Red Letter Day (25 page)

'Hello, you two.' Cathy Donlon marched in, laden down with scripts, scores and what looked like a box of wigs. 'Give me a hand, would you, Dominic?'

'Where did you get these?' Celine asked as she peered into the box that Dominic had set down on the floor. She pulled out a blonde wig and a feather boa.

'Had them for years,' Cathy told her. 'Some of them are falling apart but that's showbusiness.'

Celine blew dust off the wig, coughed and put it on.

'Ooh, Mae West, as I live and breathe!' Dominic laughed.

'Come up and see me sometime,' Celine replied sticking her chest out.

'It's a pity you insist on being behind the scenes,' Cathy complained. 'You'd be such an asset to our production.'

Celine removed the wig, laughing. 'Thank you but no thank you.'

'What was it you were going to tell me about Mary Boyle?' Dominic murmured as Cathy went to set out the chairs.

Celine dragged a hand through her hair. 'She was in the shop one day when I had a visit from—' She paused, wondering how to describe Eileen. 'From the wife of a friend of mine. We had words and it got rather heated. Good old Mary enjoyed every minute of it.'

'Sounds like our nosey neighbour.'

'I'm sure she's spent her week telling her cronies all about it.'

'I wouldn't worry.' Dominic patted her shoulder. 'Mary is always bad-mouthing someone. She'll probably have forgotten all about it by now.'

'I doubt that very much,' Celine murmured but Dominic was already crossing the room to help Cathy.

It wasn't long before Celine's worst fears were realised.

'I can't believe she has the nerve to show her face in here tonight,' Mary said in a stage whisper to the ladies nearest her. 'I'm sure poor Rose Lynch would be shocked if she knew what kind of person she had working for her.'

Celine pretended not to have heard the woman's vicious tongue but every time she looked up from her sewing, Mary was whispering in yet another ear and pointing in her direction. Dominic seemed unaware of the growing tension. He, Cathy and Tom Callen — Colonel Pickering — were working on a scene at the far end of the room. The ladies were supposed to be practising their songs but there was more talking than singing going on. Celine kept her head down but when she heard the word 'slut', she flipped. Standing up she clapped her hands. 'Can I have your attention, please? Sorry to interrupt,' she added as Cathy looked around in surprise. 'I just need to put the ladies straight on something. Mary Boyle has been telling you all about a visitor I had in my shop last week.' She paused and you could have heard a pin drop. 'She heard only one side of a very complicated story and I think you should remember that.'

'Then tell us the other half,' retorted one of Mary's closest friends.

I, well, it's not true.'

'So you're not sleeping with the woman's husband?' Mary piped up.

'No I'm not!' Celine reddened, her eyes flickering over the accusing faces and coming to rest on Dominic's bemused one.

'You heard her.' Cathy had moved silently up the room and was now standing at Celine's side. 'Not that I think it's any of our business one way or another,' she added, looking at Mary Boyle. 'Now can we get back to work, please? There's still a lot of work to do.'

'Thanks,' Celine murmured when the ladies had resumed their rehearsal.

'Mary can be a nosey old biddy, don't mind her,' Cathy advised.

'I wouldn't have wanted any customer to have overheard that — exchange — but Mary Boyle.' Celine sighed. 'I wouldn't mind so much if the woman ever bought anything.'

Cathy laughed. 'Look on the bright side. You'll be off her list of eligible brides for Gerry.'

Celine's smile was shaky. 'Do you mind if I head home, Cathy?'

'Not at all, love, you go on.'

'Thanks.' Celine packed up some costumes to take with her and headed for the door, aware that all eyes in the room were on her back.

'Are you all right?' Dominic had followed her outside.

Celine nodded. 'She's got it wrong, Dominic—' She stopped as he put his finger to her lips.

'You don't have say another word, Celine. I know you would never behave like that.'

Celine closed her eyes briefly. 'Oh, Dominic.'

'What?'

'You're a lovely man, Marina's lucky to have found you.'

He beamed like a schoolboy. 'I think I'm the lucky one. Good night, Celine, take care.'

Celine walked back to the flat feeling like a total tart. As soon as she got inside she picked up the phone and dialled Kevin's mobile. 'We need to talk,' she said without preamble.

