Rog Sam caught herself, Sir Roger wont mind if I invite a guest. Get you out of London. Its so grey and dismal there at the moment.
It had only been a minor slip, but Brooke had picked up on it and wondered whether Sams relationship with her boss might be a little closer than she liked to let on. Brooke kept her observation to herself, and said, Get me out of London for what? So I can come and see the grey ocean instead?
Hey, were talking about Donegal, Sam insisted. Even the drizzle is beautiful. I should know, Ive spent most of the last few months here. Besides, I told you, this is no ordinary party. First theres going to be this brilliant media event at a very swish country club youll be blown away more than three hundred delegates all arranged by yours truly.
Naturally.
Naturally. And then were all heading back to the house, where the fun starts for real. Sir Rogers sparing no expense. You should see the manor house hes rented its like a chateau, and the partys going to take over a whole wing. Youve never seen so much champagne in your life, I kid you not.
Remind me again what were celebrating?
Does the we mean youre coming?
I didnt say that.
Well, its only the grand unveiling of one of the most important historic sunken treasure salvage operations of the last twenty years, Sam said, with only a trace of smugness. The recovery of the sixteenth-century Spanish warship the Santa Teresa has been Neptune Marine Explorations biggest coup since Sir Roger founded the company.
Brooke smiled into the phone. Now you sound like one of your own public relations blurbs. Whats the wreck of a Spanish warship doing off the Irish coast, anyway?
Did I not tell you all about this when we were in Austria?
Sam and Brooke had spent a few days in Vienna before Christmas. Brooke had been too preoccupied by her troubles with Ben to enjoy the short break very much. Maybe you did, Brooke said. Refresh my memory.
Come to Donegal and youll learn all about it.
I have to tell you, Sam, mouldy old boats are not exactly the most fascinating thing in my life right now.
Oh, come on. Sam paused, and Brooke could tell from the momentary silence that she was hatching some new plan. Why dont you bring a friend along? Sam went on slyly. As in, a very special friend? You know who I mean. Thats if things are, you know, back on an even keel.
Ben? Brooke hesitated, a little thrown by the suggestion. That might not be such a great idea. Things are still a bit Her words trailed off uncertainly.
I knew it. Hes treated you like shit, really. When was the last time you set eyes on him?
Brooke said nothing. She reached up to finger the slender gold chain she wore around her neck. Ben had bought it for her in Paris soon after theyd got together. Shed been wearing it nearly constantly ever since, although she sometimes wondered why she was so attached to it now that their relationship was meant to be finished.
Ill tell you when it was, Sam went on. It was when he came to pick up that horrid little mongrel he left you with. Am I right?
Scruffys not horrid, Brooke protested lamely.
There you go again. Being nice. Youre too good for that guy. Hes using you, cant you see it?
Lets not go there, all right? Its complicated.
Sam was undeterred. All right, so maybe its not a good idea. Then why dont you invite that dishy upstairs neighbour of yours I met once? The novelist guy?
You mean Amal?
Thats the one. Between you and me, I dont know how you can keep your hands off him.
Oh, come on. Were not all like you.
Whats that supposed to mean? Sam said, in mock indignation.
Amal and I are just friends. And hes a playwright, not a novelist.
Hmm. You cant stay single forever, darling, waiting for that Ben to make up his mind. Youll end up a dried-out old spinster, like Miss Havisham.
Hmm. You cant stay single forever, darling, waiting for that Ben to make up his mind. Youll end up a dried-out old spinster, like Miss Havisham.
Watch it, Im only thirty-six, Brooke protested. And four months younger than you, I might add. Besides which, I dont see you heading to the altar with anyone. Miss Havisham, indeed.
Well, whatever. The point is, are you coming to Donegal or not? Wont cost you a penny, you know. Neptune Marine will pick up the tab, first class all the way and back again.
Im thinking about it. Brooke wasnt usually so quick to let herself get swept up in Sams enthusiastic schemes, but she was beginning to warm to it. Maybe itd be good for Amal. Hes had a bit of a letdown recently. A change of scenery might cheer him up.
Then its settled, Sam said briskly. Now, theres a very nice guesthouse not far from the country club. Not the Ritz, as youd imagine, but its cosy and comfortable. Ill take care of everything. All you two have to do is turn up. Ill text you the details.
Hold on Brooke began. But before she could say any more, Sam interrupted her. Oh, listen, Sir Rogers on the other line. Id better take this. See you on Saturday, darling. Pronto.
Brooke sighed, holding a dead phone. Typical Sam. Once she got a notion into her head, there wasnt a force on earth that could stop her.
