The Hat Shop on the Corner (25 page)

As the long hot August evenings passed, Ellie decided it was high time she repaid the generosity of her friends and invited a few of them to dinner.

Madeleine Matthews had ensured that her daughter was well versed in the culinary arts and was able to create a classically simple dish using the best fresh ingredients available. Dinner for ten would be perfect, as they would sit comfortably around the cream-painted antique dining table that had been in the family for years. If the evening was warm she would open the French doors and serve chilled Martinis and cold beer amongst her plants in the antique glass conservatory that had been added to the first-floor apartment of the Georgian building. Yes, a simple menu was best: a little salad with something from the charcuterie in town, fish baked with wine and herbs served with roasted vegetables and some lovely new organic potatoes, then her favourite dessert,
tarte aux fraises
, served with vanilla ice cream. A cheese board and some good wines should help to say a big thank you to all those she cared about.

Ellie designed the quirky illustrated invitations and asked Rory if he would like to join them.

‘Of course, beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘I can just imagine you with your apron on slaving over a hot stove and still looking sexy!’

The shop was hectic. Theatre designer Bill Braddock was collecting hats and headpieces for a show that was previewing in the Peacock Theatre a few days later, and more orders were coming in than she could single-handedly cope with. But at five o’clock on Saturday evening she determinedly turned the lock on the door and headed back home through the Green, resisting the temptation to sit on a park bench and chill out, reminding herself that she had dinner guests coming.

‘Oh, your place always looks so beautiful,’ gushed Mary-Claire, handing her a bunch of big white daisies and a bottle of chilled chardonnay. ‘I just love it.’

Her new boyfriend, Sam, was quiet and went round the room looking at Ellie’s photos and few pieces of art as she fetched them a drink.

‘Love the bronze snail – it’s very different,’ he said.

‘I made it when I was fifteen.’

The doorbell rang loudly and she hared down the stairs two at a time to greet Fergus and Polo. Fergus almost lifted her off her feet.

‘Put me down, you big brute, or there’ll be no dinner for you!’

‘Hey, El, don’t turn away a starving man!’ he pleaded. ‘I’ve had nothing since breakfast except for coffee and wine gums. I didn’t have time for lunch.’

Upstairs they all relaxed and chatted, the French doors open and the conservatory giving them a view of the rooftops and a few trees that grew in the laneway. The white-painted wicker chairs were padded with an array of embroidered cushions and her plants were in full flower. Polo had brought some expensive bath and shower gels and a bottle of Fleury, while Fergus had simply produced a bag of dolly mixtures, her secret favourite sweets.

The girls arrived in a flurry of noise and squeals, Kim and Laura collapsing into the couch and demanding Martinis after the climb upstairs to the flat.

‘I told you to take off your heels,’ she chided, laughing.

‘Women always have to suffer for beauty,’ joked Kim. ‘What would the boys think if we arrived in a pair of sandals with these skirts!’

‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ winked Fergus, topping up Ellie’s glass.

The last to arrive were Aoife and Jonathan, who were always late for everything. They muttered their apologies as they passed her a sinfully big box of luxury praline chocolates.

‘You are forgiven,’ murmured Ellie, before dashing off to check on the oven. Everything was going to plan and from the buzz of conversation she could tell her guests were enjoying themselves. The only problem was Rory. Where was he? She couldn’t delay the meal too much longer or it would be ruined. She would settle herself with another Martini before worrying any more about him.

‘Hey, El, is there any chance of some grub?’ pleaded Fergus over an hour and a half later, coming into the narrow galley kitchen to join her. ‘I’m starving, I’ve eaten nearly every little bowl of nuts and crispy things you have outside.’

‘I was hoping Rory would be here by now, but you’re right. Let’s eat! He can catch up when he comes.’

Pushing her annoyance aside, Ellie lit the candles and served the starters as Polo passed round the wine.

