In a matter of weeks Kate had transformed the department. As well as new window and in-store displays, she brought in stools so that a lady could rest her foot while the correct fitting was established. Using her knowledge learned at Tyson’s, Kate trained all the staff in the art of fitting, showing them how to judge pressure on the toes within the shoe, and the correct amount of space behind the heel.
‘You don’t just sell anything and hope it will do. A customer will not return for a second pair if the first crippled her every time she wore them.’
Thanks to the Jazz Age, shorter skirts, and crazes like the Charleston, a dance that demanded footwear with a low heel, closed toe and excellent fit, shoes had become a popular fashion item.
‘Mass production and the development of affordable synthetic fabrics have made shoes much more affordable,’ Kate would tell her staff. ‘But just because the girl in the street can now afford to enjoy the pleasure of pretty footwear, doesn’t mean we no longer need bother to give good service. We treat everyone like a lady here, right? Housemaid or dowager duchess, they’re all valued customers. Understand?’
‘Yes, Miss O’Connor,’ they would obediently chorus, and go about their business.
Goodness, Kate would think. I’m turning into a dragon.
Theo Ingram grudgingly praised her achievements, even went so far as to admit that sales had improved considerably since she had taken over the management of the department. But he didn’t always care to hear her criticise what he’d bought to put in it. Kate never hesitated to tell him if she thought he’d made a mistake.
‘These are cheap and nasty, the result of shoddy production. They’ll fall apart after a month’s wear.’
‘You’re an expert on shoemaking as well as retailing, are you?’
‘I am so.’
‘How come? How is that you apparently know so much about shoes?’
Kate was silent. She really must learn to hold her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to have Theo Ingram poking his nose into every corner of her private life. She shrugged her shoulders, apologised for her bluntness and sweetly begged leave to return to work.
‘Diplomacy doesn’t suit you,’ he called after her. Yet despite Kate’s continued bluntness and defiance towards him, he made no move to sack her. Probably because he also wanted to be more than her employer, which gave Kate much pause for thought and many sleepless nights.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Theo asked if he might take her out for a meal one evening. Kate refused. He invited her to accompany him to the theatre to see the visiting Royal Ballet Company perform Swan Lake. Kate declined and said that she had seen it already with her friend Millie. Of course this wasn’t strictly true. They’d seen a humorous version of The Nutcracker performed in a pantomime at the Princes Theatre, which had been great fun but with nothing the least royal about it.
He asked her to the cinema, perhaps thinking this would be more in her line and she refused even that.
Millie asked her how she felt about him but Kate wouldn’t answer. How could she admit that she did secretly find him attractive and would love to go out with him, but that it didn’t seem quite right?
‘It’s far too soon even to look at another man so soon after losing Eliot,’ she protested.
Her friend made short work of that argument. ‘Rubbish! Are you planning on turning into a nun?’
Remembering Toby’s reservations about the inadvisability of relationships between employer and employee, it occurred to Kate that using that as an excuse seemed as good a reason as any to avoid him. Which would surely be the safest way, in the long run.
He asked her out to dinner and again she refused.
‘Kate, why are you being so obstinate? Don’t you like me?’
‘I don’t know you.’
‘Nor will you ever know me if you refuse to come out with me.’
‘You’re my boss. I don’t approve of fraternising at work.’
‘Then perhaps I should sack you. Would you come out with me then, if I was no longer your employer?’
‘Of course not, not if you’d sacked me. That would be unjust.’
‘Kate, I despair, I really do.’
And then everything changed yet again.
Now that Flora had reached fourteen she declared that she hated mathematics and boring geography and was keen to leave school and get a job so that she could be a proper grown up and make a contribution to their modest income. Kate wanted her to remain a child and urged her to stay on at school for as long as possible.
‘Why don’t you take your school certificate?’
‘Did you, Mammy?’
‘No, course I didn’t.’
‘Well then, neither will I,’ as if that was as good a reason as any.
‘Indeed, when did I ever have the chance, half starved orphan that I was? I wanted you to grow up to be a fine lady and do as ye please, and now look at us, back in the sewers.’
Flora hugged her mother close. ‘Don’t exaggerate. We’re not in the sewers, we’re fine.’ Flora was too much her mother’s child to suffer from any airs and graces. She was happy to be herself, whatever that might turn out to be. And happiness, it seemed, did not involve her taking examinations. ‘I might start me own business one day, as you did. Don’t you miss it, Mammy? Wouldn’t you rather have a shop of your own?’
Kate looked at her daughter. ‘A shop of me own, ye say? Aw, now, wouldn’t that be grand? But not possible, m’cushla’.’
‘Why isn’t it possible? Why couldn’t we open one together, mother and daughter? Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘It would indeed, but where would we find the money?’ Even as she said this, Kate was thinking that she did have some savings left, although maybe not enough. Flora said the words for her.
‘I thought you had some savings left?’
‘I’m keeping that for me old age, so I am. Your daddy wouldn’t want me begging for a crust when I become decrepit.’
Flora smiled at her mother’s humour, but persisted. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to make that money work for you and produce more? And you’re a long way from decrepit, Mammy, nowhere near forty yet, are you?’
