The Shop Girls of Harpers

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘I don’t know of anyone – If you really want to do it, why don’t you ask down Soho Square?’ she said. ‘The women who walk the streets must know about things like that – because some of them must get pregnant…’

  ‘I daren’t go back there in case Kingston sees me…’

  Sally saw the expectant look in her eyes. ‘I’ll see if I can find the time,’ she promised reluctantly. She didn’t really want to speak to the prostitutes that worked the area, and risk being seen by someone that knew her, but Sylvia was in trouble. ‘I’m making no promises, but I’ll try…’

  ‘Thanks, you’re a real brick,’ Sylvia said. ‘I’m sorry to have dumped my problems on you, Sally.’

  ‘We all need help sometimes,’ Sally said and let her out.

  She locked the door after her and sat on her bed, unsure why she’d promised to do something she didn’t want to do for a girl she hardly knew – and yet but for the grace of God, there went she. Sally was often lonely and knew that if someone had offered her a new life, she might have snatched at it. She wouldn’t be in any danger. The women of Soho might threaten her if they thought she was trying to move in on their patch, but she would make it clear it was the last thing she wanted. If they gave her a name that would be the end of it and Sylvia could make up her own mind what to do about her unwanted pregnancy…

  10

  ‘Good morning, Poppa,’ Maggie said as she found her father sitting up in bed that morning, reading the previous day’s paper. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m not too bad, my love,’ he replied and pointed to something he’d been reading in the paper. ‘It’s about time those poor devils got a proper wage…’

  Maggie saw that he’d been reading an article that said Mr Asquith was to introduce a bill establishing the principle of a minimum wage in the House of Commons, although he’d so far refused to agree to the Union’s demand for five shillings a day for the men and two for the boys.

  ‘Let’s hope it means an end to the strike then,’ she said and her father agreed, because the miner’s strike was crippling industry. ‘Is there anything you need before I leave?’ she asked. ‘I need to get to work early because it will be a busy day.’

  ‘You get off, love,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘Your mother gave me a drop of my medicine just now so I shall rest for a while.’

  Maggie bent and kissed his cheek. His skin felt dry and papery and a little overwarm. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes as he rested back on his pillows and her heart caught with pain because she knew he was suffering.

  She left him lying with his eyes closed and went down to the kitchen. Her mother sniffed as she looked at her.

  ‘Off to that job of yours, I suppose – and how I’m supposed to manage on my own, I don’t know…’

  ‘I thought you wanted me to work?’ Maggie said and saw a flash of temper in her mother’s eyes.

  ‘None of that cheek from you, my girl,’ Mrs Gibbs snapped. ‘It’s lucky Mrs Jenkins from next door comes in to give me a hand to wash him and get him on the pot.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Muma. I have to go…’

  Maggie escaped from her mother’s stinging tongue into a bright fresh morning. She ran to catch her bus, tears burning behind her eyes, tears she refused to let fall. It hurt her to see her father lying in his bed dependent on others for everything and her mother’s scolding made her feel wretched, because she enjoyed her work. They didn’t pay her very much at Harpers, but she loved being there with the other girls and she would hate to give it up.

  She caught her bus and smiled at the friendly conductor, who nodded as she paid for her ticket. The ring of his machine was bright and cheery like him and she began to feel better and to look forward to her day at work. It was opening day and she was excited by the thought of all the customers crowding in for their glass of champagne and the chance of winning a prize.

  In Oxford Street, she disembarked from her bus and joined the little crowd of staff hurrying in through the side door. Across the street, a few customers had begun to gather, jostling for the best place to watch the unveiling of the windows. The salesgirls were chattering and laughing as they poured into the store, which seemed to be bubbling with excitement for the grand opening, and Maggie’s excitement grew as she reached the first floor and went into her department. Sally was just taking off her coat and Beth came in behind her. Mrs Craven was already taking the covers off the hats on display stands. She gave an armful to Maggie, who took them to the stockroom and put them away tidily.

