True Colours

by Jeanne Whitmee

  I forced a laugh. ‘I’m fine. Take no notice of me. My son has gone off to boarding school this morning and it’s a bit – a bit….’

  ‘A bit of a wrench?’ he finished for me.

  I nodded. ‘I’m just being stupid, or so my husband keeps telling me, but he’s our only child you see and he’s only eight.’

  He said nothing as I struggled to keep my emotions in check, hiding my face in my coffee cup. Eventually I looked up at him. ‘Do you have children?’

  He paused. ‘I did,’ he said at last. ‘Twin girls, Amy and Angela. They would have been six this year.’

  Would! I felt my heart sink. I wanted to ask what happened but I couldn’t bring myself to probe. As though reading my thoughts he answered my unasked question.

  ‘It was three years ago. My wife was taking them for a visit to the grandparents in Yorkshire. They were involved in a pile-up on the motorway.’

  ‘And…?’ I whispered.

  ‘The car was totally wrecked and they were all killed,’ he finished the sentence matter-of-factly but I could see the pain in his eyes. He took a deep drink of his coffee. ‘The only consolation is that it would have been instantaneous,’ he added.

  ‘I’m so very sorry,’ I said, chastened. ‘Here am I whingeing on about my son going to boarding school when you….’

  ‘Let’s not dwell on sadness on a beautiful morning like this,’ he broke in. He took a deep breath. ‘So, what are you going to do with yourself now that you’re at a loose end? I expect you have some interesting prospect lined up.’

  ‘No, I don’t and that’s the problem,’ I told him. ‘It’s better for men. You have your work. All I have is this house to rattle round in all day.’

  ‘Have you never worked?’

  ‘Oh yes. I used to be a PA. That was how I met my husband. I’d go back to work for him tomorrow if he’d allow it, but he doesn’t want me to.’

  ‘That’s a pity. What a waste of good experience and talent.’

  I poured him a second cup of coffee. ‘Have you always been in the swimming pool business?’

  ‘No. I used to be a civil engineer but after I lost my family I needed a change. I sold the house – it had too many memories anyway – and put the money into “Tropicalle”. I design the pools myself and as you know they have various safety features that other pools don’t have, which is good for families with youngsters.’

  ‘And it’s taken off?’

  ‘Even better than I could have hoped,’ he told me. ‘I thought it might be a risk, going into a luxury business in times like these but I think a lot of people are investing in a pool rather than spend money on expensive holidays.’ He smiled. ‘And having one is a boon in the school holidays as you’ve already experienced.’

  ‘And having the boss himself checking that everything is satisfactory is certainly a bonus,’ I told him with a smile.

  ‘It’s been great talking to you, Mrs Grayson. Thanks for the coffee.’ To my dismay he began to get up and I hastily cast about for something to keep him a few more minutes.

  In a sudden panic I blurted out: ‘You wouldn’t have a job going for a bored housewife, would you?’ The moment I’d said it I felt my face turning scarlet and I curled up inside with shame and embarrassment. He looked shocked and mortified by turn and I hastily made myself laugh. ‘Listen to me! What am I like? Sometimes I have this warped sense of humour.’ I stood up and held out my hand. ‘It’s been so nice to meet you, Mr Fenn. Maybe we’ll meet again – if we have a problem with the pool, I mean,’ I added hastily.

  ‘Which I hope you won’t.’ He smiled. ‘I hope your son enjoys his new school and you don’t miss him too much.’ He shook my hand warmly. ‘Don’t see me off the premises. I know the way. Maybe you could continue your swim. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  Harry’s first letter home was short and to the point. The boys were not allowed to email their parents but made to write proper letters. Harry’s went as follows:

  Dear Mum and Dad

  It’s great here. I’m in Hereward, Dad’s old house, and my housemaster is Mr Merridew. He is nice. He’s got glasses and a beard and a wife called Mrs Merridew. I’ve got two friends. Peter and James. We have prep after supper and bed at eight so no telly. I think it’s too early.

