One Night Only (243 page)

Lif
e
hadn
’
t
turne
d
ou
t
s
o
straightforwar
d
fo
r
Natalie, alas
.
Th
e
lov
e
o
f
he
r
lif
e
wa
s
a
gorgeou
s
bu
t
grieving widowe
r
,
th
e
babie
s
i
n
he
r
lif
e
wer
e
stropp
y
teenage twin
s
wit
h
attitud
e
an
d
issues
,
an
d
he
r
caree
r
continued t
o
b
e
servin
g
hungr
y
holidaymaker
s
i
n
Nellie
’
s
Caf
é
on
Norther
n
Ireland
’
s
picturesque
,
i
f
bluster
y
,
nort
h
coast. Hardl
y
th
e
white-picket-fenc
e
lifestyl
e
sh
e
ha
d
dreamed abou
t
sinc
e
sh
e
wa
s
a
teenage
r
.

“Afternoo
n
all!
”
sh
e
called
,
makin
g
he
r
wa
y
through th
e
blue-painte
d
doo
r
o
f
Nellie
’
s
t
o
begi
n
he
r
W
ednesday shift
.
He
r
arriva
l
wa
s
me
t
wit
h
th
e
usua
l
cheer
y
welcome tha
t
mad
e
he
r
realis
e
tha
t
lif
e
wasn
’
t
reall
y
s
o
bad sometimes
.
Nellie
’
s
wa
s a
happ
y
plac
e
t
o
wor
k
an
d
there wa
s
alway
s a
bi
t
o
f
new
s
o
r
gossi
p
t
o
mak
e
th
e
da
y
go quicke
r
.

Natali
e
love
d
W
ednesday
s
fo
r
lot
s
o
f
reasons
.
I
t
was th
e
on
e
da
y
sh
e
ha
d a
lie-i
n
an
d
watche
d
daytim
e
telly fro
m
th
e
comfor
t
o
f
he
r
ow
n
be
d
i
n
he
r
ow
n
littl
e
flat dow
n
th
e
road
.
I
t
wa
s
th
e
da
y
sh
e
lef
t
Dougi
e
t
o
hi
s
own
device
s
o
n
th
e
schoo
l
ru
n
(o
r
rathe
r
hi
s
siste
r
-in-la
w
who ofte
n
steppe
d
i
n
whe
n
hi
s
wor
k
commitment
s
dictated it)
,
an
d
th
e
da
y
whe
n
sh
e
an
d
he
r
da
d
woul
d
reminisce an
d
drea
m
ove
r
endles
s
coffee
s
an
d
th
e
od
d
doughnu
t
or flapjac
k
whil
e
he
r
mu
m
spen
t
th
e
afternoo
n
upstair
s
in fron
t
o
f
endles
s
repeat
s
o
f
Th
e
Jerem
y
Kyl
e
Show
.

He
r
fathe
r
wa
s
balancin
g
o
n a
chai
r
i
n
th
e
fa
r
corne
r
of th
e
café
,
stickin
g
u
p
th
e
‘
Happ
y
Birthda
y
,
Natali
e
’
banner tha
t
wa
s
a
t
leas
t
twent
y
year
s
ol
d
wit
h
it
s
fraye
d
edgin
g
and fade
d
silve
r
lettering
.
The
y
ha
d
bough
t
i
t
o
n
holida
y
in
Americ
a
whe
n
Natali
e
wa
s
abou
t
twelv
e
o
r
thirtee
n
years old
,
havin
g
neve
r
see
n
anythin
g
lik
e
i
t
before
,
an
d
despite Natalie
’
s
late
r
assurance
s
tha
t
plent
y
o
f
shop
s
stocked personifie
d
banner
s
an
d
cup
s
an
d
key-rings
,
he
r
father woul
d
hav
e
non
e
o
f
it
.
Thi
s
banne
r
wa
s
special
.
I
t
wa
s
one o
f a
kind
.
I
t
wa
s
‘American
’
afte
r
all
,
s
o
i
t
couldn
’
t
be bough
t
o
n
jus
t
an
y
stal
l
o
r
tack
y
birthda
y
shop.

“Her
e
sh
e
is
,
her
e
sh
e
is!
”
sai
d
Moll
y
,
th
e
bust
y
,
chirp
y
waitres
s
whos
e
swee
t
pleasan
t
natur
e
mad
e
u
p
for he
r
lac
k
o
f
brai
n
substanc
e
whe
n
i
t
cam
e
t
o
matter
s
of
th
e
world
.
“Happ
y
birthda
y
,
Natalie
!
T
wenty-on
e
again!” “Thanks
,
Moll,
”
sai
d
Natalie
,
feelin
g
th
e
warmt
h
o
f
the
oven
s
an
d
th
e
swee
t
smel
l
o
f
homemad
e
cupcake
s
giving
he
r
a
welcom
e
hu
g
an
d
th
e
echoe
s
o
f
las
t
year
’
s
birthday
wishe
s
fro
m
Moll
y
wh
o
ha
d
sai
d
exactl
y
th
e
sam
e
thin
g
at,
well
,
probabl
y
exactl
y
th
e
sam
e
tim
e
twelv
e
month
s
ago.
“
Y
ou
r
mothe
r
wil
l
joi
n
u
s
i
n
tim
e
fo
r
th
e
part
y
,
”
said
Bil
l
McKenn
a
a
s
h
e
climbe
d
dow
n
fro
m
th
e
chai
r
,
his hand
s
shakin
g
a
s
h
e
pu
t
i
t
bac
k
i
n
it
s
place
.
H
e
wa
s
a
frail
,
tin
y
seventy-somethin
g
wh
o
ha
d
recentl
y
hande
d
a
part-tim
e
rol
e
o
f
che
f
i
n
th
e
littl
e
caf
é
t
o
hi
s
nephe
w
Ross
afte
r
ove
r
thirt
y
year
s
o
f
buildin
g
Nellie
’
s
int
o
th
e
endeari
n
g,
traditional
,
cos
y
corne
r
i
t
ha
d
becom
e
wit
h
jus
t
himself i
n
th
e
kitchen.