Mr McHugh helped him find out exactly what he needed to know. It was deadly. The teacher even set up a special file for him to store all the information needed for ‘project granny’ as he called it. Tommy was incredulous as they studied old newspaper articles and photographs, and even a piece of black and white film of a very different Dublin to anything he had ever seen.
‘Magic!’ It was exactly what he was looking for.
Tommy began to print out all kinds of things about those years, realizing how much his granny had lived through. Although he was a tough nut he couldn’t imagine himself living through a civil war and two world wars and having to make do when everything was rationed during the Emergency. He watched as image after image downloaded: King George V’s visit to Dublin, Padraig Pearse, James Connolly and their men taking over the GPO, the first Dáil meeting, the Treaty, the British forces finally leaving Ireland, the Free State, the Civil War that followed as Irish men fought each other, de Valera and Michael Collins, the two leaders, now on opposite sides. The Emergency war years, the last tram running from Nelson’s pillar, RTE’s first transmission and Gay Byrne on The Late, Late Show, long hair, The Beatles, Thin Lizzy, JFK, the first man walking on the moon, Bob Geldof, Bono and U2. Tommy was filled with admiration, for his granny had borne witness to a century passing.
‘Some of this background historical information should be very useful,’ murmured his teacher. ‘Give you a sense of what previous generations went through. You lot have it easy.’
Tommy would normally have made some smart retort to aggravate McHugh but for once he was actually in agreement with him.
From his dad and his aunts and his ma and even his nan herself, he’d found out that Lillian Butler had been one of a family of twelve born in a tall tenement building in Mountjoy Square. At ten years old, on Easter Sunday she had watched wide-eyed as a group of Irish rebels took over the big General Post Office building, guns blazing across the street as they challenged the might of the British Army. Terrified, Lily had run home with her two big brothers to tell her mammy that ‘the Rising’ had begun. Six hard and bitter years later Ireland had finally won its independence and ‘Dev’ was sworn in as their new leader.
After finishing school she had worked in Carroll’s Guest House on Parnell Street, doing whatever job Mrs Carroll needed, from making beds to cooking a fry-up. At seventeen opportunity had called and she had started working as a waitress in Bewley’s Oriental Café in George’s Street, serving on tables for crowds of Dubliners in need of a sticky bun and a warm pot of tea. One day a young man called Tom Butler, enticed by the smell of coffee beans coming from the café, had come in and ordered a scone and a mug of Bewley’s famous rich roast coffee from Lily. After a week of coming to the café every day and ordering from her, he eventually got up the courage to ask Lily out.
The following year Thomas Butler and Lillian Foley were wed. Married at only nineteen, she had given birth to nine children, his da and all his uncles and aunties. Moving from a flat to a corporation house in Meath Street, she had stopped work to concentrate on raising her family, supplementing her income by scrubbing and polishing and cleaning the floors, windows and carpets of offices and hospitals and houses all over the city.
‘Just give me a bucket and a bit of bleach or tin of polish,’ she’d joke, ‘and watch me go!’
In her free time she sang in the St Laurence’s Church choir and knitted jumpers and socks and scarves and throws for everyone in the family, the click-clacking of her needles going constantly no matter where she was.
When his grandfather, Tom, had died suddenly of pneumonia, Lil Butler had put on her best coat and hat and gone to Mr Victor Bewley to ask for her old job back. She was assigned to the fancy Bewley’s Café in Grafton Street, where she worked till she was sixty.
Two of her five sons had gone off to fight in the Second World War, Uncle Bernard and Uncle Kevin. Uncle Bernard had died on a Merchant Navy boat somewhere in the North Sea, blown to smithereens by a German U-boat, while Uncle Kevin had driven jeeps and ambulances and lorries and learned how to strip an engine in thirty minutes before he was caught in a land mine with a lorry full of soldiers.
She had seen Nelson’s pillar blown up and cheered for president J. F. Kennedy when he visited the home of his Irish ancestors.
