Twisted Love and Money (10 page)

Seamus’s
Grandfather still worked with the mechanics in the garage despite
his eighty-four years. He had started the business from there. It
was his son, Seamus’s father, who had made Freight Delivery and
Courier Service into a large enterprise.

Seamus was the
only child and when his father was killed with his mother in a car
crash Seamus had been taken on by his Grandfather. The Grandfather
had continued to grow the business, having the good sense to hire a
well-paid management team and to give them the scope to get on with
the business. These days the Grandfather kept a light but skilled
and firm hand on the tiller of the business but found most of his
time going in the scrap business. He enjoyed the work and it gave
him something to do with his hands while he considered the broader
strategies of the greater business. His driving concern was to
leave it in top shape for when Seamus came of age.

At the back of
the garage Seamus eased the bike through a gap in a hedge and then
followed a trail up to the house. It was a classical Georgian House
set in about twenty acres with mature woodland to the rear and a
lawn and courtyard to the front. The house was well maintained with
reception hall, three reception rooms, six bedrooms, a nursery and
four bathrooms. The space was more than adequate for Seamus, his
Grandfather, Dwyer who was the family retainer, and the dog.

The dog, a fat
golden Labrador, padded up to Seamus, tail wagging.

“Who is out
there at this hour?” his grandfather called.

“Me Granddad,”
Seamus called and went up into the house.

Chapter
eleven

As Dorothy had
manoeuvred her BMW out of the ‘Square’ in Tallaght, she took a good
look to reassure herself that Ann-Marie was indeed queuing for a
Taxi.

“
There’s a good Restaurant in Templeogue,” Dorothy suggested.
“Let’s go and have a bite.”

“Absolutely,”
Jeremy had agreed.

They parked in
the forecourt of the Templeogue Tennis Club and crossed the road to
the Restaurant. After a few minutes the waiter showed them to a
corner table. They spoke little until they had ordered.

“You seem a
little tense tonight?” Dorothy remarked after they had settled in
to eating. The meal came on hot plates with various portions, which
they shared. Despite the takeaway end, it was a high-class
restaurant.

“Absolutely
not,” Jeremy replied after chewing a little.

“If you say
absolutely again I’ll pour some spaghetti down your pants.”

Jeremy giggled,
“Dorothy.”

“Why are you so
uptight?” she persisted.

“I… I am
gay.”

“Yes,” Dorothy
agreed reflexively, her face blank with shock.

She tried not
to show what a blow Jeremy’s confession was. She felt that she
would burst into tears. But she hung in, staying calm, wanting to
hear and understand the full story.

“Well my
Partner in business, his name is David. He is also my lover.”

“I see.”

“Don’t sound so
accusatory.”

“I’m not. I
understand. I wasn’t born yesterday. Just exactly what are you
telling me Jeremy?”

“If I am
uptight Dorothy, it is because David is coming to Dublin. I don’t
know how to handle it. It has me in a black knot.”

Dorothy studied
Jeremy. He was starting to work his fork into his table napkin with
tension as he spoke. She put her hand on his.

“Don’t wreck
the table napkin.”

“Sorry.”

He withdrew his
hand and started eating. Awkwardly Dorothy withdrew her hand also.
They ate in silence for a minute.

“Is this our
last date?” Dorothy asked.

“No,” Jeremy
hissed vehemently.

“Ssh,” Dorothy
whispered with a smile, “ keep your voice down.”

Jeremy quickly
glanced around, but the people at the other tables seemed
unconcerned.

“Do you want to
talk about it?” Dorothy asked sympathetically.

Jeremy chewed a
bit and then said, “ Dorothy, I don’t know how to say this. Since
our first night together hardly a minute has gone by without my
thinking of you.”

Dorothy smiled,
“… And Jeremy?” she urged him to continue.

Jeremy
swallowed, “David an me are as good as married in England,” he
continued. “Really it will be as if my spouse is coming to Dublin
on Friday and as if I am having an affair with someone else. You I
mean Dorothy.”

“What do you
mean, as good as married in England?” Dorothy pursued logically,
“why just in England?”