  From your son Harry.

  He didn’t say he missed us and there was no way of telling whether he was happy or not. I asked Charles if they were supervised and if the letters were censored before being posted. He laughed.

  ‘You make it sound like Stalag Seventeen.’ He said. ‘Of course they’re supervised, for spelling mistakes, that’s all. It’s a boys’ school, not some kind of corrective institution.’

  I didn’t argue, but it would have been nice if he’d signed off with the word ‘love’. He was normally such an affectionate little boy. Would they turn him into some hard-hearted stoic? I asked myself. Like Charles, a tiny voice inside my head added.

  It was about ten days later when I got the phone call. I was on my way out of the house to keep a hairdresser’s appointment when the telephone began to ring. I hesitated before picking up the telephone. If I answered it I’d be late. After the customary four rings the answerphone cut in with its recorded message and then:

  ‘Mrs Grayson? Adam Fenn here. When you get this I’d like you to ring me if you can. The number is—’

  I snatched up the receiver. ‘Hello, Mr Fenn. I was just on my way out. What can I do for you?’

  ‘If this is a bad time I can ring again later.’

  ‘No. It’s fine. I’m not in a hurry.’

  ‘It was just….’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day. Were you serious when you asked if I had a job suitable for you?’

  The breath caught in my throat. ‘Why – do you have something in mind?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I’m not sure it would be the kind of thing you’d like.’

  ‘Try me.’ I held my breath.

  ‘It’s not easy on the telephone. Maybe we could meet? I happen to be in Leicester today. I could run out to the house if….’

  ‘No,’ I cut in. ‘I was coming into town anyway.’

  ‘Right. Do you know The Bell?’

  ‘Yes. I know it.’

  ‘Could we meet for coffee or a drink at, say around twelve o’clock?’

  ‘I think I could manage that.’

  ‘Good. I’ll explain everything when I see you then.’

  For a reason I refused to acknowledge I was glad I was having my hair done and when I looked into the mirror at Armand’s with my hair newly cut and highlighted my confidence gained the necessary boost. In the cloakroom I saw that it was already a quarter to twelve. No time to lose. I hastily repaired my make-up then I went outside and hailed a cab to The Bell.

  Adam Fenn was waiting for me in the lounge. He stood up when he saw me come in and I saw that he was wearing a light grey suit and blue shirt and tie.

  ‘Hello again. I’m glad you could make it.’ He pulled out a chair. ‘Coffee? Or would you like a drink?’

  ‘Coffee’s fine, thank you.’ As we waited I glanced at him. ‘I was surprised to get your call this morning.’

  He looked concerned. ‘I hope you didn’t think it an imposition. I wasn’t sure whether you really were joking the other day. And you had been saying you were at a loose end.’

  ‘I was serious actually,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what made me blurt it out to you like that though, which is why I tried to back-pedal.’

  He smiled. ‘I see.’

  The coffee arrived and I poured for us both. ‘So, what is this job you have in mind?’ I asked.

  He spooned sugar into his cup and stirred thoughtfully. ‘I need someone attractive and personable to help sell the pools,’ he said.

  I shook my head. ‘I’m not a saleswoman.’

  ‘No. I visualize this person as more of a rep’.’ He leaned forward. ‘How it happens at the
moment is this. We usually get enquiries through the website which we follow up with brochures in the post – photographs, prices and descriptions etcetera.’

  ‘Yes. That was how we did it.’

  ‘But I’ve been thinking how much better it would be to provide the personal touch, a stylish lady such as yourself to take along the brochures in person and advise.’

  ‘I don’t know very much about swimming pools,’ I told him doubtfully. ‘I mean apart from using one.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’d give you all the training you’d need, clue you up on the technical side. The plan would be to visit the customers in their homes, advise on sites, pool sizes – you know that we do several different models – explain the installation procedure, maintenance and things like that. We’ll make a DVD for you to play for them and perhaps leave them to watch at their leisure.’

  ‘Sounds like a very good idea.’

