The Hat Shop on the Corner (26 page)

Ellie grinned as she covered a trestle table with a pretty pink tablecloth she’d found in the flat. She set out ribbon, feathers, flowers and leaves and a variety of trimmings, stiffeners and glue alongside two of the straw hats on hatstands.

She had spent hours last night cutting out a variety of coloured felt shapes in preparation for today. This morning she had collected twenty-four basic straw hats from the wholesaler’s in three shades – pink, natural and yellow – which she could use to demonstrate. The millinery suppliers had agreed that she could return any she did not use. Confused, Minouche had slunk round her feet and the table for a while. Realizing she would have no place to sleep and preen, she had taken herself off in a huff.

Scottie had hung a selection of kites from hooks beside his table and had an impressive array of sails, boats and rigging spread out for young hands to try to put together. His old friend Harry Regan had his shirtsleeves rolled up, ready to help.

The Italians had done the street proud. Two huge red and white gingham-bedecked trestle tables were set out with the ingredients to make perfect pizza and pasta, and the Italian flag was flying in the background. Leo and Andrea and their daughter Sophia were wearing their aprons and making a great show of mixing and stretching the pizza-base dough.

The Kavanagh sisters, who had been most unsure about what service their newsagent’s could supply free to the public, had a stall stacked up with sweets and drinks and lollipops. Sissy was dressed like a Hungarian gypsy and her sister had confided that, as Sissy’s other interest was fortunetelling, she would tell fortunes today for nothing.

‘She’s really very good,’ she whispered to Ellie. ‘If there is anything in particular you want to find out . . .’

Gary’s print-framing area was spread out over two tables. Frank Farrell had equipped himself with a huge magnifying glass and a few antiques reference books, and set up his table and an old leather chair under a green and white parasol.

‘Don’t want to get sunburn,’ he chortled. He had put on a burgundy jacket and a yellow and red cravat and looked rather dashing, like one of those TV antiques experts.

The deli had laid out everything needed to make the perfect sandwich. There was a demonstration of Aran hand-knitting, and the expensive men’s shop was showing how to tie a variety of ties and was hosting a raffle for a new suit. The American diner was mixing up a cocktail of milk shakes and frozen yoghurts.

The Garda Siochana had been highly efficient in ensuring the street was car-free. Once everything was set up, they moved the barricades at both ends of the street to let pedestrians have access. The traders, ready now to show everyone what they could do, wished each other well as people began to come and see what was going on.

‘SOS Saturday was mentioned in this morning’s papers,’ confided Ria, who had placed a neatly folded selection of exquisite clothes on a small table in front of her shop. ‘People buy expensive clothes,’ she sighed, ‘but they have no idea how to fold or hang them so as to keep them in perfect condition. I thought a little lesson in simple elegance and style might be useful.’

‘Very useful,’ agreed Ellie, who had always considered Ria Roberts one of the most elegant women she’d ever met.

The street began to fill up as more and more curious onlookers came to see what was going on. Scottie had a large crowd of children and their parents trying to master the intricacies of fixing miniature rigging on to model yachts. Harry handed out plastic jars of watery bubbles, demonstrating to the smaller children how to blow them. Frank sat under his parasol as a queue of enthusiastic amateur antiques collectors built up in front of him clutching shopping bags and holdalls filled with their precious treasures.

Ellie couldn’t believe the crowds that thronged on to the street.

‘Is it a market?’ someone shouted.

‘No. There’s nothing for sale.’

‘Everything is free.’

She watched as the television cameras from the country’s main news station arrived, the cameramen moving about the street while reporters explained what was going on. Then the Mayor arrived.

Mo Brady, wearing her linen suit and new hat, smiled as the journalists rushed to interview her.

