Mirror, Mirror

by Patricia Scanlan

  But she couldn’t get out of this, she admitted glumly. If Vincent wanted his mother to come and stay with them and Sheila agreed, that was that. She’d have to pretend to accept with good grace. It was a major pain in the ass. She tossed and turned and fretted and fumed while Vincent slept, oblivious, beside her.

  The next few days were exhausting for Ellen. Between the hospital visits twice a day, cooking a meal for her father and trying to keep his spirits up, and preparing the finishing touches for the grand opening, Ellen didn’t know if she was on her head or her heels.

  Sheila was crotchety and in pain and kept asking for things like blancmange and chicken broth, that had to be specially prepared and brought in at each visit. Now that the shock had worn off and she’d got over the worst part she was feeling contrary and sorry for herself. She resented the fact that Ellen and Miriam weren’t dancing attendance on her, as she thought. She was playing the old soldier. But Mick had told Ellen that she was to open her deli as planned. Now that Sheila was more herself, he was taking charge in his own quiet way.

  ‘Once I hear your mother complaining, I know she’s on the mend. So you keep going and don’t worry, we’ll work things out,’ he assured Ellen.

  Much to her relief. If she’d thought for one instant that Mick would have preferred her to postpone things, she would have. Her father had supported her when she’d needed it. There was no question of her support for him.

  Denise and Miriam worked like Trojans to get The Deli shipshape. The night before the opening, after she’d been to visit her mother, Ellen joined them to take a look at their immaculate and very impressive deli café. Mick was minding Stephanie.

  Shining pine tables and chairs lined the walls and windows. The counter and delicatessen bar faced the door. Two pine dressers resplendent with sparkling delph stood one on each side of the counter. Crisp lemon and blue curtains adorned the windows. Old teapots and gleaming brass kettles graced the pelmets. Starched lemon and blue napkins that matched the curtains stood folded artistically in their pine rings, in front of each place setting.

  The fire, piled with logs and turf, was waiting to be lit. The mantel over it held a huge vase of orange- and red-berried foliage. Boughs of holly decorated the walls above it. Beside the fire stood the magnificent Christmas tree that the children had decorated with much care and excitement. Santa would be switching on the lights. Small wooden stairs at the gable end of the room led to the upper dining area where banquettes lined the wall. Tables for two nestled beside the windows. The pine-covered ceiling and walls glowed in the soft lamplight lending a cosy intimate air.

  The girls were thrilled with it. All the hard work was worth the effort and they stared around at the result of their endeavours with enormous pride.

  Ellen went to her big carrier bag and pulled out a bottle of champagne. ‘I bought this when I was visiting Ma today. We deserve it, girls. I want to thank the two of you for being such pals.’

  ‘Thank you, Ellen, for having the brainwave in the first place and for letting us be part of it.’ Denise gave her a grateful hug. ‘I’m really glad you decided to open. Once we get going and get into our routines, we’ll be flying.’

  ‘I hope so. I told Ma I wouldn’t be in to see her tomorrow. She’s a bit huffed.’

  ‘God, Ellen, you’ve been in to see her twice every day. That’s a bit unreasonable.’ Miriam made a face.

  ‘You know Mam. Anyway,’ she continued briskly, ‘tomorrow’s our day, so get the glasses, Miriam, and let’s drink up.’

  ‘I better not go home pissed, or Jimmy’ll have something to say,’ Denise demurred when Ellen filled her glass with the bubbling gold liquid.

  ‘Sod Jimmy. The time is coming, Denise, when you can tell him to get lost. You’ll be an independent woman. And you can tell Specky Spinster Dowling she’s welcome to him,’ Ellen retorted firmly.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Denise said doubtfully. But Ellen suspected that her friend would never have the nerve to cut her ties with her philandering husband.

  ‘I must say, I’ve never seen a more Santa-looking Santa than Doug when I put the suit and beard on him,’ Miriam tactfully changed the subject.

  ‘He’s dreading it,’ Ellen laughed.

  ‘He’ll be grand.’ Miriam held out her glass. ‘Fill me up again. Between yourself and Emma I’m developing a taste for the bubbly.’