‘Here’s looking at you, kid!’ He smiled, the others joining in. Ellie listened as Fergus launched into the latest piece of office gossip about his new boss and got the conversation rolling.

The meal had gone splendidly, the fish perfect, everyone complimenting the cook and saying how delicious it all was. Surreptitiously, while she was in and out of the kitchen, she had tried to contact Rory on his mobile about four times but there had been no reply. She was furious with him. The
tarte
had been demolished, the men at the table demanding second helpings. She was just about to serve the cheese and coffee when she heard the doorbell ring. The others looked up expectantly.

‘It must be Rory.’ She excused herself and ran downstairs to let him in.

‘Hey, babes,’ he said, leaning forward to hug her.

‘You’re late, we’ve almost finished dinner. What happened, where were you?’

‘I had to see a man about a record,’ he apologized profusely. ‘And the meeting went on a bit longer than planned.’

‘You’ve been drinking.’ She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

‘And so have you,’ he said, placing his lips on hers.

‘The others are all upstairs waiting – I delayed as long as I could. Why the hell didn’t you phone or text me?’ she demanded.

‘Sssh!’ he whispered, leaning against her, pulling her into his arms.

Rory went round kissing and hugging the others like they were all long-lost friends, sitting in between Laura and Fergus and helping himself to a glass of red wine.

‘Do you want some food?’ she offered. Perhaps it would sober him up a bit.

‘If there’s any left!’ He shrugged, throwing her that bad-boy smile of his.

She ran to the kitchen and popped the small portion of the baked fish that had escaped Fergus’s ravenous appetite into the microwave along with two potatoes. It wouldn’t taste half as good as earlier but food was food and that was what Rory needed at this stage.

She flicked on the kettle for the coffee and opened the box of pralines.

Although she had been gone only a few minutes, Rory, Fergus and Polo seemed embroiled in some kind of a row.

‘The bosses and their companies are scumbags. Everybody makes money and cuts off their pound of flesh as they bleed the recording artists dry!’

‘I don’t think that’s always the case,’ reasoned Polo. ‘They invest millions in some of those groups.’

‘They create and clone artists and bands, and want to bloody own them body and soul. If the band object, they are ruined! Because Mr Record Company well knows another poor sucker of a band will be along in a minute or two.’

‘Your fish is ready,’ she interrupted, putting the plate down in front of him, ‘and you should really eat it while it’s hot.’

She hoped the conversation wasn’t going to be unpleasant and glanced at Kim to see if she could rescue the situation, as Kim always had something to say.

‘El, how’s your street protest thing coming along?’

‘We’re getting there. We got permission from the corporation. We hope to get a big turnout for our SOS Day.’

‘SOS?’ queried Aoife.

‘Save Our Street Day. All the shops will be shut. But there will be loads going on. Everyone is doing or giving away something. It’ll be fun. I’m trimming hats and showing how to make a few simple headpieces.’

‘That sounds great,’ teased Laura. ‘I must drop down to see you.’

‘The more the merrier,’ invited Ellie. ‘We’re hoping to get as much press and news coverage as possible.’

‘I must make sure Mags sends a photographer,’ promised Aoife, who worked as a sub-editor for the
Irish Times
’s
Weekend
magazine.

‘Thanks, Aoife.’

Ellie passed round the coffee and chocolates, bursting out laughing when Fergus bagged about five for himself. Up one end of the table the talk continued about the merits of small businesses in towns and cities. Rory ignored the coffee and went for more wine.

‘It won’t make a shitload of difference what you do,’ he pronounced. ‘Big business and the government only care about profits. They’ll play you along, then eat you up and spit you out.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ said Ellie adamantly, furious that he was embarrassing her guests.

She watched him refill his glass. Fergus diplomatically removed the wine bottle from the table and put it on the sideboard.

‘Hey, Ellie, I didn’t see you in your sexy apron,’ teased Rory, ‘but maybe later!’

Ellie could feel her cheeks blaze and hoped the others hadn’t overheard. She wasn’t surprised when Aoife and Jonathan announced about fifteen minutes later that they had to leave.