'I'll be there as soon as I can,' he promised.

She opened a bottle of wine and took down two glasses. They were both going to need a drink. The buzzer went and Celine froze. It was unlikely to be Kevin, it must be Richard. The buzzer went again and she went to answer it. 'Hello?'

'Celine, it's Dominic.'

Celine sighed with relief. 'Come on up.' She opened the door and watched him climb the stairs. 'Is everything okay?'

'That's what I came to ask you. Cathy thought you might be upset.'

'I'll survive.'

Dominic noticed the two glasses and bottle of wine on the counter and smiled. 'Ah, you're expecting Richard I see.'

Celine looked from the glasses back to Dominic. 'Er, well, actually—'

'I'll leave you to it.' He turned to leave. 'Oh, by the way, Cathy said that now you've sorted out most of the costumes you don't have to come to all the rehearsals.'

'She is so nice,' Celine said as she went downstairs with him.

'She is, and between us, she's not Mary's greatest fan.'

Celine laughed. 'I got that impression.' When she opened the door, Kevin was standing there, his finger poised in front of the buzzer.

He smiled at her and then noticed Dominic hovering behind her. 'Oh, hello, again.'

Dominic nodded curtly and barely looked at Celine as he stepped past her.

'Dominic, let me explain—'

He turned and gave her a cool smile. 'No need, good night.'

Celine groaned as she turned to go back upstairs.

'What was all that about?' Kevin asked as they went into the flat.

'I hardly know where to begin.' Celine handed him a glass of wine and took hers over to sit on the window ledge. 'I had a visit from Eileen last week.'

Kevin slopped some wine on his pale grey suit. 'Shit!' He took out an immaculate handkerchief and dabbed at the stain. 'I don't understand, what did she want?'

'It seems she followed you the last time you came to see me.'

'Followed me?' Kevin repeated. 'But why?'

'Oh, Kevin, because she loves you and she's jealous, of course!'

Kevin gave a short laugh. 'I don't think so.'

'Kevin, she was crying.'

'Crying?'

'I wish you'd stop repeating everything I say.'

'I can't remember the last time I saw her cry,' Kevin was saying, almost to himself.

'She was devastated when she thought we were still seeing each other. I'm telling you, Kevin, she really loves you.'

'Why doesn't she say so? Why doesn't she show me how she feels? She's never shown any interest in what I do.'

'Go home, Kevin, talk to her. Maybe she'll surprise you.'

Kevin put down his glass and stood up. 'Okay. I suppose I've nothing to lose. Thanks, Celine. I'll be in touch.'

Celine smiled. 'I don't think that's a good idea, do you?'

Celine felt she'd only just closed her eyes when a noise woke her. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. There it was again. It was the sound of breaking glass, not in the flat but very close. She peered out of the bedroom window but could see nothing. She went into the sitting room and looked out of the window. Nothing, although . . . she was sure something was different about the yard below. It took her a moment and then she realised that the table had been moved against the wall, under the window— 'Jesus, we've got burglars!' She groped behind her for the phone, afraid to take her eyes off the yard below and dialled 999. 'Police, please.' When she'd given her name and address, she rang off and phoned Richard. 'Come on,' she muttered as the phone rang and rang. Where the hell was he? She rang off and dialled his mobile but it was switched off. Damn, she'd have to call Rose. But what was the point in that? She couldn't do anything and why worry her unnecessarily? 'Damn, damn, damn.' She felt her way across the room in search of her handbag. After she'd found it and pulled out her address book, she took it and the phone into the bedroom and turned on the light. Hesitantly, she keyed the number into the phone and waited.

'Hello?'

'Fergus? It's Celine Moore.'

'Celine? What's wrong?'

'Someone is breaking into the shop. I've called the police but I thought you should know.'

'I'm on my way.'

'Are you sure—' she started but he'd already hung up. Celine hoped that the police would arrive before he did. She switched off the light and went back to her post by the window. She couldn't hear or see anything, maybe they'd left. She hurried back into the bedroom, pulled off her pyjamas and climbed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Then she went downstairs and opened the door a fraction. It felt like hours but it was only a few minutes before a police car pulled up outside. She opened the door wider. 'They got in through the back,' she whispered, as two policemen got out of the car.

