by Maggie Ford
As she gabbled on it seemed to her a whole day had passed and the place would surely be gone by now even though in reality only an hour and a half had elapsed. But had she waited for Simon it could have been too late.
‘I never intended to go over your head, Simon,’ she ended.
But the way he was looking at her with that strange expression, she knew he thought she had gone too far.
‘You’ve not gone over my head, as you put it, my darling,’ he said but his expression hadn’t changed. ‘Only I would have liked to have known about it, that’s all.’
‘All I intended was to take a quick peek at the place,’ she hurried on. That look of his was tearing at her heart. ‘But I was so excited. I know I shouldn’t have given the agent the impression that we wanted it, but I suppose I didn’t think. I got carried away. I’m sorry, darling. It was wrong.’
She was ready to do anything or say anything to see that expression on his face disappear. Never in her life had she grovelled to anyone in such a manner. She might give way in an argument to placate someone like her mother, but for no one else. Now, for this man whom she loved, she was willing to swallow her pride to appease him.
It was with sinking heart that she saw him look away from her as if loath to reveal what he was truly thinking. Julia bit her lip. She couldn’t bear this awful hovering, negative silence.
‘Darling, say something!’ she finally burst out.
He looked at her as she cried out the words. For a second or two he studied her, then that strange, hurt expression faded and he said quietly, ‘Well, I suppose we had best go and see this place then.’
They didn’t speak at all as they sat side by side in the back of the taxi. And, as her unhappiness grew into anger, Julia vowed that if he wouldn’t talk to her she wasn’t going to talk to him.
Her mind was in turmoil. What if the place had already been snapped up in the hour and a half it had taken her to get back home, wait for Simon to deal with his customer, and then explain herself to Simon and finally for him to agree to accompany her back to the shop? She suddenly felt like a foolish little woman.
Defiantly she kept her head erect, her neck long and stiff, the tiny seed of anger inside her beginning to grow like some perfidious weed. Yes, he had taken her into his business without any real cost to herself, but it was she who had kept his shop going with her contribution of those beautiful materials of her father’s. She knew they had attracted more custom than he had ever had before. But for her he would have closed down and left ages ago. At the thought of his leaving, Julia experienced a sick feeling, knowing she would have lost him for ever. But she hadn’t been in love with him then, just rather strongly attracted; she would have got over it.
If he had left though, where would she and her family have been, trying to meet extra rent with nowhere to go if they couldn’t pay? She would never have had this opportunity to help them. She’d have had to take a job, paying less than her materials were reaping. They would never have been able to afford extra rent. Where would they be now? How strange, she mused, that one small incident, one small decision, can change a whole life utterly. If she had made a different decision all those months ago, she wouldn’t have had Simon; she wouldn’t have known what it was to have him make love to her, to have him ask her to marry him, even though that time still seemed as far away as ever.
She had him to thank for where she was now. Yet at this moment he seemed to be looking upon her as if she were no more than a headstrong and naive girl. But she did have a good head on her shoulders, and he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge it, sitting beside her without saying a word to her. How would he react when they reached their destination? Well, we will see, won’t we, she thought, determined to stand up to any negative reaction he might display. But the thought failed to bring any comfort.
Julia turned away to gaze disconsolately out of the taxi window at the passing shops, the pavements thronged with people shopping, at blank-faced business buildings, and finally at the theatres of Leicester Square. The taxi turned into a side street and stopped outside the building she had viewed earlier, still with its advertising placard, still with the ‘To Let’ notices pasted on its upper windows.
Simon paid off the cabbie. ‘This is it then,’ he said flatly.
She nodded but he was already walking up to the shop front, shielding his eyes with one hand and leaning towards the glass to see inside.
‘It looks a decent-sized area.’ His voice was as normal as if there had been no friction between them. Perhaps it had only been in her imagination all along. She came to stand beside him.
‘The agent said the rent was only eighteen shillings a week because it needs a lot of doing up.’
‘Did he say what he wanted for the other rooms upstairs?’
‘I think he said something like twelve shillings and sixpence a week for the first floor and ten and six for the one at the top.’
‘That sounds a bit steep,’ he observed.
‘We are in the West End,’ she reminded and he laughed lightly.
‘Then we’ll have to try and beat them down a bit, won’t we?’ he said.
‘Part of the ground floor could be a wonderful area for a showroom. Ginny is still willing to be a model until we can get a professional one.’
She saw him catch his lower lip between his teeth in a speculative gesture and though he said nothing she felt her spirits lift a little.
Her feelings of rebellion vanished like wisps of smoke in a spring breeze and she made herself stand prudently aside for him to take over the business dealings with Mr Bennett. It was more comfortable to stay in the background, listening to Simon talking business, behaving like a man of the world. It was a side to him she’d never seen before.
