Read Behind Every Cloud Online

Authors: Pauline Lawless

Tags: #QuarkXPress, #ebook, #epub

Behind Every Cloud (12 page)

Louise fell asleep immediately, dreaming of racks and racks of designer clothes. Ronan tossed and turned for ages before he eventually drifted off.

Louise knew that she was not out of the woods. There was still the question of the €
905
she had put on the credit card. Ronan probably wouldn

t discover it until the end of the month so she still had time to do something about it. Then she had a brilliant idea. She rang Mr Mahony, the bank manager, and asked for an appointment. He agreed to meet her the following day.

She dressed with great care as she prepared to go to meet him. He was a bit of a ladies

man and she wanted to look as attractive as possible.


Louise, you look charming, my dear,

he said, u
shering her into his office.

And what can I do for you?

She had it all prepared – a big rigmarole about an opportunity to start a small business from home
,
making eclectic jewellery
,
if only she could get the
€1200
she needed to get started. She was ever so convincing as she leaned
towards him, aware that her top was giving him a nice view of her cleavage. The poor man never stood a chance! When he agreed to give her the loan, she came around the desk and hugged him.


Oh, you

re a terror,

he said, obviously enjoying the encounter.

You have all us men wrapped around your little finger!

He even patted her bum as she left his office €
12
00 richer.

She punched the air once she

d left the bank.

Yyeeees!

She drove to another bank where she lodged €
905
to their credit
-
card account. She had a good story prepared f
or Ronan when he would finally discover the transaction
s.
Meanwhile, she still had €
295
in her pocket to spend! She took the DART into Dublin where she blew all of it, in
less than an hour
,
in the fabulous Jervis Street Centre
.

She had all her latest purchases put away in her wardrobe by the time Ronan came home that evening. She felt exceedingly clever as she dished up his dinner of Marks and Spencer

s lasagne. She

d even bought a bottle of red wine to go with it.

Ronan didn

t know what had come over her. She was in an exuberant mood but it was a hell of a lot more pleasant than the silent treatment he

d suffered the week before. He was grateful for small mercies.

10

T
he following Monday Zita came out of the meeting positively fuming. What were they thinking? Here they were, about to make a documentary about ‘The Women Behind
Our Successful Men’, and they

d chosen the biggest chauvinis
t they could find to produce it. Not only that but he was a skirt-chaser and had
sexually harassed most of the women at the station and got away with it. Luckily, he knew better than to try it on with her. She wouldn

t have taken it lying down. Despite her anger she laughed aloud at the unintentional pun.

She was still furious. If she didn

t love her job so much, she

d pack it in, in protest. But what would she do then? She decided to forego lunch and go for a cycle instead in the hope that she could cool down.


Honestly

men!

she said aloud as she pedalled her way along the seafront at Sandymount.

This prick had been promoted only months ago, by another male of course and with a push from someone in the last government just before they were voted out. It was so unfair. Zita had been up for the same position but had lost out, despite the fact that she was much more qualified to produce this programme than that idiot. But such was life. She really would have to get some political backing, and fast.

People thought that Irish politics had cleaned up their act in the aftermath of all the corruption
that had come to light, but in reality nothing had changed. Things were as
corrupt as ever. It was a case of

you scratch my back, I

ll scratch yours

. She guessed it would never change. Anyway,
she might get her chance very soon. Tonight she was starting her wine course and would begin her assault
on Mr Perfect Politician, Carl Dunne
,
and his unsuspectin
g Stepford Wife. She grinned to herself at the thought.

Rachel was feeling very hassled. Poor Paloma had been down with the flu for the past five days and it couldn

t have come at a worse time.
She

d had to cancel two lunches and an interview with VIP
magazine so that she could look after Paloma and take care of the children. Olga was a great housekeeper and kept the house really clean but she would not have been able to manage it all on her own
.
Rachel had to cancel a parent-teacher meeting but luckily the school principal understood her problem and had re-arranged a private consultation for her with the teachers. Thank God for the perks that went with being the wife of a politician.

Her wine course was starting that evening and she needed to have her hair blow-dried. She

d been to visit the local day-care centre that morning but she had overrun on time. As a result she had to cancel her hair appointment with her usual salon in Dublin city. She

d never have made it there and back in time to collect the children from school at two
thirty. Luckily, she

d been able to secure an appointment with the local hair salon in Sutton.