‘We’d better hit the road,’ Jonathan apologized. ‘I’m driving to Clonmel early in the morning to see my parents. It’s their anniversary and we’re taking them to lunch.’

‘We had a lovely time,’ said Aoife, ‘and the food was great.’

As the others left over the next hour they were all equally complimentary about her culinary efforts as she walked them to the door.

‘See you tomorrow, Ellie.’ Fergus hugged her as he and Polo flagged down a taxi. ‘It was a great night.’

‘I’m sorry about Rory,’ she said.

‘We didn’t come to see Rory,’ he reminded her kindly, kissing her forehead.

Rory stayed sitting at the table finishing his wine as she cleared up.

‘Hey, babes,’ he cajoled. ‘Sit down beside me and have another glass of this marvellous red.’

She was tempted to continue with the tidying but instead she left the empty crystal glasses on the table and sat down beside him, saying nothing when he reached forward and tried to kiss her.

‘Hey, Ellie. Don’t be so uptight.’

She had no intention of getting into a row with him and ruining such a perfect night.

‘I’m tired.’

‘And I’m not,’ he grinned. ‘Don’t be such a prig.’

Ellie couldn’t believe him. He’d behaved like an absolute pig, insulted her and her friends and then expected her to roll into bed with him.

‘Rory, I’m calling you a taxi,’ she said.

‘I don’t need a taxi,’ he protested. ‘I’m fine where I am.’

‘No,’ she insisted, grabbing his jacket. ‘You’re going home.’

On Sunday morning as she washed the dinner plates and tidied her small kitchen, Ellie reflected on the night before. She was mad at Rory but glad she’d made the effort for her friends.

It was lovely outside and once she’d cleared up she itched to put on her trainers and get some fresh air. She was making a pot of coffee when Rory arrived, looking far the worse for wear. Hair dirty, eyes behind his dark shades. She decided not to scold him and instead put two slices of bread in the toaster and poured him a glass of orange juice.

‘Don’t know if you noticed but it’s a beautiful day.’ She smiled, passing him the marmalade.

‘Yeah, so I see.’ He grimaced, scrunching his eyes against the sunlight.

She sat across the table from him for a few minutes, watching him.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he mumbled, buttering his toast. ‘I didn’t mean to mess up your evening.’

She had no intention of making it easy for him.

‘Did you hear me? I apologize.’

She said nothing for a minute, wondering if a relationship with him was really worth all this hassle and hurt. Would it get any better?

‘Ellie?’

‘Apology accepted,’ she said slowly.

‘Good!’ He laughed, kissing her hand.

‘We could get some fresh air,’ she suggested. ‘It would do us both good!’

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got things to do.’

‘It’s Sunday!’ she insisted, trying not to raise her voice as he bit into his slice of toast. ‘What kind of things?’

As soon as the words had sprung from her mouth she knew she had crossed some kind of demarcation line.

‘Stuff!’

She tried frantically to row back from being considered a nag or shrew. ‘Yeah, me too.’ She grinned. ‘But I just thought it would be nice.’

‘There’s trouble with the band,’ he admitted. ‘This producer guy’s messing us around. Sean and the guys aren’t happy about it.’

She could see he was serious.

‘I just came by to say sorry. Listen, I’ve got to try and track down one or two people today, see what they think.’ He kissed her, his mouth tasting of coffee and alcohol. ‘I’d better get going.’

‘That’s OK, Rory. Kim and I were thinking of meeting up later anyways.’

She tidied around the place and resisted the urge to watch from the window when she heard the front door bang downstairs.

             

The shopkeepers, traders and business people of South Anne Street all came together on Save Our Street Saturday as thousands of Dubliners enjoyed the welcome August sunshine and blue skies.

‘Can you believe it!’ joked Scottie O’Loughlin. ‘All our prayers have been answered – we couldn’t have asked for a better day.’