Free The Ballroom Café by Ann O'Loughlin Page B

Weiss of her daughter and how even the butterflies fluttered down to kiss her face.
    Holding the brooch close, Ella skipped down the stairs to the café.
    ‘I want you to have this,’ she said to Debbie. She reached out and pinned it to her shirt. ‘It is time for it to fly to the outside world.’
    Debbie took Ella’s hand. ‘Please, I cannot take this. You hardly know me.’
    ‘I know you enough to know you will cherish it, and it’s the only type of jewellery you will wear.’
    ‘How do you know all this?’
    Ella turned over Debbie’s hands. ‘There are no marks from rings and I have never seen you wear a necklace.’
    ‘Can you tell me what I’m thinking as well?’
    ‘I will need a few more days for that,’ Ella answered solemnly, and they both giggled.
    ‘Time for me to hit the high road,’ Iris said, elaborately downing the rest of her liqueur.
    Debbie hugged Ella. ‘Thank you for making this birthday so special.’
    Debbie squeezed her elbows and Ella felt suddenly lonely.
    ‘On time in the morning, mind you.’
    ‘Without a doubt.’
    When Ella heard the front door bang gently, she stood back from the windows, watching Iris and Debbie walk down the old avenue, too busy chatting to even look back. The bile of loss rose up inside her, so she moved away to put the chairs up on the tables and mop the floor.

10
     
    Debbie turned up at Roscarbury the next day with the brooch pinned to the multicoloured thin scarf she liked to wear loosely around her neck. Ella did not show her surprise and she did not say she had expected it to be for good wear only. Iris readied the outside tables and Debbie the upstairs café. Ella cut thick slices of coffee cake, making sure to press a candied orange slice into the icing.
    Roberta, for the most part, hovered out of the way, leaving notes for her sister beside the kitchen ovens.

     
    The health inspectors will be calling on you soon. Do your customers know when they eat your cake that your kitchen is so filthy? R.

     
    Ella scribbled a caustic reply.

     
    My side of the kitchen is perfectly clean. It is the drunk on the second floor who does not clean up after herself. E.

     
    She has stolen your jewellery. R.

     
    Butt out. Mind your own beeswax. E.

     
    May Dorkin was always the first to arrive. Because she was visiting somebody’s house, May never arrived empty-handed but always had a small plate of homemade scones or a small, sweet cake. Ella accepted the gift each morning with a fixed smile and a polite thank you.
    ‘May, you know you shouldn’t. You will have some?’
    ‘I will not. I will have the chocolate cake. One of these days, I am going to get your recipe; it is delicious.’
    Ella laughed before going behind the screen to the kitchen, where she threw May’s offering in the bin.
    ‘The hens are going to develop a real sweet tooth,’ she fussed.
    Ella saw James McDonagh park his tractor and jump from the seat as she served a customer at the centre window seat. She hurried behind the counter to Debbie.
    ‘I don’t want to have to talk to McDonagh. Will you serve him?’
    ‘What if he asks for you?’
    Ella looked agitated. ‘I will stay behind the service screen. Just say I am too busy.’
    When he came in the door, James McDonagh was on his mobile. ‘A latte,’ he said, gesturing to Debbie.
    As she prepared the coffee, he asked after Ella. ‘Will you tell her my mother sends her regards?’
    Behind the screen, Ella sat on the bin, biting her nails. ‘I am sure she does. He is only here to see me fail. Walking in here as if he owned the place,’ Ella muttered, jumping up and marching onto the ballroom floor. Her teeth grinding with determination, she walked over to James McDonagh. ‘Excuse me for disturbing you, Mr McDonagh, but could I have a word in private, downstairs?’
    ‘James. Call me James, Miss O’Callaghan.’
    Ella led the way to the front drawing room.
    ‘Mr McDonagh. Thank you for frequenting the Ballroom Café, but