Promised Land (25 page)

‘It’ll be the perfect setting to write and paint and maybe Leo will finally get started on writing that play he’s always talking about.’

Ella had never seen Neil so excited and animated, obviously relishing the thought of leaving Dublin and its narrow-minded society behind, whereas Leo, after a few glasses of red wine, was all emotional, imagining himself almost like the writer James Joyce leaving Ireland to go into exile.
The
small flat was crowded and as they mingled with their guests, Ella realized just how many people had been helped along the way by Leo’s generous nature and spirit. She’d really miss both of them and promised to keep them up to date on the shop and how it was doing.

By the end of the first month she just about broke even, not including her own salary; in the second month, which was better, she showed a small profit and took a nominal amount of salary. At night at home in the flat she totted up receipts, filled in order books, checked dockets and made an enormous effort to keep her books the way Frank had advised. There was a satisfaction in seeing at the end of the day how much you sold and filling in the lodgement dockets. There was no time for romance or going out late dancing when she’d a business to run.

The customers began to come. Wealthy country women wanting a certain shade in a tweed, to get a suit or skirt or coat made. Men looking for warm sweaters to protect them when they were fishing, like they protected the men of Aran in times gone by. Americans visiting Dublin for a day or two and wanting to bring back something from Ireland, studying the weaves and patterns and stitches that represented the cottages, fields, hills and seas of the country. Parents wanting to buy the warm hand-knitted scarves and hats and jackets for their children. Her small shop kept a cornucopia of
handmade
goods, and attracted an ever-larger number of customers. She was still working single-handed but realized she would likely need someone to help her if business kept on improving, even if it was only part-time. The satisfaction she got was enormous and it reminded her very much of the sense of achievement she’d felt when she’d stood and looked at a field of barley or potatoes, or cabbages that she’d planted or sown.

Tom had finally asked Kitty to marry him. Their years of fighting and flirting and breaking up and making up were over at last. Kitty was like the cat that got the cream, flashing her three diamonds at anyone who cared to study them. Ella wished them happiness but knew that theirs would always be a stormy relationship for Tom was rather vain and self-centred and not used to considering others. Aunt Nance and Uncle Jack had come to Dublin for a celebration meal in the Hibernian Hotel. The next day, she was delighted when they came to see the shop, her aunt insisting on buying five yards of crock-of-gold tweed and a warm heavy-knit cardigan.

‘My old one is in tatters, between the dogs and those three grandchildren of ours.’

‘Martin and Helena would be very proud of you Ella,’ her uncle told her. ‘Very proud!’

Ella had all but given up on romance and considered herself unlucky with men. After Mac she
didn’t
think it worth getting into a relationship with anyone else. Perhaps she was destined never to marry and have a family. She thanked God for her two darling nieces and all her cousins’ growing brood. She got an immense joy from visiting them and watching them grow. Likely she’d end up an old maid on the shelf, a spinster aunt consoling herself with her business and godchildren.

‘You’ll never guess who Tom and I met at the races?’ Kitty announced all excited one Saturday night after returning from the Phoenix Park.

Ella gave up, not interested in playing Kitty’s usual childish guessing games.

‘Someone from down home. Someone you know!’

‘Kitty if they’re from down home it’s pretty obvious I’d know them.’

‘It was Sean, you know, that neighbour of yours.’

‘Sean?’

‘Yeah, the one you used to have a crush on when you were young.’

Ella stopped what she was doing. Sean Flanagan back in Ireland. It had been so long since she’d even said his name, imagine! Likely he was married and had a family by now.

‘Was he with someone, Kitty?’

Her cousin was busy unrolling her nylons, and getting changed into her nightdress. ‘I don’t know. He was with a crowd. Tom and I noticed them up
in
the stand. They were shouting their heads off when their horse was coming in. Did I tell you I’d two winners today myself?’

She was going to ask Kitty if he’d enquired about her, but obviously he hadn’t bothered. Sean Flanagan had come back home. He was just an old boyfriend, ancient history as far as she was concerned, but somehow or other it unnerved her knowing that he was even in the same country as her.

