by Sarah Webb
‘Come along, darling,’ she says. ‘Do stop dawdling.’
I follow her inside. Pandora is standing behind the long wooden cash desk, studying some items a client has just dropped in. The dark-haired woman leaning over the desk is wearing nicely cut black peg-leg trousers and a neat, cream cropped jacket. Well-dressed clients are always a positive sign, although often some of the best and most unusual clothes are brought in by women who look like bag ladies – silk tea dresses they picked up in a tiny boutique in Nice, vintage Hermès scarves, original 1970s hats; we’ve even had fantastic old naval uniforms and army coats from people’s attics.
‘Here’s your docket, Patty,’ Pandora tells the woman. ‘All your pieces are itemized. I’ll start taking in autumn/winter stock at the end of August, so if you have any jumpers, heavier dresses, boots – especially anything black, grey or brown – do bring them in then.’
‘Excellent, I’ll have a root in my wardrobe. Thanks, Pandora, pleasure doing business with you.’
Pandora smiles. ‘And you, see you soon.’
The woman marches towards the door, nodding at me and Bird as she passes us in a cloud of subtle rose scent. I watch her leave, thinking brogues would work better with the trousers than the loafers she’s currently wearing.
Pandora walks towards us, her face head-teacher stern. She’s been on my case since collecting me from Sandyford Industrial Estate the Friday before last.
‘Any messing and you’re out, Julia, understand?’ she says. ‘I’m only doing this for Dad and Bird’s sake. At least this way they might actually get some of their money back. Have you explained the terms, Bird?’
‘What terms?’ I ask. This doesn’t sound good. Am I about to turn myself into some sort of indentured slave?
Bird looks at Pandora. She’s equally wary of Pandora when my dear sister is in one of her moods. ‘Not yet, darling. Tomorrow’s time enough. I’ll leave you pair to talk windows. Back in a jiffy.’ She waggles her fingers at us and toddles off to the café for her hourly caffeine fix.
Pandora looks at me, her eyes hard. ‘Make sure you actually use some clothes and shoes in the window this time,’ she says. ‘No papier-mâché skyscrapers. Or plastic traffic lights. Or yellow toy taxis. Lots of stock, get it? And for God’s sake don’t scrape off the Shoestring window stickers again.’
‘That New York window was a triumph, admit it,’ I say huffily. I’d put a lot of work into those skyscrapers. ‘They even used a photo of it in the Irish Times.’
‘But there were no actual clothes in it. It could have been any old shop. The caption read: ‘Shop celebrates new Sex and the City movie.’ And those window stickers cost a fortune to replace.’
‘I’d used copies of the New York Times to make the skyscrapers, Pandora. I wanted people to be able to see that.’
Pandora just rolls her eyes. ‘Less of the arty-fartiness. Think sales, right? Shifting stock. Speaking of which, why don’t you use the Faith Farenze dress as the centrepiece?’
I stare at her. ‘But that’s my dress. It’s still on hold, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s still in the office. I know you adore it, but it’s been there far too long and you have to be sensible. You’re in serious debt and buying an expensive dress would be stupid even for you. Besides, you don’t exactly have anything to wear it to.’
‘Yes, I do. Ed and Lainey’s wedding.’
Pandora’s eyes widen. ‘You’re not still seriously thinking of going? Please tell me you’re joking.’
‘I have to go,’ I say simply.
She shakes her head. ‘I really don’t get you sometimes, Jules. I thought you were devastated by the whole Ed and Lainey thing. Don’t tell me you’re over it already. You have such a hard heart sometimes.’
Before I know what’s happening my eyes fill.
Pandora sighs. ‘I’m sorry. Of course you’re not over it. But why on earth would you want to put yourself through that?’
I blink away my tears.
‘I know it probably sounds mad, but I want to walk into the church with my head held high, looking amazing. I want everyone to see me there, Pandora. Everyone. Ed and Lainey, and all our so-called friends. Since I got back from New Zealand not one person has rung to see if I’m all right. They’ve all taken Ed and Lainey’s side.’
