Quentins - Softcover

Binchy, Maeve

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0451209907 ISBN 13: 9780451209900

Publisher: Berkley Pub Group, 2003

Synopsis

#1 New York Times bestselling author Maeve Binchy tells the story of a generation and a city through the history of a Dublin restaurant in this “warm-hearted” (Boston Herald) enthralling novel.

Ella Brady wants to film a documentary about Quentins that will capture the spirit of Dublin from the 1970s to the present day. After all, the restaurant saw the people of a city become more confident in everything from their lifestyles to the food that they chose to eat. And Quentins has a thousand stories to tell. But as Ella uncovers more of what has gone on at Quentins, she begins to wonder whether some secrets should be kept that way... 

“Quentins is not just any Dublin restaurant; it’s a place where wedding proposals, business deals, family ties, and friendships are forged (and sometimes broken).”—The Seattle Times 

About this title

About the Author

Maeve Binchy was born in County Dublin and educated at the Holy Child convent in Killiney and at University College, Dublin. After a spell as a teacher she joined The Irish Times. Her first novel, Light a Penny Candle, was published in 1982, and she went on to write more than twenty books, all of them bestsellers. Several have been adapted for film and television, most notably Circle of Friends and Tara Road, which was an Oprah’s Book Club selection. She was married to writer and broadcaster Gordon Snell for thirty-five years. She passed away in 2012 at the age of seventy-two.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Quentins

By Maeve Binchy

Signet Book

Copyright ©2003 Maeve Binchy
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0451209907

Chapter One

When Ella Brady was six she went to Quentins. It was the firsttime anyone had called her Madam. A woman in a black dress with alace collar had led them to the table. She had settled Ellas parents inand then held out a chair for the six-year-old.

"You might like to sit here, Madam, it will give you a full view ofeverything," she said. Ella was delighted and well able to deal with thesituation.

"Thank you, I'd like that," she said graciously. "You see, it's myvery first time here." This was in case anyone might mistake her for aregular diner.

Her mother and father probably were looking at her dotingly, asthey always did. That's what all the childhood pictures showed, anyway ...complete adoration. She remembered her mother telling herthat she was the best girl in the world, and her father saying it was agreat pity he had to go off to the office every day, otherwise he wouldstay at home with the best girl.

Once Ella asked why she didn't have sisters and brothers likeeveryone else seemed to. Her mother said that God had sent only oneto this family, but weren't they lucky that it was such a wonderful one.Years later, Ella learned of the many miscarriages and false hopes. Butat the time the explanation satisfied her completely, and it did meanthat there was no one she had to share her toys or her parents withand that had to be good. They took her to the zoo and introduced herto the animals, they brought her to the circus whenever it came totown, they even went for a weekend to London and took her pictureoutside Buckingham Palace. But somehow nothing was ever as importantas that first visit to a grown-up restaurant, where she had beencalled Madam and given a seat with a good view.

The Bradys lived in Tara Road, which they had bought years earlier,before house prices started to rocket. It was a tall house with a bigback garden where Ella could invite her friends from school. Thehouse had been divided into apartments when the Bradys bought it.So there was a bathroom and kitchenette on every floor. They had restoredmost of it to make it a family home, but Ella's friends were veryenvious that she had what was like a little world of her own. It was apeaceful, orderly life. Her father, Tim, had a twenty-two-minute walkto the office every day, and twenty-nine minutes back on the returnjourney, because he paused to have a half-pint of beer and read theevening paper.

Ella's mother, Barbara, worked only mornings. She was the one whoopened up the solicitors' offices right in town near Merrion Square.They trusted her utterly, she always said proudly, to have everythingready when the partners arrived in at nine-thirty A.M. All their mailwould be on their desks, sorted for them. Someone to answer earlymorning phone calls and to imply that they were already at work.Then she would go through the huge collection in what was calledBarbara's Basket, where they all left anything at all to do with money.Barbara thought of herself as a super-efficient bookkeeper, and shecontrolled the four disorganized, crusty lawyers she worked for withiron rules. Where was this receipt for transportation undertaken inthe course of a case? Where was that invoice for the new stationerythat someone had ordered? Obediently, like small boys, they deliveredtheir accounts to her and she kept them in great ledgers.Barbara dreaded the day when they would all become computerized.But it was still far away. These four would move very slowly. Theywould have liked the quill pen to work with had they been given achoice!