  ‘There’d be a fair amount of driving, but I’d provide you with a vehicle.’

  There was a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. I was definitely excited by the idea. ‘I’d rather use my own car,’ I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Which is…?’

  ‘A Mercedes convertible.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Better and better. What a boost for the company’s image! I’d pay you a car allowance of course.’

  ‘Well, naturally,’ I said with a straight face. Suddenly we were both laughing.

  Adam looked at me. ‘So, are you interested?’

  ‘I’m interested.’

  He beamed delightedly. ‘Great! This calls for something stronger than coffee. How about a champagne cocktail?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m driving.’

  ‘Better still, join me for lunch.’

  ‘Well….’

  ‘Don’t say you’re going to turn your future employer down?’ He gave me a mock stern look and I laughed. ‘All right, you’re on. But I warn you, I could eat a horse!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KATIE

  We couldn’t really have chosen a worse time to start our hiring business at Fantaisie. Ascot was over and so were all the other fashionable summer functions. Imogene was a bit depressed about it at first but I suggested that we buy some cocktail and ball gowns to begin with. Advertising was important but Imogene was nervous about spending money.

  ‘We should have a website,’ I told her.

  She stared at me. ‘Have you seen what these website firms charge?’

  ‘I bet I could find someone to make you one,’ I said. ‘There are lots of students living round my way and they’re all familiar with computers. They’d be glad to earn some pocket money.’

  Imogene looked doubtful. ‘Well, see what you can do. They’d have to come here and do it to my precise specifications. I couldn’t have any cock-ups.’

  ‘’Course not.’ I’d already thought of someone actually. Danny Harris, my landlord’s young son. He was studying computer programming at college and I knew he’d welcome the challenge. I was right. He came up to the King’s Road one evening with me and built us a super website right there in the back office. Imogene was delighted.

  Meanwhile, I managed to keep up my own design and dressmaking business when I could find the time. There had been a flurry of summer weddings and I was getting quite a reputation for my wedding dresses. The problem was, would I be able to keep up with the work once the hiring business took off?

  Once the website was up and running we started to get enquiries and our ball gowns began to go out. We weren’t setting the world on fire but we soon recovered our initial outlay and began to make a profit. It wasn’t a bad start but Imogene was still cautious. She was reluctant to buy in any other kind of stock for hiring until the spring.

  ‘It would all just hang there, dead money,’ she said. ‘And I need to buy in new stock for the winter – to sell.’

  I couldn’t argue with her. We’d pulled off the bank loan which had enabled her to pay off her debts and she’d also re-mortgaged her house to buy new stock. The next twelve months were going to be crucial for Fantaisie – which meant my future as well as hers – and I had to admit that she had far more to lose than I did.

  At home I was busy with a gown for the smartest wedding I’d dressed yet. I’d already made the two bridesmaid’s dresses, blue silk with a voile overlay, and the bridal gown was what I considered to be the best I’d designed yet. It was a close fitting style, made in ivory-watered silk with long sleeves in cobweb-fine lace. Falling from the waist at the back was a waterfall train with two cream roses nestling at the waistline. It was going to look wonderful as she walked down the aisle and I was so proud of it. The bride, Carole, who was reed slim and very pretty, looked beautiful in it but on the evening when she should have been having her final fitting she arrived looking upset.

  I took one look at her tearstained face and my heart sank as I guessed what she was about to tell me. ‘Carole. What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m sorry, the wedding’s off,’ she said. And burst into tears.

  I made coffee and sat her down with a box of tissues and bit by bit the whole story came out.

  ‘Ian just walked out,’ she told me. ‘He says he can’t go through with it – that he’s made a mistake.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s not just wedding nerves?’ I asked. She shook her head.

  ‘He says I’ll thank him when I’ve had time to think about it. Thank him! Can you believe it? He’s left me to cancel the wedding and send back all the presents – cancel the church and break the news to everyone. It’s a nightmare!’ She reached for another tissue. ‘He’s such a coward, doing it like this, leaving me to face everyone and pick up all the pieces.’