  ‘They are going to take the blinds down now,’ a voice from the doorway said and Maggie saw Miss Hart looking at them. For once she actually looked excited; the contagious feeling had spread throughout the store and Maggie couldn’t resist a giggle as she saw Sally’s expression.

  ‘We are summoned,’ Sally said. ‘Best look sharp, Maggie love…’

  Maggie nodded. She liked it when Sally called her Maggie, though she knew it was against the rules, but it sounded affectionate coming from her new friend and made her feel valued.

  Down on the ground floor, the displays of glassware and china were exquisite; beautiful large vases and crystal glass that reflected the light touching on delicate table lamps and small onyx-topped tables, also pretty boxes of all descriptions and many small items that ladies might like to purchase. At the back of the ground floor was a cabinet displaying umbrellas and parasols as well as a selection of walking canes with silver tops. Maggie could smell the toilet soaps, perfumes and talcum powders that were displayed in glass counters and thought the delicious smell would make the customers want to stay longer and explore.

  Mr Stockbridge was lined up with Mr Marco and the store owner. Mr Harper smiled at his staff, waiting until everyone was present and then told the window-dressing assistants to take down the blinds that had hidden the window displays. There was a chorus of surprise as the windows were revealed to show a series of tableaux that showed off most things the shop sold: models dressed in women’s clothes, others in men’s tailored suits. There was a penny farthing bicycle and a selection of sporting goods in one window, a table set with a white lace cloth and beautiful china and glass in another. An assortment of ladies’ handbags was shown, as well as gloves, scarves and a small display of silver jewellery. Another window was made up with an array of gorgeous hats on stands of varying heights, and parasols with silver or ivory handles were suspended above them, the colours like those in a rainbow, the whole scene set against a backdrop representing a Parisian market. A ripple of applause spread through the assembled men and women.

  ‘Very well, ladies and gentlemen – to your places,’ Mr Stockbridge said and clapped his hands. ‘Mr Marco, now you may reveal the windows to the world…’

  As the outer blinds went up, they could hear faintly the cheers from outside the store and see the lights as cameras were flashed – and then, suddenly, a brass band began to play an American tune just as Mr Harper, who had been outside to admire the windows, now walked back in through the main door with a beautiful blonde woman on his arm.

  ‘She looks like a film star,’ Sally whispered to Maggie. ‘Either that or she’s American…’

  ‘She’s lovely and so smart…’

  Maggie felt almost reluctant to leave the ground floor, which was where the champagne was about to be poured. She’d glimpsed a crowd of customers outside and would have liked to see them come in through the big plate glass doors but knew she must be upstairs ready to do as Mrs Craven requested once they arrived there.

  ‘I liked the display of parasols hanging up,’ Sally remarked as they emerged from the lift into their own department. ‘The stalls looked like a picture I once saw of Paris…’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was meant to represent,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘It was a bit like a Renoir painting, I thought.’

  ‘I’ve never seen one…’ Maggie whispered. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes, quite a few,’ Sally replied. ‘I often visit the art galleries and mu
seums. I like the Impressionists and that was what they were trying to achieve with that window…’ She looked thoughtful as she walked to take her place behind her counter.

  ‘I like them too,’ Beth said softly to Maggie. ‘One Sunday we might all go to a gallery – some of them open on Sunday mornings, I think…’

  ‘I wish I could…’ Maggie was wistful. ‘I have so much to do on a Sunday…’

  ‘Me too,’ Beth smiled, sending her a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Well, that was rather splendid,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘Now, girls, let us try to look busy. Have your account books out and Maggie you can help me rearrange that display of hats…’

  Maggie hurried to do as she was asked, tingling with excitement at the thought that she might soon be serving her very first customers.

