The Ballroom Café Read Online Free

be in the kitchen. Shout if you need any help,’ Ella said, walking smartly from the room, tightening her apron at the waist.
    The sideboard door was stiff, so Deborah tugged it, making a sweet-smelling mahogany cloud puff around her. Stacks of china cups and saucers were neatly tucked together, plates to the side. Each was decorated with lilac and blue thistles, the stems rough, contrasting with the delicate bite of the china rims. She walked between the tables, carefully placing each setting, her hand hovering over every cup as it rattled into position. She was pulling out a drawer looking for cutlery when Ella came back in with two silver platters of cake, crumbly warm, arranged in neat rows, and scones, buttered and laid out flat. Two big flasks of coffee and tea she placed on the sideboard beside the platters.
    ‘They will be along in the next ten minutes. The old priest races through in a rush back to his bed. We have time for a cup before they descend on us.’
    Ella did not ask but took two china cups and poured strong coffee, the aroma curling past them, fading into the mustiness of the room.
    ‘Can you just do this: set up a coffee shop?’
    ‘I don’t know, I just did it; if we don’t get extra money in, the house will fall down around our ears.’
    ‘It is very brave letting people into your home like this.’
    Ella snorted loudly. ‘Stupid, more like, but it is not as if I have much of a choice.’
    ‘I would never have the nerve. I’ve been a teacher all my life and getting up in front of classes full of teenagers doesn’t bother me, but I could never do this.’
    ‘Necessity brings out all sorts of hidden traits.’
    Ella jumped up when she heard the sound of gravel scrunching under the heavy but swift steps of the twelve ladies who bothered each morning to rise to hear Fr Hurley stumble too fast over his words, his eyes heavy with sleep still and his hair tousled at the top of his head.
    ‘You pick the seat near the window; that is the best,’ Ella told Debbie, ushering her along gently as the mumble of women chattering got louder.
    Ella pulled open the side French doors, greeting each woman by name. The cold of the early morning air freshed out the room, settling on the pleated drapes at the window.
    Each took a cup and saucer and lined up at the sideboard to help themselves, nodding politely as they passed Debbie and squeezing in too many to a table, so they did not have to share with a stranger. Aware of her intrusion, Debbie slipped out the French doors when the hum of chat in the room lowered to a contented level. Strolling down a side path, she stopped at the stone fountain to light a cigarette.
    There was a faded quiet about the place, which she liked. It reminded her of home in Bowling Green, a house lost on the outside but brimming with memories. What a fraud she was. Rob Kading would never have let her work in the diner. The skirts the waitresses wore were too short, the shifts too late. Mr Peabody from out of town grabbed the waitresses’ butts.
    The ladies of Rathsorney were a loud lot; she could hear them still, the lilt of their conversation fluctuating with the importance afforded to each subject. Muriel Hearty’s shrill could be heard above all others.
    ‘There you are. I thought you had left.’ Ella seemed out of breath.
    ‘I was daydreaming.’
    Debbie stubbed out her cigarette quickly with her fingers, flitting her hands through the air to break up the smoke.
    ‘Won’t you come back to the house? The girls are heading and we can have tea and cake in peace.’
    ‘That’s kind, but I should be getting along.’
    ‘Maybe another morning? I hope you will come to the café again, though at the moment we are only open until eleven. Until I get my permanent help sorted.’
    ‘I hope you find someone soon.’
    ‘Yes. Enjoy your holiday.’
    Ella watched her for a few moments, sauntering down the avenue, before she turned back for the house. If she got a nice woman like that