‘Course I’m not,’ Kate responded tartly.
‘Well then, are you going to spend the rest of your life working for Mr Grumpy Ingram?’
‘Now you sound like Toby.’
The following Saturday, Toby himself came to visit, as he often did. Kate told him how pleased she was to see him, as indeed she always was. After that, she brewed a pot of tea and asked him point blank: ‘What would you say to my opening a shop of my own?’
He looked at her for a moment. ‘I’d say about bloody time.’
And that’s how it all began.
O’Connor’s Shoe Shop was planned that day on the kitchen table, with Flora excitedly joining in and Toby offering to put money in too, which caused some initial discord between them.
‘Before you say no, let me make it clear I want only to be a sleeping partner.’ A sheepish smile and then he added, ‘Of the business variety, that is, since I’ve all but given up hope of the other kind.’
‘Stop up yer ears, Flora,’ Kate said, but she was smiling. ‘That’s not very flattering for a woman to hear, is it, that you’ve all but given up hope? I would’ve thought I was worth more patience and effort than that. Someday I might feel entirely different. Who knows?’
His head jerked up and his dark eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t tease and plague me, Kate Tyson, with your maybes and somedays. Just take the money and be thankful I still care enough about you to risk my hard-earned cash.’
‘Oh, I’m more than thankful, Toby Lynch. I depend upon you still as me best friend, so I do.’ And they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled.
They agreed to find premises to rent right in the heart of the city and discussed how they’d fit the shop out, Flora having some surprisingly good ideas about colour and style. They talked about what they would stock and which
supplier they would use, sadly not Tyson’s, as that would be too painful. Last, but by no means least, they agreed to work for peanuts until it was successful.
‘Which it certainly will be, if you’re in the driving seat, Kate.’
‘I’ll do my best, for sure,’ was all she could say, her heart full of emotion, flattered by their faith in her. ‘Aw, make a fresh pot of tea, Flora, we need to celebrate. At least this time we won’t have Madam Lucy sticking her oar in.’
Lucy was more than fully occupied dealing with a sulky daughter. Surprisingly, for all Bunty’s lack of sparkle and irritating habit of bursting into tears at the slightest provocation, she meekly acquiesced to whatever Lucy asked of her, albeit with ill grace, attending any number of social functions without argument.
She even allowed whiskery old Timothy Tiffin to walk her out alone by the lake one Sunday afternoon, with Lucy acting as chaperone, of course, although not with any degree of diligence. Lucy managed to drop out of the walk for a whole half-hour when she got a stone in her shoe. The girl had returned quite flushed about the cheeks but had made no complaint. Later, she’d sat on Timothy’s knee and let him feed her chocolate drops. It was really most encouraging.
Lucy couldn’t quite understand what had brought about this sudden change in her behaviour but was relieved not to have to endure any more hysterics or endless arguments. But since there was still no engagement in sight, she judged it time to lead her daughter a little further along the path of dalliance. More drastic measures were clearly called for.
‘I have no wish to know what naughty Timmy has been up to, but if he wants to go any further,’ Lucy instructed her daughter, ‘that’s perfectly all right above the waist, shall we say? Anything lower down demands an engagement ring first. Those are the rules. Is that clear?’
She’d thought the girl might throw a fit but Bunty only stared at her in obstinate silence, her blue eyes giving away nothing of her feelings on the matter.
‘You must smile, and listen. Being a good listener is so important. There is nothing a man likes more than to talk about himself. It makes him feel that he is the centre of the universe.’ Lucy glanced across at her silent daughter, curled on the window seat, chewing her nails.
‘And do stop that filthy habit. You must appear elegant at all times, and utterly charming. Remember, it does no harm to flirt a little, and to flatter him. It’s vital that you make a man feel good. And should he take a few liberties, then do not squeal in a silly feminine way, or protest, but rather use his interest to make him want you more. Only when he’s panting for you will he suggest marriage. What else do we have to offer except our bodies? Are you listening to me? Do you understand how important it is to please?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Good. He may ask you to stroke his cock. Don’t grimace or show the slightest distaste because really it isn’t unpleasant at all.’ Lucy went on to describe yet more liberties which could be allowed, under the right conditions, as Bunty listened with increasing horror and disgust.
Lucy believed she had succeeded, that progress was being made. But after a second encounter with Timothy Tiffin her daughter’s silence extended for three long days and nights. Quite intolerable. When asked what had occurred to send her into this unnatural decline, the girl refused to speak, remaining mute even at mealtimes and only pecking at her food. Something obviously wasn’t right.
The aunts became concerned too and decided to poke their noses in, wanting to know if Bunty was quite happy about all of these arrangements, if she minded being paraded at tea parties and social events as a prospective spouse.
Irritated by their interference Lucy longed to snap that she didn’t care a jot whether the girl minded or not, but was anxious not to alienate them. The last thing she wanted was for Bunty to get the impression she had only to turn to the aunts and she could escape her duty. They’d made other comments, been somewhat obstructive at times, so it was essential that Lucy should calm their fears and win them round to her way of thinking.
