Promised Land (24 page)

She knew by the way he said it and the way his lips barely brushed hers when they parted that
evening
, it was over. It just hadn’t worked out and never would. There was too much to divide them. There had been no huge arguments or upsets, no mention of religion. Mac and she had just let the love they had for each other gradually die, neither of them willing to fight hard enough to save it. She didn’t want to see him again and was too wounded and raw to even pretend to.

Kitty made her usual forthright comments. ‘Ella, you’re as well off not having that Protestant bastard in your life and those awful in-laws!’

Ella would still have given anything to be able to turn the clock back to the times when Mac was her world and they’d made each other happy.

Gretta and Lesley insisted on her coming out with them on their nights off, and Julia dragged her along with the girls from Lennon’s to a dance or two.

Leo and Neil tiptoed around her being the souls of discretion while her relationship crumbled and then became suitably supportive, telling her that the perfect man was somewhere out there and she had yet to find him.

Brian’s wedding had been wonderful, the sun splitting the heavens when they’d all come out of Kilgarvan church. Anna Delaney looked as pretty as a picture on her special day with a stunning white bridal gown and long train which her three bridesmaids carried. Carmel was home. She’d put on weight, so that her face now looked round and
full
, and she was glad to be reunited with all those she loved and cared about. Liam fussed about her and made her sit down and not tire herself out with the dancing afterwards in Casey’s Hotel. Ella was glad for both of them that things were finally returning to normal. She sipped her glass of wine, watching the happy couple waltz across the floor. Mac should have been here with her; instead here she was on her own yet again.

As summer turned to autumn Leo confided to her his plans to retire and sell the business. She was devastated.

‘But you’re too young to retire, Leo!’

‘I lie about my age,’ he admitted, fixing her steadfastly with a glimmer in his eye, still not telling her how old he really was. ‘It has always been my plan, Ella. I’ve no intention of ending up a grouchy old man behind the counter, trying to cajole customers in to buying. That’s not my style, you know that.’

The business was thriving, and tourists and foreigners were already beginning to find the way to the store. Leo couldn’t just close it down like that.

‘Neil and I have always planned to travel. Neil wants to see places, write about them. I like doing my bits and pieces of acting, and I’ll always find something to keep me busy. Radio work, theatre work and the money from the shop will be my pension.’

It was all worked out. She offered to buy it off him, realizing that the money still sitting in her account wouldn’t even come close to what the shop was worth.

‘Let me talk to the bank. Maybe I could get a loan,’ she pleaded. ‘Please Leo, you owe me that!’

She had met Frank, Mac’s old flatmate who worked in the bank, telling him of her proposal. He had gone through the figures with her.

‘I’m sorry Ella, but you won’t get the loan. Even investing all your own capital you would still be borrowing a huge amount, and though I shouldn’t say it, the bank won’t look as favourably on a woman getting a loan They just won’t give it to you.’

‘But it’s a great shop, a great business and I know I can make a go of it!’

‘I’m sorry Ella, honest I am.’

She felt so frustrated and angry she didn’t know what to do.

‘You can always come back and work in Lennon’s,’ Kitty consoled her.

‘I’ve had a large offer from one of the building societies,’ Leo informed her the following week. ‘They obviously have had their eyes on this patch of mine for a long time.’

‘I thought that you were selling the shop as a going concern, Leo.’

‘Well, that had been my intention, but this offer is exceptional, Ella. I’d be a fool not to take it.’

Ella had hoped to get a job with whoever took over the shop. Now even that opportunity was gone if there was going to be a totally new business there. She was at her wits’ end not knowing what to do.

‘They have premises leased in the street around the corner and apparently their lease is up. The landlord wants to put up the rent and isn’t willing to sell, though they offered to buy him out. Anyways the premises are small, too small, as they plan to expand and here is exactly what they want. What’s more they have no objection to my keeping the flat upstairs.’

