Carefully Kathy reached down to retrieve her book and they settled down together. The cat yawned, stretched his front paw, then curled his head round and closed his eyes. Strangely comforted by the warm little body on her lap, Kathy turned back to her book.
It wasn’t until she heard the rattle of the back door opening that Kathy realized just how the morning had flown by. Lost in the wonderful story of Mr and Mrs Bennett and their five daughters, she had not once moved from the chair. And Taffy still slumbered on her lap.
Jemima stepped into the room and stopped, staring in surprise
‘Well, I never,’ she exclaimed. ‘Now that’s something I never expected to see. Taffy’s usually most unfriendly with visitors.’ Jemima seemed impressed to see her pet sitting on Kathy’s knee.
‘He wasn’t at first. He spat at me and tried to scratch me, but I just ignored him and then he came and jumped up on to my knee of his own accord.’
Jemima laughed. ‘That’s the best way to treat him. One thing Taffy can’t bear is to be ignored.’
Kathy set her book down and put her hands beneath the cat’s hefty body to lift him off her knee. He woke with a start and leapt down, walking angrily towards the door, his ears flattened. The two women watched him as he stalked out and they heard the rattle of the flap in the back door.
Kathy got up quickly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’d’ve done some housework for you, but I didn’t like to presume . . .’
‘No need,’ Jemima said crisply. ‘I don’t expect you to do that – at least not on your first day. Obviously, I shall expect you to keep your room clean . . .’
‘Of course,’ Kathy said swiftly. ‘And I’ll help elsewhere – that is, if you want me to.’
‘We’ll see,’ Jemima smiled.
‘I could have got you some lunch ready if I’d known you came home.’ Kathy was still apologetic.
‘I don’t normally, but I have some news for you. Mr Kendall, the manager, is willing to see you at three o’clock this afternoon. The vacant post is in the millinery department. Do you know anything about hats?’
Kathy laughed wryly. ‘Not really. The only hat I possess is the one I always wear for church. And that’s an old one of my mother’s. Nineteen-twenties style!’
Jemima grimaced. ‘Oh well, as long as you’re a willing learner.’ She glanced at the skirt and blouse that Kathy was wearing. Bluntly she said, ‘Have you anything better to wear than that?’
Biting her lip, Kathy shook her head.
‘Mm.’ For a moment, Jemima was thoughtful. ‘You’re a little bit plumper than me . . .’ She chuckled suddenly, her thin face lighting up. For a brief moment it made her look so much younger. ‘But in all the right places, I must say. I have a costume that might just fit you.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘You make us some sandwiches, Kathy, and I’ll run upstairs and sort one or two things out. You can try them all on when I’ve gone back to work.’
While Kathy went into the scullery and found bread, butter, a joint of cooked ham and some cheese, Jemima ran lightly up the narrow staircase to her bedroom. As she prepared the snack, Kathy heard wardrobe doors opening and closing in the room above. Just as she placed a plate of the sandwiches on the table in the kitchen, she heard Jemima’s steps on the stairs.
‘I’ve laid out three suits for you and two blouses.’ She glanced down at Kathy’s feet. ‘Your shoes will have to do, but there’s polish under the sink in the scullery. Ah,’ she said, seeing the sandwiches. ‘This looks nice. Why is it,’ she added, sitting down, ‘that food always tastes so much nicer when someone else has prepared it? Even a few sandwiches.’
‘I’d offer to cook for you,’ Kathy said, sitting down too. ‘But I’ve never had much chance to learn. Father always wanted me to work outside. Poor Mam had to . . .’ Suddenly her throat was tight and she felt the prickle of tears behind her eyelids. But she pulled in a deep breath and steadied her voice. ‘Had to manage in the kitchen all by herself.’
Pretending not to notice, Jemima said, ‘Your poor mother wasn’t cut out to be a farmer’s wife. It’s a hard life. A good life, mind you, but a hard one nevertheless.’
