by Ali Harris
‘Really?’ I exclaim, feeling choked as I look around at everyone, but avoiding Sam’s gaze. I turn to the cleaners. ‘Are you sure you guys can spare the time? I know you’re short-staffed as it is. I didn’t expect you all to start today.’
Jan smiles benevolently. ‘Aaaah but Eve-English-Wi . . .’ he glances at Justyna and trails off with a cough. ‘We want to start today. We gotsk here extra early so we could help with the department makesover. Sam and Lily helped us. They are very good at cleaning, nie?’
I gape at Lily. ‘You’ve been cleaning?’
‘Oh, yes, dear,’ she says, patting her headscarf. ‘I am a woman of many talents. Now, let’s stop dawdling and let the makeover magic begin! So which department are we working on today?’
I am speechless with gratitude. I don’t know how to thank them so I just smile broadly at them all.
‘Come on,’ Lily nags. ‘We don’t have all day.’ She’s right.
‘Handbags,’ I say decisively. ‘I overheard Becky saying that Rupert has been disappointed with her department’s performance. I’ve got a couple of ideas but feel free to add any of your own as we go. Now, Lily,’ I turn to her, ‘do you think you could oversee everyone’s work?’
She nods and throws a deep, graceful curtsy in my direction.
‘Oh, and, Felix . . .’ He grins widely and unfolds his arms. ‘. . . I know you can’t really leave your security office, and besides, you need to warn us in case any staff happen to come in early, but perhaps you could review our efforts and ring me if you have any suggestions? I know you used to be a dab hand yourself at merchandising.’
Felix swings back on his heels and nods. ‘Well, Walter Hardy, junior did tell me I had a gift,’ he says proudly, and he heads off in the direction of the staff entrance.
‘Sam and Jan Baptysta,’ I turn to them and they simultaneously salute me and then look at each other and burst out laughing, ‘you need to be in charge of the carpentry work. Jan, did you bring your tools in, like I asked you to at the pub?’ He nods vigorously. ‘It’s just I’ve had this idea of fixing these big frames against the walls and then hanging the vintage handbags inside to make them look like art. But you’re going to have to build the structures first.’ Sam looks panicked but Jan just nods. ‘Do you reckon that’s something you could do?’
‘Of coursk!’ Jan replies, throwing his arm round Sam’s shoulder and squeezing him so that Sam squeaks a little. ‘We make a good team, no? And I am Polish! We are very good with our handsk!’
Sam extricates himself from Jan’s grip and rubs his shoulder, grimacing a little. ‘And, Evie,’ he says, touching me lightly on the arm. I pull it away, driven by a subconscious reflex. Sam blushes. ‘I, er, I had an idea, too. I, well, I just thought I could maybe take some reportage photos of the makeover in progress? You know, but without revealing who anyone is. Then I could take them to the local newspapers. It might create the buzz we need to get some more customers into the store. What do you think?’
‘That’s GENIUS!’ I exclaim, and resist the urge to hug him. A few days ago I wouldn’t have felt weird about it, but now? There’s this strange awkwardness between us. Like what happened yesterday has tainted our friendship. I clear my throat and try to speak as businesslike as possible. ‘Can you do it without making it obvious who we are, though? I don’t want any of the staff – or, more importantly, Rupert – to get suspicious. He needs to believe all of his staff are invaluable to him and he absolutely can’t know who has really been doing the makeovers.’
Sam nods and pushes his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘I can shoot you guys in shadow so you just look like silhouettes. All I have to do is use some clever backlighting. Leave it with me.’
I nod and throw a small smile of thanks in his direction before quickly moving on.
‘Velna and Justyna, do you guys want to come with me to the stockroom to get the extra merchandise we need? I need some help carrying the stuff.’
‘Oh, Evie? I’ve thought of something that could help you with that,’ Sam pipes up again. ‘I’ve left two of my trolleys from the van outside the delivery entrance. You can load all the stuff you need on those, which will save you going back and forth.’
‘Great! Thanks, Sam,’ I say, feeling a flood of excitement as I look at all the bright, eager faces surrounding me. ‘Right then, guys, let’s get to work!’