Ella had to accept that her job was all but gone and that she needed to find something else. She knew the little building society office and could see the sense in them moving. After work that night she walked there. There wasn’t much to it, one window, but though the space was small it did seem to go back a fair bit, which would give storage space. She stood in front of it, passed across the street from it, studied it from either side. How had she never noticed number twenty-six before? Excited, she ran back to Leo’s. The shop was shut but she rang the bell. Leo O’Byrne had a great sense of business and she would trust his judgement.

The three of them went straight away to see it and tried not to look conspicuous as they peered in the office window. Neil opened a bottle of red wine when they got back to the flat, and they sat
on
the couch planning how much the shop could possibly be worth and if there was space for rails and shelves and a counter. The suppliers knew her already, and Leo would introduce her to any who didn’t and vouch for her. She was hoping they might give her credit. Leo promised to find out the name of the landlord first thing in the morning and arrange for her to see him. He would suggest that he was interested in the shop for himself in order that whoever it was would see her.

Neil walked her home. Her feet were almost lifting off the ground with excitement, and she was dying to see what Kitty thought of it all.

Chapter Thirty

THE SHOP WAS
hers! She still couldn’t believe it. Overnight she’d become the keyholder and a woman of property right in the centre of Dublin.

The building looked small and dingy at the moment, not really like a shop at all, but there was no denying its potential and the great location just off Grafton Street. The front window bowed out into the street, which would be a big advantage for displays, and there was space at the back for storage and a toilet and tiny wash-hand basin. The premises had cost her almost all her inheritance, as the landlord had insisted on her taking out a five-year lease. She’d got the shakes withdrawing the money from the bank, thinking of how hard her father had worked to accumulate such a sum. She’d paid it over to the solicitors’ firm who acted for the landlord. As soon as she had signed the agreement they had handed her over two sets of keys.

Standing in the middle of her new business
premises
she was suddenly overwhelmed by what she’d gone and done. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, was she mad to have thrown nearly all her money into this venture! She had no husband, no boyfriend, no family to back her up if this should fail. She was totally on her own.

Kitty, Gretta, Julia, Bill and Terri had all come along offering their advice. They washed the walls and helped repaint the building society’s grey decor in a creamy colour. Bill had sent one of his site carpenters over to build the wooden shelves and counters she needed and Tom had turned up trumps doing all the electrics in his spare time. Leo had been true to his word and helped her with ordering her stock and dealing with the suppliers. Her premises were far smaller than his, and she had to make decisions about what to stock and not to stock, and what kind of shop she wanted it to be. One counter was glass-fronted, as with so little space the sweaters and cardigans that were stored inside it could also be displayed. She decided against a fitted rail for the skirts and blouses and waistcoats as if she was very busy she could push a moveable one in against the shelves to make more space.

‘What are you going to call it?’ Kitty asked her.

Ella wasn’t sure. Everything had happend so suddenly and she’d had to move so fast getting everything organized that she was undecided.

‘The Tweed Shop.’

‘But you stock more than tweeds!’

‘The Hand-knit Shop.’

‘But then what about all your lovely tweed and rugs and shawls?’ argued Gretta.

Ella hadn’t a clue and the signwriter was coming the next day.

‘Might I be bold enough to make a suggestion,’ Leo offered. ‘I always found using my own name an advantage. People knew who they were dealing with and that I was the proprietor.’

‘You think I should put my name above the door?’

‘Of course I do, Ella.’

‘Ella Kennedy.’ It sounded good enough.

‘Write it in that lovely loopy convent writing of yours,’ added Kitty.

She tried it in various sizes.

‘Now that’s perfect! Give it to the signwriter to copy. Your signature is your mark!’

