Aisling Gayle Read Free Page A

his amusement. He had already knocked the fellow down half-price with the fancy ties and hankies, and anything further would be a bonus. “Oh, you’re some man,” he said, clapping him on the back. “You speak the same language as meself.” While the commercial traveller checked some sheets on a clipboard, Oliver turned and winked over at the young sales assistant, delighted with his victory.
    That was the great thing about Oliver Gayle. He could bend either way. Sideways, up or down. It didn’t matter to him. He could speak the language of the farmers or the gentry, the young and the old. As long as he got what he wanted, and was paid a fair price. And people loved him for it. That was why Gayle’s Drapery was the prosperous business that it was. Whether he was buying stock from salesmen or selling underwear to customers, Oliver Gayle enjoyed every minute of it. Oliver just enjoyed people generally. The more the merrier. And particularly the females.
    It’s just a pity that Tullamore town wasn’t Dublin city. A town like Tullamore could never provide enough life or excitement for the likes of Oliver Gayle.
    So Oliver had to provide the excitement for himself.
    And he did. Almost every day at work. On his good days – which were often – he brought energy and enthusiasm in abundance to all who worked in his shop. He was good-natured and fair, jokey and flirtatious with staff and customers alike.
    On his bad days, his dark mood was like a hurricane blowing through the shop. Wreaking havoc with everybody’s nerves, and making them pray that he would disappear off for a lunch-break which would extend well into the afternoon. Which he often did.
    “Now, Fergal,” he said to the thin, younger man who was training as an under-manager in the shop, “did you pay close attention to that little bit of business? Did you see how I managed the fellow?” He smiled, and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
    “Oh, I did, Mr Gayle,” Fergal said, nodding his gingery-coloured head. His eyes were wide with admiration. “I was watching you and learning – just like you said.”
    “Good man,” Oliver said, giving him a jovial punch on the shoulder. “Now, that’s exactly what you should be doing.” He motioned Fergal over into the corner of the shop, out of earshot of the women. “Now, Fergal,” he said in a more serious manner, “I’m off out on a bit of business, which means you’re in charge. I could be gone well into the afternoon . . . I’m not sure when I’ll get back. Are you up to it?”
    “Oh, I am, Mr Gayle,” Fergal assured him quickly. “I’m up to it all right. I’ll make sure that everything’s just grand. There’ll be no long dinner-breaks or anythin’ like that. It’ll be just the way it is when you’re here.”
    “And if anybody phones or calls to the shop looking for me?”
    “You’re out on business, and can I take a message for you,” said Fergal, proving he was no slouch at picking up his boss’s commands.
    “And young Dymphna?” Oliver raised his eyebrows, waiting to hear proof that Fergal had been paying good attention when he had last brought up the subject of time-keeping with the staff.
    “Don’t be worryin’ about Dymphna,” Fergal said, straightening his tie in an important manner. “I’ll see she’s back in good time – and on her own. I won’t be slow in remindin’ her to leave her friends outside the door.”
    “Good man!” Oliver said, going over to lift his car keys from the sales desk. “You’ll make a great manager some day.”
    “Thanks, Mr Gayle,” Fergal beamed, as his boss made his departure through the front door.

    Chapter 3

    “Isn’t Oliver a great man that he doesn’t mind Aisling having a month away in America, without him?” Sister Concepta said, beaming around the group of teachers congregated in one of the classrooms for their tea and sandwiches.
    Aisling’s face started to burn with embarrassment. She lowered her head so that her