by Rosie Clarke
It was obviously going to be harder to sell Father’s collection than I’d imagined. But for the moment that would have to wait. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was time for me to meet Mr Gould at his showrooms in the Portobello Road.
I had telephoned him from my hotel on the evening of my arrival in London, making an appointment for today at noon. It had been my intention to have Father’s coins valued before that, perhaps to sell them. Now I would have to take them with me, and they were heavy. The weight of my shopping bag was making my arm ache.
I hailed a cab to take me to Mr Gould’s showrooms. My appointment was with him personally, though I hadn’t told him we had met before, just that I would like to see what he had in stock that might be suitable for Mrs Henty’s shop.
‘I’m sure we can find something,’ he’d promised. ‘I shall look forward to meeting you, Mrs Gillows.’
Getting out of the cab some fifteen minutes later, I stood outside the showroom and stared at the window. It had blinds behind the three dummies, which were all that were being shown, and looked rather dingy from the outside. However, the clothes displayed – two dresses and a smart costume – were good quality and very stylish. I thought of Sheila and the other girls I’d come to know while working in Father’s shop. Any one of them would go wild for clothes like these. But I supposed they would be far too expensive for us to sell.
Across the street, a man was pushing a rail of coats along the pavement, another was taking a pile of shirts into a tiny showroom. It was a busy road, with vans, bikes, cars and a red bus adding to the confusion. I paused for a moment, absorbing the atmosphere. It was exciting, like a living, throbbing pulse. So different from the quiet streets at home, which only seemed to come alive like this on market days.
I pushed open the door of Gould’s and went in, setting the bell on the jangle. A woman turned to look at me over the top of her glasses, which perched precariously on the end of her nose.
‘Yes, can I help you?’
‘I’ve come to see Mr Gould.’
I could see him standing at the back of the large room, in what looked as if it must be his office.
‘Have you an appointment? Mr Gould is a busy man.’
‘I am Mrs Gillows. I spoke to him yesterday evening.’
She looked disbelieving but went off to inquire. He glanced in my direction; then she returned to tell me I was to go to the office. As I approached, Mr Gould came out to greet me and we shook hands.
‘Mrs Gillows. You wanted to see some stock for your shop I believe?’
‘It’s Mrs Henty’s shop – but I am her partner in the business.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘What were you looking for in particular?’
‘I’m not sure. I liked the dresses in the window. How much are they?’
‘They would cost you thirty-five shillings – which means they would retail at about three pounds and ten shillings.’
I was surprised. I had thought they would be more expensive. He chuckled as he saw my face. It was a nice sound, pleasant and comforting.
‘You’ve come direct to the manufacturer, Mrs Gillows. It was a shrewd move on your part. This way you cut out the middle man, which means you can either charge a bigger mark up or sell more cheaply than your competitors.’
‘That sounds like good business to me.’ I smiled at him. ‘Mrs Henty says I can spend fifty pounds with you this time.’
‘That’s a good start,’ he said, wrinkling his brow as his eyes went over me. ‘I can’t help feeling we’ve met before – but I can’t think where.’
I blushed. ‘We have met before, very briefly. Your wife had been shopping and …’
‘You saved her from a nasty fall,’ he said, striking his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Well, bless my soul! This is a turn up for the books. I’ve often thought of you, wished I’d asked for your name. I wanted to thank you properly.’
‘There was no need. I did very little.’
‘You were kind and thoughtful. Not many would have noticed Margaret was ill.’
‘Really, it was nothing.’
‘It meant a lot to me.’ He smiled. ‘Let me show you the rails, Mrs Gillows. Forget the prices on the tickets. I’m sure we can do better for you.’
I laughed, caught up in the excitement of my adventure.
‘This is my first go at buying for the shop. I shall need some help.’
‘Don’t buy everything in your own size,’ he joked. ‘Not everyone is as slim as you are, Mrs Gillows. You need to think about your regular customers.’ He pulled a pretty blue dress out to show me. It had a gored skirt and three-quarter length sleeves, but the neck was unusually shaped with a little roll collar. ‘This is for an older customer, someone like your mother, perhaps?’
‘Yes, it would suit her,’ I replied. ‘She could wear it with a white hat for a wedding.’
‘And this would look nice on someone of your own age …’
He went through all the rails with me, patiently pointing out the latest fashions, but advising me to stick with the tried and tested lines.
‘Nothing too outrageous for a country town.’
I made my selection, sometimes choosing a dress that was a little more expensive, a little smarter than the average. By the time we had finished there were thirty dresses and five costumes hanging on ‘my’ rail.
‘I should like to have them all,’ I said. ‘But I may have gone over my budget.’
‘Come into the office. We’ll see what we can do.’ I had left my shopping bag on a chair and he picked it up to hand it to me. ‘That’s heavy – got the Crown Jewels in there, have you?’
‘Almost,’ I said and laughed. ‘My father left me some coins. I’ve been trying to sell them, but no one will give me a valuation – at least, not a sensible one.’
‘I’m a bit of a collector myself. Would you like me to take a look at them for you?’
I didn’t hesitate. ‘Would you mind? I’d like to sell them but I don’t know how, or what they’re worth.’