She opened the following week, nervous as hell as she turned the key in the lock and undid the bolts and turned on the lights. It looked lovely, just the way she wanted. The wood was warm and inviting, and a large mirror hung against the wall opposite the window for customers to admire themselves in and to give the illusion of the shop being bigger than it actually was. Only half the stock she’d ordered had arrived, but she managed to spread it around so that the shop looked full, with most of it on display. The Donegal weavers
had
done her proud and sent in bales of their beautiful tweed with over a month’s free credit. The knitters had hand-knitted shawl-collared cardigans and ribbed waistcoats as well as their usual sweaters and cardigans, and had even provided a few in small sizes for children. So much work went into the Aran patterned hand-knits that they were expensive, but the knitters more than earned their pay.

‘Offer them top rates, half a crown or a quid extra than the other shops and you’ll get the best knitters working for you!’ advised Leo, guiding her yet again.

She’d bought a metal cash box with a lid and tray, cash books and receipt books and an order book. They all looked so new and empty that she itched to write in them. Mindful of her times in Lennon’s when she was on her feet all day she’d also bought a stool which she hid behind the counter.

That first morning she stood and sat behind the counter for hours without a solitary soul appearing or even enquiring about a single item. Disappointment lowered her spirits and filled her mind with horrible thoughts of future ruin and embarrassment. Kitty popped in at lunchtime, bringing her a tomato sandwich and a cherry bun.

‘Thought you might fancy something to eat,’ she grinned, flicking the cash book open.

‘Not a dicky bird, Kitty! Not even one person came in to look at anything.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Ella! You’re only open a few hours. Give people a chance to see the shop.’

Ella was impatient and hated sitting around watching and waiting for people to come in. Was she missing something, doing something wrong? Her mind was in turmoil, and she felt full of doubts.

Kitty and she even went through the charade of her cousin pretending to be a customer, slipping on a crew-neck Aran and then pretending to pay for it in the hope that someone might be encouraged to step inside when they saw Kitty leave.

Neil and Leo had popped over mid-afternoon. Ella was near to tears when she saw them.

‘We bought you these.’

Ella unwrapped a pair of black china cats.

‘They’re for luck!’ Neil added. ‘Put them in the window.’

She placed one on either side of the window, the cats reminding her of the farm cats that sat in the sun down home in Kilgarvan. They had only been there a second when the first customers crossed the threshold of the shop. Ella felt almost tempted to hug them or offer them a glass of champagne or something equally celebratory. Her friends disappeared as she concentrated on showing the fine selection of warm mohair rugs to the middle-aged man and woman who wanted a useful gift for an elderly aunt. She could have cried with relief when they bought one. By closing time
she
had dealt with five customers and sold three items. Hardly a flying start but it was a start! Exhausted from the stress and strain of the new business she was delighted to accept Kitty’s offer of tea out.

Dublin 1959

Chapter Thirty-one

THE BUSINESS WAS
slow to get going and Ella found herself constantly worried about money. She was doing her damndest to attract business and was forever changing the window in a bid to get customers’ attention. The city streets were busy and every day there seemed to be more developments of shops and offices springing up everywhere, old tenement housing making way for tall new office buildings. The city was beginning to expand outwards with more and more houses being built for the increasing number of Dubliners, the likes of Bill Brady making their fortune as the suburbs of Dundrum and Churchtown and Templeogue and Stillorgan got built. The signs were good but she just had to learn to capitalize on the increasing business in town and stake her claim in her own particular type of market. She wasn’t prepared to sell her goods below cost as everything in the shop was handmade or crafted and she believed that the knitters and weavers and
designers
all deserved a decent return for their effort and hard work. She herself hadn’t made a penny since she opened and she wondered how long could that go on.

‘Give it time, Ella dear!’ advised Leo, repositioning strands of traditional brightly coloured woven crios belts. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know, and it takes time for the public to decide what it likes and doesn’t.’

‘You’re in business now, Ella, so you’ve got to take the good days with the bad ones, just like the rest of us,’ Bill Brady remarked when he called in to check on the carpenter’s work.

She knew that everyone was right and that she shouldn’t expect so much.

Leo and Neil threw a going-away party in the flat before they flew off down to the South of France. Neil’s publisher had a relation who was prepared to let out his house down there and the two men had jumped at the chance of having a place in the sun.