The Hat Shop on the Corner (37 page)

‘Lil’s sitting pretty in her chair up there,’ a staff nurse told them. ‘Matron is with her and a few of the family have already arrived, Mr Butler. Your brother from Canada and his family are there.’

Pat Butler grinned. It was ten years since he’d seen Matt and only two of his kids had ever been to Ireland before. He was silly to have worried: today was going to be one of the Butler family’s finest as they all assembled to pay tribute to his ma, a wonderful woman.

His grandmother looked lovely. Her hair was all nice and softly curled and looked even whiter than ever, like a halo around her small face as she kissed and hugged and welcomed everyone. Auntie Paula and his cousin Brian were fetching everyone drinks from the small bar the family had set up. There was wine and beer and sherry and vodka, and Coke, orange and big bottles of red lemonade. The presents were all put on a table in the centre of the room, and he shoved the hatbox on the ground slightly under the tablecloth beside two huge floral arrangements. His cousin Andy was taking photos of everyone with his grandmother on a fancy digital camera.

‘Go on, smile with Nan.’

‘Give Lil another kiss!’

Lillian Butler was lapping it all up and wiped tears from her eyes as six great-grandchildren were deposited on her lap and around her.

‘I only wish poor Tom was here to see them all,’ she smiled.

Tommy helped himself to a sausage roll and some vol-au-vents. Some had prawns in them but he preferred the cheese and ham ones. There was loads of grub, for the Butlers all had big appetites. The Canadian and Australian cousins were grand, asking him to come and visit them when he was old enough.

‘What do you do for fun around here?’ asked Aaron Butler from Alberta, the same age as himself and about a foot taller.

Tommy racked his brains, thinking of playing football in the road or up in the park with the lads and walking to the cinema or the chipper. Somehow it didn’t sound as good as it really was.

‘I do snowboarding and ski in the winter and kayaking once the weather gets warm!’ said Aaron.

Tommy stuck out his chin. ‘Yeah, well, we don’t get enough snow here for that kind of thing but we all hang round, messing, if you know what I mean.’

More and more people were arriving, and the room was filling up and buzzing with sound. He was surprised to see Mr McHugh had arrived and was engrossed in talking to his ancient old uncle Donal.

‘An event like this, young Thomas, is part of social history and not to be missed. Thank you for inviting me along to join the celebration.’

Everyone was getting on really well and the glass of sherry had given his nan two rosy cheeks.

‘We’ll all eat first,’ bossed his aunt Kitty, ‘then everyone here will get their turn to go up and say happy birthday to Mammy and give her their present and good wishes.’

Tommy watched as the Butler family moved like a pack of migrant wildebeest towards the buffet table, arming themselves with plates and knives and forks. He decided to hang back and remove the plastic covering off his gift, for he was dying to be first in line for his granny to see what he’d got her. He tilted open the lid to take a satisfied peek.

Janey! He couldn’t believe it! Inside was a scummy black and white hat like you’d wear going to a funeral. His da would kill him. He turned it over in the box, crouching down as if the Memory Hat might miraculously appear underneath. He felt like crying as he looked round the room. Where was his hat?

Ray was stuffing himself with chicken goujons and potato wedges when Tommy grabbed his mobile phone off him and took off.

‘Give me back the phone!’ threatened his brother, as Tommy disappeared into the quiet of the corridor with his hastily rewrapped black plastic disaster.

Please let her be there, he begged, knowing it was almost closing time as he rang the number that was written in curly writing on the side of the lid. She had to be there!

A mix-up with the hatboxes! Ellie couldn’t believe it. How had it happened? Tommy Butler was talking nineteen to the dozen on the phone and near to tears by the sound of it.

‘I’ve got the wrong hat.’

What had she done for the fates to conspire against her like this, she thought, as she listened to his anxious voice.

‘Where’s my nan’s hat?’

Her heart sank as he explained, and she began frantically to rummage through every box in the shop. It must be here somewhere.

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

‘I’m at Nan’s party,’ he shouted back, sounding totally defeated.

She could sense his utter disappointment and knew that the promise of another hat would be no good. She had to find his hat and try to swap them round.

‘Tell me about the hat you have in the box?’

‘It’s a stupid black one,’ he insisted.

‘So it’s pure black?’

‘No, there’s a bit of white on it.’

She recognized the description immediately. He had Rosemary Harrington’s hat, which meant that she had his. She racked her brain. Neil’s mother had said she lived beside Merrion Square. She pulled out the phone book, searching through the H’s. Not there, obviously ex-directory. Shit, shit, shit!

‘Listen, Tommy. I think I know where your hat is and I’m going to try and get it. It’s only a long shot.’

‘Please, Ellie, please try and get it,’ he pleaded. ‘The party’s on. Everybody’s eating before they do the presents.’

She grabbed her jacket and purse and the invitation from the noticeboard, locking the shop as quickly as she could. Almost throwing herself in front of a cab on Dawson Street, she begged the driver to take her to Merrion Square.

Once there, Ellie walked up and down the row of Georgian houses trying to find the right one. Offices, solicitors, an art gallery . . . Almost frantic, she grabbed hold of a tall young mother with blue eyes who was about to cross over to the park with her little boy. She recognized her from somewhere.

‘Sorry, do you live here? Do you know where the Harringtons live?’

The three-year-old looked at her as if she was crazy as his mother burst out laughing.

‘That’s us, I’m Rachel Harrington – well, I was. We met before at the opera.’