“You are very
perceptive Dorothy,” Jeremy replied, “ I know there are plenty of
Gays in Dublin and lots have ‘come out.’ But I have not, not in
Dublin. London is different; it has a population of eight or ten
million. The whole of Ireland has only four million or so. London
is much more anonymous. We don’t make it an issue in London and
neither do the press, it’s like they think its part of publicity
around our dress shop business.”

“Don’t you have
any Irish friends in London Jeremy?”

“Very few. I
avoid my own kind. I’m Gay. I don’t feel good about myself. I
should but I don’t. Catholic guilt I suppose. I don’t feel good
about people I know, you know, people who know my people, knowing
about it.” He stammered, “God knows why, I suppose I’m scared word
will get back to Dublin. Though that said we were never a close
family.”

“But your
mother is still alive?” Dorothy ventured.

“Yes. I have
been unable to go home for nearly twenty years. I can’t face her.
If she knew I was gay she would be disgusted. She is very old
fashioned, an old fashioned catholic.”

“You may be
doing her an injustice. She may understand.”

“No. We were
very poor. She put me through scholarships. She scrimped and saved
so that I could go to be a priest. It was her ambition, her dream.
Unfortunately it was not mine.”

“Your
father?”

“Oh. When he
was alive he was an affable man. But she ruled the roost. He took
the line of least resistance as far as the children were concerned.
“You chucked it all in then Jeremy?”

“Ran away from
University to London. In London I met David. I have not seen home
since. I ring at Christmas and Easter now that she has a phone and
I write occasionally to my youngest sister in Tallaght. She feeds
me the news. However I have decided to call on my mother and face
her. She is getting old and soon I may not have the chance.”

“Is that why
you went out with me? To have a girl to show to your mother?”

“No Dorothy.”
Jeremy was vehement again, but he kept his voice low. “We got on,
you and me, things happened Dorothy. I’m delighted that what
happened, happened.”

As he spoke
Jeremy looked embarrassed and Dorothy looked urgently about, making
sure they were not overheard.

“So it was the
sex,” Dorothy hissed, but with a smile.

“Yes,” Jeremy
said smiling, his eyes dancing.

“And it was you
Dorothy,” he added seriously, “we can talk. That is great, we can
talk.” He sounded almost surprised. Dorothy looked at him, her eyes
soft.

“If I am your
first girl, how can you know you are really gay?” she asked
softly.

“I want to
experience a woman. I want to know. I don’t want this guilt.”

“Guilt?”

Jeremy looked
abashed, as if the word had slipped out.

“I have been
afraid to say it to myself, but yes guilt. You know the saying that
you can take a man from Catholicism, but can you take Catholicism
from the man?”

“Can you?”

“I thought I
could, but years have gone by and I feel I am being drawn back
again. I was in a church the other day, but I could not pray. But I
wanted to. And then again, I really did not want to. I’m so
confused.”

“Does it affect
your sex life Jeremy?”

“What?”

“The guilt and
confusion?”

Jeremy was now
very embarrassed at the directness and he searched for a reply.

“Believe me, it
matters. I’m sure in any relationship it matters if one partner
appears to show no arousal. With a man it is hard to hide a lack of
ability.”

The waiter
arrived to clear the dessert bowls, stopping the conversation.

“Would you like
to have coffee at my place?” Dorothy suggested.

Jeremy replied
by calling the waiter over. “The bill please,” he asked.

“Dorothy,” he
said when the waiter departed. “If you don’t mind, I would like to
go home to my own hotel. Alone. I’m very confused. I want some
space alone. I feel a huge cloud over me. Can you cut me some slack
on this? I can see you tomorrow night.”

“If you come
back I might let you stay?” she teased.

“No Dorothy,”
Jeremy said with a friendly politeness, “I need your company. I
need you to be my friend. I think if you allow it, we might be
lovers. But I have to go softly. Do you understand?”

“No, but I’ll
cut you a bit of slack if you insist.”

“Thanks.”

Jeremy paid the
bill and they left.

As Dorothy
stopped the car outside the Hotel entrance lobby, Jeremy leaned
over and kissed her cheek. “Dorothy I have to see an Architect
tomorrow night. It is an investment proposal I’m checking out.
Would you like to meet us? The meet is in Larry Murphy’s pub. Drop
in for a drink and I’ll take you home afterwards.”