‘If I’d been a few years younger I’d have fallen for him myself. He was a gorgeous man!’ she declared loudly. ‘Then, God help us, he was assassinated in Dallas.’
She’d hidden her tears as over the years her children took the mailboat for England in search of work and opportunity, and she’d welcomed her expanding family of grandchildren with open arms. As the family grew up she was content in her own snug home in Meath Street, surrounded by her neighbours and friends and her little dog Belle and a mad budgie called Joey, who used to sit on her shoulder and eat birdseed from her hand. She’d moved in to live with them when she was ninety, Joey coming too, perched in his cage in the kitchen.
‘He’s the cleverest budgie in the whole of Dublin,’ she’d declared proudly, though Tommy remembered the budgie landing on his head and pecking at him like crazy when he was little. He’d hated that mad budgie. But his nan had been heartbroken when the budgie died and had kept his feathers in a box somewhere. Maybe it was still at home, up in the wardrobe or under the bed. Then there was the old case full of photos. He’d get them out, see if he really looked like Grandfather Tom, as everyone said, and if there were any more clues about his granny.
Yeah, it was all coming together.
Why, he had only just started researching his grandmother, listing everything about her, and already there were loads of things to help make up her Memory Hat.
Chapter Forty-four
Men were far too complicated! Ellie decided. Getting involved with them always ended in disaster as far as she was concerned. All her romances seemed doomed and the consequences of following her heart always caused pain and upset.
Why was she always attracted to the wrong kind of men? Guys who were destined to break her heart like Owen, or let her down like Rory, or simply ignore her like Neil. No! She was better off staying single. She should concentrate on work and make a success of the little hat shop.
She sighed . . .
She’d hoped that Neil would phone her, waited and waited for his call. But since that nightmare of a night when she’d disgraced herself he hadn’t even bothered to contact her. Who could blame him? She’d seen him once standing in the street talking to Gary at the print shop. She’d stood inside the window, heart racing, wondering if he would drop in on her afterwards, strangely disappointed when he had turned and headed in the other direction.
Her love life was a great big mess. She could advise other women, help give them confidence, make them feel elegant and stylish, add a bit of fun and frivolity to their lives, and yet her own romantic life was non-existent. No. It was far better she forget about affairs of the heart and concentrate on building up her millinery business instead.
‘When the leaves fall I’ll go to Paris,’ Ellie promised herself, ‘and visit my aunt.’
She was stitching a piece of rich red felt when Minouche tiptoed over and jumped into her lap. Warm and soft and black, the little cat’s fur gave her comfort. She buried her face in it.
Chapter Forty-five
The jade and cinnamon-coloured silk sidesweep was a perfect fit for Constance O’Kelly. It softened her jawline and emphasized her best feature, her eyes. As Ellie had predicted, it toned perfectly with her jacket and dress. The material was of a high quality and expensive, the colour rich and textured, a jade turquoise with hints of peacock almost shimmering through it. This hue suited Constance’s skin, while the cinnamon twirls of covered spirals of wire gave the outfit a kick and made it stand out.
‘Oh, it’s absolutely gorgeous!’ Constance smiled, angling herself to the mirror to study the hat from every side. ‘It’s exactly what I wanted for the wedding.’
Ellie was relieved that th
e client was so satisfied with her work.
‘Thank you so much,’ said the older woman. ‘I’ll go off and have a cup of tea to celebrate.’
‘Have one here with me instead,’ suggested Ellie. ‘I’m just about to make one anyway.’
‘Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?’
‘The kettle is always on the go in this place. It’s one of the essential tools of the millinery trade,’ she admitted. ‘I have a steamer but I still find the kettle is great for steam and heat to shape and stretch the materials, and I get to enjoy a cup of tea as well.’
‘This is lovely,’ said Constance admiringly as she added a little milk and sugar to the pretty blue china cups that Ellie had invested in. ‘You are very like your mother, but I’m sure everyone tells you that.’
