Quentins by Maeve Binchy Page A

and Don,” she said. “I’ve met him many times.”
    â€œWell, isn’t it just as well he kept his mouth shut?” Brenda said.
    â€œNo, it’s not, it’s better people knew the truth. Don loves me. He told me so last night.”
    â€œListen to me very carefully, Ella. I have to go down and serve a room full of people who will be talking about nothing else. I will have a polite, inscrutable smile on my face. I will say it’s hard to know and difficult to guess and a dozen other meaningless things. But I know one thing. Only you must survive this, you must call your parents, tell them you’re all right, decide what to do about your job and then go and find some of your friends, your own friends, not his. He has only business friends.”
    â€œYou don’t like him, do you?”
    â€œNo, I don’t. My very close friends have lost their savings. Thanks to Mr. Charming.”
    â€œHe’ll give them back,” Ella cried.
    â€œNo, he won’t. Fortunately it’s not very much. She and her fellow don’t have very much, but they were saving hard and Mr. Richardson told them how to double their money. They believed him.”
    â€œHe often said people were greedy,” Ella said.
    â€œNot these two, if you knew them. But that’s neither here nor there. Survive, Ella, and rejoice that he may have loved you. Well, at least enough not to let you or your family lose any of your savings in his schemes.”
    â€œNo.” She stood up. Her legs felt weak.
    â€œWhat is it, Ella?”
    â€œIt’s just my father. He’s always going on about ideas Don gave him, hints here, a word there . . . he wouldn’t have been so foolish . . .”
    â€œWhen were you talking to your parents?”
    â€œYesterday, but they said nothing. They were going on about my picture in the paper. If there was anything to say they’d have said it then.”
    â€œNobody knew the extent of the scandal then. People only began to know it this morning.”
    They looked at each other in alarm.
    â€œRing them, Ella.”
    â€œHe couldn’t . . . he didn’t.”
    â€œYou heard what they said on the television . . .”
    Brenda Brennan pointed to the white phone beside the bed.
    Ella dialed. Her mother answered. She was in tears. “Where were you, Ella? Your father thought you’d gone to Spain with him. Where are you?”
    â€œIs Dad all right?”
    â€œOf course he’s not all right, Ella. I have the doctor here with him. He’s ruined.”
    â€œTell me, tell me, what did he lose?”
    â€œOh, Ella, everything. But it’s not what we lost that matters, it’s what the firm lost. What his clients lost. He may have to go to jail.”
    That was when Ella fainted.
    Mrs. Brady hadn’t hung up. That was something. At least Brenda could keep her there for long enough to get her address. She held Ella’s head downward so that more blood would flow toward the brain.
    â€œI have to get home to them,” Ella said over and over.
    â€œYou will, don’t worry.”
    â€œYour restaurant—won’t you be needed downstairs?”
    â€œHead down ,” Brenda insisted.
    Then she summoned Patrick’s younger brother, Blouse. “You know where Tara Road is?”
    â€œI do. I often deliver vegetables to Colms restaurant if he’s short.”
    â€œIn about fifteen minutes, when she’s up to it, drive her there, will you, Blouse?”
    â€œWhere are the car keys?” he asked.
    Brenda turned out the contents of Ella’s handbag. The keys were all on one ring. It had a cherub angel on it.
    â€œAngel,” said Ella weakly.
    â€œYes, we have the keys.” Brenda crammed everything back into the handbag, pausing only a fraction of a second to glance at a picture of Don Richardson smiling at the girl who had loved him. Ella’s eyes