The Hat Shop on the Corner (36 page)

‘It’s good that you could sit down and talk,’ said Helen, serious, when Constance phoned her later that night. She listened for an hour as her friend replayed Shay’s visit, her financial problems and the true depths of her despair. ‘Things can’t go on the way they are.’

‘I know,’ Constance sniffed, jaw aching after a root filling and heart-broken after thirty years of marriage.

‘You have got to get your life back on track without Shay,’ she admonished.

Constance knew her best friend was right. Helen had been widowed over ten years ago. Paul’s death from kidney failure, though not unexpected, had been tragic. Helen had been left to raise their two sons on her own. She had never complained or raged but had earned the respect of everyone around her by simply getting on with it. Helen was right. Deep inside, Constance knew she was no different from a million other women who found themselves, for one reason or another, suddenly alone. Her world had altered and now so must she. Looking to the past was doing nothing but causing her hurt and pain. Somehow she had to look to the future.

The summer was almost gone, apples on the tree in the garden, the Michaelmas daisies brown and withered, the nights chilly as Constance folded away her summer clothes and covered the barbecue. There was a massive amount of work to be done in the garden and she wasn’t sure she had the energy or the enthusiasm for it. Jack had taken off weeks ago and wouldn’t commit to being home for Christmas.

‘It’s only a day or two, Mum,’ he’d protested. ‘Flying home from Thailand for turkey and plum pudding is hardly worth it.’

She had buried her disappointment, trying to understand his wanderlust and lack of need for home and family.

The blissfully happy newly-weds, Chris and Sally, called at the weekends, and she made a point of going into town once a week to meet Sally for something to eat at lunchtime or after work. It was wonderful to see Sally so contented.

There had been more good news: Miriam had announced that she was expecting again. The arrival of another grandchild, a little brother or sister for Max, would be a blessing.

‘What are you going to do for the winter?’ quizzed Helen. ‘You are not going to sit here on the couch hibernating, watching
EastEnders
and
Coronation Street
every night!’

Constance hadn’t the heart to admit that that was exactly what she had been planning.

‘Lots of people sign up for evening classes. It’d be good to do a course on something that interests you, take up something, do something new,’ Helen continued, waving a booklet listing the evening courses being run all over the city. ‘The last thing you want to do is stagnate now that Shay’s gone.’

Constance had studied the booklet later that night, surprised by the range of courses on offer. When the children were younger there had always been reasons not to do things, what with homework and exams and study. In addition, Shay had been the type who liked his meal ready when he got home and for Constance to be available if he had to entertain a client or attend a function. Those days were past and Helen was right: she was a free agent and didn’t have to suit anyone any more except herself.

In trepidation she had phoned the information desk in Trinity College to enquire about the art history course they were running. It sounded very interesting and the young man on the phone was so enthusiastic about it that before she had time to think she had signed up and paid for it.

‘I must be gone mad,’ she chided herself. ‘Why, I won’t know a soul.’

Helen had simply smiled when she told her.

‘Well, it’s a start.’

             

‘Are you ready, Tommy?’ shouted his ma from downstairs. ‘You can’t keep us waiting. We can’t be late today of all days.’

Tommy glanced at himself in the bedroom mirror. He had gelled his hair and was wearing the new shirt his ma had bought him, pale blue with a T-shirt under, and his jeans.

Yeah, he didn’t half look good.

‘Your father is going crazy, Tommy. He’s sitting out in the car. For heaven’s sake, will you hurry it up or he’ll drive off without you,’ she threatened. ‘And then you’ll have to get the bus.’

‘I’m coming,’ he roared, ‘so tell the old fellah to keep his hair on.’

He grabbed the black-plastic-wrapped hatbox from the bottom of his wardrobe and carried it gently down the stairs. The front door was open and the rest of them were all sitting in the car. He closed the door and, releasing the lid of the car boot, placed the box carefully inside.

‘What are you doing?’ asked his brother, eyes gawping, curious, his large box of handmade chocolates on his lap.

‘I was just putting Nan’s present in the back.’

‘What did you get her?’

‘You’ll see when we get there.’

‘Go on, tell me.’

‘No. You’ll see soon enough. It’s a surprise.’

‘Rubbish,’ jeered Ray. ‘Something stupid and useless!’

‘Will you two stop fighting,’ ordered their mother. ‘I’ve had enough of it. Today is a day of big celebration for your grandmother and all the Butler family and you two boyos better behave.’

The two of them glared at each other, knowing by their mother’s warning tone that she meant it.

Tommy grinned. He had no intention of spoiling his grandmother’s day. He was so excited about it himself. All the family were coming. Aunt Maggie and Uncle Phil from Liverpool and their five kids and three grandchildren, and Uncle Matt and his wife and four kids had flown in from Canada. His cousin Peter had come from Sydney with his girlfriend, Melanie, and of course the Irish cousins were going to be there in full force. None of his grandma’s own old friends was alive but obviously the people in the home with her and a few others had been invited along. He had cadged an invitation for Mr McHugh and given it to him on Wednesday after history class, and had posted the one to the hat lady, Ellie Matthews, though he wasn’t really expecting her to turn up.

