City Lives Read online

  It was a pity Caroline wasn’t with her today, she thought regretfully as she filled out her registration form. They could have spent a nice evening together, especially as her friend could do with some cheering-up.

  Her room overlooked the square and in the late evening sunshine it looked very picturesque. It had turned much milder and young couples sat snuggled together on the benches in Kennedy Park, laughing and chatting. Devlin kicked off her shoes, changed into a track suit and loafers, slipped her jacket on and locked her door behind her. She handed the big old-fashioned key into reception and hurried outside into the fresh air. She could smell the salt tang of the sea breeze but decided against the walk down to the sea front and City Girl. She wanted to have a swim in the hotel pool before dinner and she didn’t want to eat late.

  She crossed the road at the pedestrian crossing, marvelling again at the courtesy of Galway’s drivers. Every time she visited Galway she was struck by how pedestrian-friendly the city was. In Dublin you took your life in your hands trying to cross a busy road . . . even at a pedestrian crossing. She walked briskly through Kennedy Park, past The Cannons that had been brought to Galway after the Crimean War. She couldn’t help but wonder how many lives they’d taken, how many bodies they’d maimed and bloodied. She shivered at the gruesome thought, pushed it away impatiently, annoyed with herself for her morbidity. What on earth was wrong with her? Her emotions were very close to the surface this past week or so. Was it because of the massive hormonal changes taking place in her body as it adjusted to the physical and emotional demands of pregnancy?

  Oh stop being so dramatic! she chided herself silently as she crossed the square again and headed for Hollands Newsagents where she treated herself to Hello!, Vanity Fair and a Twix bar for which she had a terrible weakness. The streets were alive with people and buskers and street entertainers. Strains of music wafted down William Street. Laughter and chat and the foreign accents of tourists permeated the air. Devlin thought back with nostalgia to the times she and Caroline and Maggie used to be out on the town with not a care in the world except worrying about whether they’d shift a man.

  It seemed a long time ago. Fifteen years was a long time, and a lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then. Galway was such a youthful city, it made her feel a little past it, she thought wryly as she watched a stunning redhead saunter along the street in a short black mini, thigh-high patent leather boots and a cream Aran sweater. If the Obnoxious One had been sitting beside her on the flight, his eyes would have been out on stalks, Devlin thought as she cast an envious glance at the young woman. Such confidence, such nonchalant chic, such youth. Devlin felt vaguely depressed. She’d never have that again. She might have success and wealth and style but she was no longer what was considered young. Early thirties was practically middle-aged. Early thirties, married and pregnant . . . forget it, she thought glumly as she turned and headed back to the hotel.

  It must be tiredness that had made her feel ancient, it had to be, she decided as she changed into her swimsuit and studied her appearance in the mirror. It was too early for her pregnancy to show. She still looked supple and toned from her workouts. Her bobbed hair added definition to her cheekbones. Her blue eyes were wide and bright under dark lashes and she didn’t look anywhere near a thirty-something, she decided defiantly, as she pulled her track suit on over her swimsuit and hurried up to the pool.

  The views from the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the length of the pool were magnificent and she was just in time to see the sun, a huge pale orange-red orb, sinking behind the hills. The sunsets in the West of Ireland were awe-inspiring, she’d viewed many from the dining-room in City Girl and never failed to appreciate their unique beauty. There were only two other people in the large heated pool, a middle-aged woman and an elderly man who stayed up in the shallow end so she was able to slice through the water with ease as she swam steady laps. Three-quarters of an hour later, refreshed and invigorated, she swam to the ladder and climbed out. A sauna would have gone down well, she thought longing, as she dried herself off in the changing-room, preferring to have a bath in her own room.

  Too relaxed even to think of dressing up for dinner, she had a long leisurely soak with Hello! before wrapping her pale blue silk dressing-gown around her and ordering a light meal from room service.

  She watched the news and weather as she ate, stretched out on the double bed, and at ten, as promised, Luke rang and she regaled him with the day’s happenings. She was fast asleep by eleven, her arms wrapped around a pillow in lieu of Luke’s strong comforting body.

