Red Letter Day
RED
LETTER
DAY
COLETTE CADDLE
Copyright © 2004, Colette Caddle
The right of Colette Caddie to be identified as author of this work
has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
FOR TONY
Contents
Celine massaged the wax in and pulled her hair into spikes. Then she put on the vivid purple lipstick that matched her eyeshadow and nail varnish perfectly.
'Celine! Come on, we're going to be late!'
'Coming!' she yelled back as she pulled on her perilously high platforms and clumped down the stairs.
'Hey, you look great!' her husband said, picking her off the bottom step and swinging her around. 'Doesn't she, Frank?'
Celine's father grinned. 'Great.'
'Where's my bag, Dermot?'
Dermot pointed to the spangly purple bag on the floor. 'That thing?'
'Yeah, great. Okay, I think I'm ready.'
'Are you nervous, love?' her father asked as they walked out to his car.
'A bit, Daddy, but I'm excited too. Some of Ireland's top designers are going to be here tonight.'
Dermot grinned as he held open the door for her. 'Sure won't you be there!'
'Idiot!' Celine laughed.
The RTE studios were buzzing when they arrived. Celine was quickly surrounded by her classmates as they all admired each other's outfits and discussed the likely winner. They finally broke up when they were told to take their seats and Celine went in search of her husband. Frank would have to sit with the main audience but thankfully Dermot would be with her in the front row. She clutched his hand tightly as the awards got tinder way.
'I hope the graduate award isn't last or I'll have no circulation left in that arm,' he murmured.
'What?' Celine's eyes were darting around the room and every so often she'd give a little squeal and point out some big name to Dermot.
It was over an hour before Pat Kenny got to the new designer award. Dermot sat up in his seat and clasped both of Celine's hands in his.
'And the winner of the new designer of the year award goes to . . .'
Celine held her breath.
Pat Kenny's eyes roved across the expectant faces. 'Celine Moore!'
Dermot jumped to his feet and dragged his wife with him. 'You've won, Celine, you've won!'
Celine's expression was bemused. 'What?'
'Go on, love, they're waiting.'
Celine drew herself up, straightened the skirt of the black dress that she'd only finished making that afternoon and started the long walk up the red carpet. She was only vaguely aware of the congratulatory smiles and handshakes as she walked. She'd won. She was here on the
Late Late Show
surrounded by the big names from the Irish fashion industry — and some from across the pond too — receiving the highest accolade a new designer could get. She nodded and smiled as Pat Kenny shook her hand, only vaguely aware of what he was saying, and moved on to be embraced by Paul Costello — dear God, Paul Costello! If only her mother were here to see this, she'd be so proud. Thinking of her mother reminded her of her dad. She looked out into the audience to see if she could spot him but in the dimly lit studio she couldn't see beyond the first two rows. Clutching the Waterford Crystal trophy and cheque close to her chest, Celine concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and getting back to her seat without falling flat on her face. Thank God she wasn't expected to make a speech.
'I'm so proud of you,' Dermot said as she sat down.
She hugged him hard. 'Thanks, Dermot, I couldn't have done it without you.'
'You're got what it takes, Celine, and that's why you're here. You've got the X factor.'
'At least I should get a reasonable job now.'
'You're going to be famous in no time and I'm going to retire!'
Celine grinned and put her finger to her lips as the next winner was announced.
Frank drove home with a broad smile on his face as his daughter and her husband sang, laughed and relived the moment again.
'I didn't think I'd make it up those steps,' Celine told them again.
'You were brilliant and the best-looking designer in the room!' Dermot said, kissing her soundly. 'What we need now is a curry!'
'Curry, yeah, great!' Celine suddenly felt ravenous.
'Curry?' Frank repeated. 'It's nearly one o'clock in the morning!'
'The best time to eat curry,' Dermot assured him. 'The place at the top of the road should be open, Frank.'
'Okay then.' Frank capitulated and detoured to stop at the takeaway. He'd have travelled to Timbuktu if they'd wanted him to, he was so proud of Celine.
'What will you have, Frank?' Dermot asked as he got out of the car.
'Nothing for me, thanks.'
When they finally pulled up outside the cottage, Frank kissed his daughter. 'I'm proud of you, love, well done.'
'Come in for a drink,' Dermot urged.
'No, lad, I'm for bed.'
'I'll phone you tomorrow, Daddy,' Celine promised.
'Champagne!' Dermot said, making straight for the fridge.
Celine laughed. 'Champagne and curry!'
'You'll be drinking champagne with everything from now on,' Dermot told her as he poured the bubbly into two tumblers.
'I think I need to earn some money first!'
'You'll have your pick of jobs now. They'll all be fighting over you. Celine Moore, Ireland's newest and most exciting designer!'
Celine twirled around, slopping some of her champagne on the floor. 'Today, Dublin, tomorrow, the world!'
'I'm sorry.' Rose scanned the page in her hand and then looked back at the young woman in front of her. 'But am I missing something? How did someone with your qualifications end up working in a pharmacy?'
Celine shrugged. 'I don't know.'