‘Yes,’ grinned Ellie, who was realizing day by day how much her mother had influenced her and encouraged her in certain traditions and in ways of appreciating the finer things of life. They had never been hugely wealthy but she seemed to remember always using good china and her mother creating a world of finesse and charm around them. Madeleine Matthews had a style of her own, which shaped her designs, the business, what she wore and how she decorated their home. Everything she collected or touched seemed to radiate that sense of who she was right up to the time she died.
‘You have created a little oasis here, right in the centre of the city. Such style and tranquillity amongst the hustle and bustle.’
‘I’m glad you like it. At first I was very nervous about doing up the shop,’ Ellie admitted. ‘I suppose getting rid of some of my mother’s things was difficult. But the shop needed a fresh look, a new beginning.’
‘Well, you have succeeded wonderfully, though it must be difficult taking those first steps and moving forward,’ mused Constance. ‘I find it such a hard thing to do.’
‘Are you all right, Mrs O’Kelly?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s just with Sally’s wedding – it’s all so awkward. My husband and I are getting a divorce, you know. It hasn’t been pleasant, to say the least, and the pressure of the church and the wedding – I just don’t know how I’ll cope. He even wants to bring her to the wedding.’
‘Her?’
‘His new girlfriend!’
‘Oh,’ responded Ellie, feeling immediate sympathy for the middle-aged woman with her sad eyes. ‘Well, with that outfit and the hat you will look divine, I promise.’
‘It’s just so hard being on your own,’ admitted Constance, fiddling with her spoon and cup. ‘I know it sounds stupid but this is the first time I’ve ever lived on my own. There was always Shay and the children. Of course they’re grown up now and he’s gone to live with someone else.’
‘It must be hard for you,’ said Ellie gently. ‘My mother was also alone.’
‘Was she widowed?’
‘No. My father left when I was very young, in fact I barely remember him. But she was a wonderful mother and made everything we did together fun and magic!’
‘All the lonely people,’ sighed Constance.
‘My mother was lucky. She had this shop, her business.’
‘That’s what my children tell me,’ confided Constance, ‘that I should go and do something, study, get a job. The trouble is, I don’t know what.’
‘My mother always believed that opportunity appeared when you least expected it,’ offered Ellie, clearing away the tea things.
Constance O’Kelly got out her Visa card and paid, delighted with her purchase. The young milliner placed her hat carefully in the pretty striped hatbox.
Ellie Matthews was pleased to see that she had made another customer happy. It always did her heart good to know that she was making the right hat for the right person, and that a simple thing like creating a piece of millinery could bring so much joy to both the maker and the wearer.
Chapter Forty-six
Constance O’Kelly slipped out into the garden in her dressing gown to enjoy the early morning peace. She sat under the lilac tree with her tea and toast, while her children slept in their beds.
Today was the big day. Sally’s wedding to Chris Donnelly, the man she loved. She couldn’t have asked for a nicer son-in-law and she knew that he would make her daughter very happy. The years had slipped by so fast since Sally was a little girl playing on the swing in the garden to her becoming a bride. Her youngest, Jack, had returned from New Zealand three days ago with a bushy blond beard, tanned and healthy, his backpack of dirty washing flung in the hall.
‘You’re all bronzed and blond and rugged,’ she said, showering him with welcome kisses and feeling the muscles on his arms and shoulders, ‘and I think you have got even taller!’
‘And look at you, Mum! You’re pretty blond and neat yourself. You look like you’ve dropped a stone or two at least!’
Constance had blushed and laughed.
‘Eating isn’t as much fun when you’re cooking for one, and I guess I walk a lot more just to get out of the house.’
‘Well, it shows. You look great.’
She didn’t look great but she supposed she looked a whole lot better than the last time he’d seen her. She had been a hollow shell then, distraught and overwhelmed by all that was happening to her, often suspecting that this, more than his father’s disloyalty, was what had driven him away to travel and work in New Zealand.
