The Ballroom on Magnolia Street by Sharon Owens Page A

elegance she was trying to promote.
    After that, it was down to the real work; the bread-and-butter work. Selling budget gowns to pregnant teenagers, and plain gowns to elegant women over forty, who were getting married for the second time. Marion hoped that someday soon a pretty girl would come through the door of the shop who was just born to wear the gorgeous velvet gown in the window.
    She vacuumed the white carpet until it was immaculate, polished the huge antique mirrors in the fitting rooms and ironed the gowns that were ready for collection, filling up the sleeves with tissue paper. She had two appointments for fittings that afternoon, so she brought several pairs of silk shoes from the store and left them in the dressing rooms, ready for the brides-to-be, who always seemed to turn up wearing black boots. Then, she checked that all the fabric-covered tissue boxes were well stocked. Most of the brides-to-be wept with joy when they found their perfect dress after weeks and even months of searching. She sometimes wondered if they gave as much thought to their choice of groom.
    Marion thought of her own wedding day in January 1968. Eddy waiting impatiently in the porch, with a tiny red rosebud pinned to the lapel of his new suit, terrified in case Hollywood Hogan would turn up and cause a scene. All through the ceremony, Eddy never took his eyes off her, his love for her almost overwhelming. As soon as the priest declared them man and wife, she felt so relieved. The stress of hanging on to Johnny Hogan was over at last, and it felt like a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She thought only once, during their quiet honeymoon in Galway, of Johnny Hogan in his white jacket. The man she had loved so desperately, the man she had once left her beloved Eddy for, the man who was Declan’s real father. But she had waited a long time for him to propose, and even when the pregnancy was confirmed by her doctor, and she grew paler and paler, he didn’t notice a thing. And if he’d loved her, he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? Eddy knew she was unwell straight away, when she met him that morning in the street. He said she should eat something and he took her into Muldoon’s Tea Rooms for an early lunch, and she had cried over the chicken and chips and told him everything.
    ‘I love you, Marion,’ Eddy had said, suddenly. ‘I always have and I always will. Marry me and I promise you, you’ll never be sorry.’
    ‘I’d love to marry you, Eddy,’ she’d said at once, with her eyes full of fat silent tears.
    When the baby was born (thankfully with Marion’s blonde hair colour), Eddy doted on him. That was when Marion started loving Eddy again. Because he loved Declan just as much as he loved his own daughters when they came along, over the years that followed: Emily, Eve and Eloise. The girls had the same dark curly hair and bright green eyes as Eddy, and the same gentle nature. They were the perfect example of a happy family unit.
    Marion checked her make-up in the mirror. It was perfect. Eddy would be calling in soon to join her for lunch. They always spent Monday lunchtimes together. It was just one of the hundreds of little things Eddy did all the time to make her feel special. As soon as she thought of him, he was there, smiling and waving at her through the glass, carrying a huge bunch of white tulips in one hand and a small box of cream pastries in the other, tied neatly with string.
    She went to open the door, and he kissed her gently.
    ‘Hello, my darling, how are you?’ he said.
    ‘Fine, fine. What lovely flowers, Eddy!’
    ‘You deserve them. Oh, I’d love a cuppa! What a morning I’ve had, it never stopped in the bakery. We ran out of eclairs and cream horns, and the soup got spilt over the wheaten bread.’
    ‘Eddy, that’s not like you.’
    ‘We had a new girl starting with us, she’s still learning the ropes,’ laughed Eddy. ‘No real harm done.’
    ‘Was Declan in on time?’
    ‘Yes,