‘It’s not that simple, Jules You’ve been away a lot, and you’ve never been the best at keeping in contact.’
‘I spoke to Ed and Lainey every week. Fat lot of good that did me.’
‘Look, I don’t think you’re strong enough to go to the wedding. I’m just being honest, Jules. And I don’t think being there would do you any good.’
‘I think it would,’ I say stubbornly.
She sighs again. ‘I guess we’ll just have to agree to differ. But I’m sorry, the Farenze will have to go back into stock.’
‘Just give me one more day, please? Humour me.’
Pandora sighs. ‘One more day, Jules, OK? Tomorrow it goes back on sale. Now I have to get back to work. And you have a window to dress. And I mean dress, Jules. With clothes this time.’
I work on the window all day. By four o’clock I’m ready to put the grey-blue elephants I’ve created from the book festival posters in place. I’m pretty proud of them to be honest. I used origami techniques to fold the paper into seven different elephant shapes – the largest one is the size of a beach ball, the smallest is as small as an egg. I made the ears from cut-out paper triangles, and added black beads for eyes, and tiny plastic toothpick tusks. The trunks are paper wrapped around curled spirals of florist’s wire. Bird suggested nipping home to collect some of Iris’s toys to sit on their backs – Barbies and Bratz dolls – but it’s a horrible idea and I managed to dissuade her.
The elephants are in honour of the key-note speaker at the festival, a Booker prize winning Indian author called Asha Bhandari. The festival posters feature one of her book covers – a family of elephants marching over a misty range of hills – and I’ve brought this image to life in the Shoestring window.
At lunchtime Pandora came over to see what I was up to. ‘Elephants?’ she said, looking at me sideways. ‘Jules—’
‘I know you said to put lots of clothes in,’ I got in quickly, cutting her off. ‘And I’m going to add loads in the background. The hills and fields will be made from coloured tops and dresses, draped over these special chicken-wire frames I’ve made. Then I’m going to add a blue satin shirt lake, with ballet pumps to represent ‘boats’ bobbing on the water.’ I grinned at my own master plan.
To my surprise she smiled back. ‘What am I going to do with you? It’s not quite what I had in mind but it’ll certainly attract attention. Good work.’
‘Thanks. And Pandora?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thanks for the job.’
She leaned in towards me to say something, then decided against it. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said instead.
I had a funny feeling she was about to say, ‘Don’t screw it up’ or words to that effect. But she didn’t. And at least that was something.
I place the elephants in the landscape and walk outside to check they’re marching in a straight line, when I hear a voice behind me.
‘What breed of elephants are they supposed to be?’ There’s a girl standing there, staring down at my models. She’s wearing a practical but shapeless navy jacket with lots of pockets over jeans, and she’s tall, at least six foot. I have to tilt my head up slightly to talk to her.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘African or Indian?’
‘I don’t actually know. I just copied them from a book cover.’
She crouches down and peers in at the paper animals. ‘From the size of their ears and curve of their back, I’d say Asian.’ She frowns slightly. ‘But their tusks are wrong.’
‘That may be my fault. I couldn’t get the toothpicks to sit quite right.’
‘They shouldn’t have tusks at all,’ the girl says, slightly
accusingly. ‘There are baby elephants in the group, which means the adults are female. And Asian cows don’t normally have tusks. Family groups are always female, bull elephants have nothing to do with their offspring once they’re born.’ She says it in a matter of fact way, as if this is the kind of conversation she has every day.
I pull a crumpled book festival flyer from my back pocket and hand it over. ‘I copied this,’ I explain.
‘See,’ she says, stabbing the picture with her finger. ‘No babies. They’re bulls, not cows. It’s a bachelor herd.’
I look at the picture. She’s right. The ‘babies’ aren’t babies at all, they’re just smaller elephants. I shrug. ‘I thought babies would look cuter.’
‘But it’s not accurate.’
Now I’m starting to get a little annoyed.
