Just like the song, Ellie didn’t like Mondays. First and foremost because Rory had only told her last night, while they were at a party, that he would be away in England for the next few weeks.
‘The lads are playing double dates in London, Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham and Newcastle. If they are going to get noticed and pick up some publicity,’ he predicted confidently, ‘England is the place to be.’
‘I’m going to miss you,’ she said shyly, wondering if he would miss her too.
‘Listen, Ellie, when the band go on tour, I do too,’ he explained. ‘You have to understand that. Next year, if we get lucky and get some gigs in the States, we could be gone for six or seven months. That’s just the way it works.’
She hadn’t meant to put pressure on him and cuddled up in his arms for a fond farewell.
‘Hey, beautiful, we’ll have fun when I get back,’ he promised, stroking her hair.
Ellie said nothing, knowing that if she was going to have any sort of relationship with Rory she must get used to his way of living and learn to accept it.
Reaching the shop, she noticed in dismay that the last remaining buildings opposite had been demolished over the weekend. Only their narrow redbrick façades had been left standing as the serious building work began. Overnight dust and debris had blown everywhere. All her lovely paintwork, the front step and the windows were covered in a dirty layer of dust.
Ria Roberts was standing in the street, shaking her head.
‘Look at the state of the place,’ she whispered. ‘How can I open?’
Scottie O’Loughlin had left his toy shop and marched up to the site to look for the foreman.
‘You keep out of the way,’ Ellie warned Minouche, the black cat, as she got out the mop and bucket of water and began to wash the outside step of the shop, ‘or you’ll bring dust everywhere on your paws.’
Rinsing out the bucket, she decided to wipe the paintwork round the door and then do the windows. Her mother had never tolerated dirt or mess and she wasn’t about to start. She’d clean up the place quickly before the town got busy.
Ellie got the stool and her cloth and a bucket of clean water and stretched as high as she could to wash the windows. The dust was everywhere, she thought, annoyed, as she sloshed the water around. She wished she had a higher stool or a chair to stand on or was a little bit taller herself: it was a much harder job than she had imagined. Minouche sat on the step and stared at her balefully, avoiding the drips of water.
‘Cleaning again, I see, Miss Matthews.’
Ellie froze. Why did he always catch her at her worst!
Neil Harrington was standing a foot away from her as Ellie perched like an eejit trying to manage the bucket and cloth and water and not wobble on the narrow stool.
‘Unfortunately I am trying to clean up the mess that your clients made when they demolished the shop across the way,’ she replied sarcastically. ‘The dust is everywhere.’
‘I’m sure it was not intentional,’ he replied pleasantly, ‘and that they will do their best to rectify the situation.’
‘Well, I hope they do,’ she said as the stool gave an alarming tilt.
He caught her neatly and steadied her, his hands around her waist.
‘Got you!’
He certainly had got her. He was clasping her firmly in his large hands, his fingers on her bare skin.
‘Ellie, please come down off there before you fall!’ he said, taking hold of the water bucket as she flung the cloth into it, the water sloshing everywhere, the stool wobbling again. Neil almost tripped over the cat, who’d jumped for cover. As she suspected, he’d got splashes of dirty water on his good suit and white shirt.
‘If you could just pass me up the dry polishing cloth,’ she asked sweetly, ‘that would be very useful.’
‘So you are staying up there?’
‘Yes. I’ll finish it off.’ She hoped he wasn’t going to stand there watching her as the window was smeared in places and still wet.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said, ‘I have an appointment.’
She watched open-mouthed as he turned and walked three doors up from her to Ria’s shop.
‘I hope that you are not trying to browbeat poor Ria into signing one of your contracts!’ Ellie called. ‘Because that wouldn’t be fair.’
He looked offended. ‘I have a meeting with Mrs Roberts,’ he said firmly, ‘but the matter that we are discussing is none of your business.’
Well, that was her put in her place, thought Ellie, as she tried to tackle the window.
Just before lunchtime a team of window cleaners appeared in the street and went from shop to shop cleaning up, compliments of Casey Coleman Holdings.
The shop was quiet, windows sparkling, when one of her mother’s regular customers appeared wanting to order a classic navy felt hat for the winter without any trims. Beatrice O’Reilly, or Lady Bea as she was better known, was a large and forthright woman adored by children and dogs, given to wearing navy or red, who lived in a shabby old country house in Kildare and ran a kennels. Ellie remembered going to visit her a few times with her mother to see the puppies and play with the ‘hounds’ as she called them.
‘Binky, my spaniel, ate my last one,’ she’d confided, ‘and I have to have something good to wear to funerals and to church, especially if I don’t make it to the hairdresser’s.’
Ellie had nodded in agreement, trying to keep a serious face, for Lady Beatrice had been a loyal customer for years and had been taken aback when she’d seen the changes in the shop.
‘You have done wonders, my dear,’ she said, looking around her, ‘but thank heaven it’s still got the same atmosphere it always had. Poor Madeleine would be pleased.’
Ellie had shown her the felt colour choices in navy, promising to have the hat ready in less than two weeks.
‘I’ll be back up to Dublin then as I have an appointment with a chiropodist. I’ll call in and collect it afterwards.’
Ellie smiled and walked her to the door, her good humour restored. Did other milliners have clients whose dogs ate their creations and who regaled them with stories of their bunions and corns?