It was wonderful to have her youngest son with his laughter and good humour home again. Brendan and Miriam had also stayed the night, little Max charging round the house like a tank. She was glad of Brendan’s support and for his foresight in realizing that she would appreciate her eldest son being there now that Shay had gone. She had offered to take everyone out for supper to a restaurant but they’d refused and insisted on a barbecue on the patio with cold beers and sausages and hamburgers and chicken kebabs, baked potatoes and salad instead. Sitting there in her jeans and T-shirt, she had realized that all being together round the old garden table, surrounded by her tubs and pots of summer flowers, was the nicest possible way to celebrate Sally’s last night as her single daughter. Max had flitted round the flowers like a honey bee and collapsed exhausted after his meal, Brendan carrying him upstairs to bed in his shorts. The rest of them had sat out under the stars and chatted till long after midnight.
Constance had slept for a few hours only; the combination of emotion and nervousness about seeing Shay and Anne-Marie in the church together had woken her.
‘She is not sitting at the top table,’ Sally had promised. ‘That’s for you and Dad and Chris’s parents. Anne-Marie is seated at a table nearer the back with Leo and Grace and a few of the cousins.’
‘Didn’t your father object?’ asked Constance, curious.
‘Of course, but I told him take it or leave it. She is at the wedding, which is what he wanted. Chris and I have the final say about the tables and who sits where – even bloody Dad knows that!’
‘Good!’ she laughed.
‘I told him my two brothers were itching to walk me up the aisle,’ joked Sally. ‘Anyway Anne-Marie is sitting beside Sheila and that boyfriend of hers.’
Constance knew that Sally and Chris had done their utmost to persuade Shay to leave his girlfriend at home but her husband had dug his heels in, determined to flaunt his new relationship in front of all their family and friends. She just had to accept it and avoid contact with either of them as far as possible, which, given the day, was going to prove pretty difficult.
She pulled in a deep breath and said a silent prayer for the courage and wisdom to get through the day.
The morning passed in a whirlwind of crazy things to do. Immediately after breakfast and showers, herself and Sally and Miriam went to the hairdresser’s in Blackrock for a wash and blow dry and a manicure. Constance blinked when she saw herself in the mirror, her hair shining and glossy, clipped shorter. The beige and blond highlights had given her skin and face a new definition and softness. Sally looked stunning, her blond hair coiled loosely back with the clips tha
t would hold her veil and headdress. Miriam, open-mouthed, was staring at her polished pink nails.
‘I haven’t seen my hands look this good since Max was born,’ she admitted wistfully.
Afterwards they collected the bridal bouquets, checking everything was right before Alice, their florist, headed up to the church to do the arrangements there.
Arriving home, they discovered that Max had emptied a box of cornflakes all over the kitchen and hall floor, unbeknown to his father and uncle, who were drinking coffee and engrossed in a rerun of The Rockford Files on the TV.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ apologized Miriam, scooping her son into her arms. ‘I’ll hoover it up!’
‘No,’ laughed Constance, ‘I’ll do it. You’ve got to keep those nails perfect.’
Truth to tell, it felt good to have a small child running round the house again doing mischief and messing things up a bit. Last night with all the bedrooms full she could almost feel the heartbeat of the house return, regular and strong like it used to be when she was busy raising a family. Poor house! Stuck instead with a lone, angry middle-aged woman. She cleaned up and promised herself to show Max how to make chocolate cornflake hedgehogs once he was old enough.
Everyone helped themselves to the mushroom risotto with Parmesan and salad before they all got changed for going to church. Emma and Suzie, the bridesmaids, had joined them. Constance was conscious of the minutes and seconds ticking away as Sally and the girls went upstairs to change.
‘Constance, are you all right?’ asked Miriam softly.
She nodded dumbly, trying not to show the emotional turmoil she was feeling at Shay’s absence and the stress of seeing him with another woman in the church.
‘Brendan and Jack and I are all here,’ promised her daughter-in-law. ‘Everything is going to work out fine.’
‘I know. It’s just me being foolish.’
The Hat Shop on the Corner Page 22