  The following morning Devlin had eaten breakfast and checked out by eight thirty. Her car had arrived to take her the short drive to City Girl and she felt ready for anything.

  The manageress, Ciara Hanlon, was waiting for her as she walked into the marble- and wood-finished foyer.

  ‘Devlin, great to see you. I hope you had a good night in the Great Southern. I have everything set up. You have three meetings scheduled. Two this morning and one in the afternoon,’ she announced briskly.

  Devlin smiled at the tall, thin young woman in front of her. Ciara Hanlon was one of the most efficient people she had ever encountered. She had started out as a therapist in Dublin’s City Girl and had proved herself so capable that she had quickly been promoted to salon manager, before becoming assistant manager in Belfast. Ciara was ambitious and hungry. When Galway had come onstream she had been by far the best candidate at interview and Devlin had felt very confident that she would do a good job as manager of Galway City Girl.

  She’d certainly proved herself, Devlin admitted, as she cast an eye around the foyer and reception area. The place was spick and span. Mirrors and chandeliers gleamed. The wooden floor, with its scattering of luxurious deep-pile rugs, shone. The reception desk was neat and tidy. The receptionists in their royal blue suits looked smart and well groomed. Trailing pot plants dotted around bloomed healthily and vases of freshly cut flowers were arranged artistically here and there. Current editions of glossy magazines lay in neat piles on small coffee-tables in front of several luxurious two-seater sofas. Soothing music played in the background. Although it was relatively early, guests wandered around in white towelling robes and an aerobics class was at full swing in the well-equipped gym.

  ‘We have twenty minutes before your first meeting, if you’d like tea or coffee,’ Ciara suggested. ‘We can have it in my office.’

  ‘Fine,’ Devlin agreed. ‘A cup of tea, milk no sugar, I’ll be up to the office in a few minutes. I’d just like to say hello to the girls.’

  ‘Some of them will be doing treatments,’ Ciara said smoothly. ‘You should relax for a little while before the meetings.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will. I’ll be along in a minute. You go ahead and organize the tea, Ciara,’ Devlin said lightly. She always liked, and made it a point, to talk to the staff when she was visiting Belfast or Galway. She walked down the bright French-windowed corridor that overlooked the panorama of gardens and the bay and thought how lucky they’d been to get such a marvellous site for the Galway centre. Gulls screamed and dived into the choppy white-capped waves, late roses swayed in the gusts of wind that swirled the leaves beneath the trees like dervishes doing their wild crazy dancing. The windswept, sea-lashed, autumnal landscape seemed cold and uninviting viewed from the snug, warm, serene interior of City Girl, and Devlin envied the two towelling-robed women she noticed relaxing in the huge deep armchairs in the lounge overlooking the bay. How nice it would be to change out of her business suit into one of those big soft robes and snuggle into an armchair to snooze while waiting to be called for a facial or body massage or some such delightful treatment.

  She walked on past the swimming-pool where several energetic swimmers cut through the warm azure water. A group sat laughing and chatting in the Jacuzzi, utterly relaxed.

  Devlin smiled. That was what she liked to see.

  She popped into the airy dining-room and greeted Margaret, the supe
rvisor, warmly.

  ‘How are things, Margaret? Are you keeping well? How’s your little boy after his operation?’

  ‘Ah, Devlin! Come in. He’s fine. I’m fine. Are you staying or is it a flying visit?’ The attractive grey-haired woman’s face creased in a welcoming smile.

  ‘It’s just a flying visit this time. But I’ll probably spend a lot more time down here when things get under way.’ Devlin smiled. They chatted for a minute or so, then she slipped into the kitchen to say hello to the chef and the kitchen staff before hurrying down to the treatment rooms to have a chat with the therapists, who were poring over the timetable with their appointments indicated in black marker.

  There was great excitement about the proposed new residential unit and Devlin was delighted with their enthusiasm.

