by Ali Harris
I blush as I remember that Mum hasn’t seen any of my ensembles from The Wardrobe before. ‘I just fancied a change,’ I mutter as I glance down at my outfit.
‘You look beautiful,’ she gushes. ‘That green top really brings out the colour of your eyes. You look just like your sister. Speaking of which . . .’
But Lily glides over before she can say any more.
‘Grace Samson? Is that really you?’ Lily gasps. ‘Well, I never!’
‘Lily!’ exclaims my mum, embracing Lily warmly. ‘You haven’t changed a bit!’
‘What are you doing here?’ Lily asks.
Mum smiles at me before turning back to Lily. ‘Oh, you know, just catching up with my daughter . . .’
‘You!’ Lily says, smacking me on my arm. ‘You never told me Grace Samson was your mother! Well, if I’d known that . . .’
‘I didn’t think . . .’ I begin as my mum and Lily exclaim over one another. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember her.’ This isn’t entirely true. But I can’t admit that for once in my life I wanted to be able to be someone other than Delilah’s sister, or Charles and Grace Taylor’s daughter. I knew it’d come up sometime – just like it did with Felix – but my family have overshadowed me my whole life. With Lily I could just be me, Evie Taylor, no expectations. I’ve wanted to keep it like that for as long as possible.
‘Charming,’ they both say in unison, and begin laughing.
‘No, I mean . . . oh, never mind,’ I grumble as Lily pulls up a chair and begins shooting questions at Mum. But I’m compelled to listen as they reminisce about their old days at Hardy’s.
I gaze at Mum, who looks so bright and happy as she talks about her old life, and for the first time, I wonder why she gave it all up. It seems as if it made her so happy. She is laughing as Lily reminds her of the clients who fawned over her, the celebrities who requested her hairstyling services and the endless parties that she’d get invited to.
‘You know, Lily,’ I interrupt, ‘she’s never told me any of this.’
‘You never asked, darling,’ Mum replies, and I glance at her as she looks down at her handbag. ‘The problem with being a wife and mum,’ she says to Lily, ‘is that once you become those things, people don’t see you as anything else. It’s kind of like you’re invisible and everyone – including you – forgets about the life you had before.’
Lily nods sagely. ‘It’s why I never did the whole baby thing,’ she says. ‘You lavish all that time, love and attention on them for years, and do they appreciate it?’
‘Do they hell!’ Mum laughs.
‘I am here, you know,’ I mumble in protest, but for the first time I feel like I’m really listening to my mum. She gave up everything for us and we have never acknowledged that. Not Dad, not I, nor Delilah, nor the boys. I feel a wave of shame as I consider how wrapped up in my own life I’ve always been. All this time I thought that no one could ever understand what it’s like to feel so invisible when it turns out my mum has been feeling that way for way longer than I have.
Ten minutes later, after much chatter and laughter and reminiscing, Lily sidles off to serve some more customers and to make our sandwiches. I turn to Mum and grab her hand.
‘Mum, I’m really sorry if we haven’t appreciated you enough.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly, darling, it’s fine,’ Mum smiles, and for the first time I see that she looks a little sad. ‘I love being a mum and a wife. It’s just sometimes I miss being me, you know?’ I nod and squeeze her hand. ‘Being here has just reminded me of that, I guess.’
She looks around and shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t come to see you here before, Evie! I always thought it would be too hard. From what you told me, the place was falling apart and I couldn’t face seeing darling old Hardy’s like that. But it all looks incredible!’ she exclaims. ‘The beauty department is to die for,’ she says excitedly. ‘I spent half an hour in there choosing gifts for people.’ She holds up an embossed Hardy’s carrier bag. ‘I bought these beautiful soaps for my friends, which I just know they’ll love. I actually remember this brand from back when I worked here. Every woman I met who shopped here swore it was the best age-defying treatment you could ever use. I’ve never been able to find these anywhere since. I can’t believe you still stock them! And they’re so much cheaper than all that new-fangled Crème de la Mer stuff that everyone spends a fortune on! Ooh, and I bought your father one of those trilbies on display in the window. He’ll look so suave in it!’ I smile as my mother continues: ‘And for Delilah I bought this beautiful vintage evening clutch bag for when she goes on dates with Will.’