Rose sighed and put the brief uninformative CV down on the desk. 'Look, Celine, you seem like a lovely girl and between your qualifications and shop experience you're an ideal candidate for the job but, well, I think there's something you're not telling me.'
Celine stared back at her from under a heavy chestnut fringe. 'It's a bit complicated.'
Rose folded her hands in her lap and waited.
Celine sighed. 'Okay, then, let me explain. I'm a widow. My husband died just after I qualified from the College of Art and Design.'
'Oh, I'm sorry!'
Celine carried on, a slight tremor in her voice: 'After he died I lost interest in design.'
'So you took the first job that came along,' Rose surmised.
Celine nodded.
'Why do you want to get back into the rag trade now? Are you going to take up designing again?' Rose watched as the girl's face filled with horror.
'Definitely not!'
'So?'
'Er, well, I wanted to move out of Killmont for personal reasons. I know I could do the job and having a flat over the shop takes care of my accommodation problem.'
Rose bit her lip as she studied the girl. Somehow she felt there was a lot more going on behind those sad eyes but in her gut she felt she could trust Celine Moore. As soon as she'd walked in and Rose felt the cool firm grip of her hand she'd made up her mind. 'How soon can you start?'
Celine laughed, her eyes lighting up. Rose blinked at the transformation.
'Tomorrow?'
Rose smiled. 'No need for that. Why don't you concentrate on moving in over the weekend and you can start Monday. That will give me six weeks to show you the ropes before I go into hospital for a hip replacement.'
'Oh, I'm sorry. Are you in a lot of pain?'
Rose chuckled. 'Yep, but now that I've got you to do all the donkey work I'll be fine.'
'No problem, that's what I'm good at.'
'How are you at making tea?' Rose asked hopefully.
Celine stood up immediately. 'Why don't you be the judge of that?' She filled the kettle and found two mugs.
Rose settled back in her chair and put her foot up on a stool and told Celine of the problems she'd had trying to find a manager for the shop. 'So whatever your reasons for wanting the job, I'm glad you're here.'
Celine set the teapot on the table and went to get the milk and sugar. 'Me too.'
'When we've finished our tea I'll show you the flat. It's a bit basic,' Rose warned.
Celine shrugged. 'I don't need much.'
'It needs airing. The lad that used to live there moved out last month. And I'd better ask Richard to get the immersion checked. It goes on the blink sometimes.'
'Richard?'
Rose nodded. 'My landlord.' She shot a speculative look at Celine. 'A rather handsome and single landlord.'
'Not interested,' Celine said lightly. 'Tell me about the shop.'
Rose obliged, realising that it would be a while before Celine let her guard down. Rose could relate to that. She knew what it was like to have a past and she wasn't the nosey sort. Celine could keep her secrets. As long as she was good at her job, Rose didn't mind. 'We opened Close Second in 1998.'
'We?' asked Celine.
'Me and my son. Oh, he's not actually involved — God forbid!' She chuckled. 'No, I run the shop on my own. I did have a partner for a couple of years but she got bored and asked me to buy her out. Sadie Mitchell, the lady you met on the way in, works part-time.'
Celine frowned. 'Why didn't you give her the job?'
'Oh, Sadie wouldn't want it! She just likes to get out of the house for a couple of hours. Don't ask her to do anything complicated or she'd be a nervous wreck.' Rose chuckled. 'She can't even put on the alarm!'
'Does that mean you have to be here all the time? How on earth do you manage?'
Rose grimaced. 'I get the odd break. My son works for Dominic who owns the newsagent's next door and if I need some time off he opens and closes the shop for Sadie.' She finished her tea and stood up. 'Come on, I'll show you your new home.' Taking a key from the window ledge she led Celine through the shop. 'Sadie, meet Celine Moore. She's going to be our new manager.'
The older woman looked up from her magazine. 'That's nice.'
'I'm just taking her up to see the flat.'
They went outside and Celine watched as Rose opened the front door and began the slow progress up the steep, narrow stairs. 'Why don't you wait down here?'
'I can manage a few stairs,' Rose snapped.
'Sorry.'
Rose reached the top and turned to offer an apologetic smile. 'Don't mind me. Just sometimes it's difficult being treated like a geriatric. Inside I still feel thirty-five!'
Celine smiled. 'You sound like my dad. He retired last year and he's finding it very hard to get used to doing nothing.'
Rose was surprised at this reference to Celine's personal life. 'As soon as you stop working you're ready for the scrapheap.' She bit her tongue as she saw the worried look on Celine's face. 'I bet he keeps himself busy,' she offered.
'He does a lot of gardening and he plays golf.'
Rose beamed at her. 'Ah well, there you are then.' She opened the door and pointed at the small corridor to the right. 'Bedroom and bathroom through there. And this is your kitchen-cum-living room.' She walked on into the main room and turned to face her new employee.
Celine admired the spacious room, with the high ceiling and large sash window that flooded the room with light. 'It's wonderful!'
Rose wrinkled her nose. 'I wouldn't go that far.' She opened a door in the kitchen and peered inside. 'The immersion is in here and yes, as I suspected, the floor is a bit damp. I'll have to get that checked.'