Ive never been to Ireland before, Amal mused over coffee later that evening when Brooke trotted upstairs to put the idea to him.
Hed answered his door looking morose, unusually dishevelled and clutching a Jean-Paul Sartre novel guaranteed to cast a pall over the most optimistic soul but brightened up visibly at the sight of her, and invited her eagerly inside. It never ceased to amaze Brooke how beautifully decorated the inside of his flat was. Not bad for a struggling playwright still not thirty, whose first play had just tanked spectacularly and drawn unanimously abysmal reviews from all the critics.
I thought itd be nice for you to get away for a couple of days, she said. I know youve been a bit down lately.
Its true, he sighed. Though maybe Ive taken it harder than I should have. I mean, it cant have been the first utter disaster in the history of theatre, can it? And not everyone walked out. Did they? he added, hopefully.
On the night, Brooke had counted twenty-six hardy survivors out of an initially well-packed house, but hadnt had the heart to reveal it to him. You make it sound a lot worse than it was, she said, smiling. The plays great. I just think its appeal is, you know, selective.
I dont know, perhaps people just dont want to see a three-act tragedy about toxic waste, he muttered, shaking his head glumly. Its all about bums on seats at the end of the day. Now, if Id written about say, the Vietnam War as seen from the viewpoint of a mule, or something, now that wouldve
Brooke could see that she needed to get back on topic. So, what do you think about Ireland, then? she cut in. A breath of sea air, a bit of partying, a few glasses of champagne ?
Amal gazed into his coffee for a moment, then set the cup firmly down on the table and forced his face into a broad, white grin. Screw it, why not? I havent been out of this bloody flat for days. Sitting here moping all the time like a big self-indulgent baby.
Thats the spirit, Amal. You wont regret it, I promise you.
Chapter Three
Saturday evening, and the vehicles were arriving in droves through the gates of the grand-looking Castlebane Country Club. Brooke and Amal got out of the taxi that had brought them from the guesthouse, and joined the stream of smartly-dressed people filtering towards the illuminated main entrance.
The night air was sharp and cold. Brooke could smell the sea and hear the whisper of the waves in the distance. It was clear from all the press IDs on display and the prevalence of cameras everywhere around her that Sam had done a fine job of whipping up media interest in the event. A paunchy white-haired man who appeared to be the local mayor, judging by the gaudy chain and badge of office that dangled like a cowbell from his neck, was stepping out of a car and straightening his jacket, flanked by official minions.
This ought to be interesting, Amal said without any great conviction as they approached the gold-lit facade of the building. But if hed been having second thoughts about abandoning his Richmond sanctuary for the wintry wilds of Donegal, he was far too polite to show it. As always, he was fastidiously groomed, and had swapped his travelling clothes for an elegant grey suit that looked tailor-made.
It had been a while since Brooke had been to any kind of party, and shed had to dig deep in her wardrobe back in London to search out the knee-length black cashmere dress for the occasion, which she was wearing over fine black silk leggings and cinched around her waist with a wide belt. Her only jewellery was the little gold neck chain, Bens gift. The shoes were Italian a pair of her sister Phoebes cast-offs with heels that made her feel perched ridiculously high. They were strictly not for walking more than a few yards in unless you were some kind of masochist. Just covering the distance from the guesthouse to the taxi, then from the taxi to the foyer of the country club, had been enough to raise a blister on her heel.
Why did women insist on inflicting this kind of bondage on themselves, she wondered as she tottered over to the desk to give her and Amals names to the receptionist. They were checked against the guest list, then waved through a doorway with a smile and a warm enjoy the show, and found themselves in a gigantic ballroom that echoed to the buzz of a three-hundred-strong crowd.
Sam hadnt been kidding about the place being swish. At the far end of the room, a podium stood on a low stage in front of a big screen; to its left, an area had been curtained off. A gleaming dance floor separated the stage from forty or fifty tables, each surrounded by red velvet chairs. For the moment, though, most of the attention was centred on the bar, around which a couple of hundred people were bustling to grab their free drinks. The catering staff couldnt hand out the complimentary canapés and dainty little sandwiches fast enough.
Over the background muzak came a piercing squeal from across the room. Brooke would have known that voice anywhere. She turned to see Sam running over, or trying to run, her stiletto heels clattering on the floor. Shed dyed her hair a couple of shades blonder since the brief break the two of them had taken in Vienna before Christmas. Her crimson strapless dress appeared to be in some danger of slipping down, but Sam didnt seem to care too much, and the assorted men ogling her with varying degrees of discretion certainly had no objections either.