Free The Ballroom Café by Ann O'Loughlin Page A

birthday.’
    ‘You poor thing! I would not have had you working if I had known.’
    Debbie snorted her tears loudly, so Ella patted her gently on the shoulder as she reached into the cupboard under the sink for a bottle of Baileys.
    ‘I was going to put some in the whipped cream, but I thought why bother wasting it on the gossips of Rathsorney.’
    She took down two small china cups, delicate blue flowers mossed in and topped with gold rims, pouring a generous measure into each. Whipping a chocolate muffin from the cake stand, she stuck a lighted match in it.
    ‘Blow it out, quick, before we blow up the place. Happy birthday.’
    Debbie blew hard and the match toppled onto the table. ‘Thank you for being so kind.’
    ‘Drink up; it will warm you up and leave a sweet taste. Tell me about your dad.’
    Debbie took a gulp from her teacup. ‘He was always there for me. My mom … she hasn’t been in my life for a long time. Dad passed away a short while ago; there’s nothing much to tell.’
    ‘Not easy. In time, the memories themselves will bring you comfort.’
    ‘Maybe.’
    Ella got the bottle and topped up the teacups.
    ‘Do you have children, Ella?’
    ‘Yes … My girl died a long time ago.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘She drowned at the harbour; she was only a baby. We have to take what life throws at us.’
    Debbie did not know what to say. She could hear herself breathing. They sat as the light began to dull, sipping from the china cups; there was no need to talk.
    ‘Do you mind if I ask a personal question?’ Ella asked after a short while.
    ‘I suppose not.’
    ‘Why have you come here to Rathsorney? It was hardly for employment in the Ballroom Café.’
    Debbie gulped some more from her teacup, before sitting back. ‘No reason for Rathsorney in particular. I’m trying to trace my roots, so I needed a base.’
    ‘Right.’
    Debbie got up and walked to the window. The trees were beginning to blend into the late-afternoon sky. She spotted a fox creep up the parkland to Neary’s farm, and in the distance a boat was heading out to sea for a night’s fishing. She kept her eyes on the rills, following them to the pond, looking at the lake in the distance as she spoke.
    ‘It’s not as simple as that. I was adopted from the convent orphanage in Ballygally.’
    Ella followed her to the window. ‘That’s why you are here?’
    Debbie swallowed back the tears. ‘They have no record of me. I’ve tried everything.’
    ‘Oh, you poor darling.’ Ella stroked her hair lightly.
    Neither of them heard Iris come up the stairs.
    ‘Drinking in the early evening, ladies? This café has not got a licence,’ she cackled.
    Ella whipped around. ‘You won’t want a Baileys then?’
    ‘Ella O’Callaghan, you are bold. Remember, make it a mug,’ Iris said, plonking into a chair and patting the one beside her to call Debbie over. ‘You are the talk of the town, madam: you and the café. I will put my money on an even bigger crowd tomorrow.’ If Iris noticed the tear stains across Debbie’s face, she did not let on.
    ‘Ella here should run a great American day: hot dogs and mustard, blueberry muffins, doughnuts. Pecan pie maybe?’ Iris laughed.
    Ella plonked the mug in front of her. ‘You are losing the run of yourself, Iris O’Callaghan. No offence, Debbie, but we are not running a diner.’
    ‘None taken. I really must get along.’
    Ella jumped up. ‘Please, can you wait a few minutes? I have something for you.’
    Before Debbie could answer, Ella scurried off to the next landing and her room. She knew exactly what she wanted to give her: the Weiss butterfly brooch, delicate, to match the look in her eyes. She had no daughter who would ever wear it now. Taking it out of the box, she held it up to her shoulder. Delicate pinks, blues and lilacs; the stones glittered and glowed in the light. She had had such grand plans when Carrie was born of ordering a Weiss brooch for her birthday each year. She wrote to