‘Do you know,’ Kathy said, surprised to hear herself saying it and almost ashamed to admit it, ‘I know very little about my parents’ life. They hardly ever talk about the past and if they do, well, it’s only my father grumbling how unfair life has been to him. The – the fact that he’s never had a son. He – he’s very jealous of your brother for having Morry to carry on the family farm.’
There was a long pause before Jemima asked, ‘Is there anything between you and Maurice?’
‘No . . . I mean – my father would like there to be and I – er – Morry would too, but . . .’ Kathy felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment. Perhaps she had now offended Aunt Jemima by not being able to love her nephew, but the older woman’s only answer was her soft, understanding, ‘Ah.’
Five
Mr Kendall, the manager of the large department store on the High Street, was much younger than Kathy had expected. As she was ushered into his office by his secretary, Kathy almost gasped aloud in surprise. He looked to be in his late twenties. Young to hold such a position of authority, she thought.
Jemima had explained a little as they’d eaten their lunch. ‘The Hammond family owns the store. Old Mr Hammond rarely comes in these days. He suffers cruelly with arthritis, so I understand. Mr James Hammond, his son and heir, comes in most days, but it’s Mr Kendall we see about the store the most. He’s – er – very actively involved,’ she added, sounding amused about something, though Kathy could not understand what.
Now, as she stood before him, he rose, smiled at her and indicated a chair set in front of his desk for her to sit down. She noticed that he was very smartly dressed in a dark, pinstriped suit, gleaming white shirt and neat, sober tie. His short, black hair was sleek and shone in the pale winter sunlight from the window behind him. Though his face was in shadow, she could see the outline of a straight nose and a strong jawline. She couldn’t, at this moment, see the colour of his eyes or the shape of his mouth . . .
‘Please sit down, Miss Burton.’ His voice was deep, but friendly.
Kathy perched nervously on the edge of the chair, gripping her handbag in front of her.
He looked at her for a moment and now she could see that his eyes were a gentle brown. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he said softly. ‘I’m not such an ogre.’
Kathy smiled and relaxed a little. It wasn’t really him she was nervous about. It was just that this interview was so important to her. She badly wanted – needed – this job. And having to borrow clothes from a woman more than twice her age wasn’t exactly boosting her confidence!
‘Now,’ he rested his arms on the desk and leaned towards her. ‘I understand from Miss Robinson that you would very much like to work for us, but that you have no experience at all.’
There was nothing else she could do except be absolutely frank. ‘No, I’m sorry. I haven’t. The only work I know is on a farm. My – my father’s farm. But – but I so want to do something else.’
‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘And I presume you cannot furnish us with references?’
Kathy shook her head and her heart began to sink, but hope surged again as he continued, ‘Well, in some ways your inexperience might be an advantage. We can train you from the start to our ways. You won’t come with any preconceived ideas. Ideas that we might not like.’ His smile broadened. ‘And because of Miss Robinson’s recommendation, I’m willing to give you a month’s trial and see how we go.’
Kathy felt the colour rush into her face. ‘Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. I won’t let you down.’
‘No,’ Tony Kendall said softly. ‘No, I don’t think you will.’ He stared at her for a long time, taking in the long, blonde hair swept back from her face over her ears and falling in a shining cascade of curls to her shoulders. Her clear complexion was tanned from her time spent working out of doors in
all weathers but her blue eyes were direct and honest. She was not the sort of girl they usually employed, and he’d only agreed to interview her as a favour to Miss Robinson, who’d worked for the store for more than twenty years. Jemima Robinson was a revered member of staff who had worked her way up over the years to be head of the ladies’ department. More recently, she’d been promoted to the position of supervisor of the whole of the first floor and was responsible for several departments, including mantles, outfitting – and hats! Under her keen eye were the heads of each department who, in turn, had several assistants and juniors below them. Miss Robinson was known to be strict with those under her, but fair. For her alone, Tony Kendall had been willing to give this girl a trial. But now that he saw Kathy Burton for himself, well, reason didn’t come into it!
