The Hat Shop on the Corner (6 page)

‘Paddy, stop worrying!’ she beamed, putting on her widest, prettiest smile. He always loved it when she smiled. ‘That little horse, she’s a real little goer. And besides, I’m wearing my Lucky Hat.’

‘Lucky hat?’

‘My new hat! It’s lucky, I can feel it.’

The group made their way quickly to the owners’ enclosure, watching as in the distance the horses were loaded into the starting gate.

‘I’m so nervous,’ confided Louisa. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to watch the race.’

‘We have to watch,’ urged Mimi. ‘We’ve to let the horse know we all believe in her. Positive thinking.’

‘Hope Polly’s OK,’ murmured Francesca aloud and silently praying.

They stood together, breaths held, as the starter gun went and the horses took off, Mercurio with his jockey in green in the lead. The pace was fast and four horses clumped together at the front as they came round the bend. Timmy Young was looking for a gap to go through, Firelady huge and strong ahead of him.

Francesca stole a glance at her husband’s face. It was grey, every line and wrinkle obvious – he suddenly looked an old man. Their horse was falling behind, Paddy’s eyes downcast as her sisters went silent.

‘Come on, Polly!’ Francesca urged, praying that the small horse could somehow quicken her pace and break through to leave the rest of the field behind her.

Suddenly the mighty Firelady slipped sideways, her jockey using the whip like a madman as Polly took her chance and edged her pretty little nose through, Timmy determined as she challenged Mercurio, the two of them racing neck and neck. Would she ever do it? Francesca could feel her own heart pounding as she held her breath, the crowd roaring around her, Louisa jumping up and down and going almost purple in the face like she used to when she was a kid.

Polly’s Party was pushing forward, her small head down, concentrating as she left the bigger horse behind and pounded down to the finishing line, the crowds ecstatic as the complete outsider won. Timmy stood up in his stirrups to give a victory wave to their supporters as he was cheered to the winner’s enclosure. Her sisters were like madwomen as Francesca fought to control her tears. Paddy reached for her hand and they fell into each other’s arms and laughed and cried and hugged with utter relief. They were both aware of how close they’d been to ruin.

‘I told you she’d do it,’ smiled Francesca. ‘I was wearing my Lucky Hat!’

Ellie watched as Kim sat peering at the accounts, punching figure after figure into her black calculator with a purposeful look and scribbling notes on a pad. Ellie did her best not to disturb her friend’s concentration except when she was asked to pass something or find some important receipt or invoice.

She held her breath as Kim stopped and looked up, pushing her fancy red-rimmed glasses up on to her head.

‘Well?’ asked Ellie nervously, feeling a pit of dread in her stomach at the thought of impending bad news.

‘It’s a healthy business,’ grinned Kim, ‘a good sound investment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Sales figures and accounts and bank statements don’t lie.’

‘So does that mean you think I could make it work as a business?’

‘Yes!’ said Kim firmly. ‘Ellie, you’ve no idea how many people are trying to set up businesses, invest in new companies or get start-ups going. Here you have a very viable business which you already own. It’s a great opportunity.’

Ellie almost danced with relief as Kim confirmed her own gut instincts. ‘Obviously the redevelopment will have an impact during the building work,’ cautioned Kim. ‘But once the new shops and hotel open it should attract even more visitors to the street.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying that your mum’s shop is a good solid business with existing goodwill. It will need further investment, upgrading – all businesses do – but in the long term it should really be worth it.’

It was exactly what Ellie had hoped to hear and she could feel herself getting more and more excited at the prospect of a little hat shop of her own!

‘Kim, what would you do?’

‘El, I’m an accountant,’ she said seriously. ‘I come from a long line of accountants and bankers. But having said that, I’d finance someone like you.’

‘Well, I hope the bank agrees with you because that’s what I’m going to do! Try to get some money together and invest it in the shop.’