  ‘If you’ve any suggestions, I’ll be happy to take them on board. After all, you all know better than I do what works and what doesn’t, and what’s needed and what isn’t. I’m going to come over some day next month and we’ll have a staff meeting with everyone and see what comes up. So anything that you think might work or any changes you feel we could make, please feel free to discuss them with me. We’ll get Chef to do a buffet breakfast and enjoy one of his nosh-ups while we’re at it,’ she suggested. ‘I’ll tell Ciara to schedule all treatments for ten a.m. so that we can have a good hour and a half for our session.’

  Her proposal was greeted with much approval and Devlin hurried back to Ciara’s office well pleased with her morning’s work. It was important to include all the staff in discussions relating to their work and the changes that were going to take place. It made for a good working atmosphere. Luke, who had been in business for a long time before he met her, had taught her that if the company employees weren’t happy and fulfilled in their jobs, their dissatisfaction would permeate every level of the business with very negative results. From the start, Devlin had paid over the odds in wages and given her staff a very attractive employment package. Her highly motivated workforce was one of the most important contributing factors to City Girl’s phenomenal success. Devlin intended to keep it that way.

  Fifteen

  Ciara was tapping her fingers on the desk when Devlin arrived. Devlin ignored her manageress’s impatience.

  ‘The place is humming, the girls seem happy, you’re doing a great job, Ciara. Thank you,’ she said warmly as she poured tea for both of them from the silver pot that rested on a silver tray on Ciara’s desk.

  ‘I’d have done that,’ Ciara protested.

  ‘Sit down and relax.’ Devlin grinned. ‘By the time today’s over it’s more than tea you’ll be needing. By the way, I’m going to come down some day next month and have a general staff meeting. I’ll get Liz to arrange it with Anne. They can check our diaries and see what day suits both of us. We’ll get Chef to do a buffet breakfast and we can all have a chat over it. Don’t schedule any appointments until 10 a.m. I’d like to hear what everyone has to say about the new proposals. I want you to put the plans on display on the notice-board in the staff-room when the architects have drawn them up, to see what the staff think. All suggestions welcome. OK?’

  ‘Sure. No problem,’ Ciara agreed enthusiastically. ‘Great idea to get everyone so involved.’

  ‘It makes for good working relations and that’s what makes things tick over nicely. I intend to keep it like that. Obviously we’re going to have to employ a lot of new staff. Housekeeping, dining-room, and of course new therapists. There’ll be promotions, naturally. I’d like to promote from inhouse as much as possible. But we’ll discuss that at a later meeting,’ Devlin said crisply. Now that she was in gear the adrenaline was flowing and she was raring to go. A moment later a call came from reception to say that the architect had arrived. Shortly afterwards the first meeting of the day got underway.

  It was a very satisfying meeting. The architect, Brendan Quinn, was young and enthusiastic. Devlin knew she was in good hands when she brought up her suggestion for a meditation room and he’d latched onto it eagerly.

  ‘That’s a humdinger of an idea, Devlin. I like your style.’ He rubbed his hands in anticipation. ‘Serenity is the key. It will be one of the most important rooms in the building so it definitely has to have a sea view. A nice big bay window. Just think, all that light pouring in, reflecting off crystals and wind chimes. And I think lots of wood. Maple is very warm. The site here is so good we have to make the most of the view and the light. Do you agree?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Devlin was excited about his suggestions. She was very pleased that he understood immediately the ambience she was trying to create. His suggestion of a semicircular lounge interspersed with bay windows, with the treatment rooms radiating off the circle so that clients wouldn’t have far to walk, met with uniform approval.

  By the time the builder arrived, Devlin was ready to burst with excitement. This truly was going to be a health and leisure centre par excellence, she promised herself.

  The builder, a giant of a Connemara man by the name of John Joseph Connolly, was a man of few words, but he had built the original Galway City Girl on time and within budget and his standards were superb. Luke and he went back a long way. Devlin was very glad when he’d agreed to take on the new project. He didn’t see any major obstacles as he and Brendan discussed briefly the overall plan. He’d have more to say when he saw the plans drawn up, he told Devlin in his slow, calm way.