Dorothy was
silent.

“Please,” he
added, eyes imploring.

“All right.
Good night Jeremy “ Dorothy leaned over this time and kissed him on
the lips and he responded while struggling to get an arm around her
shoulder.

“See you
sweetheart,” he said as they unclasped and he caught his
breath.

“Just a minute,
I thought you said you worked in a dress shop. I’ve been meaning to
ask you since I realized you are staying in the Shelbourne Hotel.
And what are you doing with an Architect tomorrow night?”

Jeremy smiled
and opened the car door. “We own some shops, that’s what I meant.
Did not want you to think I was too posh. The architect is
something else. It has to do with a new block of flats. I’ll
explain another time. But do come along. As I said, I am meeting
them in Larry Murphy’s.”

“Maybe,”
Dorothy said, her face unreadable

“You must,” he
insisted and then stepped out of the car, closing the door. With a
wave of the hand, he was gone.

“Good night,”
Dorothy called after him, lowering the electric window.

Dorothy swore
as she pulled the car back into traffic. Just her luck, the first
man she really fancied had to turn out to be gay. Or almost gay,
they had had some sex. Dorothy was confused but she was a
persistent personality. She would not give up on Jeremy, not for a
while yet, she decided.

Jeremy watched
her go, stepping back out from the cover of the lobby.

“Goodnight,” he
said and waved. Now there was a test, he thought. She would hardly
follow up with their affair now he had revealed that he was gay.
Jeremy valued loyalty above all other virtues. If she turned up for
the next date after his revelations he would take her seriously.
Time would tell.

Chapter
twelve

“How are you
Mr. Crawford?” Janet asked.

“Terrible, I
had some of the plastic food on the plane. I feel a bit
nauseous.”

“Have some soda
water it might settle your insides.”

“No thanks, I’m
all right. Let me get you a drink.”

Janet had
phoned in her update report confirming that as planned, she had
completed the interview using the cover of the quality survey. The
message had come back. Mr. Crawford on route to Dublin. Jury’s bar
at six.

“I am
impressed,” Janet said, “I just phoned in this morning and here you
are Mr. Crawford.”

“It is only an
hour from London Janet, I thought it would be nice to see you
again. Are you settled in?”

“Yes thank you.
I have a flat in the Wavendon complex, just across the street from
the Hotel. I presume you have taken a room in Jury’s Mr. Crawford,
I recommended it to your secretary as it is so close to my own
base.”

“Yes, I have a
room for the night. However I am due in London early tomorrow.”

“You spend a
lot of time on the road Mr. Crawford,” Janet offered
sympathetically.

“Too much
Janet.”

Crawford took
out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He was perspiring lightly.
He had come to Dublin on impulse, disrupting his normal schedule.
Now he felt the worse for wear. He wondered if it was the
excitement. He looked at Janet with warm eyes.

He had her set
up in Dublin now, reporting directly to him. How to get his hands
on her? Business is business, he reflected, but he was doing well
this year. He really did not need Janet’s project. What he really
wanted was Janet. Janet with the consent of Janet. If only he could
handle the situation.

Janet watched
Crawford carefully. She could see he was jumpy. Maybe he needed to
slow down; at his age he should hop around less in airplanes. It
would be just her luck if he had a heart attack. He really did look
unwell. And that soppy smile, what to make of it? Whatever, sitting
in a bar drinking was not going to help his condition.

“Can I trust
you Mr. Crawford?” she asked, leaning forward and looking
concernedly into his face.

“What?” he
asked.

“Trust you?”
she repeated with a smile.

“Of course
not,” he laughed, half wheezed. “Remember Janet the words of
Machiavelli “put not your trust in princes.”

Janet sat back
and shook her head, smiling.

“What did you
mean?” he asked puzzled.

“You look a bit
shook, Mr. Crawford. If I can trust you I would offer to take you
back to my apartment. I’ll fix you a snack and you can relax
properly. We can take plenty of time to go through my report. I
want your full concentration.”