She looks at me as she takes a small bite of her sandwich, which Lily delivered before dashing off to serve more customers. She places the sandwich carefully back on the plate and rests her elbows on the table as I brace myself for the grilling.
‘I’m worried about Delilah, you know, Evie,’ she sighs.
I nod, secretly wishing that for once we could just have lunch and talk about each other. I want to hear more of Mum’s stories about her days at Hardy’s and I suddenly have this desperate urge to tell her all about the makeovers I’ve been doing in the store.
‘I want to know if you’ve noticed anything different about her? You two are so close and you more than anyone would know if anything was wrong.’ She sighs loudly. ‘Sometimes I feel so isolated, stuck away in Norfolk away from you all. And none of you tells me anything . . .’
‘That’s because there isn’t anything to tell,’ I reply unconvincingly, wanting to protect Delilah’s privacy. I know she’ll tell Mum when she’s ready. ‘If there was, you’d already know.’
Mum studies my face and I look away, afraid she’ll see right through me. ‘Come on, Evie, I’m not a fool. I know my daughters and I know when something’s wrong. What’s been going on?’
I shrug, twiddling my pretty china tea cup around on its saucer. I’m used to Mum’s interrogations but I’m finding it hard not to crack under the pressure this time. I want to tell her what I know about Will, am desperate, in fact, to share my burden, but I just don’t think it’s fair if I do. What if I’m wrong? And what if Delilah knows, but she and Will have decided to work things out? Mum knowing will only complicate matters. ‘What’s Delilah told you?’
‘Nothing!’ Mum exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘That’s why it’s so frustrating. I feel like I’m being left out of the loop. Delilah hasn’t been herself for a long time,’ she adds. ‘Ever since she had Raffy. And it’s getting worse, not better. I don’t think she’s been at work for the past few days . . .’
‘What?’ I reply, shocked. Delilah has never missed a day’s work apart from when she gave birth. But even then she was back on her BlackBerry, responding to emails the very next day. ‘That can’t be right. She’s a workaholic. Nothing would keep her away from the office. It’s her life.’
‘I know, darling, and that’s what worries me. Evie, have you stopped to wonder whether Delilah is happy?’
I shrug again, not wanting to reveal anything. ‘What do you want me to do, Mum?’
‘Talk to your sister,’ Mum pleads as she cups my face with her hands and gazes at me intently. ‘Find out how she’s feeling, listen to her. Be the loving little sister that you’ve always been to her.’
Used to be, I think. And suddenly I feel really sad.
Tuesday 13 December
12 Shopping Days Until Christmas
‘Morning, everyone.’ Rupert looks around the stockroom. Our Monday morning meeting was postponed yesterday due to the amount of replenishment all the staff had to do after our busiest ever weekend. Carly and I are squashed together on the sofa with Guy and Becky, and the rest of the staff are standing in a semicircle around Rupert and Sharon, waiting patiently for the good, or bad, news. Everyone is silent as Rupert flicks through the pages of reports on the clipboard he is holding and Sharon looks blankly ahead.
I glance over at my Advent calender, which I now
have pinned above the sink. This morning I opened the number 13 door – unlucky for some – and was rewarded with a piece of chocolate money. I just hope that with just twelve working days left till Hardy’s deadline, it is a sign that our dire financial situation has been turned around. But looking at Rupert and Sharon, I have this terrible feeling in my gut that it hasn’t.
Next to me, Carly is whispering to Guy and giggling, but the rest of us are hushed. Only the sound of the wall-clock, ticking like a timebomb, penetrates through the silence. I glance at Jane from Lingerie and she smiles warily at me, holding her crossed fingers up, red fingernails flashing like flags of hope. She is wearing her retro Hardy’s uniform again and has pinned her hair up so it shows off her long, elegant neck.
