"Anything you like."
"All right, Derry, if this isn't cheating ... What would you do about all this if you were me?" With a sweep of her hand, she pointed to the laptop computer.
He paused, but she didn't rush in. She knew that he was going to answer. Eventually he spoke. "I'm not you, Ella. But I promised you that I'd answer and therefore I will. I would take the bank drafts for your father, but I know you are not going to do that. And I know without your telling me that he wouldn't take them, either."
She blinked with amazement at his understanding.
"And about the rest of it, I would hand it over. That's what I, Derry King, would do, but I don't know what you, Ella Brady, should do. If it were my own land and my fellow citizens, I would have to do that. I would think it was illegal to sit on such information and say nothing. But here it could be different. And I know how much you loved this guy, and don't want people's heavy boots walking around in his business. So this is possibly not an option for you at all. And may never be. Now, Ella, is that upfront and blabbermouth or what?"
She looked at him with such gratitude she could hardly speak. "Thank you, Derry," she said eventually.
"No, it doesn't hurt to be challenged."
"You've been a very good friend to me," Ella said. I'd like to do the same for you."
"Maybe you will," he said.
"You're right about one thing. I'm not going to take those drafts. There were people who were left much worse off by this whole disaster than we were. And you're right too that my father wouldn't want them, either."
He nodded.
"But the truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do about all this mess here in the computer. You're right, it will have to be sooner rather than later. But there's something else, just one thing I have to do first."
He put his head on one side to listen to her.
"Could I talk to you about that tomorrow?" she asked him.
"Whenever, Ella," he said.
"Thanks, Derry."
And they sat there as old friends do when they are tired, when there's nothing that has to be said because everything is understood.
They made plans for their Saturday. Derry was to take a bus tour of Dublin. Ella would go to Quentins and get things moving. They would not meet again until they went to Deirdre's apartment, at noon on Sunday.
"What shall I bring?" he asked.
"Wine," Ella said.
"How much wine?" he wondered.
"Relax. I know this is Ireland, but just one bottle. White or red."
"Thanks for marking my card," he said.
"Thanks for giving me a place to sleep," she said, taking off her shoes.
"Now please. I am a gentleman, in my heart, anyway. Please have the bedroom," he begged.
"Out of the question, Derry. I sleep on this lovely sofa. Put that rug over me, will you? I'll be out of here before you wake." She gave him a big, cheerful smile.
"You're a great girl, Ella, and it's a pleasure to be working with you," he said as he tucked her feet in.
"You're a sort of hero," she mumbled.
"What?" he asked.
But she was asleep. At 9 a.m. Derry woke to the phone. It was Kimberly. "God, you were asleep! I'm just so sorry," she said. I was wakeful, I thought I'd call you."
"No, I have to get up, it's fine," he said.
"All I want to know is, did you survive?" she asked.
"I think so. I haven't seen much of the place yet."
"But no dramas, no scenes, no regrets?" she wanted to know.
"No, none of those things, Kim," he said.
He looked at the door to the sitting room, which he had left open. Was Ella awake? Listening? He had better go and see. "Hold on, Kim," he said, and walked next door. The sofa had a folded rug on it and beside it was her computer. With a note on top. You are a generous man, Derry King. I will never forget your kindness to me last night. Please, can I leave this machine with you to look after for me? I will have made my decision about what it contains by Sunday night, and I so appreciate your help. Love, Ella He went back to the telephone. "Sorry, Kim. I thought it was room service. No, everything's fine here, as you said to me years ago. It's an ordinary place, not full of dragons, as I thought it might be." He heard her breathe more easily.
"Thank God, Derry. That's what I wanted so much for you. You deserve it," she said.
He sat for a while thinking about their conversation. In his whole life he had never lied to her so much. Everything was not fine here. He had not been checking room service. There were more dragons in this place than he had encountered for a long time. None of them having anything to do with him but everything to do with Ella Brady.
"I'm sorry for staying out all night," Ella said. "I hope you weren't worried or anything?"
"No, not when you called, of course not," her father said.
"I meant worried that I was going to start yet another unsuitable affair." She managed a slight smile.
"No, heavens, no," he protested.
"Derry's not in the same league at all, totally different. He's all work, no time at all for relationships of any kind. Anyway, you'll meet him tomorrow at Dee's place."
"And is he enjoying Dublin?" Ella's mother asked.
"Hard to know. He plays it very close to the chest." Ella's face was thoughtful. She seemed miles away.
"Will you be at home today?"
"No, Mother, I've a lot of things to sort out." Again she was distant. "I want you to think about something very seriously," she said eventually. "All the money you lost because of Don, it's there, you know, in this safe deposit box, banker's drafts, cash, bearer's bonds, whatever. You've read the letter. You know where it is. I haven't looked, but I know it's there. If you want to take it, I'd be happy for you to do that."
"Now, Tim," Barbara said in triumph, "I knew she would feel like this. Your father said not to mention it to you, but I said you'd see sense about it all. After all, it was his last wish that you should be seen all right and not have to work like a dog."
Chapter Thirteen.
"Oh, I'm not taking one euro of it, Mother, but you and Father, that's different. It's your choice."
"And of course, if we don't take it, then it just lies there," Barbara Brady was almost pleading.
"Or we could give it to others who were defrauded," Ella said crisply.
"We don't want it," her father said.
"Tim!"
"Discuss it today. Tell me what you come up with tomorrow. Oh, and there's another thing, Dad. In your talking to people, did you think that Don or Ricky was the brains of the outfit?"
"Ricky Rice, they said, but Don injected all the charm and the sort of razzmatazz into it," Tim Brady spoke ruefully. A man reduced to living in a wooden house in his own garden because of someone's charm and razzmatazz. "Would it surprise you to know that Ricky Rice owned nothing, that it was all in Don's name? Ricky is free to come back here any day he wants to and may well do so now that Don is dead."
"He'd never have the gall. He couldn't face people who've lost money," Ella's father said.
If he wasn't a part of it, then why did he flee?" Ella's mother was practical.
I don't know. I've been thinking about that all night," Ella said.
"They were always together, he and Don, and he was crazy about his grandchildren. Maybe he couldn't bear to let them go." Tim Brady tried to work it out.
"But why wasn't his name on things?" Ella wondered.
"There must have been a good reason," Tim Brady said. Ella drove down to the Liffey and parked her little car. She walked around the apartment blocks where Don Richardson had had his little hideaway, the place he was meant to be living when he stayed all that time with her. They were small and purpose-built. Not much movement around the place on a Saturday morning. Perhaps people would come out later and buy papers and milk for their coffee. She must enquire what had happened to his little flat here. Who had bought it, who lived a life in those four walls now.