Everyone scatters to their various positions. Lily starts dismantling the current department’s display whilst Jan and Sam head to the stockroom with us, wrapping up in their coats and scarves as they’re going to build the structures outside the delivery entrance. Jan appears to have brought an entire building kit, including a jigsaw and all sorts of other DIY paraphernalia.
By the time the girls and I get back to the shop floor with the stock, Lily has cleared the department and is mopping her brow.
‘You be careful, Lily. I don’t want you working too hard,’ I say, patting her shoulder. ‘You sit down now and just tell us what looks best.’
I turn to Velna and Justyna, who are standing behind me. ‘I’m going to start with the displays for the vintage evenings bags,’ I explain. I burrow around in the boxes on the delivery cart until I find what I’m looking for. ‘Ah, yes, here they are!’ I pull out an old 1950s cake stand, which comes with a beautiful glass domed lid. There are at least a dozen more inside the box.
‘What are we doing with those?’ Justyna barks.
‘I had this idea that we could place each of these on the white blocks that mannequins usually stand on,’ I explain breathlessly as I pull out half a dozen more. ‘We can build the blocks to different heights and then put a cake stand on the top of each one with a gorgeous evening bag inside and the glass over the top so that they look as untouchable as the crown jewels in the Tower of London. I want customers to think these bags are so desirable that they have to be encased in glass.’
‘Bravo!’cheers Lily, from where she is perched with perfect posture on the end of the trolley. ‘What a wonderful idea!’ She rubs her index finger around her lips thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps we could accessorize each bag in its glass dome with some accoutrements, like some pearls or a beautiful costume ring or a headpiece.’ She sighs. ‘We used to wear such wonderful headpieces in the fifties. When I was at the Windmill . . .’
I clap my hands, as much with delight as to prevent Lily from going off on a tangent. I love her stories but we simply don’t have the time for them this morning.
‘That’s brilliant, Lily! Velna, can you run back to the stockroom, find the accessories aisle, which is the third on your left. On the fifth shelf up you’ll find pill box hats, cage veils and headpieces – can you bring me a peacock-feathered fascinator and a couple of netted hats? Then go down to the third shelf. On the far right-hand side you’ll find lots of strings of pearls. There should be one with a beautiful silver butterfly clasp, but bring me a couple of extra strings as well. Oh, and then right down on the shelf above the floor is a box of costume rings. Just bring that entire box. Oh, and brooches!’ I clap my hands again. ‘They’re on the second shelf. Can you bring a box of those too? I think there’s two or three boxes to choose from. I’ll let you decide which one. But a mother-of-pearl one with a cameo head would be lovely.’
Velna dashes off.
‘Right, Justyna, can you help me with the blocks? They’re pretty heavy so we’ll probably have to do them together.’
‘Nie, do not be sillysk!’ She puts her hand in front of my face and then strides over to the unused blocks, which are stacked against a wall on the ground floor. She lifts one easily, heaves it on to her shoulder and strides back before dropping it on the floor in front of me. Then she’s off again.
Lily’s eyes widen. ‘That girl is superhuman,’ she whispers, and I stifle a giggle as Justyna deftly delivers another block at my feet.
‘I am helping, nie?’ she shouts over her shoulder as she sets off again.
‘You’re incredible!’ I shout back, and Justyna turns with her hands on
her hips and grins toothily at me before heaving up another heavy block.
‘Right, Lily, let’s start choosing the evening bags.’ We delve into the boxes on the trolley and ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over the ones we pull out.
‘We must have this silk purse,’ Lily sighs. ‘Just look at the oriental print on the front and the delicate silver chain. This must be from the 1930s; my mother had one just like it.’
‘And what about this?’ I pull out a glittering box clutch with a chunky gold clasp. ‘This would look wonderful with a pair of ex-display gold T-bar dancing shoes I have in the stockroom. They’re too faded to sell, but will set this bag off perfectly. What do you think, Lily?’
‘I think if they’re the ones I’m thinking of, I wore a pair just like them at the Windmill,’ she replies wistfully. ‘Such happy memories.’
‘I bet you were an incredible dancer,’ I say.
‘Oh, I was,’ she says without a hint of modesty. ‘Not that people saw us as that. The nudity got in the way of the art a little. Though it was very liberating.’