‘Look, I’ve spent the whole day making those elephants. My fingers are full of paper cuts.’ I hold them out to show her. ‘And I don’t think anyone will notice.’ I pause. ‘How come you know so much about elephants anyway?’
She shrugs. ‘I work with them.’
‘In a circus?’
She doesn’t look too impressed. ‘No! Dublin Zoo.’
‘You’re a zookeeper?’ I try not to smile.
‘Yes. What’s so funny about that?’
‘But you’re so gorgeous. I presumed you were a model.’
She gives a dry laugh. ‘You’re funny.’
‘No seriously.’
Finally she smiles, her teeth tiny white pearls against her dark pink gums. She really is extraordinary looking and she obviously has no idea. Glossy dark hair pulled back off her oval face, perfect black skin, a mouth as wide as Julia Roberts’s, and the kind of body most of us would die for; tall and slim, yet not too skinny.
‘How many black models have you seen in the Irish magazines recently?’ she says, her south-Dublin accent tinged with something more exotic.
‘Pretty much none,’ I admit. I am rather an expert on magazines. ‘Point taken.’ She smiles again. ‘Anyway modelling would bore me rigid. All that standing around. I have no interest in clothes, or working with people for that matter. I love working with animals, especially elephants. You know where you are with elephants.’
I don’t know quite what to say to this; luckily I don’t have to. Pandora appears with the Farenze in her arms.
‘Jules, this has to go back into stock tomorrow, I’m so sorry. Will you put it on a mannequin for me?’
Then she notices the girl.
‘Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.’
The girl’s eyes are glued to the dress. ‘Is that for sale?’ she asks.
Pandora ignores my glare.
‘It will be in the morning,’ she says. ‘Would you like to try it on?’
The girl nods, her eyes twinkling.
‘Please.’
‘No problem. Your hands clean, Jules?’
I nod and Pandora hands me the dress, the chiffon melting into my outstretched arms, my heart sinking with it.
‘Jules will find you a dressing room, won’t you, Jules?’ she says pointedly.
I nod again wordlessly. I know I have to say goodbye to the dress eventually, but it still hurts.
‘Follow me,’ I say.
‘I’m sorry,’ Pandora whispers in my ear as I walk past her. ‘But a dress like that deserves a good home.’
I hang the Farenze in a vacant changing room, turn around and flash the girl a smile. None of this is her fault and at least she seems to appreciate the dress, even if she is a bit odd.
‘I’ll get you some heels, and a belt maybe,’ I say.
She squirms a little. ‘What about a little jacket or something? It’s quite revealing.’
I smile gently. I can’t believe she wants to cover up that amazing body. ‘Sure, back in a sec.’
Several minutes later the girl sweeps out of the changing room. Out of her jacket and jeans, she looks a different person, and in fact she’s so tall she doesn’t need heels, the chiffon hits her long legs just under her knees. The dark pink is incredible against her skin; the soft material hugs her slim figure but the layers make her hips look curvier, more womanly. I realize that she’s older than I thought, twenty-two or twenty-three maybe.
‘What do you think?’ she asks nervously. She has no idea what to do with her arms, so she twists them in front of her, like she’s doing yoga practice.
I give a low whistle.
‘Stunning. Looks like it’s made for you. Try this over your shoulders.’
I help her arms into a green sequined shrug and tie a green sash-style belt around her waist. I stand back and take a look.
‘Perfect,’ I say.
‘Is it really only a hundred and twenty euro?’ She pirouettes, the material following her like a ballerina’s skirt. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Add a nought,’ I say. ‘Twelve hundred.’
She stops twirling and her face falls.
‘I must have read the tag wrong. I’d better take it off. It’s just I have this school reunion thing coming up and I’ve been saving for something special since Christmas, but that’s silly money.’
‘How much do you have?’ I ask. Maybe Pandora will reduce the price a little. Doubtful, but you never know with Pandora.
‘Three hundred tops.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, meaning it. Pandora’s right, if the dress has to go, it should be to someone who loves it as much as I do. ‘It’s being sold for charity.’
‘It’s all right. I understand. I’ll have to face the school witches in something else. Maybe I won’t go after all.’
