The Hat Shop on the Corner (21 page)

She did a quick scout round, greeting friends, pointing newcomers in the right direction for food and drinks and welcoming the Minister for Health, who would not be giving a speech. The annual garden party was a fun event, not a party political propaganda tool, and the minister for once was a guest like everyone else.

The stall displaying the tempting array of goods for the charity auction was busy and Rosemary gave a silent prayer of thanks for the generosity of all their sponsors and donors, who had as usual come up trumps. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her son. Neil was bound to be here somewhere, for she had spotted a group of his friends at one of the tables near where the champagne was being served.

‘Don’t fret, Mum, I’m here,’ he said, suddenly appearing at her side in a cream linen jacket.

‘Oh Neil, I knew you wouldn’t let us down.’

‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘A gin and tonic would go down well!’ She laughed, finally beginning to relax, as she watched him make his way up to the bar. She said a few polite hellos to people, as supporters of the hospital strolled through the iron gates and into the gardens. She reckoned half the medics in Dublin were here, all ready to donate to a very worthy cause.

‘It’s going very well,’ grinned Neil a few minutes later, passing her a drink. ‘Even more people than last year.’

‘It’s the good weather, people like being out in their finery on a beautiful evening like this.’

‘Well done anyway,’ he said, clinking her glass.

‘Who did you come with?’ she asked.

‘Les and Ryan and Barbara and Oisin are all here somewhere.’

Always with the same crowd, she thought. Rosemary tried to disguise her motherly concerns for her son. There were plenty of eligible young women here this evening, if her son would only have a care to look around him.

‘Do you need me to do anything?’

‘No, I think everything is in hand at the moment. Yvonne and Beth and the committee have done a great job but at least I know you are here if needed, Neil. So thanks.’

‘Then I’ll go and say hello to a few people.’

‘Jo-Jo and Charlie are around.’

‘Then I’ll go and say hello to them.’

Rosemary Harrington watched him disappear in the crowd as she joined the minister and his wife, introducing them to a few people. She pasted a polite smile on her face as Gayle Leonard, in a figure-hugging pink chiffon dress and high heels, interrupted them.

‘Hello, Mrs H, nice to see you again. I’m just looking for Neil.’

‘He’s somewhere over beyond the bandstand, Gayle, with some friends.’

‘You look lovely, Mrs H.’

‘So do you, dear, pink is your colour.’

Gayle had been an on-off dalliance in her son’s life over the past few months. The glamorous twenty-nine-year-old was a regular feature in the gossip columns with her corkscrew blond hair and tan and pert little face. There were romances with rugby players, actors, a well-known ageing journalist and lately her son. Rosemary couldn’t see what attracted Neil to such a little minx, but given the possibility that she might yet end up her daughter-in-law she had diplomatically held her tongue and welcomed Gayle to her home and dinner table.

‘A friend of my son’s,’ she said, briefly introducing the young woman to the group she was with. The minister raised his eyebrow as she tottered over the grass, spiking the ground with her heels as she set off in search of Neil.

Ellie couldn’t believe it. She had spent three quarters of an hour trying to ease a beautiful champagne-coloured straw that she had decorated with gilded feathers back into shape after discovering Minouche had made a bed on it in the back of the shop.

‘
Tais-toi!
You bold little thing!’ she remonstrated as she locked up.

The woman who was collecting it in the morning would have a fit if she knew the little black cat had curled up in it and fallen asleep.

It was a glorious evening and she had time to race home and change before attending the charity garden party in Merrion Square. She normally had no interest in this kind of fundraiser, but Yvonne Callery, the woman on the committee, had been most persuasive and she had found herself donating a pretty cream hat she had designed to the charity.

‘It will be good publicity,’ Yvonne had sworn.

In return she had received an invite to attend the fundraiser. Kim had cried off as she had to work overtime on a special project, so Ellie had decided to go alone. She needn’t stay too long; besides, it would be nice to see the park all lit up with a jazz band playing.

Ellie jumped in the shower and afterwards pulled on a pale lilac dress with shoe-string straps and a sweet little kick in the skirt, the waist highlighted with a narrow black band. She pulled her hair off her face with a black ribbon and slipped into her comfy black slingbacks with a low heel, suitable for walking and partying. After a quick spray of perfume she grabbed her dark glasses and a wrap and pulled open the door of the flat.

Dublin on a summer’s evening like this was magical and she couldn’t help but wish that Rory had been able to accompany her. Still, no point moping, she would enjoy herself anyway.

As she approached Merrion Square the rhythm of the saxophone lured her towards the gardens, and she joined the merry throng sipping champagne in the glow of the evening sunlight.

‘Ellie, welcome!’ cooed Yvonne, bustling over. ‘I’m so glad that you could make it. Your gift of a wonderful hat is much appreciated.’

‘Well, it’s all in a good cause.’

‘Come and let me introduce you to a few people.’

Ellie smiled politely during the whirlwind round of introductions, wishing that she could be bright and witty as she desperately struggled to catch names and remember faces. Her mother would have loved an evening like this, while Ellie was shy and awkward sometimes in such a large group of strangers. She did her best to make polite conversation and when Yvonne drifted off found herself wandering round the garden, sipping a second glass of chilled champagne as she admired the park after hours.

Rosemary could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as her adrenalin levels began to flatten out. It was a perfect summer’s evening party, better even than she had planned. She said a silent prayer of thanks and, with a purposeful look on her face as if she had to fetch something important, detached herself from the rest of the party and meandered over to a quieter area of the park, enjoying the tranquillity and the muffled noise of laughter and chatting.

One of the guests had had a similar idea and was just soaking it all in. They nodded at each other, Rosemary admiring the pretty dark-haired young lady in the stylish dress who’d had the good sense not to wear high heels.