  They drank the champagne and relaxed for a while until Denise said she really had to go. They washed up the glasses and went into Ellen’s hall through the door that Doug had put in to connect the two buildings.

  ‘This is so handy,’ Ellen remarked as she locked it after her. ‘The kids are all excited at the idea of being here together.’

  ‘It’ll be mad.’ Miriam grimaced.

  ‘One thing, no matter what rows or arguments they get into between themselves, let’s promise that we’ll never fall out over the children,’ Denise said firmly.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Ellen agreed.

  ‘Girls, by the time we’ve got through the day we won’t have the energy to fall out with anyone. Now I’m off,’ Miriam declared. ‘I want to cook a stew tonight so that Ben can give it to the kids for their dinner tomorrow.’

  They said their goodnights and Ellen closed the door on her friends with tiny little butterflies of apprehension. Just say they had no customers and the whole thing turned out to be a flop? All that money they’d spent renovating the place would be lost.

  ‘Don’t think like that,’ she told herself sternly as she switched out the lights downstairs and hurried up to let Mick go home. They had a quick cup of tea and when he was gone she slipped into a scented bath to ease away her tension. It was her last night of freedom. From tomorrow she’d be a businesswoman, with all the hard work and worries that it entailed.

  Sheila lay in bed twisting and turning. She was sore. The painkillers she’d been given earlier had worn off. The woman beside her, Mrs Redden, snored resoundingly, her ear-splitting snorts and gurgles rising to a climax every couple of seconds. Sheila gritted her teeth in irritation. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she’d landed herself in hospital. She missed her own comfortable bed and Mick’s comforting arm around her. The sooner she got out of here the better. Mrs Redden started to cuck.

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, will you be quiet!’ Sheila hissed. Mrs Redden cucked serenely on. She was a loud-mouth during the day and a loudmouth at night. She truly was an irritating woman and trust her luck to be beside her, Sheila thought resentfully. The old wooden windows seemed to rattle in harmony with her neighbour’s snores as gusts of wind caught them every so often. They were the creakiest windows she’d ever heard. Sheila yawned tiredly.

  The new woman in the bed opposite coughed, a dry harsh racking sound. She’d only been admitted today. The poor creature who’d been in the bed before her had died yesterday.

  She should give thanks for small mercies, Sheila sighed. At least she was alive, on the road to recovery, and not on the road to the cemetery. But it was all such a nuisance what with Christmas coming and all that she should have been doing for the guild. No doubt Bonnie was taking advantage of her illness. Making herself indispensable.

  And there was poor Mick at home with no one to look after him. Ellen was feeding him, and though she and Miriam had asked him to stay with them, he’d gone back home. Mick liked his own place best. She didn’t like to think of him on his own at night. Making his supper and having no one to talk to. Mick always said no one could make his cocoa like she could. Sheila felt very lonely as she lay wide-eyed looking at the flickering red light that shone under the picture of the Sacred Heart on the opposite wall. Mick was getting on like herself. She worried about him. If anything happened to him in the middle of the night he’d be there all alone with no one to help him.

  ‘O Sacred Heart of Jesus, I put Mick in Your tender loving care. Free from all harm and danger. Amen,’ she whispered as she reached out to her locker to get her Rosary beads. She might as well say
the Rosary. She’d offer it up for Mick and for Ellen.

  Ellen was opening her café tomorrow. She was going to miss that too. Sheila really had mixed feelings about it all. If it came to nothing, Ellen would be terribly disappointed. She and Miriam had invested a tidy amount of money in the venture. It was a heavy responsibility they had burdened themselves with. The young women of this generation were very unsettled in themselves, Sheila mused as she tried to find a more comfortable position. Her pillows were crumpled but it was too awkward to try and fix them with one hand. It was a vexation having her other one in plaster.