‘I’ll hand you over to my secretary. She’ll fill out all the necessary paperwork and take you down to introduce you to the other girls in millinery.’ He rose and moved around the desk, opened the door and called to the woman sitting before a typewriter in the outer office. ‘Miss Foster, would you step in for a moment, please?’
‘Certainly, Mr Kendall . . .’
‘This is Miss Curtis.’ Half an hour later, Miss Foster was introducing her to the head of the millinery department and to the other girl who worked there, Stella Matthews.
Miss Curtis was in her early thirties, Kathy surmised, slim with a flawless complexion, dark hair styled in the very latest fashion, and immaculately dressed. But her grey eyes were hard and cold as she looked Kathy up and down, a sneer turning down the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s unusual for Mr Kendall to employ someone without consulting his head of department.’ She gave a small sniff of disapproval both for his action and for the girl standing nervously before her. ‘Still, he’s the boss.’
‘Miss Burton is here on trial for a month,’ Miss Foster, an older, more kindly woman, put in. ‘She has no experience, but Mr Kendall sees that as an advantage. You can train her to your ways, Miss Curtis.’
Muriel Curtis’s eyes widened and she turned towards the secretary. ‘No experience? None at all?’ She tutted with disapproval and murmured, ‘Whatever is he thinking of?’ As her glance flickered back towards Kathy, there was a shrewd, knowing look in her eyes. ‘Ah,’ she said softly. ‘Another of his fancy pieces, is she?’
‘Really, Miss Curtis,’ Emily Foster hissed angrily and, taking hold of the woman’s arm, she pulled Muriel a short distance away. But Kathy’s sharp ears still heard the rest of their conversation. ‘That is a most inappropriate remark. And, for your information, he had not seen the girl before today.’
Muriel’s smile was humourless. ‘Oh really!’ Kathy felt the woman’s resentful gaze rest on her again. Grudgingly, she added, ‘But with a pretty face like hers, one look would be enough.’
‘Jealousy will get you nowhere, Muriel.’ Emily’s tone had softened and Kathy could detect a note of pity in it. Though her voice dropped even lower, she still heard enough of their conversation to understand. ‘Forget about him . . . He’s not worth it . . . not the first . . . won’t be the last.’
Muriel’s whispered reply was even softer. ‘It wasn’t his fault . . . it was her.’
Kathy tried to glance away, to make out she could not hear what was being said, but her gaze was held by the sight of Muriel’s sudden and obvious distress. For a brief moment, the young woman’s face crumpled and she seemed about to burst into tears. But then, with a supreme effort, Muriel pulled in a deep breath, straightened her back and lifted her head. ‘You’re quite right, Miss Foster,’ she said raising her voice deliberately. Obviously, she now intended Kathy to hear. ‘Any girl who gets involved with him had better watch out.’
Emily Foster patted Muriel’s arm and then turned back to Kathy. ‘I’ll leave you with Miss Curtis. Perhaps she can begin your instruction today, if she has time. We shall expect you here by eight forty-five in the morning to start work. Good afternoon.’ She nodded and began to walk away.
‘G-good afternoon, Miss Foster, and – thank you,’ Kathy said, her nervousness making her stammer and blush like a gawky schoolgirl.
As the woman walked away, Muriel Curtis said frostily, ‘I really haven’t time to show you around today. Just mind you’re here on time in the morning.’ Her tone implied she thought it a waste of her time anyway with a young girl of absolutely no experience.
Kathy forced a polite smile. ‘I will, Miss Curtis. Thank you.’
She turned and left the millinery department, walked down the wide staircase, passed through the ground floor and out into the street, straight into the blustery cold wind. Kathy shivered. Jemima’s costume might be very smart, but it didn’t keep her warm. For a moment, she thought longingly of the heavy raincoat and boots she wore about the farm. But the moment was brief and banished with a laugh as she revelled, yet again, in her newfound freedom.
Briskly, she walked from the city centre to the terraced house that would be her home for the next few weeks.
The following morning passed in a mesmerizing whirl, so that by lunchtime Kathy felt as if her head was spinning.
