dinner with him.
She saw James and Simon smiling at each other in relief and suddenly felt hugely resentful. She was being offered to Marty Green. It was as simple as that. She had dressed up, spent her lunchtime making finicky, awkward little savouries, rolling asparagus spears in pastry and serving them with a dipping sauce, arranging little quails’ eggs artistically with celery salt on lettuce leaves, and now they wanted to send her out like a sacrificial lamb to be pawed by Marty Green.
‘Thank you so much but sadly I have plans of my own tonight, Mr Green,’ she said.
He was suave; she would give him that much. ‘I’m sure you must indeed have plans. Another time, perhaps?’
And they all smiled different smiles: Orla’s was nailed to her face, James and Simon’s were like a horror mask. Brigid’s smile hid her shock that Orla would pass up on a date with such a wealthy and charming man as Marty Green. Foxy’s smile was vague and foolish, as always.
Marty Green left saying that he would be in touch. Orla poured herself a large drink.
‘Why did you have to be so very rude to him?’ Simon asked.
‘I wasn’t at all rude. I thanked him and told him that I had my own plans.’
‘That’s what I mean. You don’t have any plans.’
‘Oh, yes I do. I plan not to go out with some businessman as if I were an escort or a hooker.’
‘Come on now, that wasn’t remotely what was suggested,’ James said.
‘It was spelled out in capital letters.’ Orla was furious now. ‘Take the nice man out, bill and coo at him, get his name on a contract.’
‘We are all in this together. We assumed that—’
‘Why didn’t you bring a pole in here and put it up in the office and I could have taken off my clothes and danced around it? That would have helped too, wouldn’t it?’
‘It was only dinner,’ Simon said.
‘Yes, and at the end of an expensive dinner I’d be able to get up and say goodbye and thank you Mr Green? What world do you live in? If I’d gone out to a meal with him and then not gone back to his hotel, I would have been a tease. I would have led him on. He’d have been more annoyed still. This way we all save face. Well, most of us do.’
‘Hey, Orla, you’re being a bit heavy about this,’ Foxy said.
Brigid glared at him but he didn’t see.
‘I mean, that’s what tonight was all about.’
‘You never said a truer word, Foxy,’ Orla said.
Next day James and Simon were prepared to be generous. They had discussed it, they could have given the wrong impression. The last thing they wanted to do was . . . well, what Orla had suggested they were doing.
Orla listened politely until they had finished. Then she spoke very carefully.
‘This isn’t just a hissy fit. I’ve been thinking of leaving for quite a while. My aunt is setting up a hotel in the West of Ireland. I just needed something to focus my mind, and this is it. Please don’t take this as a sulk or as part of a campaign to make you grovel. It’s far from that. It’s just a month’s notice, with great gratitude for all I’ve learned here.’
Nothing they said made any difference. Eventually they had to agree to let her go.
Orla had told Chicky it would only be for a year, just to get the place up and running.
‘Maybe it’s hardly worth your while teaching me to cook like a dream.’
‘It’s always worthwhile teaching people to cook.’
‘You might run a cookery school for real people,’ Orla suggested.
‘The main thing we have to offer here is the scenery. They could learn to cook anywhere,’ Chicky said. ‘Anyway, we should keep the magic to ourselves.’
‘How will I manage not to take an axe to my mother when I get back?’ Orla wondered.
‘Don’t live at home,’ Chicky advised.
‘Can I live with you?’
‘No. That would cause bad feeling. We’ll find you somewhere to live. Rigger will do it up. Your own little place. Leave it to me. When will you be arriving?’
‘Any time now. They
She saw James and Simon smiling at each other in relief and suddenly felt hugely resentful. She was being offered to Marty Green. It was as simple as that. She had dressed up, spent her lunchtime making finicky, awkward little savouries, rolling asparagus spears in pastry and serving them with a dipping sauce, arranging little quails’ eggs artistically with celery salt on lettuce leaves, and now they wanted to send her out like a sacrificial lamb to be pawed by Marty Green.
‘Thank you so much but sadly I have plans of my own tonight, Mr Green,’ she said.
He was suave; she would give him that much. ‘I’m sure you must indeed have plans. Another time, perhaps?’
And they all smiled different smiles: Orla’s was nailed to her face, James and Simon’s were like a horror mask. Brigid’s smile hid her shock that Orla would pass up on a date with such a wealthy and charming man as Marty Green. Foxy’s smile was vague and foolish, as always.
Marty Green left saying that he would be in touch. Orla poured herself a large drink.
‘Why did you have to be so very rude to him?’ Simon asked.
‘I wasn’t at all rude. I thanked him and told him that I had my own plans.’
‘That’s what I mean. You don’t have any plans.’
‘Oh, yes I do. I plan not to go out with some businessman as if I were an escort or a hooker.’
‘Come on now, that wasn’t remotely what was suggested,’ James said.
‘It was spelled out in capital letters.’ Orla was furious now. ‘Take the nice man out, bill and coo at him, get his name on a contract.’
‘We are all in this together. We assumed that—’
‘Why didn’t you bring a pole in here and put it up in the office and I could have taken off my clothes and danced around it? That would have helped too, wouldn’t it?’
‘It was only dinner,’ Simon said.
‘Yes, and at the end of an expensive dinner I’d be able to get up and say goodbye and thank you Mr Green? What world do you live in? If I’d gone out to a meal with him and then not gone back to his hotel, I would have been a tease. I would have led him on. He’d have been more annoyed still. This way we all save face. Well, most of us do.’
‘Hey, Orla, you’re being a bit heavy about this,’ Foxy said.
Brigid glared at him but he didn’t see.
‘I mean, that’s what tonight was all about.’
‘You never said a truer word, Foxy,’ Orla said.
Next day James and Simon were prepared to be generous. They had discussed it, they could have given the wrong impression. The last thing they wanted to do was . . . well, what Orla had suggested they were doing.
Orla listened politely until they had finished. Then she spoke very carefully.
‘This isn’t just a hissy fit. I’ve been thinking of leaving for quite a while. My aunt is setting up a hotel in the West of Ireland. I just needed something to focus my mind, and this is it. Please don’t take this as a sulk or as part of a campaign to make you grovel. It’s far from that. It’s just a month’s notice, with great gratitude for all I’ve learned here.’
Nothing they said made any difference. Eventually they had to agree to let her go.
Orla had told Chicky it would only be for a year, just to get the place up and running.
‘Maybe it’s hardly worth your while teaching me to cook like a dream.’
‘It’s always worthwhile teaching people to cook.’
‘You might run a cookery school for real people,’ Orla suggested.
‘The main thing we have to offer here is the scenery. They could learn to cook anywhere,’ Chicky said. ‘Anyway, we should keep the magic to ourselves.’
‘How will I manage not to take an axe to my mother when I get back?’ Orla wondered.
‘Don’t live at home,’ Chicky advised.
‘Can I live with you?’
‘No. That would cause bad feeling. We’ll find you somewhere to live. Rigger will do it up. Your own little place. Leave it to me. When will you be arriving?’
‘Any time now. They
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