She came face to face with Madame Fabignon, the owner’s wife, a thin-faced woman with gimlet eyes and a mouth that seemed permanently pursed in disapproval.
‘What sales experience have you had, Mademoiselle Decourt?’
Lisette was fully prepared for the question. ‘I have sold porcelain and china,’ she answered truthfully, thinking back to the help she had given at a stall of donated, mostly expensive knick-knacks at a charity sale that Joanna’s mother had organized annually in her rose garden. ‘Also,’ she added, thinking of another stall at that annual function, ‘I had a spell of selling small antiques.’
Madame Fabignon had taken notice of this young woman’s expensive attire and wondered if she was morally all that she should be. Shop girls were not able to afford such clothes. Yet in the young woman’s favour were her educated speech, her poise and the spotlessness of her white gloves. There was also an elegant air about her. She preferred to believe she was from a family which had fallen on hard times.
‘Where were you employed?’
‘In Paris.’
‘Were the establishments as large as this one?’
‘No, but quite exclusive.’
The woman seemed to digest this information quite favourably. ‘You are quite far away from Paris now. Why did you leave?’
‘Both my parents are dead. I had nothing to keep me there.’
Madame Fabignon decided that she had been right about this girl’s background. A well bred family, but no money. She held out her narrow hand, snapping her fingers impatiently. ‘Give me your references.’
Lisette handed them over and watched anxiously, almost holding her breath, as they were read through, but all seemed to be well. There was an approving nod.
‘I find you suitable, Mademoiselle Decourt, and you may start work here tomorrow. As you will know, it is quite customary with an emporium of this size that all female employees of single status are safely accommodated. Here you will live with all the other young saleswomen in the premises adjacent to this building. It is under the supervision of Mademoiselle Valverde, who is both housekeeper and guardian. Shall you take kindly to discipline?’
‘Yes, madame. I can understand that some rules are necessary.’
‘Mine are very strict and breaking them can mean instant dismissal. There is a nightly curfew of eight thirty with the concession of nine o’clock on Saturdays. On Sunday the emporium is closed, which gives you the day to spend as you wish after attendance at church. You will have a respectable roof over your head and three meals a day – breakfast, a light lunch of rolls and cheese or soup, and always a hot dinner in the early evening. Alcohol and cigarettes are forbidden, also dalliance with the male staff, who have their own quarters. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Yes, madame.’
‘Good. You will move in with your belongings today.’
Lisette, who was feeling jubilant at not having to pay for accommodation elsewhere, was taken aback when in the next moment she was told the pittance that her wages would be for a twelve-hour working day. Yet when she left the office her spirits had lifted again, for Madame Fabignon had spoken of an eventual rise in wages and the chance of promotion if she proved herself to be a hardworking and conscientious employee. Until then, Lisette decided, if she were truly miserly, even small coins would mount up as time went by.
Seven
An hour later Lisette, a valise in each hand, was admitted by a young maidservant into the house where she was to stay. Immediately a large, full-bosomed woman came into the hall from a study and her cold eyes sharpened under heavy, dark brows as she looked the newcomer up and down.
‘Mademoiselle Decourt?’ she said before Lisette had a chance to speak. ‘You are from Paris, I’ve been told. I’ll warn you now that I don’t tolerate any big city laxness of behaviour here. In the shop you’ll work hard at whichever counter is allotted to you and in my domain you’ll obey without question all the rules of the house, which you can read for yourself on the wall of your room. Do you have your own black dress for work?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then you shall have two on loan for the six weeks of your trial period. After that, if you are taken on to the permanent staff, two dresses will be specially made for you in the dressmaking department.’ She glanced down at Lisette’s two valises. ‘When you have unpacked come downstairs to me again.’ Then she snapped her fingers imperiously at the maidservant. ‘Marie! Take Mademoiselle Decourt up to the wardrobe room. Then to the third floor where there’s a spare bed in the north-facing room.’
Lisette, heaving her valises up the stairs in the wake of the girl, thought that Mademoiselle Valverde seemed to be even more of a martinet than Madame Fabignon, but that did not bother her. She could manage to live within the rules, however restrictive they might be, until she had enough money saved to suit her purpose.
The wardrobe room on the second floor was full of black dresses on hangers that were suspended from rods. She set down her luggage and looked around dubiously.
‘They don’t smell musty, but are they clean?’ she asked.
Marie was quick to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry! Every garment goes to the laundry before it’s put ready to wear again. There’s a selection of separate white collars and cuffs that you can choose from, but these have to be starched and spotless at all times. You have the use of the laundry for washing and ironing.’
Lisette picked out two dresses in her size and then the three sets of collars and cuffs that she was allowed. She had chosen those trimmed with lace. Marie carried these garments and accessories up to the next floor, for the newcomer could not carry everything.
‘This is where you’ll sleep,’ she said, going ahead into a room located under the eaves.
Lisette followed. There were five beds, each with a chest of drawers beside it. Everything was very neat and tidy, a pair of slippers by the foot of each bed, under which there was the gleam of an individual chamber pot. A cheval glass stood in a corner, giving Lisette a full-length reflection of herself as she passed it, and pegs along one wall were hung with clothes. Two were spare and Lisette guessed those would be hers.
