‘I know, I’ve more grey than blond. I’ll have to start using Grecian 2000.’ Jonathan made a face.
‘You don’t look bad for an ould fella! Even if you have a touch of a jowl.’
‘I know, it’s horrific. My chiselled good looks are gone! I may have to go under the knife!’ Jonathan grimaced, patting the loose flesh under his jawline. ‘Where did those years go?’
‘It’s a blur! One minute I had teenagers, then I had college students, and now I have grown-up daughters. I’m so glad I took time out after Margaret passed away. I was able to spend time and do things with the girls and with my parents, before Dad died.’
‘Yeah, that was a good call. You were much happier, much more relaxed. You did the right thing.’
‘And what was all that hard work for anyway? So Bertie, McCreevy and that shower in Fianna Fáil could bankrupt us,’ Hilary said bitterly. ‘I could have spent my time at home with my kids when they were in primary school and still be as well off. And what sort of a future are they going to have, Jonathan? I remember the recession in the eighties; I think what’s ahead of us is going to be far tougher.’
‘If I promise to stop and treat you to a cream cake and coffee in Dundalk will you stop talking like that? You’re depressing me,’ Jonathan groaned.
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ Hilary apologized. ‘Cream cake might just do the job.’
The tinny sounds of ‘Goldfinger’ cut off Cecilia’s aria and Jonathan saw Nancy’s name flash up on his Bluetooth. ‘Hello, Mam,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Jonathan, I’m listening to Joe Duffy and I think you should take your money out of the bank. I’m getting Rachel to bring me to withdraw my money this very minute. I’m going to put it in the Post Office and if I were you I’d buy some gold – it always increases in value when times are bad.’
‘That’s good thinking, Mam. Hilary and I are here in the car heading for Dundalk, so we’re going to withdraw some cash ourselves.’
‘Honest to God, when you think of that other clown up in the Dáil before he was given the heave-ho, spending a fortune of our money on his make-up, preening and pontificating and telling us there was nothing to worry about in the economy, when the dogs in the street knew that the property boom wasn’t sustainable. I never voted for that crowd, and the people who did only have themselves to blame for getting us into this mess. And as for that Cork fella on the Late Late, with his brownnosing and lick-arsing. I’m telling you, he swung that election, Jonathan, and he got his payback for it with a cushy job in the Senate and his fine fat salary and pension. So it’s as much his fault as anyone’s but no one has anything to say about that!’ Nancy vented her spleen against the individuals who had steered the country so disastrously down the tubes. Jonathan glanced over at Hilary and shook his head. When Nancy got going there was no stopping her. She was still as sharp as a tack, still living an independent life, and had plenty to say about everything.
‘Hello, Hilary, how are you?’ Nancy enquired, having got her displeasure off her chest.
‘I’m well thanks, Mrs Harpur. Good to hear you in fine fettle.’
‘Well wouldn’t that lot of goms drive you to drink, if you were so inclined,’ Nancy retorted. ‘How is your mother keeping? It’s hard on her, I’m sure, since your daddy passed away. It takes a long time to get over it.’
‘I know. Hard to believe it’s five years now. But she’s not too bad. Like yourself, she keeps herself busy,’ Hilary said. ‘Dad’s passing was a blessing really. She wasn’t able to look after him, even with our help, and he would have ended up in a nursing home and he would have hated that.’
‘Yes, God can be merciful sometimes and death can be a happy release. Well give her my best wishes, pet, and, Jonathan, drive carefully. No speeding now and invest in some gold,’ Nancy cautioned.
‘Yes, Mammy,’ Jonathan said meekly, and Nancy laughed.
‘God bless, son, take care of yourself. Here’s Rachel so I must be off. I’ll see you on Saturday. I’ll make a biscuit cake for you.’
‘Can’t wait. Love you, Mam.’
‘And I love you too, son. Bye, Hilary.’
‘Bye, Mrs H.’
‘She’s great, isn’t she?’ Hilary said when the phone went dead and Cecilia’s golden tones rang out again. ‘So vibrant still, despite her age. And so on the ball! She’s right about buying gold. That generation is a hardy lot. We’ll be lucky to do as well as them when we get to their age.’
‘I know. I feel their feckin’ age,’ Jonathan retorted, indicating to take the slip road off the motorway to get to the nearest bank and then to bring Hilary for the cream cake and coffee he’d promised her as soon as they reached Dundalk.
Shaun Grant shook hands with his solicitor. ‘Thank you, Edward. Glad we’ve got everything sorted. Best for everyone all round.’
‘Indeed,’ Edward Delahunty said suavely. ‘Good luck, Shaun, Gina, safe journey.’
‘Thank you, Edward, for all your help and advice,’ Gina said graciously. She looked tired and strained, but as elegant as ever in a beautifully cut raspberry-pink designer suit and high-heeled Louboutins.
He walked his high-profile clients to the door of his Morehampton Road mansion. He had chosen to see them at home, discreetly, rather than at his Merrion Square office. The papers were doing all kinds of articles on property developers and high-profile businessmen. The Grants were on their hit list. But now they’d have to follow them to the States. The Grants had a private jet waiting for them at Dublin Airport
