Promised Land (13 page)

Partridge and plover! She didn’t fancy the thought of them at all.

Patrick advised Ella to try the lobster cocktail to start with and recommended Jammet’s speciality, fillet steak.

‘That’ll be fine, thanks.’ She laughed. It had been months since she’d eaten a decent bit of beef and she was actually starving.

The tables around them began to fill up, and Terri kept looking about hoping to spot someone famous or one of her clients.

Excusing themselves, the girls made their way to the cloakroom to freshen up before they ate.

‘Well, what do you think?’ urged Terri. ‘About Bill, he’s nice isn’t he?’

‘Yes, but he’s a bit old.’

‘Old! What are you talking about, Ella? I think Bill’s just perfect, not like those boys you and Kitty usually hang around with.’

Ella sighed, dabbing a bit of powder on her nose, which was shining.

‘Patrick’s nice. He’s much handsomer than I imagined. He and Bill do a lot of work together. They’ve bought some big parcel of land outside the city and hope to develop it. You do like him, don’t you?’

It was far too soon to tell but Ella shrugged, just wanting to go along with Terry and not ruin a good night’s entertainment.

Refreshed, the two of them sauntered back to their table. The meal was delicious and Bill certainly knew his wines as the one he picked was just perfect. In the background a pianist played softly and Ella had to admit it was the best restaurant that she’d ever been to. Bill and Patrick kept them entertained telling stories of jobs they had worked on. She reckoned that Bill loved to dramatize and over-exaggerate things; he had them almost paralysed with laughter telling them of the antics of some of the brickies and plasterers who worked on contract for him. Patrick was quieter and more sensible in his dark suit and immaculately starched white shirt. Still, there was something attractive about him with his tightly cut
black
hair and blue-grey eyes. The four of them were still going strong when they noticed that the other tables had begun to clear and they realized that the restaurant staff were getting ready to close, the pianist having slipped away without them even noticing. Ella collected her coat, not believing how much she had enjoyed the night. Patrick helped her to put it on before she stepped out into the cool night air.

‘Will I see you again?’ he asked as they stood on the step waiting for Terri and Bill to come out.

Ella wasn’t sure what to say. She had never imagined herself meeting anyone like Patrick and being attracted to him.

‘Yes.’ She found herself agreeing to see him five days later. Lying awake in bed that night she realized that she was actually looking forward to meeting him again.

Chapter Fourteen

PATRICK HAD BEEN
true to his word and on the following Thursday evening he took her to the pictures. In the darkness of the cinema watching Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall up on the big screen he put his arm around her. He smelled of one of those expensive aftershaves that they sold in Brown Thomas’s and she found herself resting her head on his shoulder, wondering if he would kiss her. He didn’t, and disappeared during the break to fetch two tubs of ice cream. She tried to concentrate on the film but found herself staring at his face in the dim cinema light, noticing the fine lines round his mouth and eyes. Escorting her home afterwards he kissed her on the lips, tracing the shape of her face with his long fingers, barely giving her a chance to respond before he said goodnight.

She thought that was surely the end of it and that she’d likely never see him again but he had turned up two weeks later and taken her to see
Dial
M for Murder
at the Olympia Theatre and for supper after in the Russell Hotel grill room.

‘I was over in London for the past few days, I’m sorry for not getting in touch.’

She shrugged her shoulders, there was no need for him to apologize, she didn’t own him or anything like that.

Terri and Bill were a different matter and were getting on famously, spending every spare hour they could together. None of them in the flat could believe that Terri had suddenly fallen hook line and sinker for the mature property man and was madly in love with someone almost twice her age.

‘He’s got everything that Terri wants,’ explained Kitty, ‘and plenty of it.’

Bill Brady was certainly not shy about spending his money and had already bought a mink stole for Terri and a small golden brooch, fashioned into the shape of a pair of scissors. She was thrilled with his generosity and adored parading around town on his arm, showing off.

‘She thinks that she’s like one of those Hollywood starlets, with a rich sugar daddy,’ groaned Gretta. ‘She’s getting impossible to live with!’

