The Sewing Room Girl

by Susanna Bavin

  There were no baying hounds, but there was a moment’s warning. Alone in the cottage, Juliet was at work on a new blouse for herself, with a stand-up collar and a generous V in the front that ran from shoulders to waist, which she intended to infill with lace. This was to be her working blouse, something pretty and stylish that showed her ability with the needle. Glancing up, she spied Adeline at the gate. She dashed to the front door and shot the bolt, a childish gesture, but when the handle turned as Adeline attempted to march straight in, she was glad of it. The knocker banged. She waited before she answered it.

  The instant the door started to open, Adeline barged in and through the first door she saw, which took her into the sewing room. Juliet had barely entered the room before Adeline rounded on her.

  ‘Did you imagine I wouldn’t find you? I found you easily enough the last time you ran away. Evidently you lack the intellect to have learnt from that experience.’

  ‘We didn’t run away. As soon as I reached twenty-one, without falling flat on my face in spite of all the difficulties that came my way, Cecily and I were free to do as we liked.’

  ‘Ah yes, that slut you call a friend. Why Mr Winterton persisted in viewing her as an appropriate companion and colleague is beyond me. But I see now that she has her uses. Tell me: is it the landlord she’s dropping her drawers for, or the rent man? It must be one or the other, or how else could you afford this house?’

  She forced herself to rise above the monstrous slur. ‘We can afford it because the business is doing well.’

  ‘Not that well, it isn’t. I’ve seen the books, don’t forget. Well, if it isn’t the slut, it must be you. Please don’t waste my time with a pretence of outrage. I haven’t forgotten having to pluck you from the gutter.’

  She fought to take control. ‘If you’ve said everything you came to say, please leave.’

  ‘Don’t imagine you’ll get away with this.’

  ‘Why not? We coped with everything else you tried to do to us.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Adeline said grandly and swept out, leaving the door wide open.

  ‘Be grateful you didn’t have a customer with you,’ said Cecily. It was easy for her to shrug it off because Juliet hadn’t repeated Adeline’s offensive remarks. She was determined not to dwell on it. She loved their new home, was thrilled and proud that they could afford such a pretty cottage. It was excellent for the business too. Their customers commented favourably, and new ladies arrived, attracted by the newspaper advertisement they had laboured over. Such was demand that they often called upon Mrs Livingston’s services, and her presence at Garden Cottage became a regular feature.

  Best of all, Juliet began to visit a higher class of lady at home. Mrs Arnold, the bank manager’s wife, made appointments at Garden Cottage, but Mrs Palmer, whose husband was something high up in the same establishment, was waited on at home. ‘The snob trade’, Cecily called it, but Juliet loved it. It made her picture Mother sewing for Lady Margaret. Not that any of Juliet’s at-home ladies were on a par with her ladyship, but Hand-finished by Harper was going up in the world.

  ‘It’s a good job your mum taught you to speak properly,’ Cecily observed.

  ‘That’s because she had elocution lessons when she was young. My grandmother knew she’d have to speak nicely if she was going to have her own salon.’

  ‘And now here you are rubbing shoulders with the nobs. I know I call them the snob trade, but I am proud of you. You’ve turned your business into a success.’

  ‘Our business,’ Juliet corrected her.

  ‘Not deep down. If I was mown down by a runaway horse, would the business continue? Yes, it would. But if you were mown down … See?’

  ‘Oh, Cecily, you don’t feel—’

  ‘Jolly lucky is how I feel. I wouldn’t be bringing up my son in a place like this without Hand-finished by Harper. This has given me the chance to be respectable. Every morning when I wake up, I think how lucky we are to have Garden Cottage.’

  Discussing Garden Cottage’s many merits was one of Cecily’s favourite conversations.

  ‘And you could spit from here to the school,’ said Juliet on one occasion.

  Cecily groaned. ‘Don’t say that. I don’t want him to be old enough for school.’

