The Sewing Room Girl

by Susanna Bavin

  ‘In the interests of impartiality, I believe that a move to a new place would start this agreement on the right footing.’

  ‘It so happens we’ve got to move,’ said Juliet. ‘Mrs Gillespie’s landlord has served notice.’ She looked straight at her grandmother, but Adeline didn’t blink, never mind blush.

  ‘That puts the matter beyond argument,’ said Mr Davidson. ‘I know a lady slightly, a Mrs Rosemary Carmichael, who owns property in various parts of Manchester. I have taken the liberty of explaining Miss Harper’s situation to her – that is, Miss Harper’s whole history – and she is prepared to have Miss Harper and Mrs Ramsbottom in one of her houses.’

  ‘You told her everything?’ Juliet said in dismay.

  ‘Indeed, yes, and about Mrs Ramsbottom.’

  ‘And she still wants them?’ sneered Adeline. ‘That tells us something about Mrs Rosemary Carmichael.’

  ‘Mrs Tewson!’ Mr Davidson remonstrated. ‘I have here a list of areas where Mrs Carmichael has property.’

  ‘Let me see,’ said Mr Winterton.

  ‘No!’ said Adeline. ‘Start them from scratch, if you must, but it’s up to them to decide where.’

  ‘But they don’t know Manchester,’ Mr Winterton objected.

  ‘So? Let them find out. It’s all part of running a business.’

  The girls gave the list to William and he suggested Chorlton-cum-Hardy, where the Mersey formed a natural border between Lancashire and Cheshire.

  ‘It’s a reasonable area. There’s poverty, of course, but you’d find that anywhere, and at the other end, there’s the nobs, Lord Egerton and the Kimbers and the Darleys. But what’s good from your point of view is the mixture of upper- and lower-middle class.’

  ‘We need two rooms in the best address we can afford,’ said Juliet. ‘One to live in and one for working.’

  By stretching every penny to snapping point, they moved into two rooms in Mrs Livingston’s house on Wilton Road, where they had a big upstairs front with a bay window, from where they could see over the hedge surrounding the new recreation ground. This was where they worked, and they also had a smaller room above for living in, which was fine until Archie came along.

  ‘Couldn’t we swap the rooms round?’ Cecily suggested.

  ‘I know it’s hard, love, but it’s only while we get ourselves started, I promise. In the meantime, we’ll swap the top floor front for the bigger room at the back.’

  ‘Can we afford to?’

  Juliet kissed goodbye her plan to put their small profit into more stock. ‘We’ll manage.’

  Then a fresh problem hit them. The second-hand clothes sellers Juliet usually bought from refused to sell to her.

  ‘I’ve heard you’re fancying up my stuff and selling it on at a big profit. I don’t like the sound of that.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ Juliet told Cecily and William in bewilderment. ‘What difference does it make to them what I do with what they sell me?’

  ‘You’d think they’d be glad of a regular buyer,’ Cecily agreed.

  Juliet fell quiet. Could it be Adeline?

  ‘Have you heard of estate sales?’ William asked. ‘Imagine someone living in the same house for years, then they die and the relatives take what they want, but what are they to do with the rest, especially if the house has to be handed back within the week? There are businesses that will buy everything, including the contents of the wardrobes.’

  ‘How wasteful!’ Cecily was scandalised. ‘Fancy getting rid like that. Don’t the families need the things?’

  ‘They’re well-off. They’ve got their own things.’

  ‘And if they’re well-off, the clothes will be of high quality.’ Juliet felt excitement stir. She didn’t know whether to let it loose or clamp down on it to avoid disappointment, but it wriggled free anyway and she bounced on her toes.

  The first time she visited one such warehouse, she thought she had died and gone to heaven. She spent blissful hours sifting through garments, many hanging on racks, others still in their wardrobes. She found an array of vastly complicated skirts from twenty-odd years ago, complete with bustles, and she couldn’t tear herself away from a wardrobe of evening dresses. Just to trail her fingers across the velvets, taffetas and shot silks was utter bliss. She even found a crinoline or two, and more pleating, ruching, bows, fringes, flowers, flounces, frills and ruffles than you could shake a stick at.

