The O’Hara Affair (36 page)

‘Thanks, babe,’ said Shane. ‘And thanks also for the advice.’

‘Advice? What advice?’

‘About wearing glittery earrings to add radiance to the face,’ said Shane, flouncing towards the door. ‘Maybe I should try diamanté instead of haemorrhoid cream.’

‘You’d look good in earrings, Shane.
Salut
. Enjoy Ms Sweetman’s birthday party.’

The bell tinkled as Shane left the shop, then tinkled again a minute later as Río entered it.

‘What was Shane doing in here?’ she demanded.

‘He was buying a birthday present for his co-star.’

‘The enigmatic Elena?’

‘The very one.’

Río’s lip curled. ‘Huh. What did he buy her?’

‘A pair of earrings.’

‘Expensive?’

‘No,’ lied Fleur.

‘Hey! You’ve new gear,’ remarked Río, pouncing upon the rails. ‘Maybe I should get myself something nice to wear for the wrap party.’

‘How about this?’ Fleur swung a poppy print tea dress off a hook.

‘Ooh! It’s sweet,’ said Río, holding it up against herself and checking out her reflection in the mirror. ‘But is it too young for me?’

‘Río, dear one – you are the epitome of the Bob Dylan song.’

‘Which one?’

‘“Forever young”,’ said Fleur.

Río laughed. ‘Sure, aren’t we all going to be that, soon? I had a spam email today telling me I could live a healthy and productive life until I’m a hundred and twenty. Yikes – just think! That would mean that my son would be over a hundred. Could you imagine a hundred-year-old Finn?’

‘How is he?’

Río looked thoughtful. ‘How is he?’ she echoed. ‘D’you know, Fleur, I’m not too sure how he is. I think the split with Izzy hurt more than he’s letting on.’

‘How did it happen?’

‘She wanted to go to Dubai, and he didn’t.’

‘A bit like you and Adair?’

‘I guess.’

‘What’s he going to do now?’

‘His father’s got him work on the film, as a stunt double.’

‘Wow! Is he standing in for Shane?’

‘No. He’s standing in for the actress who’s playing the lady dowager.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes, I am. She can’t ride. So all that donkey-riding and messing about with Coolnamara ponies when he was a kid is going to stand Finn in good stead.’

‘Is he going to have to dress up in women’s clothes?’

‘Yes.’

Fleur laughed. ‘I love it! A beautiful piece of beefcake like my godson all dolled up in bombazine. How does he feel about it?’

‘No worries. You know Finn. He takes after his father. He’s laid-back about most things.’

Río hung the poppy print dress back on its hook, and helped herself to a swirl of turquoise cashmere. ‘Ooh,’ she said, ‘I
love
this cape.’

‘Río – may I ask you something?’ said Fleur.

‘Fire away.’

‘Have you had any dealings with Corban on location?’

‘No. I’m just the humble set-dresser. Why do you ask?’

‘It’s just that Shane said something earlier, about Corban muscling in on the director’s territory.’

‘I guess he’s allowed. He is the money man. If it weren’t for him there’d be no film and we’d all be out of a job.’ Río swung the cape over her shoulders. ‘Imagine having that kind of power. Where did he get all his money from?’

‘I’ve never really asked.’

‘Maybe he’s in the Mafia,’ joked Río. ‘Wow! Look at this! Can I try it on?’ She unhooked a rainbow-hued ruffled silk dress from the rail.

‘Sure,’ said Fleur abstractedly, and Río disappeared behind the curtain of the changing cubicle.

Maybe he’s in the Mafia…
For all Fleur knew, maybe he was. She realized that, actually, during the six months she’d been dating Corban, she’d learned very little about him. She’d never been to his house in Dublin, which was in
an upmarket area of D4. He never talked about his ex-wife, or the girl called Rachel, for whom he had mistaken her on the night of the Tudor-themed ball. He never even talked about his responsibilities as CEO of a group dealing in something called decentralised review aggregation. Fleur didn’t even know what decentralized review aggregation meant, and felt far too embarrassed to ask. Corban’s private life was exactly what it said on the tin: private. And something told Fleur that that was exactly the way he wanted to keep it.

As she moved towards the counter where her laptop stood, something on the floor caught her eye. It was Shane’s credit card. She stooped to pick it up, and as she did so, the bell on the door tinkled again and the owner of the card came through.