  Miriam had come to visit and at least had had the manners to apologise for her ungracious behaviour, which was more than that other little madam, Emma, had. That girl was an ungrateful biddy. All the kindness that Sheila had shown her and she hadn’t even stuck her nose around the corner of the door to wish Sheila well. Vincent claimed she had a tummy bug and didn’t want to spread it around. A likely story, Sheila sniffed as she kissed the crucifix and began the first decade of the Sorrowful Mysteries.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ellen hadn’t slept well. She’d been far too nervous and excited. By seven-thirty, she was dressed and downstairs in The Deli’s spotless kitchen, peeling potatoes and carrots and chopping up onions for the soup. Stephanie was fast asleep and she kept the adjoining door open so she could listen out for her. It was a dark frosty cold morning. The sky was clear, for which Ellen was very grateful. It had been windy and showery last night but that had passed away.

  Miriam arrived at eight-thirty and Denise soon after. The three of them worked feverishly, baking scones and breads and icing the cakes and sponges they’d already made.

  By ten-fifteen there was a queue outside as a horde of excited children, accompanied by resigned parents, eagerly awaited the arrival of Santa. Glenree was busier than normal for a Saturday morning. But it was only a few weeks to Christmas and people were stocking up and buying presents. There was a great buzz about. The weather was bright and cold. Had it been raining, there wouldn’t have been half as many people outside, looking forward to something different in the life of their small town. It wasn’t often a new place opened and curiosity was rife. All the hammering and banging and building had intrigued the locals, who were dying to see just what Ellen Munroe and her pals had done to the old café.

  There were times when nosiness was a bonus, Ellen grinned as she saw curious faces peering in through the windows. Miriam was in Ellen’s sitting-room helping Doug into his Santa outfit. Denise was putting the finishing touches to a big platter of sandwiches which were to be served with cocktail sausages and cheese snacks, free of charge, for the first hour of opening. The breads and scones were baked, the soup simmering in the big pot, vol-au-vents were cooling on baking trays awaiting their chicken and mushroom filling. Rows of stuffed rashers sat neatly on foil-covered trays. The kitchen was humming with activity.

  The deli counter was a mouth-watering eyeful of colourful salads, baked hams, turkey and selections of other cold meats. At the other end, sponges, tarts, cream cakes, brown breads, soda breads, jams and preserves and big dishes of fresh cream were a calorie-counter’s nightmare. A selection of iced Christmas cakes and puddings reposed on a display decorated with red ribbons and boughs of fresh holly.

  ‘Ellen.’

  ‘Mam, quick!’

  Ellen heard Miriam and Stephanie call her simultaneously.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she called back as she struck a match and watched the flames catch the rolled-up papers and logs and turf in the big fireplace. They had turned on the central heating earlier, and The Deli was warm already. They could switch it off if the fire made it too hot. She raced upstairs, dying to see Doug.

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ she breathed. Doug stood, rounded and plump, in his red suit, white-bearded, eyes twinkling, carrying a bulging sack full of presents. He was the most realistic Santa she’d ever seen.

  ‘How did you make him so fat!’ Ellen couldn’t believe her eyes.

  ‘Pardon me,’ Doug said indignantly, his voice muffled from the depths of his cotton-wool beard.

  Miriam laughed. ‘I stuffed acres of quilting padding into him.’

  ‘Mam, Mam, isn’t this brill! Doug said I could be his helper. I’m going to wear my frilly dress that’s great for twirls.’

  ‘And I’ve made her a little crown and wand,’ Miriam said fondly. ‘Quick, hurry and get into your dress. We’ll be opening soon.’

  Stephanie was so excited she flew on winged feet into her bedroom, pigtails flying.

  ‘Thanks, Miriam. She’ll be chuffed!’ Ellen hugged her sister-in-law gratefully.

  ‘Sure it’s her big day too. It’s great, isn’t it?’ Miriam was as bad as Stephanie. ‘It’s a bit like a wedding or something.’

  ‘Well, if I thought Ellen would marry me, I’d ask her,’ Doug interjected. ‘Just imagine the publicity you’d get. Santa weds in Irish deli. Christmas cancelled due to honeymoon.’

  ‘Stop it, you. And behave yourself today.’

  ‘I might! How about Santa, overcome by heat, runs amok and strips naked in Irish deli?’

  ‘Doug, I’m warning you,’ Ellen giggled.

  ‘Get down to your pots, woman. Just remember you owe me for this. What did you say? Steak and kidney pud whenever I wanted it?’ Doug’s eyes glinted beneath his cotton-wool eyebrows.