  ‘And,’ she crowed to Cecily, ‘there was a whole trunk full of false bosoms.’

  ‘Never! You’re making it up.’

  They looked at one another, then dissolved into peals of laughter.

  She had purchased several skirts and jackets, a three-quarter-length cape with quilted silk lining, and – a gamble, yes, but oh, if it paid off! – an evening dress of royal blue, which might please the eye of a particular customer.

  Mrs Plaidy’s appointment was the following day, and the blue gown proved irresistible. Juliet set about the alterations with a light heart. Neither did it end there. The jackets and skirts were snapped up, and a bank manager’s wife wanted mourning clothes. There had been vast amounts of black at the warehouse, and Juliet was delighted to oblige. This led to a recommendation, and another, and the business steadily grew.

  Until the next problem. Unpaid bills. First there was Mrs Cadell, who went away with her purchases and her bill, but didn’t pay by the due date. Juliet gave her an extra week before William helped her compose a polite reminder, by which time, Mrs Hickman and Miss Stoneley were also overdue. To Juliet’s consternation, Mrs Cadell’s reminder was returned, marked Not known at this address. Juliet marched straight round there and discovered that Mrs Cadell indeed wasn’t known.

  Soon there were five customers with fake addresses. Between them, they had ordered fourteen garments, all of which had required alteration. Losing the money was bad enough, but it was the dishonesty that left Juliet and Cecily stunned, on top of which Juliet had to face a quarterly meeting, and there was no chance of hiding what had happened, because the books were always the first things to be examined, with Adeline’s eyes flashing from account book to order book and back again, alert for any discrepancy.

  And, oh lord, what discrepancies there were this time.

  ‘I don’t think we can blame Miss Harper for being taken in by these confidence tricksters,’ Mr Winterton said when Adeline had had a jolly good go at doing precisely that.

  ‘Had she been quicker to pursue the Cadell woman for payment, she would have been on the alert. Look at the money she’s lost. Really, Mr Winterton, isn’t it time to put an end to this pet project of yours? The girl is lurching from one disaster to another.’ She swung round on Juliet. ‘What precautions have you taken to ensure this never happens again?’

  ‘Come, Mrs Tewson,’ Mr Winterton interjected. ‘Who can guard against such an eventuality?’

  ‘Precisely,’ Adeline snapped.

  ‘Actually,’ said Juliet, ‘we have taken precautions. If a new customer is unknown to us, we follow her home.’

  ‘You what?’ Adeline exclaimed while the men stared in appalled silence. ‘You can’t do that.’

  She shrugged. ‘Given the circumstances.’

  ‘Not only is she on the verge of bankruptcy, she’s following her customers.’ Adeline turned to the magistrate. ‘What more proof do you require? Put her under my authority and let that be the end of it.’

  Juliet’s heartbeats counted the time as Mr Davidson considered.

  ‘It’s an exaggeration to talk about the verge of bankruptcy. Let Miss Harper proceed for another quarter. I don’t like this idea of following customers, but it’s difficult to see what else could be done, and at least she’s doing something.’

  Following the customers didn’t continue for more than a few weeks, much to Juliet’s relief. There were no more Mrs Cadells, and she decided it was safe to go back to normal, which she duly reported at the next meeting. Adeline made a dismissive humphing sound, and Juliet wondered whethe
r her grandmother had been behind the problem women. She gazed at Mr Winterton, willing him to wonder the same thing and challenge Adeline, but he didn’t.

  At the end of the meeting, Adeline ordered Juliet to bring with her next time all the sketches she had made to show customers how something would look when finished.

  ‘It’s important that the quality of her work is overseen,’ she told the two men.

  Juliet duly produced her sketches, expecting Adeline to look them over on the spot, but she spared them barely a glance. At the end of the meeting, she took them as she got up to leave.

  ‘Wait!’ Juliet cried. ‘What about my sketches?’

  ‘You’ll get them back next time.’

  She turned to Mr Winterton. ‘She wants my designs for herself.’

  An eyebrow climbed up Adeline’s brow. ‘Perhaps, Mr Winterton, you would care to explain to your protégée the meaning of slander.’