  Juliet didn’t reply. All of a sudden she couldn’t. Her feeling for Constance had subsided to a quiet ache, but there were moments when it swelled to an anguish so intense she couldn’t breathe. All she could think was that Constance, five months Archie’s senior, would start school when he did, and Juliet hadn’t seen her since she was newborn. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like now. Or at least, she could imagine, because didn’t she gaze at little girls all the time to help her keep pace with her daughter’s development? But it wasn’t the same as knowing. And she couldn’t let go of that painfully precious memory of the tiny baby that would for ever be the only real image in her hungry heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The rumour came as a huge shock. The first Juliet knew of it was when two or three of her ladies cancelled appointments. She didn’t think anything of it, but then others did the same. No reasons were given, and she was left bemused and anxious.

  It was Mrs Palmer who spoke out.

  ‘I shan’t require your services after all,’ she said in a chilly voice when Juliet went to her grand house off Palatine Road to measure her for a coat. ‘I’ve heard that that young woman who works with you is no better than she should be.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ Juliet exclaimed.

  ‘From Mrs Baker-Johnson.’

  ‘But didn’t she recommend me to you?’

  ‘Indeed, and now she is trying to undo the recommendation.’

  ‘By spreading rumours,’ Juliet stated flatly.

  ‘I’m not interested in rumours. I’m interested in the truth. If what I’ve heard is true, I require you to quit my house immediately. Furthermore, I’ll inform other ladies of my acquaintance. So – is it true?’

  ‘No, madam,’ Juliet said with quiet dignity.

  ‘Then you’d better set about proving it,’ advised Mrs Palmer. ‘Otherwise your business will be ruined. When you’ve proved it, you may return. Until then I don’t want to see you – and neither will any lady of quality.’

  ‘But how can we prove it?’ Especially since the rumour was true.

  ‘There’s a little boy, isn’t there? Rumour has it that it says Father unknown on the birth certificate.’

  She didn’t allow so much as a flicker to cross her face. ‘Thank you for telling me. Business has dropped off recently, but we’d no idea why.’

  Mrs Palmer sniffed. ‘Good day, Miss Harper. I shan’t see you again unless this unfortunate matter is dealt with to the satisfaction of the ladies who are currently feeling let down and bamboozled by you and your … associate.’

  ‘Do you suppose my grandmother is behind it?’ Juliet wondered. ‘We blamed her for everything else, though we never had a shred of proof. But what could she gain from it? The agreement’s over. She can’t make me go back.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks you’ll end up begging her for a job,’ Cecily suggested.

  ‘Never!’ said Juliet. ‘I’m going to see her.’

  On the doorstep in West Didsbury, her heart almost misgave her. She hadn’t been here since Adeline had removed her from Mrs Gillespie’s. She had an odd, cold feeling that if she crossed the threshold, she might not come out again, but that was plain barmy, so she pulled the bell and tried to quell her suddenly rapid heartbeats.

  When she was admitted to her presence, she made a point of surging in and having the first word, which she was sure would have been Adeline’s own tactics.

  ‘There’s a rumour that’s damaging my business. I think you started it.’

  ‘Good afternoon to you too,’ replied Adeline. ‘Marching in here, raising your voice. They didn’t teach you much about courtesy at that lord’s place, did they?’

  ‘Answer th
e question.’

  ‘You haven’t asked one.’

  She pressed her lips together. ‘Did you start the rumour?’

  ‘A rumour? How intriguing. What’s being said? It’s difficult to see how it could be worse than the truth.’

  ‘Someone is spreading a rumour that Archie is illegitimate.’

  ‘Archie?’

  ‘You know perfectly well who he is.’

  ‘The slut’s brat. Well now, that’s an interesting point. Are you correct in calling it a rumour when it’s actually true?’

  ‘Did you start it? That’s all I want to know. I’m sure you did.’

  ‘If you’re sure, why are you asking?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve done other things too – those women with false addresses, Mrs Gillespie getting kicked out of her house. You did all that – and more.’

  ‘Did I?’ Adeline’s eyes gleamed. ‘This is becoming more intriguing by the minute. You’re dismissing the truth as rumour, and you’re making serious accusations with no proof. Your grip on reality leaves something to be desired.’

  She fumed. She had come here all het up, ready for a battle royal, and Adeline was making mincemeat of her simply by being her usual patronising self. It was unendurable.