‘Are you OK, Pat?’ asked his mother. Tommy was aware that he had never seen his father so quiet when driving anywhere.

‘I’m just watching the traffic.’

Normally his father would be blowing the horn, moving lanes, trying to edge the car past the lights, revving the engine for the off once the green signal came. He supposed it must be hard when you realize that your own mother is a hundred and that you are pushing it too, almost over the hill.

‘Sure!’

His father gave a huge sigh.

‘I’m just worried that all this fuss and the party and seeing everyone might be too much for her,’ he admitted slowly. ‘Give her a turn, a heart attack or a stroke even.’

Tommy’s eyes flew to his mother.

‘Pat Butler, do you think for one minute that your blessed mother is the type to keel over because people make a fuss of her? Well, if you do, you are wrong. Lily loves fuss, loves to be centre of attention. With all the children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren flying in from all around the world and all over the country to see her, she’ll be in her element! Don’t you dare give everyone the glooms today.’

Tommy could see the weight lift off his father’s massive shoulders as he listened to Mary Butler’s good sense. Only a few minutes later he gripped the wheel and honked at the car moving slowly beside him, not even indicating as he pulled across.

Yeah, the king of the road – his da was back on track!

Lillian Butler still found it hard to credit that today she was a hundred years old. A century ago, in an overcrowded room on the third floor of a tenement house on Mountjoy Square, her mother had brought her into the world. Her parents had struggled to raise their brood during terrible times. Sometimes she could remember the smells and the noise and the neighbours of her childhood days as clear as a bell and other times she struggled even to recall her mother’s face. It was all so long ago.

‘Morning to the birthday girl!’ chorused Teresa, one of the kitchen staff, as she roused her for her breakfast by singing ‘Happy Birthday’ loudly and giving her a big kiss and a tin of wine gums – her favourite sweets. And it had been like that all day, the staff and nurses bursting into song, congratulating her for reaching a hundred years of age, as if she had done anything to make it happen. She enjoyed their hugs and kisses and gifts and cards, asking Nurse Barry to read them to her, as her old eyesight was so bad these days. She enjoyed her usual early morning bowl of porridge and a slice of brown toast, marmalade and a cup of milky tea.

‘Wouldn’t you like anything special today, Lil?’ the cook had asked.

She had shaken her head. This was her usual breakfast, and birthday or not she wasn’t about to change it. The nurses had bathed her. Yesterday Josephine, the hairdresser, had come in especially to wash and set her hair, ready for today’s party. The nurses teased it into shape as they helped her to dress.

She had never imagined herself living so long, a hundred years on God’s good earth, watching her children grow up, then their children and now she even had great-grandchildren. Twelve at the last count! Her only regret was that Tom was not at her side to share this day and see the family they had reared. He had been the best husband a woman could want. Tom had kept a roof over their heads and put food on their table, never complaining as they both struggled to raise their family. They’d had their fair share of ups and downs but had stuck it out, making the best of what was given them. She smiled to herself, remembering it all.

Her daughter had helped her pick out the pale blue chiffon dress with its floaty skirt.

‘It looks lovely, Ma. Makes you look younger.’

‘Ninety-nine!’

Poor old Kitty! She’d never had a sense of humour and still didn’t get the joke.

‘You look very elegant, Lil. You will do your family proud today,’ Angela, the matron, congratulated her, presenting her with a magnificent bouquet of flowers and a huge card signed by all the residents. One of the others had reached a hundred last Easter but poor old Bill was bed-bound and had to be fed and minded by the nurses.

‘And here’s your telegram and cheque from the President,’ laughed the matron.

Lil blushed. Imagine the President writing to her as if she was someone famous or well-to-do!

‘Lil, I hope you don’t mind me interfering but you have a busy day ahead. All your family are coming in today to join in your celebrations but myself and the staff want to make sure that you don’t overtire yourself.’

‘I’ll be good,’ she chuckled.

‘Yes, but I want you to have a nap after a light lunch.’

Lil agreed willingly, for then she would be right for the party. She wanted nothing to spoil this special day.

             

Tommy whistled out loud, ‘Wheweee,’ as he lifted his black bag into the hallway. The Charlemont Old People’s Nursing Home had been transformed for the day with flowers and balloons everywhere, and big banners in reception and the corridors saying ‘100 years’. One of the young nurses pointed them in the direction of the huge dining room where the party was to be held.

He noticed as he walked past the sitting room and day room that the residents – well, that was what his ma liked to call them – were all dressed in their very best, cardigans and dresses and blouses and skirts and jackets. He supposed it must be a very big thing to them, the residents, to have someone make the hundred mark! Maybe they were all trying to make it and it was just that his grandmother was the first past the winning post.