The Hat Shop on the Corner (24 page)

‘In a minute,’ she said as she eased the cream suit trousers up over her thighs and hips, amazed at the beautiful cut and fit. Carefully she lifted the silk jacket off the padded hanger and pulled it on. It felt good, every seam and hem perfect.

‘Hey, that looks good, Constance. It makes you look taller and slimmer.’

‘You don’t think the cream makes me look too drawn?’

‘No.’

‘I like it but I’m not sure about wearing a suit . . . well, trousers!’

‘It looks amazing but you’re right, something that will show off your legs and a bit of flesh would be even better.’

‘Helen!’

‘Well, you know what I mean!’

After sifting through the rails they decided that black, though classic, was not suitable for the mother of the bride, pink was too girlie and the more exotic designers were just not her.

The Louise Kennedy designs were simple but stunning. A black linen dress with a white band and a neat co-ordinating white fitted jacket; a champagne satin coat worn over a sleeveless cream and champagne dress with a low neck and a skirt that skimmed above her knees; but her favourite was a stunning jade silk boxy jacket and dress.

Standing observing herself, Constance suddenly felt attractive and young and light-hearted.

‘Wow!’ Helen complimented her. ‘You look wonderful.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘You know so – it’s just your colour and shape and perfect for the wedding. Why don’t you bring Sally in to see it on you? I’m sure the girl will hold it for you if you ask.’

‘It costs a fortune,’ she worried.

Helen raised her eyebrow, daring her to say one word more.

‘You’re right. I’ll organize to meet Sally tomorrow.’

Sauntering round the store, Constance admitted to feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time and agreed after a little persuasion to lunch in Bang.

‘Now that it looks like you’ve got the outfit for the wedding, we have to think about the rest,’ cajoled Helen, sipping her chilled wine. ‘Have you ever thought about highlights? They would give your hair a bit of a lift.’

Constance could see her reflection in the mirror behind Helen. Her hair had been practically the same light brown colour since she got married, except for the odd layering or light fringe. Maybe she’d been stuck in a time warp?

‘And you’ll need shoes and a bag, and a hat!’

‘A hat?’

She hadn’t thought about it, but a hat – that would be lovely! As she sat sipping her wine and eating her tossed chicken salad, Constance O’Kelly realized that for the first time in a very long while she was feeling happy.

             

Constance spotted the little hat shop on the corner immediately. The shop had utterly changed. The classic powder-grey and blue paintwork had been replaced by a bright cream colour. The floor was now sanded wood and the heavy mahogany furniture had disappeared. She supposed everything changed, the old giving way to the new. It was fresh and bright, with a striped sun canopy, two lavender plants at the door, sprays of scented stock in a modern glass vase on the counter.

The few hats on display held the attention within the simple elegance of the room, their colours reflected in the mirrors on the wall.

Sally had thoroughly approved her choice of wedding outfit, complimenting her madly and insisting that she must accessorize it with a hat. Constance’s own mother had always been a firm believer in the merits of a perfect piece of millinery to set off an outfit. It was just the thought of the expense and the whole rigmarole of it that made her hesitate.

‘I’m not sure, pet . . .’

‘Mum, it’s your day too,’ argued her daughter, blue eyes flashing. ‘I want you to look beautiful and enjoy it all as much as I do.’

Constance suddenly felt such a rotten killjoy. It would be wrong of her to dampen Sally’s high spirits and enthusiasm.

‘You’re absolutely right, darling – a hat is essential.’

The pretty young woman who sat behind the counter hand-sewing the edging of a ribbon to a hat welcomed them.

‘Oh Mum, look at this one. Isn’t it simply divine?’ enthused Sally, popping the daisy-covered straw on to her own blond head.

Constance looked around her. Perhaps the shop was like so many others, catering only for the younger clientele, no longer interested in dealing with women of a certain age. She struggled to mask her disappointment.

‘It’s beautiful, Sally, just beautiful.’

‘Yes, but I’m not the one that needs a hat. You are!’

‘Can I help?’ offered the girl.

‘Yes, we’re looking for something for my mother,’ explained Sally. ‘I’m getting married in a few weeks and she has got a gorgeous outfit for the wedding but needs a hat to go with it.’ She produced the Brown Thomas bag with a flourish.

‘Congratulations on your wedding,’ smiled Ellie, taking a peek, ‘and I’m sure we can find or make something that will be perfect with this. The colour is exquisite.’

Constance tried on one or two hats, lifting them carefully on to her head and tilting her neck from side to side. The larger-brimmed ones did nothing for her but the smaller, neater ones made her feel sophisticated and polished.

‘A taller crown might work well,’ suggested the young woman, handing her a yellow one off the stand. ‘Don’t mind the colour or the little details of all these because I can make exactly what you want.’ She passed Constance a white cartwheel hat with a simple black ribbon trim. ‘It’s just we need to decide what shape suits you and what you feel good in.’

‘I love this,’ admitted Constance, ‘but I think it is a wee bit too young for me!’

A topper, a Mont Blanc, and a large down-brim in bright pink with a purple satin trim were all rejected straight away. A fun feather mix in various tones also did nothing for the older woman.

‘No, not right at all,’ agreed Ellie, moving them aside.

A double crown in sand and black was much too heavy and made Constance look shorter and dumpier.

‘Try this one,’ suggested Ellie.

It was a two-tone concertina topper that suited most women, as it was not too wide or overwhelming. Constance settled it gently on her hair.

‘I don’t like these colours but the shape is good and I like the way the band wraps over on it.’

Ellie could see that the style would work and put the hat to one side.