  I was sympathetic of course but I couldn’t help wondering what was going to happen about the dresses I’d made. The material had cost me a bomb and I’d spent hours working on them, at weekends and evenings when I should have been in bed, asleep. She stopped blowing her nose and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  ‘I’m so sorry about the dresses, Katie,’ she sniffled. ‘They’re so lovely and I know you’ve put a lot of time and effort into them. I’m sorry but as you must realize, I don’t have any use for them now.’

  I fought down my dismay and anger. I really couldn’t afford to lose the money I’d paid for the materials. ‘Is there a chance you could pay at least some of the cost?’ I asked.

  She bit her lip. ‘Ian was going to pay for the dresses,’ she said.

  ‘Then I’ll send him the bill.’

  She shook her head. ‘He’s got a job in Saudi Arabia and he leaves early tomorrow morning.’

  Under my breath I called him all he rats in Christendom. He wasn’t just a rat and a coward, he was a crook as well.

  ‘Your parents?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘They’re losing so much money as it is,’ she said. ‘The hotel we’d booked for the reception, the printing and the flowers we’d ordered. Some people have been considerate but others insist on instant payment.’

  Maybe I should too, I thought, but one look at Carole’s devastated face stopped me from saying so.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Look, don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘I’m sure something will turn up, either for you or for me. Just you go and cope with all you have to do and we’ll sort something out about the dresses later.’

  She looked relieved. ‘Oh, Katie, thank you so much. You know I’ll always recommend you to my friends.’

  ‘Thanks.’ That’s going to help a lot, I added under my breath.

  Next day at work I tried hard not to let my depression show, but Imogene knew me too well not to notice. Halfway through the morning she said, ‘You’re not yourself this morning, Katie. Is something wrong?’

  ‘It’s just a bit of a set-back,’ I told her. ‘One of my customers has let me down – through no fault of her own.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I made her wedding dress, bridesmaids’ dre
sses too, but she turned up last night with the news that the wedding’s off.’

  Imogene looked appalled. ‘Don’t tell me she’s left you holding the baby – or in this case the dresses?’

  I nodded. ‘Afraid so. The fiancé has left her in the lurch, gone abroad to work, and her mum and dad are up to their eyes in debt, paying for all the trimmings.’

  ‘It’s not right that you should lose out though.’ She was silent for a moment then she said, ‘Last week on your half day I had someone in asking if we sold wedding dresses. I had to say no of course. What a pity I didn’t know about your set-back then.’

  I felt my spirits rise. ‘You didn’t happen to get her phone number, did you?’

  ‘No.’ Imogene looked thoughtful. ‘But I think I know how I could find it. She was recommended by a regular customer, Sylvia Hanson.’ She looked at me. ‘She might have found a suitable dress by now of course and….’ She hesitated. ‘Maybe I ought to see this dress of yours before I try and get in touch with her.’

  ‘In case it’s a complete dog, you mean?’

  She grimaced. ‘No! But to be fair I haven’t actually seen any of your work first hand, have I? I really should take a look first. Surely you agree?’

  I did agree but I couldn’t help being a bit put out too. ‘I’ll bring it in tomorrow,’ I said. ‘There are two bridesmaids’ dresses too. Do you think she might want those?’

  ‘Bring them in and we’ll see.’

  I glanced at her. ‘I’ll have to get a cab,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t bring three delicate dresses like that on the tube.’

  ‘Yes, yes, whatever,’ she said irritably. ‘I’ll pay the fare of course.’

  I arrived at the shop the following morning with the three dresses shrouded in their polythene covers and unveiled them for Imogene. I could see at once that she was impressed but she wasn’t going to enthuse too much.

  ‘Mmm, not bad,’ she said, her head on one side. ‘Not bad at all. I quite like the train and the lace sleeves are pretty.’ She looked at me. ‘I did manage to get hold of that woman’s phone number last evening by the way.’