‘Everyone on this street contributes to the richness of this city of ours. This street, like many other small streets, is a part of the culture and heritage that is Dublin. On this sunny summer’s day the people of South Anne Street are sharing their trade and crafts with us. They ask the citizens of Dublin to join in with them as they try to save this street. Enough small shops and small businesses have closed down to make room for chain stores and huge developments. The time has come for all of us to find a balance, to say no more changes!’

The street was hushed as she spoke and Ellie knew everyone was looking at the boarded-up buildings and the shells of those already gone.

‘Save Our Street!’ shouted a voice, and the crowd took up the chant.

Mo said nothing for a moment, then: ‘I think it’s time that people listened.’

She got resounding applause and went down the street afterwards talking to everyone.

The balloon man was handing out balloons and a group of young musicians who had set up in front of the old dance hall began to play.

Ellie was nervous when it came to her turn and couldn’t believe the crowd of women and young girls who watched as she demonstrated the various ways to trim a hat.

‘Would you like to try?’ she asked an elderly lady at the front as she showed how to wrap ribbon around wire and place it in position. Everyone wanted to have a go and Ellie promised they would all get a turn.

‘Those who make the most inventive and creative hats will be allowed to keep them,’ she said, giggling as a determined nine-year-old covered a yellow straw with a black ribbon and five little black felt cats. Definitely a winner!

The time passed quickly. Drinks, sandwiches and snacks were passed around as the crowds swelled and the queues got longer, everyone patient as they waited their turn. Frank Farrell was becoming quite a celebrity; his line snaked the whole way from one end of the street to the other.

‘They’ll have to give him his own TV show!’ quipped Damien Quinn.

Ellie waved as Mary-Claire and Aoife and Fergus popped down to say hello. Kim was over with Sissy, having her fortune told.

No one could believe how well it was going and how much good humour and interest there was in the fate of their street.

Ellie yawned. Her feet were killing her but she still had a good few would-be hatmakers anxious to create a millinery masterpiece. She stopped in her tracks. Was she imagining it or was that Jerome Casey she saw strolling past her? He wore dark glasses and a panama hat but she was sure it was the property magnate himself coming down to check on them.

At five o’clock the tables were taken down and the street cleared as the crowds drifted away. Ellie packed up her ribbons and bows and feathers. The hats were all gone and Minouche was back, miaowing for attention. Scottie and Harry were deep in conversation as they dismantled their table, discussing how kids were still kids.

‘It’s been a wonderful day,’ smiled Ria, touching Ellie’s shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

‘You are going to stay?’ Ellie blurted out. ‘You’re not going to sell, are you?’

Ria reached for the pearls round her neck.

‘I saw Neil Harrington calling on you,’ admitted Ellie. ‘You shouldn’t let him force you into something you don’t want to do.’

The older woman looked puzzled. ‘I’m not sure exactly what we are talking about, my dear. Neil’s mother and I are friends and he was only giving me a bit of timely advice about getting my affairs in order.’

‘In order?’

‘Yes, well, I’m not going to live for ever. A will is a sensible thing for someone at my time of life, don’t you think?’

Ellie was mortified.

‘Ellie! Ria!’ shouted Damien Quinn. ‘Once everyone has tidied up we are all going to Keogh’s for a drink to celebrate.’

‘After a day like today,’ confided Ria, ‘I could murder a gin and tonic.’

Ellie put the finishing touches to the quirky pale blue and denim hat that she’d made for Kim. Tomorrow they were all going for drinks in Café En Seine then dinner in Milano to celebrate Kim’s birthday and Fergus had secretly organized for a cake and candles to be brought to their table. The hat with its stiffened denim pieces was really unusual and should go perfectly with the blue strapless dress with the fitted skirt that Kim had bought in New York. Ellie had made a card and popped it into the hatbox along with a bottle of perfume and a packet of the dark chocolate that Kim loved and would deliver it round the corner to Davy’s stockbrokers as a surprise for her friend.

It had been busy all week after the publicity of their very successful street day, and a relaxed night out with her friends and no shop-talk was just what Ellie needed.