‘I forgot—’

‘Your credit card,’ said Fleur, handing it to him with a smile.

But Shane wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed upon the vision that was Río emerging from the changing cubicle.

She looked a little nonplussed when she saw Shane. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘Back to buy your film star girlfriend more presents?’

‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ he replied. ‘And God, you look lovely in that.’

‘I do?’ Río pinkened. ‘Do you think I should buy it? I thought it might be good for the wrap party.’

‘I’ll buy it for you,’ he said.

‘You will not, Shane Byrne. I’ll buy my own clothes, thanks very much. What do you think, Fleur?’

‘I think you should allow Shane to buy it.’

‘No. I didn’t mean that. I meant, what do you think of the dress? Is it a bit too ruffly?’

‘I love ruffly stuff,’ said Shane.

‘No. Shane’s right. It’s a perfect party frock.’

‘OK. I’ll take it, so.’ And Río swished back in behind the curtain.

‘Here,’ said Shane in an undertone, handing Fleur his credit card. ‘Take it, quick.’

Fleur gave him a warning look. ‘She won’t be pleased, you know.’

‘Maybe not. But if I do this, she can hardly refuse to dance with me at the wrap party.’

Oh, God, thought Fleur, as she swiped Shane’s card. The
National Enquirer
was right. Shane was still smitten.

Dervla was on the phone to the doctor’s surgery.

‘Can you bring your mother-in-law in here?’ said the receptionist, after Dervla had filled her in.

‘No, I can’t,’ said Dervla, feeling her cheeks flush with anger. ‘I can’t get her into a car without help. I need a house call.’

‘All right.’ The receptionist sounded pissed-off. ‘Can you hold, please?’

‘Yes.’ She would hold for as long as it took.

‘Greensleeves’ seemed to go on for ever. Dervla felt her anger mounting like a geyser.

Then the receptionist was back on the line. ‘We can send a doctor out,’ she said, ‘but she can’t be with you until after surgery hours.’

The geyser subsided. After surgery hours was better than having to shoehorn Daphne into the car.

‘Thank you,’ said Dervla. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘And please have a urine sample ready.’

‘A urine sample?’

‘Yes. Dr Doorley will need to test your mother-in-law’s urine. She may have an infection of the urinary tract.’

‘Oh, God. OK. I’ll see what I can do. Thanks again.’

Dervla put the phone down, resisting the temptation to
pick it up again and call either Fleur or Río. They were busy gals with their own agendas, and Dervla should be handling this herself. She had taken this responsibility on her own shoulders, was being well renumerated for it, and she’d damned well see it through. Swinging into the kitchen, she searched for something with a lid that could serve as a container for Daphne’s wee. The only thing she could find was a tin that had once contained handmade chocolates.

She steeled herself, then went into the sitting room, where Daphne was gazing at swans on David Attenborough while simultaneously listening to
Appointment with Death
. ‘Make that appointment sooner rather than later,’ were the shameful words that went through Dervla’s head. Oh, God, God – what was happening to her? She was turning into Ms Bitter and Twisted of Coolnamara. She’d have to start chanting positive mantras when she practised her yoga – except, of course, her yoga mat was now serving as Daphne’s mattress protector.

‘Daphne?’

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Dervla, Daphne.’

‘Oh, yes. What do you want?’

‘I’ve been speaking to the doctor on the phone.’

‘The doctor? What about?’

‘About the fact that you might have a urinary tract infection.’

‘A what?’

‘You might have a problem with your urinary tract, Daphne. That’s probably the reason you had that accident last night.’

‘What accident?’

‘You wet the bed.’

Daphne looked away. Her finger went to her mouth. It
was clear that she had no recollection of the events of the early hours of this morning.

‘Not being able to control your bladder is symptomatic of a urinary tract infection, Daphne, and the doctor has asked me to get a sample. She’s going to call later today, and she will need to do a test.’

‘What sort of a test?’

‘She’s going to need a urine sample.’

‘And are we going to give her one?’

‘Yes. You’re going to have to pee into this, Daphne.’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s a tin. It used to have chocolates in it.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘Yes.’ Dervla managed a smile. ‘It is ridiculous. But I couldn’t find anything else. How do you feel about spending a penny?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘If you think you could manage it, Daphne, I will help you.’

‘How can you help me spend a penny?’

‘I can catch your wee in this tin so that the doctor has a sample to test when she comes later today.’

‘Then I’d better do as you say, hadn’t I?’

