Twisted Love and Money (26 page)

“Bring your
family to our party. I will be more comfortable on my own ground.
With a crowd David won’t be able to make a fuss,” Jeremy
offered.

‘Coward.”
“Yes Dorothy, I am a coward in certain things.”
“I’ll get my folk to come to your party if you get David to come to
our weekend do?”
“Deal.”

Jeremy agreed
with a smile and they kissed.

“Dorothy, I
will have to find a way to tell him about us. I need him Dorothy.
He is my creative Director. I can’t throw him out.”

“I know Jeremy.
We have been over all that. You have to ask him for a divorce. A
friendly divorce, a necessary separation in your relationship, you
stay as his friend but not as his lover. You have to get your nerve
up.”

Jeremy looked
highly anxious. Dorothy sensed his good humour was dissipating.

“Come to bed
Jeremy,” she said.

“I’ve just
dressed you. We could go out. To show you off?”

“Undress me
Jeremy.”

“Yes
mistress.”

“And bring me
the horsewhip. I think we will give you, say five. Just to show you
who belongs to who.”

“Yes
Mistress.”

“Undress
yourself first. Do it now.”

Jeremy stood up
and stripped, carefully folding his clothes over the chair.

“Now clean up
Jeremy, all the dishes washed. I am going to relax with the last of
my wine and a magazine. Come to me in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes
Madame.”

“You will talk
to David, Jeremy and get him to come?”

“Yes all right.
I think I can persuade him. You ask your Parents, and Peter to our
party. Then we could go down to your place on the Saturday for the
rest of the weekend.”

“Details later
Jeremy. Come and give me a kiss before you start to tidy up.”

Chapter
twenty-nine

Jeremy awoke
with a start just before dawn. Beside him Dorothy was fast asleep.
She had gone easy with the horsewhip but his bottom still stung.
She had made a game of it and he had got all excited again. It was
a powerful excitement, a mixture of fear and sex, which turned him
inside out. The fear, the pain, the whole illicitly of it, the
sense of belonging to her. He felt great.

Funny thing,
with David he always felt guilty afterwards.

He tried to
analyze his feelings. He still had a sense of numbness. It was not
right what he let her do with him. Yet it gave him a charge. He
decided it felt less wrong than it did with David.

They were so
different, David and Dorothy. David was flamboyant where Dorothy
was dour. Dorothy was warm and owning, possessive. David could be
cutting and demanded that Jeremy be his equal.

But with
Dorothy… In a funny way she made him feel powerful and masculine.
Despite her physical domination she only dominated with his
consent.

David’s eyes.
His broad shoulders, he was beautiful.

So was Dorothy,
but she also had all the attributes of a woman. Soft places,
strange odours, moods.

Could bear
children.

Children,
Jeremy dwelled on the thought. He had an empire and no heirs. He
needed someone to bear him a child, not anyone, but someone who
excited him sexually. He needed Dorothy. He needed Dorothy if he
was to have an heir, if he was to be able to show off a grandchild
to his mother.

Drifting back
to sleep Jeremy wondered if there was a way he could have both. But
how was beyond his imagination.

And Dorothy
wanted to meet David.

Fear clawed at
Jeremy. How could he handle it? Tossing and turning, he fell into
restless sleep.

Chapter
thirty

The Orchard Pub
in Rathfarnham had good car parking and John eased his car into a
slot. Dorothy had been as good as her word and the new SAAB was
delivered the day he had started working for O’Byrne’s. It warmed
his heart every time he looked at it.

Reluctantly he
left the car to its own devices and turned towards the pub. John
let himself in the door. On his immediate right a soccer match was
in progress on a large screen. He could make out that one team was
Germany. The other one was a mystery, not the Irish colours. But
John had never been much into soccer.

The barman
caught his eye, with the usual quick service.

“Pint of
Guinness,” John said in response to the raised eyebrow.