‘We stagger the lunchtime period,’ Muriel told her. All morning, her sharp voice had issued orders, explained the work expected crisply and watched Kathy’s every move with her disapproving grey eyes. If Kathy had not seen for herself the woman’s brief lapse, she would have believed that Muriel Curtis had a heart of stone. But the picture in her mind’s eye of the crumpled face, close to tears, prevented the younger girl from disliking the woman on sight. ‘Are you listening to me, Miss Burton?’ Muriel’s voice penetrated Kathy’s wandering thoughts.
Kathy jumped. ‘Oh – I – I’m sorry, Miss Curtis.’
‘As I was saying—’ Muriel’s voice was frosty. ‘We stagger the lunchtime period so that there are always two in the department. As there are only three of us, we can only take three-quarters of an hour each.’ She looked at her watch and then glanced around her. ‘It’s only eleven forty-five, but we’re quiet at the moment, so if you’d like to take your lunch now, I’ll hold the fort while Miss Matthews shows you where the staff restroom is. And then later, when it goes quiet about four o’clock, she can take you on a tour of the store. It’s important you know your way around and to be able to direct customers too.’
‘Thank you, Miss Curtis,’ Kathy said with unaccustomed meekness.
Away from the head of department’s eagle eye, Stella chattered incessantly. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come . . .’ She was small, with mousy straight hair and hazel eyes. But her round face was continually wreathed in smiles – even when Miss Curtis found reason to reprimand her, which seemed often. ‘There’s only been the two of us for four weeks now. The other girl left and though Miss Curtis isn’t a bad old stick really, it’s been so hard not to have someone of my own age to gossip with.’ She giggled – a delicious, infectious sound. ‘Not that we’re supposed to, of course, but you know how it is.’
Kathy smiled and nodded, but she didn’t know. She’d never had anyone to chatter to, only Amy. And she’d only been able to do that once or twice a week. Her father had seen to that!
‘How old are you? I’m seventeen. Just. I’ve been here ever since I left school . . .’ The young girl prattled on, scarcely giving Kathy chance to reply. But she didn’t mind. Stella was sociable and Kathy soaked up her friendliness like a flower devoid of rain. ‘This is the restroom where we eat our lunch. Have you brought anything to eat?’
‘Yes, some sandwiches.’
‘I expect Miss Robinson told you we all bring our own food, did she?’
Kathy nodded. She wasn’t quite sure how much Jemima wanted her connection to Kathy to be known among the rest of the staff. It seemed, however, that the store grapevine had already been busy.
‘You’re lucky to have been recommended by Miss Robinson, you know. I don’t think Mr Kendall would dare not take you on.’
Kathy didn’t know whether to feel grateful or mortified that she had got the jo
b more because of Jemima Robinson’s say-so than because of her own merit. She sighed. This was a whole new world. Things were very different from what she had been used to. But it was the sort of world she had craved and she’d better get used to it.
One thing she knew for sure, there was no turning back. She couldn’t bear to think how her father would crow if she failed. Oh no, no matter whatever happened there was no going back.
The afternoon flew by and, before Kathy realized it, it was four o’clock.
‘Now, Miss Matthews may take you on a tour of the store . . .’ Muriel Curtis began, but at that moment a deep voice spoke behind her.
‘That won’t be necessary, Miss Curtis, thank you.’
They turned to see Tony Kendall striding towards them. He glanced briefly at Muriel but then turned towards Kathy with a beaming smile that crinkled his eyes and showed perfectly white, even teeth. ‘And how is she shaping up, Miss Curtis?’ As he spoke, his glance ran up and down Kathy as if implying: She shapes up very well in my eyes.
There was the slightest of pauses before Muriel replied stiffly, ‘Reasonably well, Mr Kendall, considering . . .’
‘Good, good,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I thought I’d come and show you around the store myself.’ At last he turned towards the head of the millinery department. ‘If you have no objection, of course, Miss Curtis.’ The words were courteous, but even to Kathy’s nai¨ve ears his statement left the woman with no alternative but to say through tight lips, ‘Of course not, Mr Kendall.’
Sing As We Go Page 4