  ‘It so happens my solicitor is in the drawing room,’ Adeline continued. ‘Would you care to repeat your slander in front of him? It would make things so much more straightforward, should I wish to take you to court.’

  Juliet turned on her heel.

  ‘Leaving already? But I’m sure you haven’t said half what you came to say. One moment, girl. When your business dries up, and it will, your room will be waiting. I’ll give Marjorie instructions.’

  Two weeks later, with more cancellations behind them and no work in front of them, Juliet and Cecily were in despair. It looked like the end. It was hard to bear after everything they had been through to get this far.

  Mrs Palmer sent a postcard, requesting Juliet to call on her.

  ‘What does she want?’ Cecily asked, the gloom in her voice edged with fear.

  ‘She doesn’t say. She’ll probably ask for Archie’s birth certificate.’

  Cecily winced and the little vertical frown lines that had gouged their way between her brows in recent weeks deepened, but she held her head up. ‘What will you say?’

  ‘I’ll say it’s beneath our dignity to cave in to the rumour-mongers.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking. If I were to leave, you could start again.’

  ‘You don’t imagine I’d let you take my nephew away, do you? Whatever we do, we’ll do it together.’

  But Mrs Palmer astonished her by saying, ‘Your reputation has been saved, thanks to Mrs Carmichael. She personally visited Mrs Baker-Johnson to set her mind at rest. Shall I stand up to be measured?’

  Juliet was so surprised that it took her a moment to twig what Mrs Palmer was saying. ‘I haven’t brought my work basket.’

  ‘Why else would I send for you? Never mind. I expect one of my staff can produce a tape measure. Ring the bell.’

  When she got home with her news, Cecily was as baffled as she was. They couldn’t wait till rent day so they could ask Mr Kenyon.

  ‘Mrs Livingston told me, and I told Mrs Carmichael, and she made it her business to look into the matter, her being your landlady. I’ll be sure to pass on your appreciation.’

  ‘Please do, Mr Kenyon.’

  When he had gone, they looked at one another.

  ‘Well!’ said Cecily. ‘What an extraordinary person she is.’

  ‘She’s obviously decided to take us under her wing. She knows the truth, remember, because Mr Davidson told her.’

  ‘Perhaps something bad happened to her years ago and she knows from personal experience how hard it can be when your reputation is in tatters,’ Cecily speculated, ‘so now she helps girls like us because she understands.’

  Juliet groaned, and chucked a cushion at her. ‘Honestly! You sound like a story out of Vera’s Voice.’

  Christmas wasn’t long away, and Mrs Palmer required a new gown. There wasn’t much time, but Juliet was determined to fulfil the order. Their old customers were sticking their heads over the parapet and they had resolved not to let down a single one, even if they didn’t sleep a wink between now and Christmas Eve.

  As well as a gown for herself, Mrs Palmer had decided to treat her two married daughters, Mrs Thomas and Mrs Furnivall.

  ‘My husband has met Sir Henry Darley, who recently came into the baronetcy,’ Mrs Palmer informed Juliet at the first fitting. ‘We’ll be among a select few whom he is having to dine at Darley Court in the middle of December, so I’ll need this gown for that. Then we’re entertaining on Boxing Day, and I hope Sir Henry can be persuaded to join us.’

  ‘That would be a tremendous feather in your cap, Mama,’ declared Sally-Ann Thomas with a broad wink at Juliet, which Juliet affected not to notice. Honestly, the familiarity with which some ladies treated their seamstress! And these same ladies would be outraged if the seamstress took the liberty of responding in kind. ‘It’s a good job Emily and I are married or you’d be lining us up for Sir Henry’s inspection.’

  ‘And where would be the harm in that? It would be most agreeable to have a title in the family.’

  Sally-Ann shuddered ostentatiously. ‘In that case, I’m glad I’m unavailable. That’s one family I wouldn’t care to marry into. The Darleys are cursed.’

  ‘Cursed?’ Liberty or no, Juliet had to ask.

  ‘Yes,’ beamed Sally-Ann.