'How do we get out there?' one of them asked.

'There's a fire escape from my flat down to the yard at the back.'

'Have you got keys to the shop?' the other one asked.

Celine handed them over as another police car pulled up. After a brief, whispered confab, two policemen went up to the flat with her while the other two positioned themselves at the front.

'Stay here,' one of them told Celine — rather unnecessarily, she thought — before they climbed out of her window and onto the fire escape.

'Be careful,' she whispered and then hurried back downstairs. She stepped out onto the street just in time to see one of the policemen reappear. 'All clear, love, but it's a bit of a mess in there. Is there anyone you can call?'

'The owner's son is on his way.'

'He's here.'

Celine turned to see Fergus standing behind her, grim and white-faced.

'What's the story?' he asked.

'The shop has been done over. I'm afraid they got away. It looks like they left the way they came in. There's a deserted property at the back with a side entrance so they probably came in that way.'

'Was there anything taken?' Celine asked as she followed the policeman and Fergus into the shop.

'The till was broken into. Was there much in it?'

Celine shook her head. 'Only change. I lodge the takings in the bank every evening.'

Another policeman came over to join them. 'I'm Sergeant Jim Thomas, and you are?' He looked at Fergus.

'Fergus Lynch. My Mother, Rose Lynch, owns this place. She's in Arklow staying with her sister at the moment. This is Celine Moore, the manager.'

'And you live upstairs?'

Celine could only nod as she looked around at the devastation. All the rails had been tipped over and it looked like they'd taken the contents of the kitchen cupboards and fridge and trampled them into the clothes.

'It's a bit of a mess, isn't it?' the sergeant was saying. 'They must have been pissed off because there was no cash.'

Fergus stood silently looking around him.

'The window at the back has been smashed in,' the sergeant told him. 'You'd better get a glazier out first thing. It might be an idea to get bars put on that window too.'

'I'll take care of it,' Fergus said.

'And you'll need to talk to your insurance company. It's a clear-cut break-in so there shouldn't be a problem.'

'But why didn't the alarm go off?' Celine asked. 'It was serviced only a few weeks ago.'

'It was the smaller window they came through so it probably isn't alarmed.'

'I don't understand,' Celine murmured. 'There's a newsagent's next door with cigarettes, sweets — why break into a boutique?'

'The newsagent's may have been their target but coming in from the back they could have got disoriented. I'm afraid, love, it was probably just bad luck.'

'The stock is ruined,' Celine groaned. 'Oh, Fergus, what are we going to tell Rose?'

'Don't worry about that now. Let's get this place sorted first.'

After the police had taken a statement, they left, promising to return in the morning to check for fingerprints. 'Not that we have much hope of catching the little buggers,' the sergeant said cheerfully.

When they were gone, Celine slumped against the counter. 'I don't know where to begin.'

'Put on the kettle,' Fergus told her, 'and I'll get started here.'

Celine obediently went into the back room, picked the kettle off the floor and filled it from the tap. But when she opened the cupboards she realised that everything had been thrown around the shop and the mugs were in smithereens on the floor. 'If we want a cuppa we'll have to go upstairs,' she said, coming back into the shop to stand beside Fergus. 'They've cleared everything out of the fridge and the cupboards.'

'Tell me about it,' Fergus muttered, as he wrung milk out of a black silk shirt. He righted the rails and hung up clothes that were dry. The wet stuff he threw in a corner. 'I'll stay here tonight.'

'You can't do that,' Celine protested. 'They're hardly going to come back.'

'I don't like leaving you here alone. We could ask Richard to come over, I suppose.'

'I called him first,' Celine admitted,
'but
there was no answer.'

'Then I'm staying.'

Celine saw the determined look on his face and capitulated. 'Okay, then, but you're sleeping on my sofa. I wouldn't get a wink of sleep if you were down here alone.'

Fergus glanced at his watch. 'It's nearly five. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll be up in a few minutes?'

Celine, suddenly feeling very weary, agreed and handed Fergus her keys. 'Don't be long.'

'I'll just mop out the floor and block up the window,' Fergus promised.

Celine went back to bed fully clothed but couldn't sleep. When she heard Fergus come in nearly an hour later, she went out to join him. 'You said you wouldn't be long.'