‘Yes. Let’s give it a go.’

‘We’ll give it a go!’ said Daphne, gamely.

Dervla set down the chocolate tin, and held out her hands.

‘Oh! Your hands are like stones!’

‘Yes. I have poor circulation.’

Dervla and Daphne left the study and trudged along the well-worn carpeted path to the bathroom. Once there, Dervla helped Daphne onto the loo before donning a plastic glove.
Please, God – give me an out-of-body experience
, she thought.

‘Now,’ she said. ‘This is going to be awkward, but we can do it, Daphne!’

‘Yes! We’re a team, aren’t we, Dervla, you and I?’

‘We’re a team.’

Dervla hunkered down. ‘If you can just raise yourself a little on this side, Daphne, I’ll try and angle the – um – receptacle under you like…so. Yes. This could work.’

‘Do you want me to spend my penny now?’

‘Yes. Go for it.’

For a couple of antsy seconds Dervla heard the sound of Daphne’s wee hitting the ceramic side of the loo, and then there was the sudden tinny ring of liquid on metal.

‘Yes, Daphne! We’ve done it!’

‘Yippee!’

Dervla extricated the chocolate tin from beneath Daphne’s bum, checked that there was sufficient urine for a sample, then snapped the lid back on and set it on the edge of the hand basin.

‘Well done!’ she said, helping Daphne off the loo.

Daphne teetered a little, then grabbed the basin for support. ‘Hello! What’s this?’ she said, her hand hovering over the chocolate tin, making as though to pick it up and open it.

‘No, no! Don’t touch!’ cried Dervla in alarm. ‘We don’t want to spill all that precious wee!’

‘Oh, no!’ said Daphne. ‘That would be dreadful, wouldn’t it? After going to all that trouble! To think that there were chocolates in there once. Nobody would want to eat a chocolate out of that box now, would they?’

‘That’s for sure!’ Dervla was laughing with pure relief.

‘Where will I go now?’ asked Daphne.

‘I think you should go back into the sitting room, don’t you? And you can watch David Attenborough until the doctor
arrives. But why not take a little rest –’ Dervla pointed to the Perspex chair ‘– while I finish clearing up.’

‘Why is the doctor coming? Oof!’

‘Because we think that you may have a urinary tract infection, Daphne.’

‘Oh, yes. But we were clever, weren’t we?’

‘Yes. We were very clever to get a sample. The doctor will be very pleased with us.’

‘We’re a team.’

‘We certainly are.’

Dervla stripped off the glove, dumped it in the pedal bin, then washed her hands over and over, Lady Macbeth style. And then she led Daphne back into the sitting room, and turned up the volume on David Attenborough, who was saying: ‘For many of the birds, this will be their first journey across the Himalayas, but for some, it will be their last.’

‘Enjoy, Daphne,’ said Dervla. She reached for a cashmere throw and draped it over her mother-in-law’s knees before leaving the room and listing into her bedroom. Then she got onto her makey-up bed of cushions and pillows, and pulled the duvet over her head. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

Ding dong! The doctor was here.

Dervla stumbled to the front door, pulling on a sociable expression.

Oh! she thought, thank God. She could tell immediately that this doctor was lovely. She was younger than Dervla, and she had a crinkly smile and glasses that were not trendy. ‘I’m Dr Doorley,’ she said.

‘Come in, please!’ said Dervla. ‘Oh, God – I’m so glad to see you!’

‘No worries,’ said Dr Doorley. ‘I’m here to help.’

Dervla led the doctor into the kitchen, and because the woman had such a kind face and seemed so concerned, Dervla started to cry. She told Dr Doorley everything. She told her about Christian and Nemia going away, and about Daphne wetting the bed, and how wrong she had been to think that she might be able to care for her mother-in-law on her own.

And Dr Doorley listened and said, ‘You shouldn’t be doing this, Dervla.’

Dervla blew her nose and said, ‘I know. What do you think the problem is? Will she have to be hospitalized?’

‘No. It’s almost certainly a urinary tract infection,’ said Dr Doorley, ‘and antibiotics will clear it up. Will I be able to get a sample, do you think?’

‘I’ve already got one for you. It’s in the bathroom.’

Dr Doorley looked impressed. ‘Brave of you!’ she said. ‘That can’t have been easy.’

‘No,’ said Dervla with a mirthless smile. ‘I won’t go into details.’