Barbara Brady left the office at lunchtime. At first she needed todo this in order to pick up Ella from school, but even when herdaughter was old enough to return accompanied only by a crowd oflaughing girls, Barbara continued the routine of working a half-dayonly. Barbara knew that she achieved more in her four-and-a-half-hourstint than most others did in a full day. And she knew that heremployers realized this too. So she was always in the house when Ellareturned. It all worked out very well. Ella had somebody at home toprovide a glass of milk and shortbread and to listen to her colorful accountof the events of the day, this drama and that adventure. Also, tohelp her daughter with what homework needed to be done.

This system meant that Tim Brady had an orderly house and agood cooked meal to return to when he got back from the investmentbrokers where he worked with ever-increasing anxiety over the years.And when he came home every evening at the same time, Ella had asecond audience for her marvelous people-filled stories. And the linesof care would fall gradually from his face as she followed her fatheraround the garden, first as a toddler, then as a leggy schoolgirl. Shewould ask questions about the office that her own mother wouldnever dare to ask. Did they think well of Daddy at the office? Was heever going to be in charge? And later, when it was clear to Ella howunhappy her father was, she asked him why he didn't go somewhereelse to work.

Tim Brady might have left the office where he was so uneasy andgone to another position, but the Bradys were not people to whomchange came easily. They had taken a long time to commit to marriage,and an even longer time to produce Ella. They were nearly fortywhen she arrived, a different generation from the other parents ofyoung children. But that only deepened their love for her. And theirdetermination that she should have everything that life could possiblygive her. They did their basement up as a self-contained flat, and let itto three bank girls in order to make a fund for Ella's education. Theynever did anything just for themselves. In the beginning a few headswere shaken about it all. Was there a possibility that they did toomuch for the child? some people wondered. That they would spoilher totally? But as it happened, even those who had forebodings hadto agree that all this love and attention did Ella no harm at all.

From the start she seemed able to laugh at herself. And everyoneelse. She grew into a tall, confident girl who was open and friendlyand who seemed to love her parents as much as they loved her.

Ella kept a photograph album of all the happy events of childhood,and wrote captions under the pictures: "Daddy and Mam andthe chimp at the zoo. Chimp is on left," and would peal with laughterat it every time.

Even at the age of thirteen, when other children might havewriggled away from scenes of family life, Ella's blond head pored overthe pictures.

"Was that the blue dress I wore to Quentins?" she asked.

"Imagine you remembering that!" Her father was delighted.

"Is it still there?" she asked.

"Very much so, it's gotten smarter, more expensive, but it's certainlystill there and doing well."

"Oh." She seemed disappointed to hear it had become expensive.Her parents looked at each other.

"It's a long time since she's been there, Tim?"

"Over half her lifetime," he agreed, and they decided to go toQuentins on Saturday night.

Ella looked at everything with her sharp, young eyes. The placelooked a lot more luxurious now than the last time. The thick linennapkins had an embroidered Q on them. The waiters and waitresseswore smart black trousers and white shirts, they knew all about everydish and explained clearly how they were cooked.

Brenda Brennan had noticed the girl looking around with interest.She was exactly the teenage daughter that Brenda would haveloved to have had. Alert, friendly, laughing with her parents and gratefulfor being taken out to a smart place to eat. You didn't always seethem like that. Often they were bored and sulky and she would tellPatrick later on in the night that possibly they had been lucky to escapeparenthood. But this one was every mother's dream. And herparents didn't look all that young either. The man could be sixty-hewas tired and slightly stooped-the mother in her fifties. Lucky people,the Bradys, to have had such a treasure late in their years.

"What do most people like best to eat, are there any favorites?"the girl asked Brenda when she brought them the menu.

"A lot of our customers like the way we do fish ... we keep it verysimple, with a sauce on the side. And of course many more people arevegetarian nowadays, so Chef has to think up new recipes all thetime."

"He must be very clever," Ella said. "And does he talk to you all normallyand everything while he's working? I mean, is he temperamental?"

"Oh, he talks all right, not always normally; then, of course, he'smarried to me, so he has to talk to me or I'd murder him." They alllaughed together and Ella felt so good to be treated as one of thegrown-ups. Then Brenda moved on to another table.

Ella saw both her parents looking at her very intensely.

"What's wrong? Did I talk too much?" she asked, looking fromone to the other. She knew she was inclined to prattle on.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. I was just thinking what a pleasureit is to bring you anywhere, you get so much out of everything andeveryone," her mother said.

"And I was thinking almost the very same thing," her father said,beaming at her.

And as Ella went on to high school, she wondered if it was possiblethat they might care too much about her. All the other girls atschool said that their parents were utterly monstrous. She gave a littleshiver in case suddenly everything went sour. Maybe her parentswouldn't like her clothes, her career, her husband? It was going dangerouslysmoothly so far. And it continued to go well during whatwere meant to be the years from hell, when Ella was sixteen andseventeen. Every other girl at the school had been in open warfarewith one or both parents. There had been scenes and tears and dramas.But never in the Brady household.