‘Wow.’ I shake my head and sit back on my heels as I pull out and examine another clutch before rejecting it. ‘You were so brave. I just can’t imagine being that exposed in front of so many people.’
‘Ah, it was a breeze,’ Lily replies with a wave of her hand. ‘I was proud of my body and proud of my dancing, and when you’re proud of what you do, you don’t mind how exposed you are. It’s only when people are ashamed of themselves or have low self-esteem that they hide themselves away. They don’t believe that they deserve to be noticed.’ She throws a sideways glance at me and I finger a bronze sequined bag with avid concentration, doing my best to avoid her gaze. ‘And you do, you know,’ she says softly, lifting my chin with her finger. ‘You so deserve to be noticed and given all the attention that you give to so many other people. You just need to believe it, Evie.’
I feel the tears begin to fall silently down my face and I let them, unable to pretend any more that I want anything other than to be noticed and respected and loved for who I am, not for who I’m pretending to be.
‘Just be yourself,’ Lily says, squeezing my wrist before drawing me into her embrace. ‘And be proud of it. The biggest gift you can give yourself in life is your own acceptance of who you are.’
‘But,’ I say, wiping away my tears as I rest my head on her shoulder, ‘who I am doesn’t make a difference to anyone. I’m invisible.’
‘Not to me, you’re not, or Felix or Sam, or your family . . .’
‘I’m not so sure,’ I sigh.
‘Well, I am,’ Lily says. ‘You’re a beautiful, kind, loving girl, and anyone would be proud to have you as a friend, or a daughter, or sister. I know I am. Come on, darling, don’t lose confidence now. You’ve come so far.’
‘What do you mean?’ I say, sniffing a little as I pick up another clutch.
‘Well, look at you, darling!’ Lily opens her arms. ‘You’ve got rid of the plain clothes you used to wear and have found your own individual style, which you’re wearing with confidence.’
I look down at the emerald-green pussybow blouse I put on this morning with some high-waisted black trousers and a cute little pair of silver heels I bought ages ago but have never worn.
‘You’ve come out of hiding from unpacking boxes in that little stockroom of yours and are making a difference to this store. You’re a great leader and are showing such creative flair. You know you’re good at what you’re doing and it shows. I can see your passion – we all can. It’s remarkable.’
I blush as I look at Lily doubtfully. ‘Really? But it all seems so . . . inconsequential.’
‘Inconsequential?’ she scoffs. ‘Is that what you call saving jobs, helping bring people together, giving people hope and direction and inspiration, and doing all that without anyone knowing it’s you? I hardly think that’s inconsequential. Have some self-belief, my darling. It’s the only thing I’ve ever had and I can honestly say it’s the only thing worth having. Not money or some fancy job title, or a boyfriend.’ I swallow as I think of Joel. ‘None of that matters if you don’t believe in yourself. Now, are we going to makeover this dreary old handbag hovel, or what?’ And Lily puts one hand on her knee and takes my hand as she stands up, giving it a gentle squeeze before she starts flying around the department, holding up bags against walls and calling out as I watch her in amazement. I could learn a lot from this lady, I think to myself as I set to work. Then I look down at my outfit and smile.
Maybe I already have.
Two hours later we are grouped together in a semicircle, staring at the new-look handbag department.
‘It looks bloody good,’ Sam says as he whips around, taking pictures of the department. ‘These frames are great, Jan! And these handbags look amazing hung inside, Evie!’
It’s true, they do. From the big, brass hooks I found in a box in the stockroom, I’ve hung a selection of old and new handbags inside the three gigantic wall frames that Jan built and that reach from the floor all the way up to the first-floor mezzanine. Lily and I spray-painted the frames gold before we hung the leather bags inside. Suddenly the dull leather of the bags, which have always been clumped together and thrown on top of each other in big trays, now look like bags you want – no, that you have – to own. The leather is soft and expensive, the craftsmanship incredible. Hardy’s stock may be considered old-fashioned by some, but it has always been beautifully made. We’ve just got out of the habit of displaying it all to its full potential.