As she sat with her eyes half-closed she saw the very pretty girl who came in to talk to Keisha, her stylist. Oh, to be so young and pretty again, she thought, as she watched the young girl laugh and smile, admiring her exquisite face
.
While having her head massaged, her thoughts moved to the evening ahead. She was very much looking forward to the wine course
,
though for a while it looked like she would have to miss it. Luckily
,
Paloma had recovered quickly and was on the mend and her neighbour

s daughter
,
Tiffany
,
had agreed to baby
-
sit for the evening.

Sam, the guy who was running the course had sounded lovely on the phone. She

d told him that she knew nothing about wine and hoped that the other students were not experts
.
He

d assured her that they weren

t
,
which
made her less apprehensive.
It wouldn

t do to make a show of herself in front of the others. She

d hinted at this to Sam but he was lovely and understood where she was coming from. She just knew she was going to like him.

Sam prepared for the course that evening firstly by putting a big notice outside
,
directing everyone down the steps to the basement. He didn

t want strangers traipsing through his lovely home. He wondered what his students would be like. They would be eight in total and
,
as he placed their name
-
cards and course literature on the tables
,
he thought about what his first impression of each of them had been. Ellie, of course, he

d met, and also the two apprentices that he

d taken on in his Malahide wine shop for the summer. The two young men were both enthusiastic and eager to learn
,
in the hope, he suspected, that he would offer them a permanent job at the end of the holidays. This course would sort them out. He made all of his staff follow the course and some had even gone on to study further. It paid back dividends big
-
time for Sam. His staff were knowledgeable and interested and his customers appreciated that. This in turn led to increased sales which made everyone happy.

As Sam placed Rachel

s name
-
card down beside Ellie

s, he wondered if she would last the pace. He

d recognised her name of course, the minute she

d called
.
It was hard to escape Carl Dunne and his wife these days. They were the new media darlings – both young and handsome. He suspected Rachel was a chatterbox. She

d certainly kept him long enough on the phone looking for reassurance that she wouldn

t be the only greenhorn on the course.
Despite her looks and wealth she was obviously very insecure. Sam wondered if that had anything to do with her successful, handsome husband. More than likely it had.

Zita Williams was a complete dark horse and had enrolled and paid for the course online so Sam knew nothing about her. He

d been surprised that she hadn

t phoned him for directions. Hopefully, she

d find the place okay.

Ronan McIntyre had phoned for directions. He sounded like a lovely chap – quiet and well-spoken. He

d been given a gift voucher for the course for his birthday and he did appear to be very interested in wine. Sam was glad to have another male student there to balance out the women.

He decided to put the two young girls who had been sent along by the supermarket chain sitting at the table with his two young employees. He didn

t hold out much hope for these two young ones. He

d found on previous courses that they had little or no interest in the subject. They were there because the supermarket paid for them and insisted that they attend. They would probably rather be almost anywhere else than listening to him expound on wine. Well, we

ll see, he thought. Maybe I

m wrong and one of them will turn out to be a model student. Anyway
,
he

d know soon enough. The first arrival was already ringing at the door.

Ellie was the first to arrive. She had her hair up in a ponytail and was wearing pale
-
blue torn jeans and a denim jacket over a white T-shirt. Sam thought she looked rather like a schoolgirl let out for the night and would have demanded to see her ID if she

d attempted to buy liquor in any of his shops. He greeted her warmly and when she took off her jacket he looked at the logo on her T-shirt with interest.


Anything But Chardonnay
,”
he read aloud.

What

s all this about? What

s wrong with chardonnay?


Isn

t it cute? I saw it in a shop last week and it reminde
d me of that snooty woman, Judith
,
telling me she

didn

t do
chardonnay
’,”
Ellie replied
,
grinning.

I couldn

t resist buyin
g it.

Sam roared laughing.

I remember that now,

he said.

And then I told you that the Chablis she was serving was in fact made from chardonnay grapes
.”

Now it was Ellie

s turn to peal with laughter.

Yes, I remember
.”


Actually, I think maybe you should know
. . .”
Sam hesitated, not knowing quite how to say it
. “
I have to tell you that Judith is in fact my mother.

Ellie looked at him in horror, her face going pale.

Oh my God! Why didn

t you tell me that first night when I was going on about her?

she cried, mortified
.

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