‘Oh! Oh, I see . . . I’m looking for your mother actually.’

‘Good timing then! We’ve just driven up from Kerry. That’s why we’re going to the park, to stretch our legs after that awful long journey. Mum’s inside.’

Ellie felt like she was going to collapse with relief as she climbed the front steps and rang the bell.

She tried to brush her hair off her face and appear more composed and calm as she heard footsteps approaching.

‘Ellie, this is an unexpected pleasure!’ Neil Harrington was standing in front of her. ‘Would you like to come in?’

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Neil, but it’s about your mother’s hat.’ She sounded so stupid and lame. ‘There’s been a mix-up with the hatboxes and the thing is, I think you’ve got somebody else’s hat and they have yours – well, I mean your mother’s.’

She was doing her best to sound rational but could tell from the expression on his face that he thought she was some kind of raving lunatic, turning up at the weekend on his doorstep.

‘The wrong hat?’

‘Yes, exactly. Has your mother worn the hat yet?’

‘No, it’s still upstairs in the box. I haven’t had the opportunity to give it to her yet.’

‘Oh, that’s good.’ She gasped with relief. ‘That’s great.’

‘So do you want me to do a swap?’ he teased.

‘Yes, but I haven’t got the other hat yet. Please, Neil, could you get the box and the hat quickly!’ she begged, resisting the urge to run up the stairs herself and find it.

‘This all sounds very urgent!’

‘Well, it is,’ she confessed, thinking of poor Tommy Butler waiting. ‘It is actually a matter of life and death. I have to get this hat – your hat – to the right person. It’s actually a very elderly person, who could as we speak be nearing her end.’

‘Dead serious!’ Neil quipped.

‘I promise to return the one you ordered immediately.’

She watched as he loped off up the stairs and reappeared a few minutes later with a familiar box in his grasp.

‘Thanks,’ Ellie said, retrieving the Memory Hat, which was resting snug in a bed of tissue. ‘I’d better get going.’

‘Where do you have to go?’

‘I’ve got to get this to a little boy I know.’

‘I thought you said it was for an elderly person?’

‘It is,’ she admitted. ‘I have to get this hat to him to give to his grandmother. It’s her hundredth birthday today and there is this big party for her.’

‘And the boy wanted to give her the hat. Let me drive you!’ he offered.

‘I was going to—’

‘Don’t tell me you are going to walk!’

‘No, get a taxi.’

‘Well, I’ll be your taxi,’ he offered, grabbing a set of keys from the hall table and pulling on a cord jacket. ‘I insist.’

Ellie gave a huge sigh of relief, somehow knowing that she could rely on Neil Harrington to get her to where she was meant to be. She placed the hatbox carefully on the back seat and sat in beside him, rooting in her bag for the invitation.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

She gave him the address.

‘I’ll drive like the clappers,’ he promised, reversing his Mercedes across the road as Ellie took out her phone and began to dial the number Tommy had called from.

             

Tommy Butler was gutted with disappointment as he watched the family begin to file up and give his grandmother her hundredth birthday presents. All his planning and organization had been for nothing. He felt like someone had thumped him. His dad’s older brother Donal was filming everything on his camcorder.

‘A souvenir to help us all to remember this very special day,’ he told everyone as he made them ‘smile and tip their present towards the lens!’

Everyone stopped talking and watched and clapped as Lily Butler received her gifts and greetings.

Tommy loved his old nan and was so proud of her being head of the family, and the way her eyes twinkled and smiled as one by one his uncles and aunts and cousins brought up present after present. There was a big wool rug and a crochet shawl, silver photo frames, photo albums, bedjackets, slippers and a cushion for warming her feet; a huge magnifying glass that his grandmother was very taken with, and potted plants and bunches of flowers; fancy boxes of perfumes and bath oils and all kinds of lotions; a book of Irish poetry with a CD, so Granny could listen to it, and a set of rosary beads from Father Mac. His granny loved to talk to God and was always praying for the family’s intentions and exams and careers and love life and their good health, which was the most important of all.

Tommy melted away to the back of the crowd, not knowing what he was going to do when his turn came. Imagine if his nan had opened the box and seen the black funeral hat. Janey, his dad would kill him! He could end up giving her a heart attack.

No, he had to get away, get out of here. He pushed past the two nurses in their uniforms and got out to the corridor. He’d walk slowly past the desk. Then out the main door and leg it, hatbox and all.

‘Hey, Tommy!’ interrupted his brother. ‘Ma wants you inside, it’s our turn.’

‘I’m not going in,’ he said, defiantly staring at the acne-marked skin of his brother.

‘Ma said if you don’t get in she’ll kill you.’

‘Well, I’m not budging.’ Tommy looked at the lino on the floor, reckoning that if he ever lived to be one hundred years old this day might well rank in his top five worst days ever.

‘And Dad will murder you,’ threatened Ray.

‘You go in and give her your stupid box of chocolates!’

‘Well, they beat your rubbish present, whatever it is. Go on, give us a look.’

Ray did his best to grab the bag from out of his brother’s hands, letting loose with a flying punch, the two of them tumbling to the ground and trying to beat the hell out of each other.

‘J. . .., Mary and Joseph!’ screamed their mother, appearing from out of nowhere and grabbing hold of them. ‘Is this where I find the two of you, rolling around the ground like two eejits?’

They stopped instantly, compelled by her freezing blue gaze.