Chapter Thirty-two

ONCE OR TWICE
she’d imagined she had passed him in the street, seeing a man of his build and hair-colouring or spotting a flash of a smile or look of an eye that reminded her of him. It hadn’t been and she wasn’t even sure if she was disappointed or relieved about it. The shop was busy, doing better than she’d ever expected, and she had little time to be mooning about over somebody from the past.

She wanted to increase her customer numbers, and she decided to get a brochure made for the business, intending to distribute it in the hotels and places of business in town.

‘I’ll model for you!’ offered Kitty, pulling on a heavy ribbed knitted jacket and prancing round the shop as if she was a Chanel model. The Aran knit looked wonderful with her russet hair and her marvellous cat-green eyes. A photo of Kitty like that would probably sell more sweaters than anything else.

‘All right then, you can be one of my models.’

‘How much will I get paid?’

Ella laughed. ‘You’ll be famous modelling, think how proud Tom will be to say his fiancée is a model!’

‘How much? Remember I’m saving to get married.’

Ella had to agree a few quid, which she reckoned was money well spent. She was actually beginning to make profit from the shop, which she had on deposit with the bank.

Slaney had come to Dublin for an interview, and looking very grown-up and glamorous joined in the photography session. After a little persuasion one of the lads in the flat below agreed to model the men’s jumpers. Ella got a few hundred sales brochures printed and then set about delivering them to the various information desks and city-centre hotels. Some she placed up front boldly on racks, others she dropped discreetly beside the sales information for the expensive shops. She crossed her fingers in the hope that these would bring her even more business. She was just coming out of the Gresham Hotel on O’Connell Street, where the receptionist had been particularly frosty, though she’d still managed to slip a few into the rack at the porter’s desk, when she almost crashed into a hotel guest as she tried to make a retreat.

‘Ella! Ella Kennedy!’

They were standing on the steps, facing each other, Ella realizing that this time there was no
mistaking
Sean Flanagan. Without thinking they hugged each other, the smell and feel of him immediately coming back to her.

‘Sean, it’s good to see you.’

She genuinely meant it. He looked well. The passing years had been good to him; he’d filled out, and seemed broader and stronger-looking than ever. His skin was tanned, hair clipped neatly, and she noticed he was wearing a well-tailored suit, with a pressed white shirt, something she was unused to seeing him in.

‘God, you look great Ella, honest you do!’

Even his accent had changed. There was a slight American twang to it and he was even more attractive than she remembered him.

‘How are you, Sean?’

‘I’m fine, doing grand. I’ve been away in America.’

‘America!’ She tried to sound surprised.

‘Aye. I was working at all sorts of things for a year then I started working for this motor company, learned a lot about the motor industry. What about you? I heard you were working in the drapery business.’

‘I still am.’ She wasn’t going to go and brag about having a shop of her own.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, I just had to leave something in the hotel, what about you?’

‘I’ve some American friends over. We’re having dinner.’

Through the hotel doorway Ella was aware of a middle-aged man and smartly dressed blonde young woman looking towards them. Waiting for him. For a second neither of them spoke, and she found herself hoping he’d ask where she lived or something.

‘Listen Ella, I’d better be going, I think our table is ready.’ He was turning around, obviously anxious to join the others, the woman waiting inside the door for him. She wasn’t going to have him cut her out of his life again.

‘Sean, I’m sorry but I have to dash as I’ve a date. It’s great to see you.’ She turned so fast she almost fell on the hotel step, his hand steadying her. Almost pushing him she managed to get away. ‘Enjoy your dinner!’

She walked so fast she was out of breath by the time she got to O’Connell Bridge, stopping and cursing herself as she leaned against the stone parapet overlooking the river. The Liffey was at full tide, the dark water slapping against the quaysides as a lone beggar man played a tin whistle. Why was she such a fecking eejit! Sean Flanagan was a nothing! He meant nothing to her. She should have known that their paths would cross sometime. Dublin wasn’t that big a city and no doubt she’d bump into him and his American girlfriend again. Being stupid about it didn’t help at all.