  Mr Winterton gave Juliet a look of annoyance. It was one of those moments that popped up every now and again, when she thought he might be about to wash his hands of her.

  ‘There is another possibility, however,’ Adeline continued. ‘I suggest we test the quality of her work by requiring her to create three designs per quarter. If they’re good enough, I’ll use them for Tewson’s Tailor-mades. If not, it will raise questions concerning her ability in her chosen line of work.’

  It was agreed, and the meeting ended. Juliet was too taken aback to absorb it. It was only later that anger set in. She was going to design for Adeline. Twelve designs a year – and they had to be good or her business, her independence, her whole way of life would be at risk.

  That was how things had been ever since. To rub it in yet further, Adeline hadn’t paid her. When she had dared to raise the question, Adeline pointed out in a voice dripping with condescension, ‘The purpose is to determine whether you may keep working or should be shut down. If anyone should be paid, it is I, for providing my judgement.’

  Today, however, would see the final meeting. Just some papers to sign, and a visit to the savings bank to put her signature against her savings at long last, and that would be the end of it.

  No, not the end. The beginning.

  Adeline marched up the steps into the offices of the magistrates’ court. This was supposed to be the final meeting. Well, not if she could help it. Mr Davidson and Mr Winterton were waiting in the usual room. They came politely to their feet as she swept in. The chit stood up as well. Adeline had that effect. She had no need to look at the clock to know she was dead on time. The others had arrived early so as not to keep her waiting – she had that effect too.

  A table was ready. Adeline and Mr Winterton sat opposite one another like the adversaries they were, one to either side of Mr Davidson at the head of the table, while the chit sat tucked away at the far end, as befitted her status – wait, no, she wasn’t in her customary place. Adeline’s eyebrows climbed as the girl took a place on Mr Winterton’s side of the table. Adeline was about to frame a scathing comment that would send her scuttling back where she belonged, but Mr Winterton spoke first.

  ‘I’ve invited Miss Harper to sit beside me, as this is somewhat of a special occasion, being the day of her coming of age.’

  ‘Here we are for the final time,’ said Mr Davidson.

  ‘Designs,’ said Adeline.

  ‘I haven’t brought any,’ the chit said quietly.

  ‘What?’ Anger was followed so swiftly by delight that Adeline felt as though firecrackers were exploding inside her. ‘There we are, then. The agreement has been broken.’

  ‘One moment,’ said Mr Davidson. ‘Why haven’t you provided designs, Miss Harper? You know you’re required to.’

  ‘Not today, surely? The designs were done so my grandmother could report back as to their success or otherwise, but as this is the last meeting, there can be no need for her to report back in the future.’

  Adeline snorted. ‘The purpose of the designs was to prove her ability. Whether this is the final meeting is irrelevant.’

  ‘Mrs Tewson,’ Mr Davidson said, ‘have Miss Harper’s designs been of good quality?’

  ‘And have you used them at Tewson’s Tailor-mades?’ Mr Winterton added.

  There were times when Adeline wished she could breathe fire. ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘So, nothing to worry about in terms of Miss Harper’s ability,’ said Mr Davidson.

  ‘The point is that she should have provided designs today. Are you going to be taken in by that poppycock about my reporting back? For her not to bring designs shows her slapdash attitude. She lacks the steady character necessary to run a business.’

  ‘I’m inclined,’ said Mr Davidson, ‘to overlook the matter of new designs. I believe Miss Harper has proved herself more than capable in that area.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Mr Winterton added.

  The meeting moved on. The chit produced her accounts. Adeline pored over them, but they were immaculate. The meeting moved inevitably to a close. Well, although it didn’t appear on the agenda, there was one matter left, if anyone remembered, and Adeline certainly wasn’t going to offer a reminder.

  ‘That brings this meeting to an end,’ Mr Davidson said, ‘unless there is any other business …?’ He was already tidying his papers.

  ‘Actually, there is something else.’ The chit had the gall to meet Adeline’s gaze. ‘My money. I’m still owed payment from when I worked for you in the belief I was designing for Ingleby’s, and there’s also what I earned sewing for Mrs Maddox.’