I opened my bag and laid the coins on his desk. ‘I’ve been offered just over face value on this one, but I thought it might be worth more?’
He looked at the coin, nodded and drew a pad forward, making a mark on it. Then he began to open the envelopes one by one, looking carefully at each coin before returning it to its envelope. He wrote on his pad each time. The minutes ticked by and I felt awkward; I hadn’t expected him to be so thorough. This was taking a lot of his time, which must be valuable.
After he had examined all the coins, he sat frowning over his notes for so long that I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.
‘Are they any good?’
He glanced up, still frowning. ‘Your father was a very shrewd man, Mrs Gillows. This is a remarkable collection. I should say at a guess that you have two or perhaps three thousand pounds worth of coins here. I’m not sure of the exact value until I check them out properly, but I could do that. I could get a price for you. A genuine price that would reflect their value.’
I felt a thrill of excitement. I hadn’t dreamed the coins would be worth so much.
‘Would you do that? Is it too much to ask you to trouble yourself for my sake?’
‘It isn’t a trouble at all, I like coins. I shall enjoy researching these properly.’ He smiled, then looked at me inquiringly. ‘If you wish me to undertake the sale on your behalf, I shall give you a receipt for them, and I shall advise you of the best price before I sell.’
‘I don’t need a receipt. I trust you.’
He smiled but shook his head. ‘Now I am disappointed in you, Mrs Gillows. You’ve been showing a flair for business, but the first rule of success is never to trust anyone completely. You need a receipt. I might die. You might be knocked down by a bus before you have the chance to tell anyone what you’ve done. Then what would your husband say?’
I glanced down at my lap, twisting my gloves in my hand. ‘My husband has … left me.’
‘Left a lovely girl like you? The man’s a scoundrel or a fool.’ His eyes twinkled at me. ‘I’ll put these away in the safe, then we’ll ask my assistant to make out your invoice and, if you’re agreeable, we’ll have lunch together. To thank you for your kindness to my wife a long time ago and also because I should like to know a little more about you, Mrs Gillows.’
‘My first name is Emma,’ I said, responding to his humour and charm. ‘Yes, I would like to have lunch with you, but I must see this invoice first. Mrs Henty told me not to spend more than fifty pounds.’
‘Spoken like a true professional,’ he said and chuckled. ‘Business first, then pleasure. Let’s get on with it then.’
Solomon Gould took me to the Savoy Hotel for lunch. At first I was a little overawed by my surroundings, but the friendliness of my host and the waiters, whom he seemed to know by name, soon put me at ease. Solomon, or Sol, as he preferred to be called, chose all manner of delicious things from the varied menu: fresh salmon, asparagus, tiny minted new potatoes, then a strawberry mousse with thick cream followed by coffee and handmade chocolates. He also bought me champagne.
Afterwards, I sighed with pleasure. ‘I’ve never eaten anything like this before, and this is my first taste of champagne.’
‘I thought we should celebrate the beginning of our business association,’ he said, a gleam in his dark eyes. ‘It is the start of a new era for you, Emma, and now I want you to tell me everything. All the bits you’ve left out.’
There was something about this man that made me want to tell him my story. He was like the father I would have loved to have had: solid, dependable, caring and generous. As I recounted my story, I could see the play of emotions across his face, and when I finished speaking, he laid his hand on mine for a moment.
‘It sounds to me as if you’ve had a rough time, my dear.’
‘It hasn’t been easy,’ I admitted.
I had given him only a brief outline, leaving out much of Richard’s brutality and glossing over the years I’d spent almost a prisoner of Father’s shop and strict discipline, but I knew he understood. He had read deeper into my story, sensing the things I could not bring myself to say.
‘Well, you deserve to enjoy yourself now,’ he said. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll get you the very best price for those coins. What are you going to do with the money?’
‘I’m not sure. Invest most of it, I expect. I might put some into the shop, but I’ll have to think about it.’
‘I might be able to come up with some ideas, but we’ll see.’ He glanced at the gold pocket watch hanging from a fancy chain on his waistcoat. ‘I have an appointment shortly so I’ll bid you good day, Emma. I hope you will come and see me again? I am sure Margaret would like to meet you next time.’
‘I should like that,’ I said. ‘Thank you for being so kind to me.’
‘My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day. The dresses you purchased should arrive at the beginning of next week. Let me know how you get on with them, won’t you?’
We parted. It was almost three o’clock. I could probably just catch the next train home if I hurried, but I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted to stay in town for one more night, to go shopping and perhaps to the pictures. I had never been on my own before, but there was a first time for everything.
I wandered round the shops for almost two hours, buying a toy for James and a pretty hat for my mother, who was looking after him. We had recently managed to wean him on to a bottle and I knew he would be well cared for, but I couldn’t help worrying about him a little. Was he taking his food? Was he missing me?
In my heart I knew he was safe enough. It was good for me to have this break away from the trauma of the past few weeks. I needed to think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
My situation was very strange. I wasn’t divorced or widowed, but I was no longer married either. I could never live with Richard again, no matter what happened. He was guilty of murder, whether he was ever convicted of the crime or not. I had to make a new life for myself and my son, and I had begun that today by coming to London alone.