She decided to appeal to their snobbish side, which, for all their high moral tone, was very much a part of their nature.
‘If things had been different, darling Bunty might well have been presented at court, enjoyed a year of being brought out with any number of parties and dances provided for her. Since that can’t now happen, and with the shortage of suitable young men following the war … we must simply make the best of things, must we not?’
‘Oh, indeed,’ Vera agreed.
Cissie said in wistful tones. ‘We were never allowed to be brought out either. It might have made such a difference.’
‘Papa held a dance for us once,’ Vera reminded her. ‘And that young man marked himself for every dance on your card.’
‘Yes,’ Cissie agreed with a sigh. ‘He took me cycling the following Sunday afternoon. Cyril Peckham was his name, I recall. He took rather a shine to me did Cyril, but Papa did not approve. His family were in ironmongery, and strong Methodists, not quite the thing, so I wasn’t allowed to see him any more. At the time I thought it cruel. I was heartbroken, being just a young girl. I had no choice but to obey. Papa was most insistent. Cyril married Barbara Johnstone instead. So sad.’
Vera patted her sister’s hand in a rare demonstration of affection after this unexpected baring of the soul.
‘There you are then,’ said Lucy, well pleased. ‘We must not allow darling Bunty to suffer a similar fate, and with so few young men to choose from we must give her every opportunity to meet new people.’
‘Indeed we must,’ Vera agreed. ‘I thought I might embroider a pretty silk stole to match her blue velvet gown.’
‘Oh, how delightful,’ Cissie agreed. ‘And I shall make a little Dorothy bag to go with it.’
‘What sweeties you both are,’ said Lucy, quite certain she’d have no further trouble with the aunts. And since Bunty too was behaving with a much greater maturity, sulky silence or no, she expected success in her little scheme to follow shortly.
Kate wasted no time in looking for premises and quickly discovered that they couldn’t afford city centre rents. Undeterred, she spread her search wider and found a suitable empty shop on Stretford Road. This was one of the major shopping thoroughfares of Manchester, boasting tailors and dress shops, grocers and furniture emporiums and of course Paulden’s, another famous local department store which drew shoppers from far and wide. It might be slightly off-centre and not quite the most glamorous area of the city but shoppers came here in droves, handy as it was to Oxford Road, and Kate thought it would make an ideal location for their first shop.
She had already decided that there would be another. This was but the beginning. Kate saw no reason why she and Flora shouldn’t own a whole chain of shoe shops right across Manchester. But to have any chance of achieving that, they must get the first one absolutely right. An advertising campaign would be essential, posters giving the bus number that people would need to take to reach them, a small map to pin-point their location perhaps, and most certainly a picture of the shop, or one of their most stylish products.
Toby was in the process of making arrangements for her to visit the warehouses of a couple of suppliers to start placing orders for her initial stock. The idea filled her with excitement and trepidation as Kate hoped eventually to persuade them to make up some of her own designs. For now, she must simply choose the best she could. It was so important to get it right.
Flora, meanwhile, had left school and put the misery of mathematics and geography lessons behind her. Now she was happily choosing the right colour paint for the Art-Deco style she favoured.
‘Not too classy, we don’t want to put folk off. But it should be light and airy, with modern clean lines. I thought blue and grey with perhaps a touch of silver here and there, to brighten it. What do you think, Mammy?’
‘I think it all sounds wonderful.’ Kate agreed, and left her daughter to it as she clearly knew what she was about.
‘Now all I have
to do is tell Theo Ingram that I’m leaving.’
Flora looked at her mother with sympathy. ‘He isn’t going to like that.’
‘You’re right. He isn’t.’
‘Don’t let him bully you into staying.’
‘As if I would!’
Kate began with an apology, saying how sorry she was to let him down but that she was handing in her notice. ‘I’ll be leaving at the end of the week, if that’s convenient?’
She expected Theo to bark that it was not at all convenient, but not for the first time he caught her entirely off balance by seeming not the least concerned. ‘Excellent news! I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear it.’
Kate was dumbfounded. ‘You certainly know how to make a person feel wanted.’
‘Don’t fish for compliments. You’re fully aware that you are wanted, Kate. Has someone made you a better offer? Who?’
‘N-no.’ Why did he always unnerve her? His glittering gaze and cynical manner seemed to imply that he’d known all along what she was about to say, what she was about to do with her life, just as if he had personally planned it. ‘At least, I’m setting up in business on my own. That is, with my daughter Flora. We’re opening a little shop of our own on Stretford Road, so we are.’
Ingram looked momentarily startled and then gave a soft chuckle. ‘So you’re setting up in competition? How very enterprising of you.’
Kate gave a half-smile, thinking maybe she’d surprised him after all. ‘Competition is a strong word. That would be stretching it somewhat, I reckon. I shouldn’t think your customers will even know that we’re even there.’ They would if she had any say in the matter, but it didn’t seem polite to say so.
‘It’s a brave, if not foolhardy thing to do. Some might even say reprehensible to use me to gain the necessary skills and confidence and then set up a shoe store of your own in opposition.’
The Woman From Heartbreak House Page 24