‘This is your bed,’ Marie said, dumping what she was carrying on the bed nearest the door, but farthest from the window. ‘Over there on the wall is the list of rules.’ She nodded in its direction. ‘You’d better read them, because Mademoiselle Valverde will question you.’ Then she left the room and went pattering down the stairs.
After Lisette had unpacked she read the list on the wall. Some rules dealt with personal hygiene, others with tidiness, promptness for meals and similar matters. There was also the dire threat of instant dismissal if any employee brought a man on to the premises.
She found her own way downstairs. As the maid had predicted, Mademoiselle Valverde questioned her about the rules, and she was able to answer correctly. Afterwards she was led through a pair of communicating double doors that opened into the emporium.
‘You’ll come to work this way every morning with your fellow saleswomen,’ Mademoiselle Valverde said over her shoulder as she strode ahead. ‘I’ve had a word with Madame Fabignon and you are to be at the shawl and cape counter. When a customer shows a preference for one or another of the items, Madame Fabignon wants you to drape it around yourself and walk up and down to display it to full effect. But never, never pressure a sale and, provided there is no damage, always exchange merchandise willingly. In the case of any doubt or trouble always remain polite, but call the floorwalker, Monsieur Giraud, who will take over the matter.’
A young salesman, named Pierre, was in charge of the shawl counter. As soon as Mademoiselle Valverde had left he expressed his relief that Lisette had arrived. ‘I had to take over this counter a couple of days ago after somebody was sacked on the spot for theft, but my place is on gentlemen’s ties and cravats. I’ll show you where everything is and then leave you to it. Ah, here’s a customer coming now. I’ll not desert you yet.’ Then he bowed to the
well-dressed, middle-aged woman approaching the counter. ‘How may I be of assistance, madame?’
‘I need a shawl. Silk, I think. Blue tones or maybe red. Perhaps a pretty shade of green,’ the customer said indecisively as she sat down on one of the chairs provided.
Lisette watched as Pierre took shawl after shawl from the shelves, opening each with a flourish of colour until the counter was almost covered by them, but still the dithering customer seemed unable to make up her mind. When one of the shawls, which had been rejected, slipped to the floor Lisette retrieved it and swirled it over one shoulder in a flurry of silken fringe. Immediately the customer showed interest.
‘Now that shawl is more stylish than any other I’ve been shown!’
Immediately Lisette left the counter and walked slowly up and down for the woman’s benefit. A sale was made. After Pierre had packed the shawl and arranged for it to be delivered he turned to Lisette, standing with his hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face.
‘Whatever prompted you to do that?’ he asked.
‘I was following instructions from Madame Fabignon.’
‘But nobody has ever done that before! Carry on with the good work. You should clear the shelves of shawls within a week!’
They laughed together. By a pillar Madame Fabignon, who had observed the whole incident, congratulated herself as she moved away. Any accessory or garment would look its best on that elegant young woman. It promised to be a wise appointment that she had made.
Lisette soon came to know the four fellow saleswomen who shared the bedroom. They were all in their early twenties and, apart from an occasional squabble now and again, were remarkably tolerant of each other in such cramped conditions. Mademoiselle Valverde was their common enemy, for without exception they all hated her and this bound them together.
‘She listens at keyholes,’ Claudine, the oldest of the girls, warned Lisette.
‘Yes! And she inspects our room on her own, poking into everything,’ another, who was named Blanche, declared indignantly.
‘She even found my beau’s letters hidden under my underclothes and read them!’ This was Elyanne, her face flushing resentfully. ‘I know, because the blue ribbon around them was tied differently.’
‘That’s right,’ Celestine, a redhead, endorsed bitterly. ‘The jealous old cow pokes about in the other girls’ rooms too. She gives us all the creeps.’
Lisette was thankful there was nothing among her possessions that would give away all that had happened to her. Daniel was now a secret memory that she had come to linger over more often than she had expected. Yet it was a closed period in her life that was entirely hers and always would be. Now she was about to begin a new existence.
It began at seven o’clock each morning when breakfast was served and presided over by Mademoiselle Valverde. There were two long tables full of chattering women, mostly in their twenties and thirties, but a few older ones of senior status sat at a smaller table on their own. When the meal was over all would line up two by two and, at a signal from Mademoiselle Valverde, they would set off through the double doors into the emporium where they would branch off at their individual counters. It reminded Lisette of her school days when she and all the rest of the pupils went to their classrooms after morning assembly. She had soon learned that here the others called it the Noah’s Ark parade.
As one week followed another Lisette became expert in her sales technique, for by now she could recognize instantly the indecisive customers as well as those who wanted the impossible or, not knowing what suited them, had to be steered in the right direction. There were also the dominating mothers with timid daughters longing to make their own choice, and it was a point of pride with Lisette that they rarely went away disappointed.
One Saturday evening she went with two of her room companions, Claudine and Elyanne, to a magic lantern show that had come to town. She had not known that they were meeting two of the young salesmen, who worked in gentlemen’s footwear, and that they had brought a third young man for her, who was a bank clerk.
