Burning Bright

Chapter 30

‘Veronique? What are you talking about?’ Other people in the bar were turning to look at us now.

‘Veronique . . .’ Eoin began gently, but she ignored him, eyes still flashing at me.

I can only put it down to the release of all the pressures over the last few weeks, fuelled by a few glasses of wine, but something snapped. I stood up and faced her, even though she was a good few inches taller than me, and met her eyes.

‘I really think you should leave now so that we can enjoy a quiet drink together.’

‘He doesn’t want to be with you, he wants to be with me. He kissed me!’

‘I think Eoin can very much choose for himself.’  I was trying very hard to keep my voice down to a low level, but I rather think I must have failed. ‘I know you two have kissed, I saw it, but tonight he’s going to come to my bed and he’s going to make love to me all night and we’re going to wake up together and make love again. In fact, we are working our way through the Kama Sutra you gave him page by very interesting page. So let me get this quite straight. He’s not “Your Gwaine”, he’s never been “Your Gwaine” he’s my Eoin, and he loves me and I love him and nothing or no one is going to come between us. Ever.’

She looked towards Eoin for a denial, but he was looking at me with an expression of surprised pride on his face as he entwined his fingers with mine. Elisabeth started to clap and there was a wave of spontaneous applause around the bar as Veronique turned on her heel and stalked out of the bar.

‘Jesus, where did that come from?’ he asked as I dropped back down into my seat.

‘God only knows,’ I said. ‘But I’d had enough.’

‘Scary,’ he commented. ‘Fabulous. But scary.’

The sample T-shirts were available the following morning, and we drove back to Mr Noor’s factory to see them. The photo was brilliant, with “Vimla Tiger Sanctuary” written underneath the photo of Eoin and the cub, Eoin in black and white, looking chiselled and elated, the cub in full colour sitting in Eoin’s lap looking up at him. Adorable didn’t nearly cover it.

The first T-shirt I rejected as too thin and moved it out of the way, the second was the right price but the third was by far the best quality. And almost double the cost of the second one.

‘Miss Curran?’ Mr Noor prompted.

‘I need that one for the price of that one,’ I said.

Mr Noor took off his glasses and looked at me directly. ‘I simply can’t do that, Miss Curran.’

‘Are you telling me these are your best prices, Mr Noor?’

‘But feel the quality of this material, Miss Curran!’

‘I have. And it’s excellent. Which is why I want it for the price of that one.’

‘Well, I suppose I could let you have them for . . .’ and he wrote a number down on a piece of paper for me.

‘Still too much.’

‘I’m afraid that’s my lowest offer.’

‘What if we increased the order amount?’ I’d deliberately kept it reasonable, but still significant. ‘Double it?’ He wrote another number down. ‘Mr Noor, I’ve named the price we’re prepared to pay. We really can’t go any higher than that without damaging the fundraising for the tigers.’

‘Miss Curran, you have chosen the highest quality cotton, but I simply can’t manufacture these any cheaper.’

‘Well, that is a shame, Mr Noor,’ and I put the T-shirt back on the table and picked up my bag. ‘Eoin?’

Eoin was looking at me as though I was mad as I turned towards the door.

‘Miss Curran?’

‘Yes, Mr Noor?’

‘You’ll double your original order?’

‘Yes, with an option for repeat orders should they be required.’

‘In that case, you have yourself a deal,’ and we shook hands.

‘If you send the paperwork to Pierre, and we can expect delivery in two weeks as agreed? And that will be for the whole order, not just the original amount?’ I smiled sweetly at him.

Mr Noor broke into a slight sweat. ‘Yes, Miss Curran,’ he replied, with no little degree of resignation in his voice. ‘Here, take this one with you,’ and he handed it to me as though he didn’t ever want to see it again.

‘Christ, you’re scary,’ Eoin said as we returned to my car. ‘Would you really have walked away?’

‘I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.’

‘And if he’d let you go?’

‘He had more to lose than we did. His reputation for not being able to fulfil a high profile order.’

‘Ah.’

‘Anyway, you have a T-shirt to model to drum up custom. And please can you let Moira know in advance what you’re doing.’

‘But she’s so funny when she’s angry!’

‘True. But not fair.’

The very first reply to Eoin’s tweet of him posing in the T-shirt was “OMG, where can I get one???” which was reassuring. As well as helping us with the paperwork, Pierre had also recommended a website to host the T-shirt sales and even laid out the page for us, adding some pictures of Eoin modelling the T-shirt and all ready to go once the order had been received. Moira was co-ordinating the UK/Ireland distribution end and a contact of hers the US side once the T-shirts had been delivered. We were still well short of the final target set by the magistrate, but we hoped the T-shirt sales would push us over that, and it was just a matter of time.

My conscience was still taunting me with the Mr Patel situation, but I honestly did not know what to do. Except events forced the decision out of my hands.