  ‘I don’t carry that kind of money on my person,’ Adeline stated grandly. ‘There will have to be a further meeting next quarter.’

  Today was moving day. Garden Cottage was a sturdy house opposite Chorlton Green, with a door in the centre, window either side, two windows above. ‘Like a child’s picture,’ Cecily had exclaimed delightedly when they saw it for the first time. ‘When Archie draws that picture, he’ll be drawing a real place.’

  It was a busy morning. Helped by Mrs Livingston and a couple of neighbours, not to mention Archie, Cecily moved their things. She wanted to get their new home shipshape before Juliet returned from her meeting.

  ‘I can’t get over how lucky we are,’ Cecily told Mrs Livingston for the umpteenth time.

  Everything had happened so smoothly that she felt it was meant to be. They had decided ages ago to leave Mrs Livingston’s once Juliet turned twenty-one. Mrs Livingston was the sort of landlady lodgers dreamt of, and she loved Archie almost as much as they did. A competent needlewoman, she even sewed for them. But her house felt inseparable from the agreement, and the girls longed to leave that behind.

  Mrs Tewson didn’t know they were moving, neither did Mr Winterton.

  ‘It won’t put you in an awkward position, will it?’ Juliet had asked William.

  He grinned. ‘You don’t imagine old Winterton passes the time of day with plebs like me, do you? And if he did, he wouldn’t discuss a client’s business.’

  ‘Is Juliet a client?’ Cecily asked, impressed.

  ‘Sort of.’

  Out of gratitude to Mrs Livingston, they gave her heaps more notice than necessary, and had spent many a happy hour poring over advertisements for rented property and visiting various places, anxious to see what they could afford. Then Mr Kenyon, the rent man, popped in to see them, having heard of their plans from Mrs Livingston, and offered to show them another of Mrs Carmichael’s properties, Garden Cottage, which was due to fall vacant at the right time.

  For Cecily, it was love at first sight.

  ‘One of the front rooms will be the sewing room,’ said Juliet, ‘though it’s smaller than the sewing room we’ve got at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, but the garden is so pretty,’ Cecily cried, leaping to the cottage’s defence. ‘Imagine our ladies seeing that when they come. We can have our own parlour, and a bedroom each. Even the rent is perfect.’

  ‘I’m sure it should be higher. We must make sure there hasn’t
been a mistake.’

  But Mr Kenyon assured them that the moderate rent was indeed correct.

  ‘Then we’ll take it,’ Cecily had cried at once, and the next moment she and Juliet were hugging one another.

  By the time Juliet came home from the meeting, all their things had been moved. Not that they possessed much. They hadn’t owned any furniture until the last few days, when they had purchased a few essentials second-hand. Mrs Livingston had pressed a couple of pieces on them as well.

  By that evening, they had got everything straight.

  ‘Shall we hang the laburnum picture in the parlour?’ asked Cecily.

  This will have pride of place on our parlour wall one day. Juliet made herself smile. ‘Yes. That would be just right.’

  Archie suddenly collapsed in a heap, and remained dead to the world while they undressed him and put him to bed. They sat downstairs, lingering over a light supper of cheese and pickle.

  ‘Not exactly a birthday feast,’ said Cecily.

  ‘Trust me. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.’

  ‘How did the meeting go? There hasn’t been a moment to ask.’

  ‘Who cares? It was the last one and that’s what matters.’

  ‘How was Mrs Tewson?’

  ‘Simmering, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Better than exploding.’

  ‘She did that a couple of times.’ Juliet described what had happened.

  ‘There’s going to be another meeting?’

  ‘No. You should have seen Mr Winterton’s face. I think he’d have throttled Mr Davidson if he’d agreed. But both of them were as desperate as I was for it all to be over, you could tell.’

  ‘What about the money?’

  ‘My grandmother is going to send it to Mr Winterton, and I’ll collect it.’

  ‘Did you mention moving?’

  ‘No fear. Mr Winterton will know soon enough when I write to thank him for everything he’s done, but if the old battle-axe gets to hear of it, it won’t be from me.’

  Cecily laughed. ‘We’ll hear bloodhounds baying at the moon and we’ll know she’s found us.’