City Woman (57 page)

‘Forget the injunction, Monica. I’ve just had an idea.’ Flicking through her Rolodex, she found the number she was looking for. Eyes sparkling, Devlin lifted the phone and
began to dial.

Fifty-One

‘It was a very difficult choice to make,’ Devlin told the journalist sitting in front of her desk. ‘The baby’s father was insisting that I have an
abortion. I flew to London and actually went to the clinic. Literally hours before the termination was due to take place, I decided I couldn’t go through with it.’

In the background, a photographer was lighting up the area around the window overlooking St Stephen’s Green, where she was going to have her photograph taken.

She was giving an interview to Sally Briers, a journalist she had known from the very early days of City Girl. She worked for the
Daily Chronicle
, one of the country’s most
respected and successful newspapers. The
Chronicle
had jumped at the offer of an interview with Devlin, to be published in the next day’s weekend supplement, scooping the
Sunday
Echo
’s much-advertised exposé.

In a frank interview, Devlin told her story. Not once did she mention Colin. Not that she had to! Anyone who read between the lines of the
Sunday Echo
’s innuendo would realize
that he was the father of her baby. There was nothing that Devlin could do about that. That was a matter for Colin and the other paper, so let him handle it as best he could.

‘It must have been very difficult for you living in Ballymun,’ Sally was saying sympathetically.

‘Well, it was my own choice. My parents had no idea that I was living in a flat there. They thought I was living in Drumcondra. My father was always willing to give me financial
support,’ Devlin explained, wanting to make sure that the interview showed Lydia as well as Gerry in a very positive light. ‘And certainly, while living there was far removed from what
I was used to, I found great support and kindness among my neighbours there – and I made friends I will always cherish. Ballymun is a much-maligned place.’

When it came to talking about Lynn’s and Kate’s death, Devlin cried, and Sally asked her if she wanted to stop the interview, but she recovered her composure and went on to recount
how, with Luke’s help, she had come to terms with her bereavement and gone on to become a very successful business-woman.

‘Devlin, I’m going to fly! I’m sure you’ll understand that I’ve got to get this in as quickly as possible. They’re holding the front page of the supplement
for it. Thank God for modern technology.’ Sally was gleeful, knowing that in a matter of hours the interview that she would transcribe from her tape recorder would be safely stored in the
computers of the newspaper and ready to be printed. Already, the marketing department had booked last-minute radio slots to advertise the scoop, and Sally had no doubt that Saturday’s edition
of the
Daily Chronicle
would be sold out. It gave her a great sense of satisfaction to pull a fast one on the
Sunday Echo
, which was despised by the journalists on the respectable
newspapers.

Devlin saw Sally and the photographer to the door and glanced at her watch. It was just gone eleven. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly – from the meeting with Monica to her
brainwave about calling Sally. After they left, she deliberately walked into every section of the complex, making sure to speak to her staff and clients, letting them see that it was business as
usual. Liz was filtering all her calls and the only ones she had taken concerned very urgent business matters. And, of course, one from Maggie, who told her to keep her chin up and ignore the whole
shagging lot of them. Her father, too, had been very concerned for her, but Devlin had assured him everything was under control and that she would see him for dinner the following evening. She had
managed to book a table in Patrick Guilbauds. Her adrenalin was flowing and she felt very much in control.

She popped her head through the door of Special Occasions. ‘Hi, Mum!’

‘Devlin! Are you all right, dear?’ Lydia looked a bit strained.

Devlin hugged her. ‘Never better, Mum. I’ve just come down to tell you that Luke’s taking us to lunch. He’s booked a table in The Commons for one-thirty.’

‘What!’ Lydia exclaimed. ‘The Commons? But it’s very . . . do you not think it’s a bit public . . . considering the circumstances. Why don’t we go for Locks?
It’s very discreet and the food is out of this world.’

Devlin smiled at her mother. ‘Oh, I know. It’s one of my all-time favourites. Caroline and Maggie and I go there sometimes for lunch and we’ve often sat until after four. But
today is not the day to be discreet, I’m afraid. It’s chest out, chin up and best foot forward. Come on, Mum,’ she urged. ‘We might as well have lunch and get a bit of a
laugh out of it, and I might as well make the most of this make-up job Aoibhinn did for me for the photograph earlier on. Luke will be with us; he’s a real brick.’