Everyone is focused on Rupert now, desperate to hear whether everyone’s hard work has paid off. Even Guy shushes Carly as Rupert clears his throat to begin to speak.
He begins slightly nervously, his clipped voice struggling to fill the cavernous room. ‘Thank you all for coming.’ He pauses and for the first time since he walked into the room his flushed, ruddy cheeks lift into a smile. ‘Firstly, I just want to say how much I appreciate all your hard work. Hardy’s has had an unprecedented weekend, with some departments, especially Lingerie, making an exceptional turnaround on previous weekly figures.’
Jane blushes proudly as everyone turns to look at her.
‘Menswear and Beauty have continued to exceed expectations too, and I must also congratulate Becky for the wonderful transformation of Handbags. For the first time in years, our leather goods were flying off the shelves and there were a lot of very happy-looking women browsing through that department at the weekend. Becky coped admirably with the increase in trade and it was wonderful to see Gwen and Jenny helping her out when she needed it.’ Rupert drops his clipboard to his side for one moment as he takes his eyes off the all-important figures and looks around the room.
‘Over the past two weeks you have all amazed me with your dedication to this store and with the respect you’ve shown to the loyal customers we’ve had for years, as well as the new ones that have been streaming through the doors. This place is important to me because it is part of my family heritage, but it has been hugely overwhelming to see just how much it means to you, too. I feel blessed to have you all and hope that we will be working together for a long time to come.’
He swallows and when he speaks again his voice is stronger and more confident. ‘For the first time in many, many years, Hardy’s is starting to feel like the store that my great-grandfather had visualized, a place that was to be a centre for community spirit, that would be aimed at the masses and put public service over profit, which we have done for many years now, more by force than choice.’
There is a ripple of laughter at that and Rupert flushes with pleasure before continuing.
‘But despite the threat of closure and the unexpected but welcome influx of new customers and revenue recently, I have witnessed only the best of Hardy’s customer service and for that I am truly thankful.’
He glances at Sharon and smiles fondly, and she practically swoons in response before remembering where she is and gathering herself together.
‘I understand from Sharon that over the weekend Jane helped many grateful women find underwear that made them feel infinitely better about themselves and she has become the perfect ambassador for her department.’
There is a round of applause and cheers, and Jane blushes prettily, winking at me and mouthing ‘thank you’ as she does so, which fills me with happiness.
‘And in most of my other departments . . .’ Rupert quickly glances at Carly and then back at his clipboard again,‘. . . I see my staff being helpful without being overbearing, treating our customers with the respect they deserve. It is truly wonderful to see, and I want to thank you deeply on behalf of myself and my family for all your hard work.’
Applause breaks out again as Rupert smiles at us all proudly. He is transformed from the bumbling man who was more used to sheep than staff. He is so much more confident and is now leading us with a gentle authority that is impossible not to respect. The staff – not just Sharon – are all looking at him adoringly and it is clear he has us all in the palm of his hands.
‘I also want to talk about the incredible makeovers that have been happening in the store.’ He looks around at us all, and Carly shifts into an upright position on the sofa and beams at him whilst I try to sink further into my seat. ‘I have my suspicions as to who is working such magic in the store.’ I see him sneak a shy, sideways glance at Sharon before he touches her arm gently. ‘Sharon here has been a tireless campaigner for maintaining the integrity of the store and whoever’s vision it has been to enrich the store’s display with all these vintage treasures has truly proven themselves to be a creative genius.’ His voice swells as he continues to speak. ‘Somehow this person has managed to make Hardy’s take a step back in time, whilst simultaneously propelling it into the future. It really is quite remarkable. I just wish that someone would step forward and take the credit.’ Rupert pauses and raises his thick eyebrows hopefully. Carly coughs loudly, which causes Rupert and a few other staff members to look in her direction, but other than that, there is only a rustling of clothes and shuffling of feet as everyone looks at each other, trying to see if anyone will own up.
Carly leans in towards me. ‘Do you reckon it’s time to own up?’ she whispers furtively.
