information. ‘Eddie’s cousin owns a well drilling company that badly needs a capital injection. That might be a good place to start. Let’s talk about that it when I get home. The main reason I called is to give you the heads-up. Expect a call from a chap called Kurt Palmer. He’s a film director.’
‘He is?’ The American woman sounded taken aback.
‘Indeed he is. It’s not just chocolate, well drilling, and fashion designs for us, Rosa Barnett. There’s a strong possibility we’re also about to get involved in the motion picture business.’
