Free The Hat Shop on the Corner by Marita Conlon-Mckenna Page A

the situation about this property.’
    ‘I just changed my mind, Neil. That’s all.’
    ‘A client is always free to do what they please,’ he said coldly. ‘Obviously Mr Casey was slightly put out we were unable to reach a suitable agreement, but that’s business.’
    An awkward silence loomed between them as he handed her the flowers.
    ‘They’re lovely, aren’t they!’ she prattled on. ‘The shop needs flowers.’
    ‘It all looks very pretty,’ he said, before turning with his umbrella and disappearing in the rain.
    Pretty! Ellie didn’t know if he was being complimentary or facetious or just polite. Why had she wanted him to say it looked great, to notice the work she’d done? He simply wasn’t interested in the shop or her. He plainly considered she’d wasted his time. Anyway she didn’t need his opinions. Guys like Neil Harrington were self-centred chauvinists who thought they were superior to everyone else and she wasn’t going to waste another second of her precious time thinking of him.

Chapter Ten
    Ellie was working late, stitching the band on a particularly difficult piece of fabric, when she noticed that the lights in the old dance hall had gone off and that it was suddenly silent. She had been getting used to the sounds of guitars and drums and saxophones from the bands that played in the hall. It had closed down years ago and would form the nucleus for the massive Casey Coleman development but in the meantime it was serving as a temporary concert venue and a rehearsal space for Dublin’s legions of would-be U2 rock bands. She’d heard it was due to be demolished in a week or two. A few minutes later someone began knocking frantically on the shop door. Nervous, she got up from the stool and put down her work to peer outside. A stranger was banging on her freshly painted door. There wasn’t another sinner in the street and she opened it only a fraction, keeping the new chain on the door.
    ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if you might have a fuse.’
    ‘A fuse?’
    ‘Yeah,’ he shouted through the door. ‘We’ve blown the fuses across the road. Would you have a spare?’
    She was sure that there was a box of new fuses somewhere. The lighting guy or the electrician had left them.
    ‘I think I have some,’ she said as she opened the door wider. ‘I’ll just check.’
    Ellie could see longish hair and piercing blue eyes the same colour as the denim shirt he was wearing under his leather jacket. He didn’t look too dangerous, she thought as she opened the door a fraction further, still leaving the chain on.
    ‘Sorry to come hounding you like this at night, but I noticed your lights from across the street,’ he explained. ‘The lead guitar blew one of the big amps and I’m not sure what happened then. We can’t find any fuses in the dark over there and the Centra up the street and the newsagent’s have shut. The band were just rehearsing.’
    ‘Band?’
    ‘Yeah, Rothko.’
    ‘Hold on and I’ll just look for those fuses.’ She tried to think where they were. Maybe near the fuse box at the back of the shop or where the torch and fire extinguisher were stored. A few seconds later she’d found the packet of fuses and took out three. Holding them in her hand, she realized that she would have to unlatch the door to pass them to him.
    He sensed her apprehension.
    ‘I hope I didn’t scare you,’ he apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
    ‘It’s all right. Anyways here’s a few fuses.’
    ‘You’re a life-saver, thanks. I’ll drop you back some new ones tomorrow.’
    ‘It’s OK. Don’t worry.’ She blushed, realizing that one of the best-looking guys she’d ever spoken to was only inches from her.
    He smiled at her as he dropped the fuses into his pocket. ‘Thanks.’
    A few minutes later the light and guitar sounds and drumming resumed as Ellie tried to concentrate on finishing the hat. Deciding to call it a night half an hour later, she shut up shop.
    It was a