  She took Ciara to lunch in K.C. Blake’s brasserie, one of her favourite restaurants in Galway’s Latin Quarter. They sat in a window-seat watching the world go by as they waited to be served and Devlin, who loved the buzz and energy of the place, decided that she was going to bring Luke with her the next time she came to Galway. They could take a few days off and shop and walk, and dine out and relax and pretend that they were on a second honeymoon.

  ‘Do you miss Dublin at all, Ciara?’ Devlin asked between mouthfuls of the most delicious potato and leek soup she had ever tasted.

  ‘Not at all. I’ve a great social life here. Being manageress of City Girl helps enormously, of course. Membership is very “in” over in this neck of the woods. I get invited to all the best parties. It wasn’t like that in Dublin. Well, unless you were you, that is.’ She laughed.

  ‘If that’s what you like, good for you. I’m not really into posh parties myself. I much prefer to have an elbows on the table, gossip all night, sort of dinner with close friends at home,’ Devlin confessed.

  ‘God no! I much prefer to be out and about. I hate being stuck at home.’ Ciara wrinkled her pert little nose in distaste at the idea.

  ‘To each his own,’ Devlin murmured, amused by the younger woman’s response. She’d been very like her once, until a few of life’s hard knocks had taken the stuffing out of her and she’d picked herself up, got her priorities sorted, and grown up. Ciara was utterly confident, focused and ambitious but there was a hardness about her sometimes that was surprising in one so young. Nevertheless she was excellent at her job and Devlin was very pleased with the way City Girl had taken off in Galway.

  A meeting with the landscape gardener concluded her day. This, however, did not run as smoothly as the two earlier ones. Matthew Moran was a man who knew his own mind. He reminded Devlin of Luke in some ways, although he was older. Mid-forties at least. Tall, fit, as lean as a panther, he had a craggy, tanned face that was intense and serious in repose. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled up and he lost ten years. He had the bluest eyes Devlin had ever seen.

  He gazed at her in horror when she informed him blithely that she wanted dozens of pink roses, cherry blossoms, flowering almond trees, lots of heathers and some pyracantha for winter colour. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the mention of pyracantha. ‘And some nice voluptuous fuchsias. You know, the double flowering ones,’ she added for good measure, ignoring his reaction.

  ‘My dear good woman,’ he said slowly in that delicious western accent that rolled off the tongue so silkily. ‘This is the West of Ireland and you
r site is extremely exposed to the elements. If you take my advice you’ll let me plant escallonia, cotoneaster, lavender, hebes, ulex, Spanish gorse, rock roses, cordyline and New Zealand flax. I’ll get pictures of them for you,’ he added helpfully.

  ‘That would be great,’ she enthused. Devlin knew some of the shrubs that he referred to and they were beautiful. But she knew what she wanted herself and she wasn’t going to be dictated to, even if he was an expert. ‘But couldn’t I have those and heathers, fucshia and pink roses? And I’m sure pyracantha are extremely hardy—’

  ‘And thorny,’ he interjected. ‘They have no aesthetic value whatsoever.’

  ‘But they’re beautiful in the winter. The berries are so vibrant. I don’t agree with that at all,’ Devlin exclaimed. He was somewhat taken aback at her vehemence.

  ‘Vibrant berries, voluptuous fuchsia . . . ummm. Miss Delaney, we’d better get real here,’ Matthew Moran said slowly.

  ‘Call me, Devlin, Matthew,’ Devlin smiled sweetly. ‘Think of the challenge of it. I can visualize it just standing here looking out. I’m sure you could come up with some design to incorporate your ideas with mine.’

  ‘We do aim to give our clients what they want, of course, Devlin,’ she could see he was trying his best to hide his irritation, ‘but realism has to play some part and you are paying me for my advice. It’s rather a waste of money not to take it.’

  Blue eyes met blue eyes and locked.

  He’s kind of dishy, Devlin thought. If she wasn’t a happily married woman she’d definitely be interested.

  ‘Tell you what, Matthew, live dangerously, you come up with a design that suits both of us. I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion.’

  ‘Are you now?’ he drawled, as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and stared at her. ‘What’s so special about pink roses? Why pink? Why not red or orange or yellow? Just as a matter of curiosity?’