I didn’t want to stay on at the shop for much longer. I had spoken to Mr Smythe about it before I came up to London. He had told me that my present situation was awkward.
‘Very awkward, Mrs Gillows. In law, the shop and its profits still belong to your husband. If you continue to manage it in his absence, you are entitled to a wage, and your mother will of course continue to receive her allowance. But until Mr Gillows is tried and convicted …’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You could divorce him or you could contest your father’s will. It will need sorting out. But it will take time, and I think it best you wait for a while … to see how things go.’
‘Supposing I let the business to someone else?’
‘The rent and anything the stock realized would belong to Mr Gillows. It is a difficult position for you.’
‘But I could leave it empty?’
‘There is nothing in law that says you are forced to look after the shop, but what would you do? What would you live on?’
Mr Smythe knew nothing of my father’s secret hoard. I hadn’t told him. I supposed I ought to declare it, but why should I? It was security for my future and that of my son. What if I left March? What if I went to London? I could find work of some kind – or I could divorce my husband and marry Jon.
I had thought of telephoning Jon at his office, to let him know I would be in London for a couple of days – but something held me back. I was attracted to him, and when he’d kissed me I had felt something stir inside me. I knew I would miss Jon if I never saw him again, but was I in love with him? Did I want to be his wife?
Two men had betrayed me. I believed Jon was different, more caring and gentle. Yet I was reluctant to make my decision. Besides, I wasn’t free. In law I was still Richard’s wife, and until that was settled, I could only wait and see what happened.
Once back at home, my life settled into its usual routine. At times, I could almost believe that things were as they had been, that my father was still alive – that I had never been married. But of course I had, and nothing could ever be the same again.
‘Richard has gone,’ Mother said about a week later. ‘I’m sure he’s gone somewhere else. Perhaps abroad. He wouldn’t stay here.’
‘It does seem unlikely that he would wait around to be caught,’ I agreed, although a part of me wasn’t convinced. Richard had a stubborn streak in him and he felt he had been cheated. He might hang around in the hope of getting even. ‘But the papers have been saying the police are watching the ports for him. I still keep thinking he will come back – try to get at us in some way.’
‘No, he’s gone for good,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to think about the future now, Emma. Bert wants to have the banns read in church. He wants to get married now. After all, there’s no sense in waiting. We’ve wasted too much of our lives already.’
‘Yes, you should make the arrangements,’ I said and squeezed her hand. ‘You don’t want to wait forever. Richard might never be caught. He might just disappear.’
‘And where does that leave you?’
‘I think I shall have to close the shop, either sell off the stock or … I don’t know.’ I sighed and wrinkled my brow. ‘It’s awkward. Father’s will was so complicated.’
‘But surely if you divorced Richard,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘doesn’t it all revert to you? After all, you have sufficient grounds for divorce now.’
‘It would be difficult. I think it might be easier in the long run to close the shop. Besides, I don’t want to stay here. I want to make a change, Mum. If I close the shop, I can see what happens …’
‘Well, that’s up to you, Emma – but it’s yours by right.’
‘Yes, I know.’ I stood up, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’m going down to the shop now, Mum. Ben needs a break. But don’t worry about me. Let Bert do what he thinks best. I shall make up my own mind when I’m ready.’
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nbsp; I was thoughtful as I went downstairs. I still wasn’t sure what I really wanted to do with my life. Jon had written me two lovely letters, telling me how sorry he was about what had happened, assuring me of his love, asking me to marry him.
‘We’ll find a way for you to divorce Richard,’ he had said in his last letter. ‘Even if the police never find him.’
Jon would look after me. I knew he would never be cruel, not in the way Richard had been – but did I want to marry again? I thought I might one day, though perhaps not yet.
All my life I had been told what to do. Other people, even those I loved and who loved me, had ruled my life, telling me what I ought or ought not to do … and in some cases doing irrevocable things for my sake.
I was beginning to think there might be another way to live. I was just experiencing my first taste of freedom, and I was starting to like it.
Ben and I were in the shop that afternoon, almost three weeks after Gran’s funeral. It was now the beginning of June and the threat of war loomed ever closer. Ben had been talking endlessly about the possibility of his being called up.
‘You’re only seventeen,’ I told him. ‘Surely you don’t want to fight?’
‘Just give me the chance!’
He was too young to be called up in the first wave of conscripts but, I realized now, if there was a war Ben would leave the shop anyway. The papers were full of reports about the country needing workers for the munitions factories. Everyone would be looking to help the war effort. I could not expect to keep Ben in the shop for much longer.
It seemed a decision was being forced on me. I would soon have to make up my mind, one way or the other, and it might as well be now.
‘Ben,’ I began. ‘If you want to …’
The door bell jangled and a customer came in. The words died on my lips. I stared at the man who had entered in disbelief. It couldn’t be! He was in America. Jon had told me Paul had no intention of returning to this country.
‘Emma …’ Paul was hesitant, oddly unsure of himself as he stood looking at me. ‘I suppose I should have written or something, but I hoped we could talk. Jon told me … about the boy. About everything.’