I feel my heart pounding as I turn sharply to look at her. How does she know? ‘After all, it could have been either one of us,’ she adds wickedly. ‘No one would ever know, especially as no one seems to want to take the credit anyway . . .’ My heart returns to its normal pace. She doesn’t know. Thank God.
‘Well, then,’ Rupert sighs, ‘it seems we have our very own Secret Santa. And if I can’t thank the person – or people – responsible personally, I’d like to assume that you all have a hand in it, with the help of a truly wonderful manager.’ He touches Sharon’s shoulder gently, and she looks like she might just faint with pleasure. Her ironing board body seems to go limp, she leans into Rupert for support and he places an arm around her.
‘But, folks,’ he continues, ‘I’m afraid it isn’t all good news. Whilst Hardy’s has seen an incredible turnaround in the last two weeks, we’re not out of the woods yet. In fact, we are still very much in the thick of it. Hardy’s has been trading at a desperately low level for a long time now and the Board have had enough. The offer from Rumors is still on the table and the only way they will consider turning it down is if we prove that we can compete with the other department stores over the holiday period. That means we need customers to be flooding through our doors every day in the week before Christmas. We also need every department to be performing as well as the ones that have been successfully made over.’
He pauses and looks at the sales figures on his clipboard. ‘Unfortunately,’ he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone, ‘Designers had another very unsatisfactory weekend, with only one sale on Saturday – a tartan taffeta gown that Lady Fontescue had preordered for her annual Hogmanay celebration. But when she came to collect it, it was found to be on a sale rack. She was not amused.’
‘I wasn’t to know that ugly bit of tat had actually been chosen by someone,’ Carly grumbles defensively. ‘I was trying to show some initiative in creating some revenue out of the crappy old stock we keep clinging on to so I can make room for some more fab new designers.’
Rupert purses his lips and there is a murmur of disapproval and discontent from the rest of the room.
‘That “crappy old stock” has been selling pretty well in my department recently,’ pipes up Jane bravely.
‘Mine too,’ says Gwen. ‘Our customers can’t get enough of those lavender soaps. I’ve heard some of them swear it’s better than Crème de la Mer!’
‘And I’ve lost count of the number of trilbies I’ve sold since they’ve been out on display,’ Guy adds.
Car
ly scowls at him and sinks back in her seat.
‘I think the point I’m trying to make, everyone, is that all the departments need to be dramatically increasing their sales,’ Rupert says pointedly. ‘We need to be actively competing with similar-sized stores, like Fenwicks. We’ve proved that Hardy’s has the chance of a future, but now we need to blow the Board away with sales figures that they won’t be able to ignore. If we can prove that we can more than compete with anything that Rumors could do on this site, then we could, by some miracle, stop the buy-out.’ He presses his fingers to his lips in a prayer position before he speaks again. Clearly he’s not convinced by the statement. ‘These are going to be the most important twelve days of Hardy’s one-hundred-year history. I need everyone to pull together, which means helping those in the most underperforming departments, like Designers—’
‘That would be good, Rupe,’ Carly interrupts flippantly. ‘I mean, my ideas are working, I just need some support from certain members of staff,’ she says, and throws Elaine a meaningful look.
‘That’s not fair,’ Elaine exclaims, scowling at Carly. ‘She’s the one who doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing. She doesn’t understand what our customers want. She just flounces around acting all high and mighty and not actually doing anything to improve the department. It looks like a bloody art gallery in there, and those designers she’s chosen just aren’t ri—’
‘Oh, and you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ snaps back Carly. ‘I mean, look at you; you’re not exactly the best advert for the designers department. You wouldn’t know couture if it came and draped itself all over you.’
‘That’s exactly the point!’ Elaine shouts. ‘Nor would our customers! Hardy’s version of Designers should be wearable classics, investment pieces that will attract all ages into the store. We could have the occasional new designer, sure, but they have to be ones that fit in with the style of customer. We’re never going to sell edgy fashion or couture, and you’re more of an idiot than I already thought if you think we can!’