‘He’s a very nice, supportive man, dear. I’m glad you found someone like him. Do you think they could fit me in for a professional make-up upstairs? There’s nothing like
a make-up to pep you up and Aoibhinn did a lovely job on you.’

‘I’ll make sure they’ll fit you in. It’s handy being the boss sometimes,’ Devlin said with a grin. ‘See you about one-fifteen.’

‘Wow!’ Luke exclaimed appreciatively as he marched into Devlin’s office to collect his lunch companions. ‘No-one would ever believe you were mother and daughter. Sisters,
maybe, but
not
mother and daughter!’

‘Fibber!’ Lydia retorted, but Devlin could see that her mother was pleased.

‘Let’s hit the town, ladies.’ Luke offered an arm to each, and, laughing, they linked him.

‘We’ll go straight to our table, please.’ Luke smiled at Devlin as a waiter took the women’s coats. Lifting her chin, she winked at her mother and they walked into the
crowded restaurant.

It was, as usual, humming with chat and laughter and the clink of silverware against china. As Devlin, Luke and Lydia were led down the long narrow room to their table, a slight hush descended
on the assembled lunchers. Out of the corner of her eye, Devlin recognized two of City Girl’s glamorous clients. They were staring at her open-mouthed. Devlin caught Luke’s glance. She
could see that he too was aware that they were the focus of every eye in the room. They smiled at each other in genuine amusement. He was right; this was much better than skulking at home, as if
she had something to be ashamed of.

To her surprise, she enjoyed every mouthful of her lunch, as, she was pleased to note, did her mother. They laughed and chatted among themselves, ignoring the covert glances in their
direction.

‘The jungle drums will be working overtime,’ observed Lydia with a smile.

‘Wait until they read the
Chronicle
tomorrow,’ Devlin said wickedly, as Luke paid the bill.

Luke leaned across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Lucinda and Co, eat your hearts out!’

‘Speak of the devil!’ Lydia murmured, and Devlin turned to see Lucinda Marshall swanning through the restaurant in the direction of a well-known TV presenter, who was seated down
near the big window at the end of the room. Lucinda was quite aware she was the focus of attention and, graciously accepting it as her due, nodded regally at people. When she saw Devlin, Lydia and
Luke her step faltered, and her eyes widened in disbelief. A burgundy flush suffused her heavily made-up face as she encountered the stares of three pairs of contemptuous eyes. Thoroughly
flustered, Lucinda stood for a moment as though rooted to the spot, before scuttling past their table.

Devlin smiled at Lydia. ‘Thoroughly rattled, wouldn’t you say? I think lunch has been a great success.’

‘I think so too. I hope we’ve put her off hers,’ Lydia replied tartly. ‘Perhaps I should sent a bottle of champagne over to her table!’

‘Lydia, she couldn’t look you in the eye. I’m pretty sure she can’t look herself in the eye. Forget her; she’s trash,’ Luke said crisply, but his eyes were
kind as he met Lydia’s distressed gaze and Devlin could have kissed him there and then for the understanding he had shown towards her mother.

He stood up and pulled out their chairs. ‘Come on, girls. I can’t have you slacking here for the afternoon. It’s back to the grindstone for you pair, I’m
afraid.’

‘I don’t feel like going back to work.’ Devlin made a face. ‘I’m not used to eating huge lunches in the middle of the day.’ Normally when she was out to lunch
in the middle of the day she would skip the starter and dessert. Today she’d eaten everything. To tell the truth, after all the goings-on Devlin was beginning to feel a bit wilted.

‘I don’t really feel like going back to work either,’ Lydia said, a trifle glumly.

‘This is great!’ said Luke in mock-dismay. ‘What do you ladies want to do, then?’

‘I think I’d like to go to the pictures,’ Devlin mused. ‘There’s something terribly decadent about going to the pictures in the afternoon, especially on a Friday
afternoon.’

Lydia laughed. ‘Good Lord, it’s years since I’ve been to the pictures. Why don’t you go with Luke,’ she suggested to Devlin, ‘and you’ll have a nice
afternoon to yourselves?’

‘If one plays hookey, we all play hookey,’ Luke said firmly. ‘What film would you workaholic lady executives like to go to?’