Barbara may have thought the party dresses Ella bought were fartoo skimpy. Tim may have thought the music coming from Ella's bedroomtoo loud. Ella might have wished that her father didn't turn upin his nice safe car and wait outside the disco to take her home at theend of an evening, as if she were a child. But if anyone thought thesethings, they were never said. Ella did complain that her father fussedover her too much and that her mother worried about her, but she didit lovingly. By the time Ella was eighteen and ready to go to college, itwas still one of the most cheerful, peaceful households in the WesternHemisphere.

Ella's friend Deirdre was full of envy. "It's not fair, really it isn't.They haven't even got annoyed with you for doing science. Most parentsrefuse point blank to let you do what you want."

"I know," Ella said, worried. "It's a bit abnormal, isn't it?"

"They don't have rows either," Deirdre grumbled. "Mine are alwaysin at each other about money and drink ... everything, in fact."

Ella shrugged. "No, they don't drink, and of course we rent outthe flat so they have plenty of money ... and I'm not a drug addict oranything, so I suppose they don't have any worries."

"But why are they all on red alert about everything in my house?"Deirdre wailed.

Ella shrugged. She couldn't explain it ... it just didn't seem to bea problem.

"Wait until we want to stay out all night and go to bed with fellows,then it will be a problem," Deirdre said with her voice full ofmenace.

But oddly, when that happened it wasn't a problem at all.

In their first year at the university, Ella and Deirdre had made anew friend, Nuala, who was from the country and had her own flat.Right in the center of the city. So whenever anything was going to betoo late or too hard to get home from, the fiction of Nuala's flat wasused. Ella wondered if they were truly convinced, or did they suspectthat she might be up to some adventure. Perhaps they didn't want toknow about any adventures, so they didn't ask questions to which theanswers, if truthful, might be unacceptable. They just trusted her toget along with everything as they always had. Occasionally, she felt abit guilty, but there weren't all that many occasions.

Ella never fell in love during her four years at school, which madeher unusual. She did have sex though. Not a great deal of it. Ella's firstlover was Nick, a fellow student. Nick Hayes was first and foremost afriend, but one night he told Ella that he had fancied her from themoment she had come into the first lecture. She had been so cool andcalm, while he had always been overeager and loud and saying thewrong thing.

"I never saw you like that," Ella said truthfully.

"It's got to do with having freckles, green eyes, and having toshout for attention as a member of a large family," he explained.

"Well, I think it's nice," she said.

"Does that mean you fancy me a bit too?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm not sure," she said.

He was so disappointed that she couldn't bear to see his face."Couldn't we just talk a lot instead of desiring each other?" she asked."I'd love to know about you and why you think science is a good wayinto filmmaking, and, well ... lots of things," she ended lamely.

"Does that mean that you find me loathsome, repulsive?" he asked.

Ella looked at him. He was trying to joke, but his face looked veryvulnerable. "I find you very attractive, Nick," she said.

And so they became lovers.

It was less than successful. Oddly, they weren't either upset orembarrassed. They were just surprised.

After a few attempts they agreed that it wasn't all they had expectedit to be. Nick said that it was his first time too, and that perhapsthey should both go off and get experience with people whoknew all about it.

"Maybe it's like driving a car," he said seriously. "You should learnfrom someone who knows how to do it."

Then she was fancied by a sporting hero, who was astonishedwhen she said she didn't want to have sex with him.

"Are you frigid, or what?" he had asked, searching for anexplanation.

"I don't think so, no," Ella had said.

"Oh, I think you must be," said the sporting hero in an aggrievedmanner. So then Ella thought it might be no harm to try it with him,since he was known to have had a lot of ladies. It wasn't any betterthan with Nick, and there was nothing to talk about, so it was probablyworse. She had the small compliment of being told by the sportinghero that she most definitely wasn't frigid.

There were only two other brief experiences, which, compared toDeirdre's and Nuala's adventures, were very poor. But Ella wasn't putout. She was twenty-two and a science graduate; she would find lovesooner or later. Like everyone.

Nuala found love first. Frank, dark and brooding. Nuala adoredhim. When he said that he wanted to join his two brothers in theirconstruction business in London, she was heartbroken.



Continues...

Excerpted from Quentinsby Maeve Binchy Copyright ©2003 by Maeve Binchy. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Berkley Pub Group
• Publication date: 2003
• ISBN 10: 0451209907
• ISBN 13: 9780451209900
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Language: English