by Jane Tulloch
“Yes,” Audrey allowed. “But there’s fussy and fussy.”
“What do you mean by that?” countered Miss Cunningham.
“Well, she’s had so many chances, I mean really nice attractive blokes, with money and everything.” She hesitated as she looked at Miss Cunningham taking in her thunderous expression, “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, it’s not like no one decent was interested in you or anything.”
Aware she was in a hole, she stopped digging but not before Miss Cunningham took even more offence.
“Well I don’t know what you’re implying.” She sniffed. “I’ve certainly had my chances with nice good-looking men. Look at my John,” she said boldly, then hesitated. They all looked down. Audrey, without thinking, seized the moment.
“Yes, but we don’t count married men.”
Mrs Ritchie cut in, saying kindly: “That was a most unfortunate situation. How was Sheila to know until the wife came in and made that awful scene?”
By a general unspoken consensus the conversation moved on to less controversial topics and the coffee break eased to a close. The women returned to their various departments, chatting relatively pleasantly as they passed down the staff stairs, each peeling off as they reached their floor. However, umbrage had been taken and wrath would continue to be nursed by Sheila. Audrey resolved to make some sort of recompense but couldn’t be sure how to tactfully make it up to her friend. Evelyn’s unmarried state slipped from their minds.
Evelyn was devoted to her work but it was only a part of her life. She regularly visited her sisters and their families and was known to be a reliable member of her local community. She was counted on by her elderly neighbours and did their weekend shopping for them. Sometimes she gave them a lift to church on Sundays and joined them for lunch afterwards. She was a keen member of the church choir where she enjoyed singing the alto parts of some of the more ambitious anthems. Mr Henderson, the choirmaster, was a previous swain and still pined after her a little particularly during the touching solo ‘He Shall Feed His Flock’ in the choir’s annual rendition of Messiah. The relatively new Mrs Henderson would pin him with a look at these times as she viewed proceedings from her place as she sat turning the pages for the organist. Evelyn would sing on, blissfully unaware.
Several times a year Evelyn would go on holiday. Usually she joined a tour group rather than go with a friend. She had explained to the canteen crowd that she enjoyed meeting new people and liked the fact that everything was arranged for her by a travel company.
She would return tanned and even more attractive sporting the latest accessories from Italy or France or wherever her travels had taken her. She would regale her friends with tales of a Jack, a Terry or a Steven, for example, and kept them enthralled telling about her romantic evening walks or intimate dinners with one or other of them. She soft-pedalled over the interminable coach journeys and frosty silences with the respective mothers of the aforementioned Jacks, Terrys or Stevens or what it was about men in their forties and fifties that led them to holiday with their mothers. However, she enjoyed her ‘little hols’ as she called them and always had one booked up to look forward to. Her friends were unaware of the little pension that enabled such treats and speculated as to how she could afford them. Evelyn would just smile and say that she was good at saving.
“Must be bloody good at it,” fumed Sheila. “That’s all I can say!” The others would grudgingly concur and later, when at home, would fruitlessly go over their budgets in fine detail to try to find any potential savings they could make from their modest Murrays salary.
While Evelyn usually joined her friends in the canteen at break she did sometimes indulge herself in a small harmless pastime. Harmless though it was, she did not want it to become common knowledge for it was potentially embarrassing. Her single state was proudly borne most of the time but there still lingered a tiny regret: she had never been a bride. To someone whose personal appearance was so important and who so much enjoyed choosing and wearing various accessories, shoes, hats, jewellery and so on this was a painful missed opportunity. She avidly read bridal magazines and articles in the press about this year’s styles of wedding dress, the fashion in veils or tiaras and the right sort of shoe to wear. She would sigh over descriptions of sumptuous wedding breakfasts and fabulous floral displays: the whole pomp and panoply of the nuptial ritual was her main interest and specialist subject. It was tragic that this had to remain secret and that, somehow, she had never become a candidate for the starring role that she so yearned for.
It was ironic then that shortly after she became head of department in Toys, Murrays opened a Bridal section within the Model Gowns department. She naturally applied for a job there but had become by this time such a knowledgeable member of staff in Toys that she really couldn’t be spared to another department. She swallowed her considerable disappointment and decided to befriend the new staff there. At least in that way she could visit and marvel over the wonderful designer bridal dresses and accessories.
After some months she was on such good terms with Susan Smith, the newly appointed Bridal department sales assistant that she regularly joined her for lunch. Evelyn would encourage Susan to discuss her new stock and latest dress styles. Details would be exchanged about the latest bridal dramas too: which bride unexpectedly no longer fitted the dress she had ordered a few months before, emergency repairs to lace torn off in a fit of pique by a temperamental customer, the sad return of a dress by a bride left at the altar. All human life was there.