  Ellen smiled back happily. A spark of joy touched her. There was no one she’d prefer to share this day with than Doug.

  ‘Well. I suppose this is it.’ Doug reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Good luck, love. Let’s go.’ He picked up his sack of goodies. ‘Is my Fairy Helper ready?’ he called out.

  ‘Here I am.’ Stephanie raced in breathlessly. ‘Mammy, will you zip up my dress? Auntie Miriam, where’s my crown?’

  ‘Stay calm,’ Ellen instructed although she understood exactly how Stephanie was feeling. She zipped up the dress, placed the gold foil-covered crown on her daughter’s head and handed her the wand. ‘You’re a beautiful fairy.’

  ‘And you’re a beautiful mammy. Come on, let’s go.’

  ‘We’ll go out the side door and come up on the crowd from behind. And then you be ready to open the door. Right?’ Doug ordered.

  ‘I forgot to mention, Doug, we’ve put a red ribbon across the door. You have to cut it and make a little speech,’ Ellen said airily.

  ‘You never said anything to me about any speech or cutting any ribbons,’ Doug exclaimed, aghast.

  ‘All you have to say is something like . . . I now declare The Deli open, good luck to all who eat in her, or whatever you like, and then turn the sign to open,’ Ellen soothed.

  ‘If you’re not careful, I’ll tell them not to set foot inside the place if they don’t want an episode of the galloping trots. Are you really sure you want me to say something?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ellen said firmly. ‘Just act the part of Santa and say “Ho, ho, ho” or “Season’s greetings”. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘Ho, ho, ho, my hat!’ Doug grumbled as he led the way downstairs, followed by a sniggering Ellen and Miriam. He walked out the back door carrying his sack, followed by Stephanie, who was twirling her wand most professionally.

  Ellen and Miriam hastily divested themselves of their aprons, gave their hair a quick brush and went into The Deli, ready for the big moment.

  ‘Come on, Denise,’ Miriam called. As they positioned themselves at the door a ripple of excitement spread through the crowd of curious onlookers. Ellen could see Ben, Vincent and Emma in the middle of the group. She was half-surprised to see Vincent and Emma. They usually went to Dublin on Saturday mornings and then had lunch out somewhere. Emma’s curiosity must have got the better of her, Ellen thought uncharitably. She hadn’t seen her sister-in-law since the disaster of Andrew’s christening. Mick came out of the butcher’s and joined them. He gave Ellen the thumbs-up when he saw her, a look of pride on his ruddy face. She wanted to go out and hug him. It was thanks to Mick and his belief in he
r that she was here today on the brink of a whole new life.

  Screams of excitement erupted from the assembled children when they saw Santa striding along with his sack of goodies.

  ‘Ho, ho, ho, children! Season’s greetings!’ Ellen heard Doug call, very convincingly. He really was a pet, she thought affectionately.

  She turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

  ‘Ho, ho, ho, Ellen, Miriam and Denise! I’ve come all the way from the North Pole to meet the good children of Glenree and to open this lovely new deli. I hope you’ve got some pudding for me and some carrots for Rudolph,’ Santa boomed heartily.

  ‘Hi, Santa,’ Ellen beamed, handing him the scissors. ‘Will you cut the ribbon?’

  ‘I’ll need some help.’ Santa stroked his beard. ‘Where’s my Fairy Helper?’

  ‘Here I am!’ Stephanie was pink with delight.

  ‘Right, you take the scissors and we’ll cut it together.’ He placed his strong tanned hand over Stephanie’s dainty little one and they stood poised to cut.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to open this magnificent new deli. I happen to know there’s lovely food waiting for all of us. And if you haven’t made your Christmas cake or pudding to leave out for me on Christmas Eve, you’ll be able to buy them here. And you all know how much I love pudding and cake.’

  Loud yells and cheers greeted this pronouncement.

  ‘I now pronounce this deli open. May all who eat in it enjoy their grub and not put on an ounce.’ Laughter and applause echoed along the street as Stephanie and Doug cut the ribbon, and turned the sign to open. Doug led the way, switched on the Christmas tree lights to loud applause and sat at the table specially prepared for him. There was a mad scramble of children trying to get close to him.