Ellie threw herself back on the couch with a rush of excitement, and a feeling of sheer joy and inner clarity. Her mind was made up, the decision made. The little hat shop was hers and she intended to keep it.

‘Oh my God! This is great!’ Kim hugged her, getting equally excited.

‘Let’s open a bottle of wine!’ giggled Ellie, jumping up and running to the fridge, ‘to celebrate Dublin’s finest hat shop!’

‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Kim said later, munching cheese and crackers and contemplating the future. ‘You’ve always been great at making things. Remember the skirt I was meant to make for sewing in school and you ended up making it for me?’

‘Sssh,’ teased Ellie, ‘that was our secret, remember? Mrs O’Malley thought you made it yourself and gave you top marks in home economics that year.’

‘And that great hat you used to wear in fourth year, made from old wool. Everyone wanted one,’ Kim went on, helping herself to another glass of wine.

They sat up talking till long after midnight, planning all kinds of things for number 61. Both agreed that a complete change of style and décor was needed if the faded and rather outdated hat shop was to be considered the chic new millinery establishment Ellie intended it to be.

Within a few days Colm, an architect friend of Fergus’s who specialized in shopfitting and offices, had drawn up a rough plan, with an estimate of the costs. It was more than Ellie had budgeted and she wasn’t sure she had the courage to go ahead with the project. There was the expensive German lighting, which he considered essential for the job, and exquisite Italian panelling and display systems. A quote from two firms of decorators had also left her reeling, as no matter how many times she calculated and recalculated there was no way that she could afford it. If she wanted to keep the business and have some money to live on, she would definitely need a bank loan.

On Kim’s advice she set up a meeting with her local bank manager. Sitting behind his desk in his grey suit, Bill Daly seemed accommodating and encouraging of her artistic and entrepreneurial spirit, saying the bank were always pleased to foster the expansion and upgrading of a small business. She began to relax as he touched the keyboard on his computer and called up her account details.

Ellie had put on her dark suit and most serious expression and pinned her hair up to try to impress upon him that she was a good investment.

‘Good location. The shop is just off Grafton Street,’ he said drily, studying the screen. ‘South Anne Street, where the development is starting.’

‘Yes, my mother bought the building years ago. The shop was hers but now I intend to take it over.’

‘Indeed,’ Mr Dunne soothed. ‘I know, it’s all on the file.’

She sat back in the leather chair, trying to seem nonchalant as he perused her current and savings accounts and the special account she’d set up for the transfer of her mother’s finances.

‘And you have left your previous employment?’

‘Well, for the present I’ve taken leave from my job at Hyland’s.’

She was beginning to wonder if the man across from her was listening to anything she said as she had already explained fully that she was going to run her own business. All she needed was for him to approve her loan so that she could get on with it. She watched his expression as he touched the keyboard again.

‘Now that we have had a chat about it, it’s a matter of getting your signature here on this form, then I can pass it on to our lending department. It will take a day or two but they will come back to you as soon as possible with their answer.’

Strange, he didn’t sound as enthusiastic as he had at the start of their meeting.

‘I thought you would make the decision, Mr Dunne,’ said Ellie, confused.

‘In some cases I do, but most things go up to the lending department for approval. It’s standard practice.’

As she said her polite goodbyes a few minutes later, Ellie noticed on one side of the corridor a big copy of the slick marketing poster for Casey Coleman Holdings’s South Anne Street project. The bank was named as one of its lenders. It was no surprise when three days later she got a negative letter from the bank with regard to her loan. They would approve a short-term loan for a much smaller figure or an extension to her overdraft facilities, but not the amount she had hoped for.

Her attempts to get a loan with another bank were equally negative. Ellie was disappointed – but it was strange, the more obstacles she encountered the more determined she was to hang on to the business. The temptation to take the money and run grew less appealing. The little shop with its faded carpets and polished counter and mirrors had too much of a hold on her for her ever seriously to contemplate leaving. Maybe she was crazy to turn down the pile of money she was being offered but she had to listen to her instincts.