Next there was an aubergine-coloured up-brim.

‘It’s certainly stylish but I just don’t think it’s me,’ admitted Constance, studying it in the mirrors from every angle. ‘Maybe it shows off too much of my face and it’s not balanced properly.’

‘That one is too big for you,’ laughed Ellie, passing her a red sinamay disc with a bold decorative black feather, which looked stunning on.

‘I’d never be brave enough to wear this,’ Constance admitted ruefully, ‘but it is lovely.’

The orange sidesweep with its taller crown, slightly upturned brim, contrast cream band and festoon of feathers that Ellie lifted from the window looked the part and Ellie could tell the client was happy the minute she sat it on her head.

‘Oh, this is gorgeous. It’s not too big or too small.’ Constance burst out laughing. ‘I must sound like I’m Goldilocks testing out beds and chairs! But this one fits perfectly and is just that bit different. I do like it!’

‘So do I,’ agreed Ellie. ‘It really suits you. It’s elegant and fashionable without being over the top. Let me see what other versions I have of it. I have it in black with leather flowers somewhere, and a pure white version. I’ll get them for you to see.’

Constance tried them all on. ‘I do love this shape and style,’ she enthused.

‘Yes, the taller crown and slightly shorter brim with even a slight upturn or sweep works well,’ mused Ellie, taking in the customer’s square face.

‘I really like this one,’ admitted Constance, putting the orange back on again and staring at herself from all angles in the shop mirrors. ‘But it’s the wrong colour.’

‘We could either try to match the colour of your suit or provide a contrast,’ offered the hatmaker, ‘or we could just pick up a tint of it, a certain hue.’

‘Mum, go and try your new suit on,’ urged Sally.

Although she had dropped almost a stone and a half with the stress of Shay walking out on her, Constance wasn’t sure about parading around the small shop showing off her slimmer figure.

‘It would help if I could see you in it,’ said the hatmaker.

Constance disappeared into the changing room.

‘We could pick up the jade and try and match it exactly,’ suggested Ellie when she emerged. ‘I would probably have to dye the colour for you. Or we can go for a total contrast, perhaps bring out another colour and blend or mix them with trims and bands or two tones, whatever style you like. Perhaps if we took another shade and then brought in elements from this and combined the two it would look even nicer. The suit and hat not just the one block of colour.’

‘What other shades were you thinking of?’

‘Mmmm,’ Ellie hesitated. ‘We could go for cream or white, or a warm reddish tone might work well.’ She held her colour samples against the material. ‘I quite like the reds.’

‘I never wear red,’ admitted Constance.

‘Well, I don’t mean a red red,’ laughed Ellie, ‘but something spicy and warm. A terracotta or a cinnamon, even a deep dusky pinkish red might work.’

‘This is wonderful,’ murmured the middle-aged woman, touching the cinnamon, ‘but maybe the cream would be safer.’

Ellie raised her brow. ‘Do you want to play safe?’ she asked slowly. She had already picked up on the fact that Constance was going through a rather messy marriage break-up.

‘No.’

‘Then I suggest a band or flower or even a swirl of fabric,’ she offered. ‘Here, let me show you what I mean.’

Quick as a wink the girl had taken a pad from below the counter and sketched exactly what she was trying to explain to them.

‘I could do it like this . . . or this way if you’d prefer to use something else.’

Constance was astonished that the girl had not only sketched a hat or two but also managed a simple ink and coloured-pencil version of the outfit she had bought.

‘It’s just perfect,’ laughed Sally. ‘I love your drawing. It’s like something out of
Vogue
.’

‘I studied fashion design,’ admitted Ellie.

‘If I look anywhere near as good as that design of yours I’ll be thrilled,’ confided Constance, who was beginning to feel a frisson of excitement at the thought of the wedding and her role as mother of the bride.

‘I’m glad you like them, but which would you prefer?’ asked the young hatmaker.

Constance stared at the drawings. ‘I’m just not sure,’ she admitted. At the moment her brain was like fudge and she found it impossible to decide on anything, what to wear, what to buy in the supermarket, what video to rent from the local store, even when to buy petrol for her car. It was as if every capable atom in her body had gone on strike and left her a wobbly jelly who had no idea what she wanted.

‘What if I make the hat in cinnamon and put a weave and trim of jade through it?’ said Ellie firmly. ‘If you don’t like it we can go back to the plain colour, which is lovely anyway.’

‘Is it a lot of extra work for you?’ worried Constance.

‘No, because I want to get it right,’ she said, taking down the details in her order book.

‘I am an old customer,’ admitted Constance. ‘I bought a hat for my brother’s wedding here and a headpiece for a big corporate do I had to go to with my husband. That was a few years ago—’

‘I’ve taken it over fairly recently,’ Ellie interrupted. ‘My mother Madeleine used to be the proprietor.’

‘The French lady. How is she?’

‘Sadly, my mother died a few months ago.’

Constance felt such a fool for putting her foot in it.

‘Well, the shop is lovely. Your mother would most definitely approve.’

‘Thank you for being so kind.’ Ellie smiled.

Constance felt a guilty lump in her throat as she chatted away to this dark-haired petite beauty in front of her who had no mother to attend her wedding, or even to see the changes she had made to the business. She was a silly woman to be so wrapped up in her own miseries when she had the wedding and Sally’s new life with Chris to look forward to.

Paying the deposit, she agreed to come for a fitting the following week.

Walking back up Grafton Street, she linked arms with her daughter, stopping to buy two enormous bunches of the pink-scented stock for Sally and herself from the flower seller on the corner.