She takes one last, lingering look in the mirror and then turns back to get changed, her shoulders hunched with disappointment. Before closing the curtain behind her, she goes quiet for a second. Then she blows out all her breath.
‘Don’t you wish you were stinking rich sometimes?’ she says wistfully. ‘So you could just walk into a shop and buy any old dress you wanted.’
I give her a sad smile.
‘I know. That dress is one in a million. I tried it on as soon as it came in, had my eye on it for a special event too. I think it’s magic or something, it seems to suit everyone. Unfortunately like you, I can’t afford it.’
‘If we had six hundred each, we could share it,’ she jokes.
I stare at her. ‘Hang on, what did you just say?’
‘If we had six hundred each, we could share it.’ She stops, looking worried. ‘I’m sorry, was that a really strange thing to say? Sometimes I honestly can’t tell.’
‘Not at all. Would you seriously consider sharing a dress with a complete stranger?’
She shrugs. ‘Normally, no. But for this dress, yes, I definitely would.’
I stare at her. ‘You have three hundred euro, right now?’
‘Correct.’
‘That’s plenty for a deposit. And if I can find another three hundred, we’re halfway there. Then we just need to find two more takers to time share it.’
Her face breaks into the most amazing sun-splitting smile. ‘We? Are you serious? You’d really share it with me?’
‘Yes!’
‘I guess I should introduce myself in that case. I’m Arietty, Arietty Pilgrim.’
She doesn’t offer her hand, just smiles at me. I smile back.
‘And I’m Julia Schuster, Jules. And it was your idea, even if you were only joking. When’s your school reunion?’
‘Twentieth of October,’ she says instantly. ‘It’s a Saturday.’
‘And my wedding’s the twenty-seventh, also a Saturday, excellent, it gives us oodles of time to find two more dress partners in crime.’
Arietty’s eyes light up. ‘Wedding? It’s going to be your wedding dress?’
‘Not exactly. Believe me, it’s a long story. But first, we need a plan. What are you doing tomorrow?’
Chapter 9
‘Where are we going, Auntie Jules?’ Iris stops dead on the pavement. ‘I’m not walking a
ny more until you tell me. I’m exhausted.’ She leans her back against the metal railings and crosses her arms stubbornly.
I smile to myself. With her jaw set like that she looks the image of her mum. ‘We’re nearly there, Iris. Two more minutes, I promise.’
‘You keep saying that, two more minutes, two more minutes. I’m not moving.’
‘Suit yourself.’ I walk away from her, slowly, hoping she’ll follow me. It starts spitting rain and for once I thank Pandora’s Girl Guide streak. Before we left this morning, she’d insisted on filling a rucksack with a packed lunch for Iris and an umbrella. I pause, pull out the umbrella and put it up. One of the spokes is broken, but it still keeps off the worst of the drizzle.
‘If you keep dilly-dallying you’ll miss all the animals,’ I say loudly without turning around, twirling the umbrella like Mary Poppins.
‘Animals?’ I hear Iris’s trainers slapping on the ground behind me. Her small hand grabs my arm. ‘Did you say animals?’
I nod, try not to smile. ‘This is Phoenix Park, Iris. What’s in Phoenix Park?’
Her eyes bug open and her lips spring into a wide grin.
‘The zoo! Are we really going to the zoo?’
‘Yep.’
She throws her arms around my waist and hugs me tight.
‘Thanks, Auntie Jules. I haven’t been since my school trip last year.’
I feel bad for Iris. She adores the zoo, she’s always asking for someone, anyone to take her, but Pandora works so hard she’s always exhausted on her days off, and the zoo is the last thing on her mind. Bird doesn’t like to park the Mercedes in the city and hates public transport, so she’s a dead loss as the zoo is a bit tricky to get to unless you drive, which only leaves Dad, and he’s often working at the weekends. To be honest, I’m only going today because Arietty invited me to meet her at work to discuss our Farenze scheme, an offer I just couldn’t refuse, which makes me feel even more guilty.