The Bridal department was a great success and soon more staff had to be taken on. Susan needed someone to cover for her breaks and Mr Da Costa was considered to be too much of a liability to sensitive brides to be allowed to do this. There had already been some unfortunate incidents. His famed honesty, which was so highly valued by his older customers, did not go down well with young brides of a fragile nature. For this reason Tina was employed. She was straight out of school but was well-spoken and interested in people. She worked well with Susan and was able to laugh off Mr Da Costa’s remarks about her frizzy hair. Not a glamorous girl, it was fair to say that no bride would feel threatened by Tina’s reflection in the mirror behind her as they both viewed the picture presented in it of a bride in all her finery. She was hard-working and friendly and tried her very best to make all the brides feel really special. They both did. Susan and Tina were always thrilled when brides brought in their wedding photographs to show them. Some brides and their mothers brought in or even sent chocolates to thank the two women who had tried so hard – sometimes against considerable odds – to make the brides look wonderful on their big days.
“I love working here,” breathed Tina one day. “It’s just lovely dressing people up and finding just the right dress for them.”
“Yes, it’s nice to be appreciated too,” added Susan. “It’s a happy time for most people and it’s a pleasure to be involved in the whole thing.”
Occasionally, for a very special wedding involving a particularly nice family, if the wedding was on a Saturday afternoon, Susan and Tina would go along to the church and sit in the back row. They enjoyed marvelling at their work now come to life. Sometimes they were the recipients of a smile of recognition from a surprised but radiant bride as she marched up the aisle with an inevitably slightly disappointing groom.
Evelyn loved hearing all the stories from the Bridal department. She would visit often and examine minutely the silk, organza, chiffon and lace creations rustling softly in their glass cases. One day, quite suddenly, her heart gave an unexpected beat as she spotted a particular dress: it was ‘The One’. Of Italian design, it was in ecru with a fitted bodice flaring out into a bell-shaped skirt of Belgian lace. It looked antique but was actually manufactured in Turin. It was eye-wateringly expensive.
Susan saw her friend hesitate over the dress and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked, leaning towards her.
“Yes. Fine.”
Evelyn cleared her throat. “It’s just, it’s just, it’s the one.” She sighed tearfully. “You know, if I was ever going to be, to get, you know what I mean,” she finished feebly.
Susan did know and her heart went out to her. “Oh Evelyn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you felt like this. Is there anything I could do?”
Evelyn turned quickly and looked at her, her hand still resting fondly on the soft folds of the dress. “Do you think I could, I mean would it be possible to…” she nodded indicating the dress.
“Try it on, you mean?” Susan looked at her watch. No one was booked in for a fitting for an hour. “Don’t see why not.” She reached in and lifted out the dress carefully to avoid crushing the layers of lace. The two women with a glance over their shoulders moved towards the changing rooms. They entered the main one. It was the largest, almost the size of a room and with floor-length mirrors on two sides. Comfortable chairs were provided to accommodate mothers of brides, bridesmaids and associated bridal hangers on. After hanging the dress up carefully Susan flopped down into one of the chairs looking at Evelyn expectantly. Evelyn eyed her warily.
“Are you going to stay?” she asked.
“Well yes, I usually do,” came the reply. “People often need a hand with zips or buttons and I like to set the skirts straight but I can leave you to it if you think you’ll manage.” She cast a professional eye over the back of the dress. “Should be OK with this one but give me a shout if you need me to do the zip up and for God’s sake be careful – it’s one of our most expensive dresses,” was her departing comment. Some people were very modest, she thought, as she left the room.
In the changing room Evelyn quickly divested herself of her skirt and blouse. Looking doubtfully at her underwear in the mirror she was glad that Susan had left. Deftly she lifted the dress over her head and let it settle around her. She shrugged her shoulders into the top and twitched the skirt down. Not letting herself see her reflection until she was quite ready she turned away as she reached behind her to pull up the neatly inset zip. Unfortunately it didn’t quite go up all the way. She called out to Susan “OK you can come in now. I can’t get this zip up and I don’t want to force it.”
Susan pushed aside the curtains at the entrance and moved towards her, frowning slightly she grasped the zip. It didn’t give. It looked like the dress would have had to be altered to fit Evelyn’s surprisingly wide waist if she had been a real customer. A real bride. She grasped the two sides together and commanded Evelyn to turn round and look at herself in the mirror. She did so. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh it’s so lovely. I’m so lovely. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” said Susan sympathetically giving her a slight hug while remaining wary of crushing the delicate fabric. “It’s a shame. I don’t know what’s wrong with men!” she exclaimed. “You’re so lovely. They don’t know what they’re missing.” She passed Evelyn a tissue to wipe away her tears.
With a last sniff Evelyn turned round. “Thanks. I’ll take it off now. Do you mind?” She nodded to indicate that Susan should leave the room. Surprised, Susan eased the dress from Evelyn’s shoulders and wordlessly walked away pulling the curtain closed behind her. She reasoned with herself that maybe Evelyn hadn’t been expecting to disrobe in front of anyone so wasn’t wearing exactly her very best underwear. We all have articles of underwear like that, she thought. She was probably too embarrassed for someone to see them. She went back to her desk and opened a magazine.
Evelyn emerged soon after leaving the dress in the changing room. She left the department with a quick “Thanks, Susan,” cast over her shoulder. Susan looked after her disappearing figure thoughtfully.
