The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,14
into the gallery and told her he was taking her to lunch.
‘You can’t,’ she said. ‘I have a heap of stuff to do.’
‘I’ve already squared it with Kevin,’ said Gavin. ‘It’s not a problem. I want to thank you properly for everything.’
‘I was doing my job, that’s all,’ said Deira. ‘I enjoyed it.’
‘And now you can enjoy the fruits of it with me,’ said Gavin. ‘It’s a business lunch.’
Deira had never been out for a business lunch before. Occasionally she and Kevin had eaten together in the small sandwich bar around the corner while they talked about an upcoming auction, but an actual sit-down lunch was an entirely different proposition.
‘I’d better check with him first anyway,’ she said, and ran up the stairs to Kevin’s office.
Her boss had no problem with her going to lunch with Gavin and told her he’d keep an eye on things.
‘Are you sure?’
‘You think I can’t manage my own gallery?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘I don’t entirely trust you not to knock a few hundred euros off a painting if you think someone really loves it,’ she admitted, which made him laugh.
Gavin put his hand on the small of her back as he opened the gallery door and escorted her outside. ‘I’ve booked the Saddle Room at the Shelbourne,’ he told her.
Her eyes widened. The Saddle Room was a Dublin institution. She’d never eaten there. In fact she’d hardly ever gone into the Shelbourne, which was just as much of an institution. Her salary didn’t stretch that far. She wished she was wearing something a little more elegant than her floral-sprigged V-necked dress and ballet pumps. But this was her working look.
The maître d’ nodded at Gavin in recognition when they arrived, and led them to a table for two in a quiet corner of the room. It was a table from which one could observe without being observed, and Deira was impressed to see Eamon Dunphy, the sports pundit, at another table, while Bono, easily recognisable in his yellow-tinted sunglasses, was seated at a third.
‘It’s a kind of who’s who,’ she murmured to Gavin, who laughed and said that it was one of his favourite places to eat.
Deira knew it was far too expensive to become one of hers, but she was happy to allow him to lead her through the menu and choose a bottle of wine to accompany the lamb she’d selected. She was only going to drink a glass. She didn’t want to arrive back at work half-cut.
‘So tell me more about yourself,’ he asked when the waiter had left them alone together.
‘You know everything there is to know,’ she replied. ‘We’ve talked a lot over the last few weeks.’
‘We’ve talked about the exhibition,’ agreed Gavin. ‘But not that much about you. Where are you from? That accent isn’t entirely Dublin.’
‘Galway,’ said Deira. ‘But I’ve been here since college.’
‘Would you like to go back?’ asked Gavin.
‘To Galway? No.’ Deira was vehement.
‘Have you family in Dublin?’
‘No.’ This time Deira’s tone was more relaxed. ‘But I’m happy here. I see my life here.’
‘With Kevin Hagan?’
‘For the time being, at any rate.’
She looked up as the waiter returned with her grilled prawn starter.
‘Gosh, this looks great,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise I was hungry, but seeing it has made my mouth water.’
‘Good.’ Gavin smiled. ‘So, getting back to what I was saying – where do you see yourself in five years from now? Still at Hagan’s? Or is that a stepping-off point for you? Do you have other plans?’
‘Jeepers, you sound like you’re interviewing me!’ Deira squeezed lemon over her prawns, then, when Gavin didn’t say anything, looked up at him. ‘Are you interviewing me?’
‘Maybe,’ he admitted.
‘I don’t want to work in pensions,’ said Deira. ‘I don’t know how you could possibly think I would.’
‘I’m totally aware that you wouldn’t want to work in pensions,’ acknowledged Gavin. ‘That’s not what I had in mind at all.’
What he was thinking about turned out to be a position in Solas Life and Pensions as a corporate responsibility executive. Deira would look out for projects that suited their brand and ethos, he told her, as well as being responsible for the cultural space in their Dawson Street building. Obviously their next exhibition would have to be something very different to the four women painters, but he was sure she could come up with an idea. Solas wanted to be seen as promoting Irish heritage. He could think of no one better than Deira to do that for them.