  Sally stood in front of the glass cabinet containing her most expensive bags. She didn’t think she could make them look any better than they did already and she felt quite calm, but that might have been because her mind was more on what Sylvia had told her than on worrying about the customers. Maggie was clearly nervous and Mrs Craven was giving her something to do to occupy her mind. Beth stood patiently waiting. Like Sally, she had everything arranged to its best and did not try to rearrange a thing but watched Mrs Craven change the position of three hats.

  The first customer through the door was a very fashionable young woman wearing a smart grey wool suit with a red felt cloche hat and red leather shoes and gloves. Her bag was black and looked a little shabby compared to the rest of her outfit. She made straight for Sally’s counter.

  ‘I should like to see a leather bag,’ she announced. ‘I want black because it will go with everything…’

  ‘Yes, madam, of course,’ Sally took two from the counter and placed them on top. One was matt black leather and the other was shiny patent leather. ‘These are the latest styles and priced at two guineas each…’

  ‘Oh, is that all you have?’ The customer looked disappointed. ‘I wanted something more exclusive – like those in the window…’

  Mr Marco had been given items from all departments direct from the American shipment, thus keeping the displays a secret to the last moment.

  ‘We have the crocodile bags and a skin bag, but they are not black,’ Sally said. She replaced the rejected items in the counter and reached round to the cabinet on the wall at the back, unlocking it and taking out first a dark grey lizard skin bag with a shiny clasp. ‘This one is five guineas…’ The price sounded shocking to Sally’s ears when men were fighting for the right to earn five shillings a day, but some people could afford lovely things.

  ‘Yes, that is beautiful,’ the young woman replied and stroked it with her gloved hand. ‘What about that one… the crocodile bag?’

  Sally took the bag from the cabinet and placed it next to the skin bag. ‘This is ten guineas, madam…’

  ‘Expensive but beautiful,’ the woman said, clearly awed. She opened it and looked at the silk lining inside. ‘Yes, I think this is the one I want. Please wrap it well for me…’ she handed over three crisp white five pound notes.

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  Sally wrote out the sales ticket in her book and accepted the customer’s money, sending it off with her ticket to the office. She placed the skin bag back in its position in the cabinet and then began to wrap the expensive crocodile bag in layers of tissue. Once it was protected, she slipped it into a black bag with ‘Harpers’ emblazoned in gold on it and then the little ping behind her told her that the change had been returned. She counted the change into her customer’s hand and gave her the receipt.

  ‘Thank you for your custom, madam. I hope you enjoy your bag.’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t for me,’ the young woman replied and laughed. ‘My employer asked me to buy a present for his wife’s birthday. I couldn’t afford this lovely thing. Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning, madam.’

  Sally watched as the young woman left the department. She saw that Beth was serving two customers at her counter and Maggie was assisting her. Mrs Craven was showing another customer a hat and Sally hid her smile. The customer was a large lady and the hat she’d chosen to try on was far too fussy and young for her and Mrs Craven was diplomatically trying to steer her towards something a little less flamboyant.

  Just then, two young women came in together and they made a beeline for Sally’s jewellery counter. They looked a little out of place in their cheap clothing and shoes that had seen better times. Sally went to stand behind the counter and one of the young women pointed at a silver bracelet on the top shelf of the cabinet; it was quite chunky and had turquoise stones set round it and the price was a guinea. Sally wasn’t sure the girls could afford the purchase price, but, when they asked, she brought it out and placed it on a tray lined with blue velvet.

  ‘How much is it?’ one of the girls asked.

  ‘It says on the ticket, Mave,’ the other girl told her. ‘Look, it’s a guinea…’ She grinned at her friend. ‘Big Tony give yer that much last night, didn’t he?’

  Sally realised that the girls were spending the money they’d earned in a less than respectable manner. She was a little surprised they’d ventured into the store and wondered if they’d sampled the free champagne – and yet Harpers was open to everyone.

  Mave nodded, her cheeks flushed. Sally’s opinion of the two was confirmed when the girl said, ‘Yeah, but I’ve got me rent ter find for Sammy and yer know what he is if yer can’t pay…’

  ‘There is a cheaper one – at ten shillings and sixpence,’ Sally said and took out a similar but lighter bracelet.