After that first time it became a regular event for Evelyn to try on wedding dresses. She liked to view the new seasons’ offerings and would sometimes choose two or even three to try on at a session. She had her own special satin shoes now, which she kept in her locker. It was still a strictly secret activity and Susan loyally maintained full confidentiality. All went well for many months until Susan’s annual trip to Devon with her husband and family. Tina, left in charge, was filled with pride at the responsibility. Evelyn too was on one of her holidays but their fortnights overlapped and she returned a week before Susan. She wasn’t aware that Susan was still away when she went down to Bridal during her lunch break. She couldn’t wait to see the new stock which might have arrived since she had been away. There was no one in the department. Tina had been taking a dress up to the seamstress to have it let out: an emergency job for a bride who had let herself go in the euphoria of her engagement.
Evelyn quickly scanned the flouncy billows of fabric in the display cases and rapidly selected an unusual one in palest pink silk. Quite a departure for Murrays she thought to herself. Wonder who will buy that? Must ask Susan to keep me informed about that one. Entering the changing room she hung it up quickly and, too quickly, stripped off her clothes. At that point Tina returned to the department. Hearing a small sound from the changing rooms she pushed aside the velvet curtain and went in to be confronted with by far the biggest shock of her whole life. Staring back at her in horror was Miss Paterson or, to be more anatomically accurate, Mr Paterson.
Tina’s screaming brought staff running from several departments. Mr Da Costa from Model Gowns was first to arrive. He rapidly summed up the situation and pushed Tina out of the changing room. Walking out into the department he told the assembled would-be rescuers “Don’t panic, it’s just a man trying on dresses. He’ll be out in a minute. I’ll direct him to Menswear.” His matter of fact and commanding manner disarmed them and they straggled back to their departments muttering. It wasn’t until they really thought about it that they wished they had stayed to see this phenomenon as he emerged.
‘Miss Paterson’ refused to leave the changing room unable to contemplate how to retrieve the situation. However, Mr Da Costa, as ever following the rules, phoned Mrs Pegram at Personnel and outlined the problem. She was down in the department in minutes. She had a word with the still-stunned Tina then despatched her home under strict orders not to discuss the situation with anyone. Mrs Pegram then entered the changing room where Evelyn sat despondently, now back in her Murray’s uniform. Her story spilled out: she had always felt that she was a girl, her sisters had been supportive of this and, after appalling school experiences and the death of her parents while working abroad, she had resolved to embrace her underlying personality and be a girl. Visits to successive doctors over the years had proved unhelpful and she had just decided to dress as, be, and remain Miss Paterson: Edward became Evelyn. There had been some soul searching about the company pension but the sisters had all agreed that the company owed the little family something after losing their parents so young while in the company’s service in India.
“It’s not as if I’m doing anyone any harm,” she sobbed. “My sisters know and they don’t tell anyone. I think they’re so used to me by now that they don’t even think about it.”
“Quite right and that’s as it should be dear,” reassured Mrs Pegram. “I don’t see that it’s anyone else’s business. I’m not going to tell anyone and I’ll make sure that Tina won’t either. Now get yourself organised and get back out there. No one suspects a thing. Seriously.” She said it firmly to emphasise the point.
With a final gulp Evelyn set to and dried her tears. She quickly and efficiently brushed her hair into its usual style, took a deep breath and stepped out into the department, consciously leaving her precious satin wedding shoes behind. Mrs Pegram was waiting for her “Ah, there you are, Miss Paterson. How lucky you were on hand to help out.” She said loudly for the benefit of staff from Model Gowns and the adjoining Fur department who might have been listening. Everyone went back to work.
If Susan was surprised when she returned to work at her friend’s sudden loss of interest in wedding dresses she never mentioned it. Tina left Murrays having decided that after her experiences working there she felt prepared for a life at sea
. Susan was sorry to see her go but, after a discussion with Mrs Pegram, quite saw her point. She remained good friends with Miss Paterson.
Chapter 12
A Day at the Races
In no sense could Christine be considered a conventionally attractive young woman. To give an idea of the general effect of her combination of features it might help to say that she was commonly known to her colleagues in the Ladies Separates department as ‘Horse of the Year’. This nickname, though undoubtedly unkind, was accepted, albeit reluctantly, by Christine who always made the best of things. She had a kindly disposition and, in her efforts to look on the bright side, she told herself that she was only given a nickname as a token of affection by her friends. She was indeed very tall and somewhat ungainly with large feet, bony knees and a noticeably long face. Her large soulful brown eyes fringed with long lashes only seemed to add to the generally equine impression. She tended to crouch a little to minimise her height and the effect of this, with her unusual walk to allow for her extraordinarily large feet, led to her appearing, when hurrying, to be galloping along. The least tactful of staff members, keen to give others a laugh, would sometimes make clip-clop noises when she passed. The person who laughed loudest and most heartily was Christine herself. Her laugh, like her voice, was mellifluous. In fact, apart from her kindly personality, her voice was her one saving grace: it was deep and musical and held the promise of something intangible but definitely desirable, perhaps laughter but perhaps something else. The buyer always made sure that Christine handled telephone calls, particularly if they were from customers known to be awkward. She charmed them all.