Ella knew it must be hard for Gretta trying to get a few hours’ sleep when she was off duty, only to have Terri come waltzing in at all hours of the night, and wake her up. Their bedsit was like a tip and Gretta, who was a very neat and tidy person, refused to clean up after her.

‘That one wants a maid! Bill will have to hire her one,’ jeered Kitty.

‘Come to the dog races with us, Ella? Patrick is coming too. It should be a bit of a laugh as Bill has gone and bought himself a greyhound and we can all go mad and bet on it!’

Ella wasn’t sure. She was tired after work and knew nothing at all about gambling. Still, at least she’d get a breath of fresh air and have the chance to see Patrick again. His visits to Dublin were erratic and she relished the chance of spending more time with him.

Pinto, Bill’s dog, was like a long streak of grey misery and she’d nearly died laughing watching Bill almost burst a blood vessel when it had romped home winning its race at the Harold’s Cross dog track. She and Terri collected their winnings from the funny little man behind the hatch who had given them such good odds.

‘Beginner’s luck, ladies! Congratulations!’

‘I like this gambling lark, Ella,’ smirked Terri, counting out the money. ‘Having a flutter is well worth it. Beats giving a wash and a perm any day of the week.’

Ella looked at the notes in her hand, realizing that in a space of a few minutes she had won almost a full week’s wages.

‘Champagne!’ Bill insisted the minute they crossed the door of the Cross House’s public bar to
celebrate
. Patrick filled her glass again and again.

‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ she teased.

‘Maybe,’ he whispered, kissing her neck.

The champagne tasted dry and strange and she wasn’t sure that she liked it at all. Well-wishers came and joined their table, Bill demanding bar stools and chairs as the throng multiplied. They stayed there till late, drinking after hours, hoping an inquisitive Garda sergeant wouldn’t suddenly appear at the door.

In the end Terri managed to persuade Bill to leave the licensed premises and the four of them got a taxi back into town, the driver dropping them off at Bill’s home in Donnybrook. It was part of a terrace of fine-looking red-bricked houses that were close to Herbert Park.

‘Sssh!’ shushed Bill loudly, trying to get his key in the door. ‘Don’t wake the neighbours!’

They all went into the kitchen. One wall had been fitted with modern blue units and a gas cooker. Bill lowered himself into a sturdy fireside chair while Ella boiled a kettle for tea. She had a thumping headache already from the champagne and hoped the tea would ease it. Patrick kept coming and embracing her from behind, drawing her close to him. She returned his kisses, letting herself follow his lead, not caring as his hands ran up under her blouse. Bill seemed to have fallen asleep and Terri lay snuggled beside him. Her blond hair and procelain skin provided
a
total contrast to his rough looks.

‘Bill said that I could stay tonight,’ Patrick murmured suggestively.

She blushed, wondering what kind of girl he thought she was. She had no intention of letting things go any further with a fly-by-night good-looking fellow like him, no matter how attractive she found him. She wasn’t that stupid and naïve.

‘I’ll have to go soon.’

A look between anger and disappointment flooded his face. ‘Is there somebody else?’ he asked, all the time letting his hands stroke the skin on her back and hips, circle after circle, the sensation of his circling touch making her feel giddy and breathless.

She thought of Sean Flanagan, imagining the way she felt when he kissed her and touched her and knew that if he had been standing in Patrick’s place she would not have hesitated for one second.

‘Is there?’

‘No, there isn’t,’ she said, trying to convince herself. ‘There was someone, back home, but that’s over now. I haven’t seen him for months.’

‘Good,’ Patrick said pulling her into his arms and kissing her so deeply that she could barely breathe and had to cling to him for support, both of them getting aroused. She managed to push him away eventually, her body protesting at the sudden change of mood.

‘It’s late, Patrick. I should be going! Kitty will be worried.’

He cursed her cousin.

Ella retrieved her coat from the back of a chair and set about leaving, not trusting herself to be another hour in Patrick’s company, she was so attracted to him. Terri was plastered and objected vehemently when she shook her and woke her up.

‘What the feck are you doing, Ella? What the feck!’

‘We’re going home, Terri, that’s what we’re doing. Going home before we make absolute eejits of ourselves.’

‘I’ll fetch you a cab,’ he offered, a gentleman to the end.