‘I’m Henri Casson,’ he said, raising his straw boater and introducing himself. He was freckled with bright smiling eyes. As the evening progressed he proved to be good company, but she drew her hand away when he tried to hold it as soon as the gaslights were lowered at the magic lantern show. Although he and the others all enjoyed the show immensely, laughing their heads off at the comical slides, Lisette watched the whole performance with a critical eye. She soon realized that she had worked with a master of the craft, and this lanternist could not compete with Daniel in any way. It was no wonder that he had always had a packed house for his shows.
When they all said goodnight Henri wanted to see her again, but she made an excuse, careful not to hurt his feelings. She had no room in her life at present for any man, not even for occasional meetings, and certainly never again on a permanent basis.
It was not long afterwards that she awoke early one morning to a slight feeling of nausea. She dismissed it, but was thankful that it was not yet time to get up, and turned over to sleep again. A few minutes later the sensation of sickness overwhelmed her and she almost fell out of bed to grab her empty chamber pot and vomit into it as if she would never stop. In the neighbouring bed Claudine stirred, sat up and then sprang out of bed to kneel at her side.
‘Are you all right?’ she whispered anxiously, not wanting anyone else to wake.
Lisette nodded weakly, reaching for a handkerchief from the bedside chest of drawers to wipe her mouth. ‘I have felt a little sick for the past few mornings, but nothing came of it. I must have eaten something that has upset my stomach, but now I’ve vomited I should be better.’
Claudine looked dubious. ‘Are you sure there isn’t another more likely reason?’
Lisette looked puzzled. ‘What could there be?’
The reply came bluntly. ‘Are you in the family way?’
Slowly Lisette’s expression changed from incredulity to one of horrified doubt. ‘No! That’s impossible!’ she protested.
Claudine became practical. ‘Get back into bed and think about it,’ she urged, picking up the chamber pot. ‘I’ll empty this before anybody wakes.’
Lying back on her pillows, Lisette lay in fear of what might have befallen her. She was late in her cycle, but had given it no thought, for it had happened at rare intervals. No, it couldn’t be!
Claudine returned with the clean chamber pot and sat down on Lisette’s bed as she thrust it underneath. ‘Well?’ she whispered.
‘But it was only once,’ Lisette gulped. ‘It doesn’t happen as easily as that!’
‘I’m afraid it can, my poor innocent. Will he marry you, do you think?’
‘No! He’s completely against marriage for himself.’
Claudine smiled cynically. ‘Some men always are.’
‘In any case,’ Lisette continued, scarcely hearing what Claudine had said, ‘I don’t know where he is and if I did I’d never go to him. But I still can’t be sure that I am – pregnant.’ The enormity of this possibility seemed to have stunned her and her words stumbled from her. ‘Within a few days I’m sure I’ll know for certain that my nausea was only a bilious attack.’
Claudine looked unconvinced, but patted Lisette’s arm reassuringly. ‘Let’s hope so.’
Next morning the sickness came again. This time she was prepared and flew at once down the stairs to the second floor where she reached the lavatory just in time. It became a pattern that continued until eventually the vomiting began to wane. Her monthly cycle had not resumed and she faced a future even more unpredictable than it had been previously. Only Claudine knew about it and was kindly keeping it to herself.
‘Nobody is going to notice any change in you for quite a while yet,’ she said one day when she and Lisette were alone in one of the stockrooms. ‘But if you want to get rid of your present trouble there’s a woman in this town who would do it for you. I got her address from somebody else who works here and had th
e same problem.’
‘No, I could never do that!’ Lisette exclaimed almost before Claudine had finished speaking. ‘I’ve decided that I must leave here before my pregnancy is noticed and then Madame Fabignon should give me a good reference. Several times, because of the increase in my sales, I’ve had a nod and a smile from her whenever she has passed my counter.’
‘So what shall you do after you’ve left the emporium?’
‘I’ll move on to another town some distance from here and say that my husband is in the navy and at sea. Then there will be nothing against anyone employing me.’
Claudine frowned doubtfully. ‘Do you want to be saddled with a baby?’
Lisette’s eyes flashed. ‘Of course not! Not now or at any other time since I don’t intend to marry. But I wasn’t raped or seduced and the baby will be the result on my own actions. I have to bear that responsibility.’
‘You’re a strange girl, Lisette,’ Claudine said wonderingly with a shake of her head. ‘But good luck to you and don’t forget to buy yourself a wedding ring.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Lisette replied quietly.
It was another two weeks before Lisette was able to get to the marketplace on her own. So often one of the other girls would catch her up to walk and chat with her. This time she went straight to one of the jewellery and trinket stalls where she saw what she wanted. The plain rings were not gold and had a brassy gleam, but they were cheap and would pass for a marriage band.
Swiftly she glanced about to make sure nobody she knew was nearby and then tried on a few rings in quick succession until she found one that fitted her. The vendor put it into its own little box and handed it to her without a flicker of interest. Obviously she was far from the first single woman to have made the same purchase from him for a similar need. In her own mind she thought such deception was a sad business, but she had to keep her head and do whatever seemed best for herself and her child.
Brilliance Page 9