‘Birthday parties with a load of boring stockbrokers are hardly my thing,’ joked Rory as they shared chips from Burdock’s on their way home from watching some awful band he wanted to represent. ‘Anyway, I’ve one of the record company execs over from London tomorrow night and I have to entertain them. You go and enjoy yourself.’

‘But I want you to come,’ she pleaded, trying to get him to change his mind, ‘and Kim will be disappointed.’

‘Sorry, Els,’ he said, turning down the invite and shutting out her protestations with a kiss.

She pushed him off, annoyed. Here she was, dragged from one music venue to another at his whim, tonight listening to the worst band ever in a filthy pub, and yet he couldn’t give up a few hours to come with her to something that she considered important. Lately he was always away or doing something and they were seeing less and less of each other.

‘Ellie, don’t be like that,’ he teased. ‘You know I hate it when girls moan.’

Milano was busy on Thursdays and it was fortunate they had booked a table for twelve in the packed restaurant. Kim looked gorgeous and hugged Ellie, thanking her for the hat.

‘It was such a surprise,’ she giggled. ‘It’s amazing. Everyone at work loved it.’

Ellie could see from the admiring glances of Mick Doherty and Jamie Roche that it was for more than her hat that they considered Kim amazing.

‘Fergus, behave!’ warned Ellie, noticing that Fergus had taken it on himself to make sure the party went with a swing by topping up everyone’s red wine. ‘Hey, go easy,’ she cautioned her friend. Mary-Claire began pouring glasses of water.

The conversation was relaxed and Ellie found herself enjoying the night out. Kim almost burst into tears when the cake was served and half the restaurant joined in the singing as they all wished her happy birthday.

‘I could kill you two,’ she threatened Ellie and Fergus. ‘Except that I love you both to bits.’

At midnight the party threatened to break up. Ellie found herself yawning.

‘The night is young yet,’ declared Fergus. ‘Let’s go to a club.’

‘Lillie’s,’ declared Mick Doherty. The Davy’s gang were big fans of the nightclub and had passes to the VIP room upstairs. Ellie had already had far too much red wine but she couldn’t be a party-pooper on Kim’s birthday, and besides, Fergus had promised to get up and dance. She’d stay for half an hour and then go.

‘It’s only round the corner,’ urged Mick as they followed him down the lane and in past the club’s doormen.

‘Champagne for the birthday girl!’ he called the minute he managed to get the waitress’s attention. Kim was impressed and was flirting madly with him. Ellie gave her a birthday hug before Fergus dragged her downstairs to the dance floor. Exhausted after half an hour of trying to keep up with him, Ellie went back to the comfy couches in the lounge to sit down for a few minutes with Kim.

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. She had spotted Rory. The room was pretty crowded but it was definitely him. He was sitting in the far corner on the red-print couch, having a beer with an attractive blonde, their heads close together as they chatted and laughed. That must be the exec he was meeting. She’d go over and say hello.

‘Ellie, let’s get out of here,’ urged Kim, grabbing her by the arm.

‘It’s OK,’ she tried to explain. ‘Rory told me he was going out tonight with someone from the business. It’s work. I’ll just go and let him know I’m here.’

‘No you won’t,’ said Kim, pulling her away. ‘The two of them were snogging the faces off each other ten minutes ago. I saw them, honest!’

Her friend persuaded Ellie to ignore Rory Dunne and not cause a scene but to come back to the bar where Fergus and Mary-Claire and Mick and the rest of their crowd were.

‘He’s such a cheat and a liar,’ argued Polo and Fergus furiously. ‘He obviously never expected you to turn up in Lillie’s.’

Ellie felt mortified to be let down so publicly in front of her friends. She hid in the loo for a while, embarrassed and hurt. When Kim told her that Rory and the blonde had left, she grabbed another glass of red wine. She danced and drank far too much for the rest of the night, trying to put him out of her mind. At three o’clock they decided to leave the club.