Making the Memory Hat, as Tommy called it, was the most difficult commission she had ever undertaken. Ellie groaned with regret at her own stupidity for saying yes and encouraging Tommy Butler to believe in her. She had racked and reracked her brain for inspiration and was determined not to produce something God-awful and cluttered for this wonderful old lady.
From the photos it was clear Lillian Butler had always loved hats, spent her meagre money on one when the occasion demanded, worn them with a rare confidence, for hats had been part of her life. She had kept in style and adapted to the latest fashion and trends, even wearing a jaunty beret. Already Ellie had covered half a pad in designs but she was not happy with any of them.
‘Don’t tell me you are still at it!’ joked Fergus, who had called in to collect her.
She nodded dumbly, for she was meant to have been ready at least half an hour ago to go to the cinema with him.
‘Don’t tell me we are not going to Les Parapluies de Cherbourg!’
‘You go, Fergus. Honestly, I have to try and work on this.’
‘I’m not going to the Film Centre without you. What would I be doing at a foreign film if you weren’t with me?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No harm done, we’ll do it another time,’ he said, moving over towards the kettle. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘Oh, that would be sweet.’
She listened as Fergus rattled on about how wonderful and interesting Liam Flynn was compared to other guys he’d gone out with.
‘You do like him, El?’
‘Of course,’ she beamed reassuringly. Friends always needed to be told that the people they fancied were the brightest, the most beautiful and the best in the world.
‘He’s a bit wound up.’
‘Fergus, he’s a high-powered trader.’
‘I know,’ he said proudly, rooting around for something to eat. ‘Any biccies?’
‘There should be some chocolate chip and a packet of digestives in the tin.’
Later, nursing a hot milky coffee, she confessed to Fergus about the position she found herself in.
‘That Lily sounds a real Dublin character. Lived here all her life, raised a family, moved from place to place, street to street, all over the city. She’s part of the place like the Liffey, the Castle, Christ Church. A true Dub.’
‘I know, she’s had an amazing life. It’s just that I don’t know what to do to capture her spirit. It’s like I have hit a blank wall and can’t think of anything.’
‘Well, a lily or lilies sound good, nice and simple. The obvious.’
‘Yes, but that’s not what Tommy wants. He wants something more than a classic expensive-looking hat. He wants magic and blow-your-mind kind of stuff. I can’t disappoint the kid.’
‘A conundrum.’
‘To put it mildly.’ She sighed. ‘Tommy would hate a plain ivory lily, he’d expect colour and bells and whistles, though I suppose cream or ivory would give me a good canvas to work on, a perfect background.’
Suddenly Ellie jumped up, hugging a very surprised Fergus, who almost spilt his mug of coffee all over his trousers.
‘What’s that for?’
‘That’s for lighting the torch, for giving me the idea. Fergus, you are just wonderful! Now I know why I love you so much.’
‘Hey, well, that’s great.’ He laughed smugly. ‘I’m glad I am good for something!’
‘Drink up your coffee. If we race we might still make it to the Film Centre.’
She had stretched the material as far as she could, then using a light brush had retraced the pattern she had drawn out in fine pale browns and white. Once the material had dried she would shape the hat on the block and leave it for a few days before she began to assemble the trimmings that would capture centenarian Lily Butler’s life and the spirit of the one-hundred-year-old Dublin woman. Ellie was strangely excited about the old lady’s hat, as it was like assembling a work of art, a collage of the different experiences that make a life. What would she put on a hat to symbolize her own life? she wondered. She fingered the round coffee beans. They were like polished beads, their colour rich and dark. The bird’s feathers were exotic, adding a splash of colour, the blue-green remnant of silk ribbon like a river in flow. This hat was different from anything else she had ever designed or created and she would not charge for the hours of work, for she knew Tommy’s funds were limited. The boy was a strange kid, different from what she had first expected, his rough tough exterior hiding the sensitive young man he really was. She smiled to herself, thinking of his face as he gave his grandmother his gift, knowing that her time was being well spent.