  ‘No,’ said Mrs Palmer repressively.

  ‘Only think of it, Mama,’ Sally-Ann burbled. ‘The last four baronets have all died tragically.’

  ‘No, they haven’t. Sir Clement and the boy, I grant you, but not Sir John. You can’t call it a tragedy when a soldier dies, and certainly not old Sir Michael. He was ninety if he was a day, and he slipped away in his sleep.’

  ‘Ah, but his tragedy happened long ago, losing his wife and son in childbirth.’ Sally-Ann turned to Juliet. ‘After Sir Michael, the title went to a nephew or cousin or something, and that was Sir Clement. He died in a motor accident, which was ironic because he was on his way to – or was it from? – a motor show, of all things, down south.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ muttered Mrs Palmer. ‘We never had any need in my day for landau shows.’

  ‘So then his young son inherited, only that didn’t last five minutes because he was carried off by the scarlet, and after that it was Sir John, who’d been in the army, man and boy, all his life. He was abroad and never once saw Darley Court in all the time he was baronet, poor fellow.’

  ‘You make it sound as though he was baronet for decades,’ her mother said drily. ‘There can’t have been more than three of four years between Sir Clement’s death and his.’

  ‘Sir John died at Omdurman two or three months ago,’ Sally-Ann finished. Her eyes were sparkling so much that you’d never guess she’d been relating one death after another.

  ‘There.’ Juliet stood back. ‘Is that comfortable, madam? Then, if you’ll kindly hold still a few minutes more, I’ll just …’ She let her words trail away. Her ladies enjoyed being fussed over, but they hadn’t the smallest interest in the details.

  ‘Will you invite Flora McKenzie for Boxing Day, Mama?’ Sally-Ann asked.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘Oh, but Mama, she’s a dear soul and she’s having a frightful time.’

  ‘And whose fault is that?’

  ‘Not hers. She’s not the one who lost all the money.’

  ‘Lost? Squandered, you mean. Your father said to me time and again that Robert McKenzie was too fond of taking risks, which is all very well for a bachelor with no one to ruin but himself, but not at all the thing for a man with responsibilities. And then,’ and here Mrs Palmer’s voice dropped, ‘to abdicate his responsibilities in such a way.’

  ‘You’d invite Flora if she were a rich widow,’ Sally-Ann said accusingly. ‘Of course, if she
were a rich widow, she wouldn’t be a widow at all, because if there’d still been money, Robert wouldn’t have blown his brains out.’

  ‘That’s quite enough, thank you,’ Mrs Palmer reprimanded her. ‘Flora is a dear girl, and I’ll invite her to tea, but I no longer regard her as dinner company. There, Miss Harper, have you finished?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. If we could make an appointment for the final fitting …?’

  Juliet headed for home, with Mrs Palmer’s gown folded into a vast leather bag she had found at one of the warehouses. Its original use had been to accommodate a gentleman’s evening attire when he was away overnight, and it did just as well for her purposes. She also carried her work basket – her very own, the one Mother had given her all those years ago. It had been returned to her, along with her clothes and other bits and pieces, when Mr Winterton had arranged for her to have Mother’s money. This was the work basket she took with her to her at-home ladies, while Mother’s was used in the sewing room.

  In spite of the bulky carrier and work basket, Juliet stopped off at a jeweller’s, a little Aladdin’s cave containing mostly second-hand stock, where the owner, an elderly man with a quavery voice, had promised to clean a cameo brooch before she purchased it as a Christmas gift for Cecily. The brooch was duly presented for her inspection before it was boxed and wrapped by the old man’s middle-aged daughter.

  She had been looking for something special to give Cecily. Without her friend’s companionship and support, she wouldn’t have been half so brave in recent years. Besides, with Cecily happy to be responsible for the domestic side of their lives, she was free to concentrate on the work she loved.

  At home, wanting Archie to share the fun, she took him aside while Cecily was getting their tea ready, whispering her plan to him and loving the way he wriggled with excitement at taking part in a secret, but when, with much shushing and giggling, they crept upstairs and she stowed her little parcel in the back of a drawer, Archie was scathing.