While he waited
John had a look about. The pub was moderately full, but not
crowded. Off to his left an extension had been added. At least he
could not remember it from his last visit. But then John had never
been much into pubs. Two of the alcoves in the extension were
occupied. The third, set into the corner, was free. When he had his
pint served up, John took it and settled himself into the alcove in
the corner. He took a sip of his pint and sat back to wait, his
eyes alert to movement around the pub.

He was halfway
down his pint before he saw Kenny. Kenny came into view, almost
furtive, John thought, almost self-conscious. Kenny was wearing his
usual fawn gabardine raincoat, a style beloved of flashers in comic
strips. John had always despised Kenny’s dress sense. He looked to
John like a faded civil servant, not a senior partner in a large
Accountancy practice.

Kenny was
moving the wrong way, around to the right, away from John. There
were a few groans when Kenny with a half smile on his face, cut
across the football match on the large screen and more moans when
he came back again, having failed to find John at the other side of
the bar.

John watched,
half amused, waiting for Kenny to spot him. Kenny seemed to nod at
someone at the bar, an acquaintance perhaps. Then he saw John and
his face lit up in a smile of recognition.

“John. It is so
good of you to agree to see me,” Kenny was effusive.

“Drink?” John
offered and caught the eye of the girls serving the tables. The
girl had followed Kenny across, waiting to see if the gentleman
would like a drink.

“It’s still a
whiskey,” Kenny said.

“Whiskey sour
and a pint for me,” John ordered, remembering Kenny’s favourite
tipple was a whiskey sour.

Kenny took off
the gabardine coat and settled himself while waiting for his drink.
The weather, the EU and the state of the country, and other
pleasantries were exchanged.

“Cheers,” Kenny
said as John paid for the drink, giving the girl a small tip.

“Cheers,” John
agreed, taking a sip of his pint.

“Ah, that’s
great,” Kenny said wiping his lips.

John regarded
him coldly. “Well Mr. Kenny?”

“Do call me
Andrew,” Kenny said agreeably.

“Well
Andrew?”

Kenny looked
around, no one to overhear. He leaned forward confidentially.

“John, I hear
you bought into a heap of shit with your new employers?”

“O’Byrne’s, as
you will see, are as sound as a bell, the fastest growing company
in Ireland,” John defended.

Kenny looked at
him almost affectionately, as if he was dealing with a child.

“You never
respected me,” he said unexpectedly.

“Didn’t like
your brand of cronyism Andrew. How is my old firm by the way?”

“Middling only
middling. We miss you John.”

“You let me
go.”

“Had to.
Managing Partner could see it. Give you another couple of years and
you would have had his job. He’d be retired off and me too.”

“At least you
are honest about it,” John laughed harshly.

“No harm now,
between the two of us, you were too aggressive and you
underestimated me John.”

“Obviously I
did,” John said grudgingly. He took a swig of his pint. He hoped
that Kenny wanted more from this meeting than an opportunity to
gloat.

“Let me get in
another round,” Kenny said as he polished his first in a swallow
and signalled the bargirl. He nodded; she nodded, and went to get
the same again.

“Good service
here,” John remarked to stay pleasant.

“Aye, but now
John, don’t play me for a fool. You know that the banks want a
Receiver type, that is me, to go in and take a discreet look at
O’Byrne’s.”
“Why you?”

“Because they
know I am a shit and they can rely on me to earn my fee.”

Kenny laughed,
but there was a trace of pride in his voice.

“Why are you
talking to me? Why did you arrange to meet me here?” John
asked.

“The Bank has
asked me to do a report. After they met Dorothy O’Byrne they were
concerned and they contacted us.”

“Should you
talk to Dorothy first?” John asked.

“Inside track
John, inside track, you have the inside track. Business is
business, we are both professionals, we have worked together in the
past and we were colleagues. There is no need for us to be
enemies.”

“Why should I
spill it all to you?”

“That’s the way
it works John. You help me I help you.”

“How?”

“Depends. If
the going gets rough you might need me John.”

“What do you
want to know?”

“How bad is
it?”