Devlin giggled. She was beginning to perk up again. ‘Come on, let’s go out to the Omniplex in Santry and then we can have a stroll around the Omni Centre. You’ve never been out
there, Mum. It’s very nice. There are good boutiques and I saw some lovely porcelain soap dishes and pot-pourri holders out there in one of the kiosks in the main mall. I thought they might
be nice for Special Occasions.’

‘
And
if you behave yourself at the pictures, you can have popcorn and an ice-cream!’ added Luke.

‘You pair are a bad influence on me.’ Lydia laughed, suddenly feeling quite lighthearted. ‘But I’d love to go to the pictures with you.’

‘Let’s buy a paper and find out what’s on.’ Devlin linked her mother’s arm and without a backward glance at Lucinda they left the restaurant.

Mick Coyle’s pudgy little fingers tightened their grip on the phone as he digested the information being imparted to him.

‘She did
what
?’ he bellowed, his red nose going atomic.

‘Oh, happy day,’ sang his secretary to herself. She had heard the
Chronicle
’s advertisement for Devlin’s own story on her Walkman at lunchtime and had been
awaiting Mick’s reaction to the inevitable phone call once the news got around.

‘The little bitch!’ he swore. ‘The two-faced little bitch!’

‘Good on you, Devlin,’ the secretary murmured as she bent her head diligently over her typewriter. Moments like this made the rest of her days of drudgery bearable.

‘Thank you, Luke, for giving Mum and me such a lovely afternoon.’ Devlin snuggled in close as they sat in front of the fire watching the
Late Late Show
.
They had thoroughly enjoyed the movie, having the cinema practically to themselves. Then they had strolled around the shopping centre before heading into Bewleys for mugs of milky coffee and cream
slices.

‘Your mother really enjoyed the film, didn’t she? I wasn’t sure if it would be her scene.’

‘Mum’s a different person,’ Devlin said thoughtfully. ‘She’s learning how to enjoy herself again; she’s not half as uptight as she used to be. It’s
really good to see.’

Luke smiled down at her. ‘
I’ll
tell you what’s good to see. Watching the two of you together is nice. I saw Lydia looking at you a few times when you didn’t
notice it. She loves you very much, Devlin.’

‘I know, and I love her,’ Devlin said with a smile. ‘This whole thing is much harder on her than it is on me. I wish she didn’t have to go through it.’

‘It will soon be all over. You both got through today with flying colours. I bet that Marshall woman is still shellshocked at seeing you in the restaurant.’

‘To think that I had the nerve to show my face in public – and in The Commons of all places. Boy, she nearly choked, didn’t she? I wonder how she’s feeling about my
interview with the
Chronicle
,’ Devlin said with satisfaction.

‘Sick as a parrot, I’d say,’ Luke laughed, and then he bent his head and kissed her.

The Delaney women had class, Lucinda had to admit. When she saw them in The Commons, she nearly died. Who would have thought they would have had the nerve to appear in so
public a place with advertisements being broadcast on the hour on the radio telling everybody who cared to listen all about Devlin’s colourful past.

Devlin had sure as hell outfoxed them, though. Doing the interview with the
Chronicle
was an ace move. Lucinda had been sure she would have handled it through her solicitors and had
relished the idea of a legal battle and all its attendant publicity. But Devlin had gone for the jugular, scuppered the
Echo
’s scoop, and was obviously prepared to brazen it out. It
was a wonder Mick Coyle wasn’t in a coronary care unit. He was sizzling with temper. Kevin Shannon had resigned when he had found out that his in-depth business report on City Girl and its
glamorous MD was only a cover for an exposé. Idiot! He’d soon learn that sticking to your principles could be a costly business.

That Luke Reilly guy Devlin was involved with was a fine thing, Lucinda mused, as she typed up an article on ‘Sexy Men and Where to Find Them’. She had watched them laughing and
chatting in the restaurant and it was clear that he was crazy about Devlin, and
so
protective. The filthy look he had given her had turned her blood cold, even though she had been the
recipient of many a filthy look in her career. Lucky old Devlin, she thought glumly. She had it all to live for. What did Lucinda have? A quiet gentle man who had no spark left. And if she wanted
to live the life of comfort that she had grown accustomed to, it meant more and more sensational exposés and juicy gossip stories. The competition out there was cutthroat and orders had come
down from on high that the gloves were off in the circulation battle.