The cake stands have also worked beautifully. With Lily’s help, we handpicked the best bags and the most gorgeous vintage accessories to show them off. And Felix piped up with another idea, too. He phoned from his office to suggest we place a couple of old-fashioned hat stands in the department to hang some of the beautiful millinery, the hats and fascinators that we have in Hardy’s. He said that the trilbies had proved such a bestseller in Men’s that we should do something similar to get customers wanting to go to our hat department, and that a few vintage hats on the hat stand on the ground floor would entice them upstairs to see more. It’s a great idea and it really pulls the department together. But more than anything it’s a good way to get customers moving throughout the entire store.
And finally, at Becky’s tillpoint, we have put a couple of vintage designer handbags, which had been gathering dust in the stockroom, in the glass case underneath, which used to be empty. There’s a mustard YSL satchel with a gold clasp, and a soft, small bronze 1980s Bottega Veneta shoulder bag with its distinctive Italian leather weave. And as the pièce de résistance, Lily has added her black quilted Chanel bag she lent me for my date.
‘That bag has seen a lot of wonderful parties over the years,’ Lily said as she handed it to me and I placed it inside the counter. ‘I don’t want to sell it because I want to make sure it goes to the right home, but for now it’ll help make the other handbags look even more desirable and get customers really looking at our bags.’
‘I’ve got some great shots of the store,’ Sam says, smiling at me as he continues clicking. ‘I’ll go straight to a few local newspaper offices and see if I can get the picture editors to take a look at them.’ He glances at his watch. ‘With luck, someone will want to run it as a story in one of this week’s editions.’
‘Oh my gosh, it’s eight o’clock!’ I gasp, peering at his watch. ‘Sharon will be here any minute. Everyone, we need to make ourselves invisible! Thank you so much for all your hard work, guys. It’s the best makeover yet and I couldn’t have done this without you!’
Everyone scatters and I head to the stockroom just as my mobile rings. I answer it immediately when I see who it is.
‘Evie darling? I know you’re at work but can you talk? It’s just me, Mum.’ I smile and murmur a hello back. My mum always manages to forget that technology is advanced enough that mobiles have a caller display so you don’t need to explain who it is every time you call. ‘Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice!�
� Mum sighs, immediately making me feel guilty for not calling her recently. We usually speak most days, but since Joel, and everything that’s been happening at the store, I have been neglecting her somewhat.
‘Sorry, Mum, things have just been pretty hectic recently.’
‘I know, I know, you live this wonderfully busy life in the big city and don’t have time for your little old mum any more,’ Mum says with a laugh.
‘Old? Hardly, Mum. You’re the most youthful, glamorous-looking not-quite-sixty-something I know.’
‘Why, thank you, Evie darling, but believe it or not I wasn’t calling to get a morale boost.’ She pauses. ‘I’m actually on the train to London! I got bored at home as your father is in town on one of his business trips; he’s been staying in the flat in Hampstead since last Wednesday. He was meant to come home on Saturday but apparently he and his lawyer friends decided to have some spontaneous boozy early Christmas work dinner so he decided to stay the whole weekend. Anyway, I woke up this morning and thought, why don’t I come into town to do some Christmas shopping? And then go and see you at work? Wouldn’t that be lovely? You can tell me everything that’s been happening with you.’ She pauses again. ‘And Delilah.’
I roll my eyes as I realize that my mum doesn’t want some cosy little chat. She wants to check up on her brood.
‘OK,’ I sigh. ‘Why don’t I meet you in Lily’s tearoom at twelve? We can have lunch there.’
‘Lovely, darling! See you then!’ And she rings off.
At twelve sharp I walk into Lily’s to find my mum already sitting at a table in the corner, bag on her lap, looking as glamorous as always in a red shift dress with black opaque tights, black high heels and a chiffon scarf wound around her neck. Her big black tote is perched neatly on her lap and she is looking around anxiously, clearly waiting for me to arrive.
‘Evie!’ She stands up and embraces me warmly, pulling my head into her neck and giving me a squeeze. ‘I’ve missed you so much! Look at you!’ She pulls back, her mouth dropping open as she assesses my outfit. ‘Where’s my tomboy in the hoodie and baggy jeans gone?’