‘What are you going to do?’ Kim asked, sensing Ellie’s disappointment when she called over to the apartment after work.

‘I’m not going to hand the place over to Casey Coleman Holdings and take the money and walk away,’ said Ellie fiercely. ‘The bank where I have my savings account will give me a much smaller loan but it’s on good terms, so that’s something. I can draw it down as I need it.’

‘Great,’ cheered Kim, ‘though people are going to call you a Mad Hatter for turning down all that dosh!’

‘Let them,’ laughed Ellie.

The fridge was empty of wine so they resorted to the chilled remnants of a bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice topped up with ice as they considered an alternative strategy.

‘The shop doesn’t need that much doing, surely?’ said Kim encouragingly. ‘Nothing major anyway?’

‘Colm feels moving the internal wall will help. It’s only a partition wall so it shouldn’t be too expensive. Then there’s stripping, painting, new fittings, new floor, mirrors, chairs,’ listed Ellie. ‘It’s going to cost a fortune and take almost every penny of my savings too. Remember I’m going to be officially unemployed and have no salary.’

‘Poor you!’ teased Kim. ‘Then we’ll just have to do it on the cheap.’

‘We?’

‘Yeah, I’ll help you. I know we’re not professionals but I’m sure Fergus isn’t too bad with a paint-stripper. Mary-Claire is always boasting about that course she did on distressing furniture and Polo is doing bloody art and design so he should have some ideas. We can all give a hand.’

‘Are you sure, Kim? It would be at the weekends or after work and I can’t really afford to pay people.’

‘Plenty of drinks and sandwiches! Anyways, what did you have in mind?’

Ellie couldn’t believe it. Kim was willing to give up some of her precious free time after hours from her busy job to help her.

‘Actually I’ll show you.’

She got up from the couch and rooted around for Colm’s plans plus a folder with ideas and rough sketches that she had put together. She produced the pad with her drawings of what the shop could look like, interior and exterior sketches with the shopfront and walls painted in various colours and with slightly different treatments.

‘Wow, Ellie! These look great. It’s going to be beautiful – the kind of place anyone would want to shop.’

‘I’m still not sure what colour scheme to use but definitely nothing too harsh or strident. What would you think of a cream or ivory or primrose yellow?’

‘What you need to do is get some of those testers and try them out on the walls to see what works best. That’s what Brian and I did when we were doing up our apartment. Remember how the place looked like a rainbow for months?’ Kim stopped.

Ellie automatically stroked her friend’s arm and shoulder. It had been so hard for Kim when Brian and herself had broken up after two years. Kim had accepted their incompatibility but she still really missed him.

‘And I thought if we took up the carpet we could either sand or bleach the floorboards,’ continued Ellie.

‘Yeah, that awful old grey carpet of your mother’s has got to go.’

Ellie hadn’t the nerve to tell Kim that the carpet was meant to be a pale blue and it hadn’t been changed for twenty years.

‘And what about the counters and the shelves?’

That was Ellie’s quandary. The fittings had been specially made years ago and were still in perfect condition. It was just that the dark wood managed to make the shop seem cramped and old-fashioned. New fittings would cost a small fortune, something she definitely didn’t have.

‘I have to think about that,’ she admitted.

‘Anyway, the little hat shop is here to stay,’ said Kim, fixing them a refill.

‘Yes,’ Ellie said triumphantly. ‘It’s going to be Hats! Hats! Hats!’

The next day she phoned Neil Harrington. He was away but his secretary gave her an appointment for early on Thursday morning at his offices on Lower Fitzwilliam Street.

Ellie put on a simple pale blue suit for the meeting. Sitting in the waiting room, she noticed the wonderful Louis le Brocquy and Donald Teskey paintings on the wall. They were two of her favourite Irish artists; he was obviously a collector.