Before I even put my keys into the front door, I could already hear Hennessy’s voice. He was recounting an old joke about a Devil-offered deal to a lawyer with the punchline being the lawyer questioning what the “catch” was. Strangely, the old man found it just as amusing as the first time he had heard it, willingly playing along for his entertainment.
“Things are different now, Sorcha, traditional media is no longer our ally,” the old man ventured. The game begun and each participant was asked to place a sock into a pint glass before them. The contentious declaration about my father’s lack of moral integrity, a noted observation by the Mahon tribunal, wasn’t particularly comforting.
To everyone’s surprise, invitations to Honor O’Carroll-Kelly’s party came back riddled with disbelief. This disbelief turned into laughter as I overheard the usually stoic Honor break the tension with her laughter. Confusingly, she proceeded to prompt Hennessy on what their plans were about her apparent issue.
At this point, I turned to Sorcha, wondering if she was contemplating the same dark notions as I was. Was she planning to take someone out? I walked into the kitchen, finding all three of them around the table, deep in quiet discussions, effectively conspiring.
“Just another evening, Kicker!” the old man interjected suddenly, attempting to change the subject. “Autumn internationals aren’t far off now!” The diversion was short-lived, however. Honor’s issue still loomed over the conversation. I couldn’t help myself from asking, “Wait, what’s the issue that Honor was referring to?”
Sorcha, too, seemed to be connecting the dots. “You’re not planning to have somebody… extinguished?” she ventured towards Hennessy tentatively. “I’m not in a position to speak on that, it’s client privilege” was the diplomat’s reply.
“I’m present, “Then you can promptly leave this residence.”
This blasted Hall. Does she see herself as some sort of amateur sleuth-ish writer?
— Honor
“Lower your tone,” Honor articulates. “Let’s discuss this matter!” and reveals the newest issue of The MAG – the Mount Anville Gazette, that is, the school’s periodic publication. “It includes an article about me.”
Sorcha, bewildered, stammers, “An article about you?” and gives it the once over. “Oh dear! Is it really! Is! It really!”
I question, “What is stated in the content?”
She responds, “Honor O’Carroll-Kelly is poised to gain a sum of €100k from the final year winter sports journey.”
Hennessy announces, “My client’s reputation has been slandered, disparaged and grossly maligned.”
I express, “I assume the auction results weren’t met with universal approval.”
Indeed, surprisingly, everyone was required to submit undisclosed offers to become one of the selected 50 journeying to St Moritz in the New Year.
“This damned Hall,” Honor remarks angrily. “Does she consider herself to be some sort of fledgeling writer? ”
Sorcha persists in her reading. She states, “Everyone is answerable. Honor O’Carroll-Kelly isn’t an exception. In fact, as the head girl, she should be held accountable to the utmost standards of decorum. I concur with that statement. The MAG will continue to interrogate where warranted.”
Sorcha informs, “Well, if they make inroads to examining Honor’s financial information, they’ll uncover that €100,000 is precisely the gains Honor expects from the school expedition – and I assume your earnings, Chorles, are in the same ballpark?”
The elderly gentleman’s countenance transforms. He’s opposed to having that matter publicly discussed in a court of law.
“My suggestion, Honor”, he articulates, “is that we explore different avenues rather than legal prosecution.”
Hennessy, showing traces of disappointment, queries, “Such as?” It is quite clear, he revels in litigation.
“Well”, responds the man, “we could orchestrate the cessation of the magazine.”
Sorcha interjects, “You are not authorised to do so!”
Honor retorts, “This man can execute anything. He is none other than Charles O’Carroll-Kelly.”
Grinning at the approval shown by his granddaughter, he exclaims, “Gratitude, Honor!”
Sorcha disapproves, “You don’t have the authority to halt its operation because I’m the founder. The MAG, is amongst my hallmark projects, along with the school’s ecological mission statement, the indoor relaxation area, and alumni gatherings with prayers and prosecco.”
The man replies, “The scenario has evolved since you were in school, Sorcha.”
Stumped, she inquires, “In what manner?”
The elderly gentleman offers, “Our adversary now is mainstream media. Honor, you must curtail the magazine before it becomes a botheration.”
Honor responds, “What an amusing spectacle it would be to observe Thia Hall’s surprise! So, what’s our strategy to terminate it?”
“Well”, he suggests, “The magazine thrives on advertisements. All leading legal and accounting firms advertise in it.”
Sorcha contradicts, “That’s just parents supporting their offspring.”
He rejoins, “Hennessy and I are known in this town. We could persuade them to cease their advertising in a magazine that clearly promulgates falsehoods -”
I intervene, “Those aren’t untruths. She has pocketed a hundred grand.”
” – such blatant dishonesty,” he continues, “about a girl who only has the best interests of the school at heart.”
“Sorcha asserts, “You mustn’t shut the MAG down, Honor. It’s been in monthly circulation for over twenty-five years.”
Hennessy retorts, “It needs to be shut down. To discourage others – forgive my French.”
The older gentleman chimes in, “Absolutely, spot on! They are currently protesting about the ski trip. Just picture their reaction when they discover you’re planning to sell the school concert hall’s naming rights.”
Quite confounded, Sorcha exclaims, “Excuse me?”
Honor retorts, “Wise up and steer clear of it, mum.”
Hennessy then inquires, “Should I dispatch a cease and desist letter to her?”
Animatedly, Sorcha counters, “You certainly will not send me such a letter.”
He retorts, “I will if that’s what my client wants.”
Sorcha warns, “If you instruct him to mail me a cease and desist letter, by God I will reciprocate in the same manner, Honor.”
Honor contemplates this for a moment before turning to Hennessy and instructing, “Actually, do post that letter to her. It may silence her for a bit.”
Shocked, Sorcha turns to Ross and says, “Aren’t you going to intervene?”
I try to mutter something, but can only manage to blurt, “Bloody hell!””