  ‘I like this one best,’ Mave said. ‘Can yer lend me five bob, Shirl? I’ll have enough fer this and me rent then…’

  Sally replaced the rejected bracelet and waited while the two girls admired the bracelet on Mave’s wrist.

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ Shirl agreed. ‘But I want it back, right?’

  ‘Yeah, o’course.’ Mave grinned at her. ‘Big Tony will be back ternight. He can’t stay away from me…’

  Sally’s nerve endings tingled. These two were clearly street girls out for a spree on their ill-gotten gains and she wished she dare ask them what Sylvia needed to know but could not risk it. Someone might hear – and then Sally’s job would be snatched away from her, her reputation in ruins.

  She accepted their money and watched as they walked off, clutching the distinctive bag containing the little velvet-lined jewellery box. They were giggling and looking about them, enjoying themselves. Sally saw one or two of the other ladies look at them askance because their bleached hair and clothes shouted out their likely profession, but a customer was a customer and Sally had served them exactly as she would any other.

  Beth had made her first sale and was looking pleased with herself and Mrs Craven had given two hats to Maggie to pack into their special boxes and was attending to the money. Belatedly, Sally remembered her supervisor’s advice on having her tickets checked, but they’d all been serving at the same time and she’d checked it all herself. Both her customers had been quite happy and since the department was busy for the whole of the morning, she continued to check her own figures and change herself.

  She had no trouble in selling to the majority of customers who came to her counter, though one woman complained about the price of everything she asked to look at and then went away without making a purchase. Everyone else bought something, though the ten guineas for the crocodile bag was the most expensive sale Sally made.

  At twelve thirty, Mrs Craven sent Maggie and Beth off for their break. The rush seemed to have cooled off and she came to stand next to Sally, looking pleased.

  ‘I think you’ve made more sales than either Beth or I,’ she said. ‘How many pieces of the silver jewellery have you sold?’

  ‘Five,’ Sally told her. ‘A guinea was the most expensive, but the pendants have gone well at eighteen and eleven – and two brooches went to one lady at fifteen shillings each. She wanted separate boxe
s, because they were presents for her two sisters. She thought everything was lovely and said she would be buying something for herself next week…’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear.’

  ‘We’ve all been very busy and so have the other departments. Miss Hart came in while you were serving the lady who bought three hats – and she said there had been a constant stream of customers all morning.’

  Mrs Craven nodded. ‘I made one multiple sale that came to nine pounds – what was your best?’

  ‘A bag for ten guineas,’ Sally said. ‘I didn’t think my customer could afford so much, but she was buying it for her employer’s wife and wanted the best…’

  ‘It just shows you never know, I thought we’d have that bag forever.’ Mrs Craven smiled. ‘Oh, we have more customers…’

  She went off to serve a customer with some gloves, as Beth was already serving someone, and Sally had another customer for her jewellery. The Mexican silver had proved a huge hit, perhaps because it was so distinctive and unusual, and even though quite expensive, some pieces were still reasonable enough to be bought by ordinary girls looking to treat themselves. They might have to borrow to pay their rent, but a little excitement now and then brought a smile to everyone’s lips.

  Sally’s thoughts returned to the young women who had bought one of the more expensive pieces. She wondered if Mave worked the streets in Soho or had a room where the men were taken by her pimp. She decided that she would take a walk round the square after work, find a café to have a cup of tea or a sandwich and perhaps bump into Mave or another girl who might give her the information she needed.

  After Sally returned from her lunch break, Mrs Craven left her in charge. Several customers came in and Sally sold a cloche hat and a red leather handbag. Beth was the busiest now as people asked to see scarves and gloves. Gloves were something every woman wore when she went out, winter and summer, if she wanted to look properly dressed. Yet a few of Beth’s customers walked away without purchasing anything.