‘Good shoes!’ she laughed.

‘And they are comfortable too.’ Ellie grinned, her dark eyes sparkling.

‘Enjoying the party?’

‘Yes, thank you. It’s wonderful and the square, it looks so beautiful.’

They found themselves sitting on a bench together.

‘I met my husband in this park,’ confessed Rosemary to the young stranger.

‘How lovely and romantic!’

‘Well, I’m still not sure about that.’ She laughed. ‘I was studying to be a midwife in the hospital across the road, part of my nursing training. I’d just done a long shift and delivered three babies and I came out here to the sunshine and sat down on a bench to rest. I don’t know what happened but I dozed off. I fell asleep in the August sunshine. He spotted me from his window. He was studying for his law finals and came over to wake me. It was so embarrassing – I was red as a lobster. A bad case of sunburn, my nose peeled for a month and my legs were such agony I could barely walk the next day. Matron almost killed me!’

‘What about the young man?’ Ellie couldn’t help but be curious about the tall, immaculately dressed woman beside her.

‘Sean always said he fell in love with me that instant, sunburn and all!’

‘How wonderful to have someone fall in love with you like that.’ Ellie sighed wistfully.

‘We had thirty-eight good years together and three children, all grown up now. A lifetime of happiness together and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of him and how lucky I was to meet him.’

‘And you still come to this square.’

‘I live close by, and the hospital . . . Well, I concentrate some of my efforts on fund-raising for it. It keeps me busy.’

‘Yvonne on the committee invited me along,’ admitted the young woman. ‘I’m Ellie Matthews, the milliner who donated the hat.’

‘I’m Rosemary Harrington, the committee head, and I know that loads of people have been eyeing your beautiful creation on the stand.’

‘That’s nice of you to say.’ Ellie wondered was she any connection to Neil?

‘True, honest. Anyway, I’d better get back to the fray. Mo Brady, the Lady Mayor, is supposed to be making a late appearance after a council meeting. She’s saying a few words about a new donor scheme we are starting. I’d better be there to welcome her!’

‘Enjoy the rest of the evening!’

‘You too.’ Rosemary got up. ‘Go mingle, there are lots of young people here.’

Mingling was something her mother or her aunt Yvette would tell her to do, she thought wryly. Still, the music was good and the jazz band were certainly getting the crowd going. Some were already up dancing on this perfect summer’s evening.

The sounds of the city stilled as night fell. The party crowd was cocooned in the heady atmosphere of the old Georgian square where Oscar Wilde had once strolled and many a government minister had walked off the stress and tensions of official duties. Ellie was delighted to see that Mo Brady had arrived. The Lady Mayor was wearing a softly draped taupe jacket and trousers set off with a peacock-blue scarf, her hair highlighted as she stepped up to the microphone to huge applause.

‘Isn’t she a tonic!’ remarked the elderly man in the navy blazer beside her, as Mo congratulated all the committee on their efforts and outlined a new scheme for donors whereby contributions could be offset against tax liabilities when the rebuilding of the old hospital wing got under way. She then called on James Sherry, the well-known auctioneer, to come up and start the charity auction. There was a holiday to South Africa, a weekend for six in Rome, golf games, skiing lessons, weekends away, luxury spa days . . . Ellie cringed when she realized that instead of being in a raffle her hat was among the many items that were to go under the hammer. John Rocha glass, two paintings, a case of vintage wine, a Mary Gregory coat, a Paul Costelloe jacket, golf in Mount Juliet, a weekend in London – it was an impressive list.

Mo kept up a running commentary as the bidding began, encouraging people to give generously to such a good cause.

‘Now something very special, from someone very special,’ she enthused. ‘A delicious hat from my favourite milliner, Ellie Matthews, who is standing over there.’

Ellie resisted the temptation to flee and tried to smile. Inside she was mortified and desperately regretting her decision to come along and disgrace herself.

‘What am I bid for this beautiful creation by one of the country’s new up-and-coming designers, ladies and gentlemen?’ boomed the auctioneer.

Ellie wished that the grass would open up and swallow her as a sudden silence descended on the band area. This was excruciating, one hundred times worse than any torture or humiliation she could have dreamed of.

‘Come on, ladies and gentlemen,’ he continued. ‘Think of the beautiful young ladies in our company who would do anything to wear such a fine hat to their next outing, a wedding or christening perhaps.’

Utter silence.

‘Two hundred euro.’

Ellie almost collapsed with relief at the masculine voice coming from somewhere behind her.

‘Three hundred.’ This from a middle-aged man who was standing with a glass of wine in his hand over near the minister.

‘Four hundred,’ the first voice insisted again.

‘Five hundred euro,’ interrupted a plump woman sitting down near the front of the bandstand.

‘Six hundred,’ continued the first voice.

Ellie couldn’t believe it. Three people wanted to buy her hat. Relief washed over her and the shaking in her knees steadied.

‘Seven hundred,’ countered the other bidder.

‘Eight hundred,’ laughed the woman, not wanting to be outdone.

‘Nine hundred euro,’ said the first voice.

‘Nine hundred and fifty,’ called the older man, determinedly.

‘One thousand euro.’

‘All done? Then going . . . going . . . gone,’ declared the auctioneer. ‘Sold to Mr Harrington.’

The crowd spontaneously burst out clapping as the bidding ended and the hat was finally sold.

‘We thank him for his generous contribution to the hospital’s fund.’

Ellie couldn’t believe it. Had she heard right? She turned round, mortified.

‘Miss Matthews! Ellie!’

She recognized the voice. Neil Harrington was standing right beside her.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It was very kind of you to bid, and to pay that much . . .’

‘It’s for a good cause.’ He laughed, putting his hand on her shoulder as they stood back out of the way of the auction.