‘It’s all right, Patrick. We’ll walk, it’s not that far, and beside it will sober us up a bit. We’ve both got work in the morning, you know!’

Dragging her friend out of the house they walked the empty pavements just as dawn was beginning to warm the sky.

She had to be behind her counter in Lennon’s in less than four hours’ time.

Chapter Fifteen

THE COUNTRY GIRLS
who didn’t go down home all flocked to the National Ballroom at the top of Parnell Square at the weekends. There they did not have to compete with the city floozies and glamour girls and felt they were on their own ground. Parish news and views were expressed and if they were lucky they might meet up with someone from back home. Gaelic matches and results were shouted out in Cork and Kerry and Galway accents.

Kitty had dragged Ella along, even though she was in no humour for dancing.

‘Will you shut up whinging and whining, Ella! I’m not going to sit in that bloody flat of a Saturday night while Tom is down in Limerick, by the way, working!’

‘He is working, Kitty,’ she protested. ‘You know he told you about it! Why don’t you believe him?’

‘He’s been in every small town and arsehole
village
west of the Shannon for the past six months and I’m getting mighty fed up of it!’

‘It’s his job, Kitty. You know that he’s working on that new rural electrification scheme bringing the electric supply to every home in Ireland.’

‘I don’t give a damn about them and their power supply and magic electricity. Tom should be here with me of a Saturday night, not stuck in God knows where on his own. That’s if he is on his own!’

‘You don’t trust him!’ Ella joked.

‘Of course I bloody don’t! Do you think I’m mad? Do you trust Patrick?’

‘Of course I do,’ insisted Ella. ‘Patrick sees me when he’s in Dublin.’

‘And what happens when he’s not around?’

Ella blazed. ‘Then I think about the next time I’ll see him.’

‘So he has you dangling on a string too!’

‘No, it’s not like that at all,’ she protested, as Kitty joined the queue to put their coats in the cloakroom, girls shoving and jostling all around them.

The relationship between herself and Patrick had been going on for months. Some weeks she saw him and then again she mightn’t see him for two weeks or more. He talked a lot about his business and the hard times he’d had working as a brickie in England when he was younger.

‘I earned my money the hard way Ella, and you never forget that.’

He brought her to lots of nice places, and they were regular visitors to the Theatre Royal and the grill room of the Russell Hotel. They were growing closer and she looked forward to seeing him and being with him. He made her feel all grown-up and responsible. He mentioned little about his family but she assumed that was because he too had been hurt somewhere along the line.

The Ballroom itself was massive, with seating arranged on two sides of the floor. There was a soft drinks bar at one end and the band played at the other. The girls all congregated on the right-hand side and the boys on the left.

‘This place is brutal,’ murmured Kitty under her breath, ‘I don’t know why we still bother coming.’

The band stood on the stage, the lead singer trying to make himself look like Dean Martin with his tightly fitting suit and greased hair. The music itself wasn’t bad, which was something at least. Kitty spotted a group of Gretta’s friends from St Vincent’s Hospital and they went over and joined them. June and Aine were hoping to meet up with two fellahs they’d met there the previous Saturday. The Cork girls were great fun and Ella loved the way they made a skit of themselves. They must have kept the patients in stitches with the way they went on. Kitty and Aine went up to buy a few lemonades as June and she perused the floor.

‘Any sign of them?’ Ella asked.

‘The lads will be in the pub having a few pints
before
they come along here, they’ll turn up though. Jeepers, Ella, will you look at that shower of eejits!’

A few of the fellahs were dressed in the latest Teddy Boy gear but somehow or other didn’t manage to carry it off, with their quiffed hair and tightly fitted trousers and narrow-toed shoes. She hoped to God that none of them asked her to dance.

‘We’ll be sober as judges by the end of the night,’ Kitty joked, sipping the red lemonade through a straw. The ballroom had begun to really fill up and the band had managed to up the music tempo. A few brave girls had got up to dance on their own. They all ran their eyes along the opposite side of the wall trying to see if there was any talent. Ella almost jumped with surprise when she spotted Regina O’Grady, one of the neighbours from Kilgarvan.