John smiled. “I
worked half the night yesterday and most of today getting a good
brief together. You know me K… I mean Andrew, and you know I can
put a good dossier together. There is no need for secret meetings
in pubs. You’ll get it straight when you come in to O’Byrne’s.”

“It will be a
while yet John. I’m reassured that you are there ready for me. Some
firms I go into don’t know which end is up.”

“You’ll find
O’Byrne’s is a company with good financial controls.”

“The Finance
Director is a young woman with limited experience.”

“Don’t be
deceived. She is very good. And I’m her back up. In fact I am
Finance Director. I report to Dorothy O’Byrne. She is the
Development Director, wider brief with acquisitions and all that. I
am seen as the voice of experience, but frankly, there is not a lot
I can teach her. I also brought in my old senior manager. Do you
remember him...?

“Yes, yes a
good systems man.”

“He is doing a
good job. We have them on monthly accounts with a six-day
closing.”

“Very
impressive, pity the banks need to send someone in.”

“You will be
impressed.”

“John. How
naive are you?”

“What do you
mean?” John replied aggressive. He did not like Kenny’s
condescending attitude.

“Do you know
what is going on in O’Byrne’s?”

“It is simple.
They have a problem with one major customer. If the banks support
it will be a hiccup. There will be a setback but the company has
great long-term growth potential.”

Kenny played
with his glass. He took a slug. “I think I’ll have a bottled stout
and an Irish for my next one,” he said.

John caught the
bar girls eye. “Glass of Guinness, bottle and an Irish”

“I’ll be over
the drink-drive limit,” he added to Kenny, with a smile, to explain
why he had reduced his order from a pint to a half pint. Kenny was
surprising John with his capacity for drink.

“It’s not far
home for either of us,” Kenny smiled.

A minute’s
silence followed, as they seemed to contemplate this remark.

“Big money,”
Kenny remarked.

“What?”

“The O’Byrne
set up. As a private company I believe it made about twenty million
last year.”

“You will see
when you come in,” John said.

“Now,” Kenny
continued as if John had not spoken. “A private company with a good
growth record would be worth up to, say five times profits, say in
the case of O’Byrne’s, what, say a hundred million?”

“Theoretically,” John said, not disagreeing, but adding, “It could
be ten times with the right buyer.”

“But with
problems, maybe still solid, worth say three times profits. With
loss of sales that will come off the top of the profits, what would
happen, profits fall to say ten million? Value at three times
worth, say thirty million. Big spread of values, depending on
outcomes.”

John raised an
eyebrow. “A growth company can command ten times profits,” he
repeated.

“My point
exactly,” Kenny agreed, “Value on a spread from thirty million to
say, two hundred million. Maybe even three hundred, who knows, it
is like lotto numbers. Pension Funds and other Institutional
investors move in swarms. Price is right and matched to the image;
lord knows what they would pay for a share. Not to mention
predatory takeovers. A lot of millions are sloshing around. This is
what you have to realize John. It may be naive to think it is just
a production problem. There may be other agendas.”

“Value is based
on profit performance over a time period,” John added, not really
acknowledging Kenny’s point and continued, “One years hiccup might
not be enough to knock the bottom out of the value.”

“True,” Kenny
agreed with a happy smile, the discussion was in his element. John
wondered was the whiskey beginning to hit the spot. Kenny had
thrown the whiskey back in one shot and now was sipping his way
down his glass of bottled stout. Kenny signalled a barmaid and they
had another round.

“Now,” Kenny
continued apparently in full flight. “Put the same company on the
stock market and as you say John, ten times profit not out of court
for valuation. Are we agreed?”

“Right
enough,”

“Exactly,”
Kenny said, satisfied.

“What?” John
asked, impatient.

“John, John…”
Kenny sighed, “I’ll bet you are an honest man.”

“As honest as
the day is long.”

“And John, you
believe all men are as honest as the day is long?” Kenny replied
sarcastically.

“Of course
not,”

“But you would
have a presumption of honesty in your dealings with others.”