Free Dublin 4 by Maeve Binchy Page A

by him, of course … Oh God, if she only knew how he wantedher to be happy, he didn’t want to hurt her, or betray her, he just wanted her to have her own life.
    ‘Your wife on the line, Mr Murray.’
    He jumped physically. ‘What? What?’
    ‘Shall I put her through?’
    ‘Of course …’
    Carmel never rang him at the bank; what could have happened?
    ‘Hallo, Dermot, I’m awfully sorry for bothering you, were you in the middle of someone’s bank account?’
    ‘No of course not. What is it, Carmel?’
    ‘Do you remember Joe Daly?’
    ‘What? Who?’
    ‘I was asking you did you remember Joe Daly, he used to write for the paper here, then he went off to London … remember?’
    ‘Vaguely, I think. Why?’
    ‘Well, I met him quite by chance today, and he’s been doing interviews with Ruth O’Donnell, he knows her quite well it turns out … anyway I thought I’d ask him tonight, isn’t that a good idea?’
    ‘Joe who?’
    ‘Daly, do you remember, a mousey little man … we knew him ages ago before we were married.’
    ‘Oh he’s our age … right, whatever you say. If you think he’s nice, then do. Whatever you like, dear. Will he fit in with everyone else?’
    ‘Yes, I think so, but I wanted to check.’
    ‘Sure, sure, ask him, ask him.’
    Thank God, he thought, thank God, a mousey little failed journalist to talk about things that none of them were tied up in. There was a God in heaven, the night might not be so dreadful after all. He was about to dial Ruth when he realised she was probably on her way to the studio.
    ‘Can you record Day by Day , please, on the machine over there,’ he said to Miss O’Neill. ‘There’s going to be an item on banking I’d like to hear later.’ He watched as she put on the cassette, checked her watch and set the radio tape recorder to begin at eleven.
    *   *   *
     
    Joe rang her at noon on the day of the party.
    ‘Can I come up now?’ he asked.
    ‘Be very careful, look like a tradesman,’ she said.
    ‘That’s not hard,’ he said.
    She looked around the house. It was perfect. There were flowers in the bathroom, lovely dahlias and chrysanthemums, all in dark reds, they looked great with the pink soaps and pink towels. The bedroom where they were going to leave their coats was magnificent, with the two thick Kilkenny Design bedspreads freshly cleaned. The kitchen had flowers in it too, orange dahlias and rust chrysanthemums; she had bought teatowels just in that colour. Really,it was such fun showing off. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done it ages ago.
    *   *   *
     
    He came in very quickly. She looked left and right, but the houses weren’t near enough for anyone to see.
    ‘Come in and tell me everything,’ she said.
    ‘It’s worked … so far.’
    She poured a coffee for him.
    ‘Won’t it spoil the beautiful kitchen?’ he teased.
    ‘I have five hours to tidy it up,’ she laughed.
    ‘So, I’ll tell you from the start. I arrived at her flat, your man was in there, I could hear his voice. They were arguing …’
    ‘What about?’ Carmel was interested.
    ‘I couldn’t hear. Anyway, I waited, I went down to the courtyard place. I sat on the wall and waited, he left in an hour. I pressed her bell. I told her who I was, that I had an interest in a gallery in London, that I didn’t want to set up huge business meetings and press her in the week of her exhibition but I was very interested in seeing whether it was the kind of thing we could bring to London.’
    ‘Did she ask why you were at the door?’
    ‘Yes. I said I’d looked her up in the phone book … she thought that was very enterprising …’
    ‘It is,’ laughed Carmel. ‘Nobody ever thinks of it.’
    ‘Anyway I told her I was staying at the hotel butthat if she liked we could talk now. She laughed and said why not now, and let me in …’
    ‘And …?’
    ‘And it’s very nice, all done up as a studio, not a love nest at all … hardly any comfort, nothing like this