* * *

She decided against mentioning it to Kitty as she’d only start slagging her about him again; besides she was all up in a heap as Slaney was staying with them again. Slaney filled them in on all the gossip from home and Ella was glad to hear that Carmel was keeping so well. Her younger cousin had managed to land a job as an air hostess with the state’s airline Aer Lingus and was training and being fitted for a uniform.

‘It’s the best job ever, Ella. I get to meet all sorts of interesting people and fly all over the world.’

Ella wondered what Aunt Nance and Uncle Jack thought of their youngest daughter’s job. Growing up almost overnight, Slaney had now become an absolutely stunning-looking young woman but was still as funny and charming as ever.

Slaney answered the door. ‘Ella, it’s somebody for you.’

Ella got up reluctantly from the couch, yawning. She’d been packed out with customers and had had two commercial travellers in that afternoon showing her new knitwear lines, both of which she was uncertain about stocking. She was looking forward to a quiet evening in just chatting or listening to the radio and getting a good night’s sleep.

Sean was standing there, waiting for her. ‘Hi Ella! I got the address from Kitty.’

She could have kicked Kitty. What the hell was she doing telling Sean where they lived?

‘We didn’t get the chance to talk the other night, and we need to talk.’

She could see Slaney standing listening to them and knew Gretta was due in at any second.

‘Do you want to go out? We could go for a drink or a drive, whatever you want.’

Running back into the flat she grabbed her coat and handbag, making sure she had her keys.

‘I’ll be back in later, Slaney.’

It was a nice evening, too early to go to a pub.

‘Let’s go for a drive,’ he suggested.

Sitting in close proximity to him in the car as they drove out of town and towards Sandymount Strand reminded her of those drives he used to take her on before in his father’s car, the two of them ending up having a loving session down by Lough Garvan. She wondered if he remembered that too. He paid her lots of compliments and she was only glad that she hadn’t been wrapped up in her plaid dressing gown when he’d called.

It was so strange she felt shy and awkward with him, even though she’d known him most of her life, and she could sense he was equally ill at ease with her. He pulled the car in along the seafront looking out over Dublin Bay, Ringsend, the gas works and Blackrock and Dunlaoghaire all glimmering in the dusky light.

‘Ella, I don’t want it to be strange and difficult like this with us. I always thought we were friends. Good friends.’

‘Friends, friends don’t go off without a word and not bother telling you where they’re going or never bother writing so much as a letter or card!’ she blurted out angrily.

He sat back, inhaling heavily. ‘I was upset after your leaving, you know that.’

She didn’t want her time with him to develop into a tit for tat row. Neither of them deserved that.

‘Sean, come on, let’s get out and walk.’

Ella wanted to be out of the confines of the car and the danger of being so near him again. The sea air outside was rather chilly and she was glad she’d brought her coat. Sean pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one as they walked the length of the strand. A dog howled somewhere in the distance, and they passed a young couple engrossed in embracing each other. Ella felt almost envious of their closeness.

‘Was that your girlfriend the other night?’

Sean laughed, shaking his head. ‘Joan is Abe’s wife! The man I was having a dinner with. She’s a good bit younger than him but that don’t matter back in Chicago.’

‘Oh!’ She must have sounded relieved.

‘I did have a girlfriend. She’s back in the States. She didn’t want to leave home and live in Ireland, so.’

‘I see.’

‘What about you?’

‘There was someone, he’s from the North of Ireland.’

Sean was staring at her intensely, his eyes looking down into hers.

‘But it just didn’t work out.’

‘So here we are,’ he said, touching her face.

She couldn’t remember which of them moved first but in an instant he was bending down kissing her. She was used to the feel of his lips and responded eagerly, not believing herself but not wanting to stop either.

Breaking away she could see the flicker of triumph in his eyes.

‘Well at least that hasn’t changed!’ he said honestly.

It had been such a long time, yet she responded to him the same way as before, realizing that Sean still had the power to make her want and care for him. They walked on further, Sean taking her hand in his, the way old lovers do. Ella felt embarrassed and unsure of what would happen between them. This time she was not going to let him hurt her like before.