By the time the transaction was concluded, she’d lost all track of the conversation, glaringly aware of how sheltered a life she had led; she who had once been so sure of her ability to confront single-handedly this great big cold world of business and finance.
‘Well, darling,’ said Simon as they came away, ‘we’ve done it!’
Julia smiled but now it was her turn to fall silent and fretful. Had they bitten off more than they could chew? She’d sat by as Simon engaged the estate agent in deep discussion. Bennett had proved to be a harder nut doing business with another man than he had been with her, a woman to be handled gently and politely. She had felt suddenly very inadequate, knowing she would either have lost her temper or wilted completely if a man had addressed her in the manner in which those two had spoken to each other.
Simon had finally beaten the rent down a fraction during the agent’s long phone call to the vendor, which had involved a good deal of haggling and reasoning. Even a fraction was better than nothing and Julia had sat there, her heart pounding with anticipation and immense pride for Simon as he wrote a cheque for the down payment.
‘I do so love you,’ she whispered as they sat side by side in the taxi that brought them back home. He placed his arm around her and squeezed her lovingly to him.
Even so, the following two weeks saw her still plagued with doubts. It had all happened so quickly that it had taken her breath away. Suddenly they found themselves in possession of a whole building.
‘Are you sure we can find enough money for all this?’ she asked again and again.
‘We will,’ he kept reassuring her.
‘It’s not just rent we have to find. What about rates and all the other overheads, heating and lighting and supplies? What if we find we can’t repay the bank?’ She’d been horrified when he’d told her that he had negotiated a good-sized bank loan.
‘A bank loan?’ she had echoed in horror, remembering what they’d had to face after her father died.
It was borrowing so heavily that had got him and his family into debt. He had been so sure of himself, so keen on expansion that he had taken out ever increasing bank loans, borrowing from financial backers, speculating without listening to good advice. Finally, in desperation t
urning to his own life insurance policies, he’d lost everything.
‘We mustn’t get carried away with borrowing,’ she warned anxiously, as she watched him sign yet another cheque. Their outgoings seemed to be mounting by the minute. ‘You mustn’t ask the bank for any more, Simon.’
He smiled reassuringly at her. ‘Just enough to tide us over for a short while until we’re up and running.’
‘That’s if we ever do get up and running. I’m beginning to think it will never happen.’
‘Well, it’s got to happen.’ It was said not with anxiety but confidence and he gave her a mock-serious stare. ‘So you, dear girl, are going to have to work hard on your side of things. I shall concentrate on the theatrical side of my wares just as I’ve always done but on a grander scale.’
* * *
‘You should have prepared me months ago for this.’ Her mother’s tone was plaintive.
‘We didn’t know ourselves months ago.’ Julia tried to keep her tone mild. ‘I did warn you, Mumsy, that if the rent went up too drastically, we’d look for somewhere else to live.’
‘But it’s come on us so suddenly. These upheavals upset me so.’
‘It’s not sudden, Mummy. We have been talking about it for ages.’
But her mother wasn’t listening, as she sat in her chair watching Julia gather bits together to pack into cardboard boxes. Not that there was much to pack. They were going to have to buy new furniture – another worrying expense. Already they were going through money like fingers through water.
‘Having to move the first time was bad enough. I never thought we’d have to go through all the upheaval yet again. That was nearly the death of me.’
‘The first time we had to move,’ Julia said, trying to ignore the sight of her mother slumped and demoralized in her armchair, her face constantly creased at all the upheaval. ‘This time we are choosing to go.’
‘But I’ve become used to living here now.’ She had never got used to being there, had never ceased to lament the necessity of living among people she considered were not her sort.
‘Think, Mummy, we are going somewhere far nicer,’ soothed Julia, ‘with lots more room, three bedrooms, so you can have your own, nice views over London, and near the centre of everything. You know you hate it round here. This will be in the heart of the West End. You’ll love it.’
‘Three bedrooms! What will all that cost?’ she cried.
‘Leave that side to me!’ Julia said, so tersely that her mother finally subsided into brooding silence, her still smooth hands clasped in her lap, her head bowed; perhaps, Julia thought, so that she would not have to look at all the chaos surrounding her.
Everyone was helping except Victoria, but that was natural, she had never had to lift and struggle with anything heavy or bulky in her whole life, everything had been done for her. She could not be expected to start now. Julia and Ginny heaved sheets and blankets from the beds into cardboard boxes while James dragged the heavier mattresses and the beds themselves from the room.
Stephanie, however, had merely shifted herself enough to box up her own personal belongings instead of sweeping the place clean as she’d been asked to do.
‘Stephanie!’ Julia called to her as she went back into the bedroom.
Stephanie looked up from filling a small make-up bag with jars of vanishing cream and boxes of face powder, startled by her sister’s raised tone.
‘What?’ The single word was sharp and loud.
‘This is a broom!’ Julia seized the thing from where Stephanie had left it propped against the door and held it out at arm’s length towards her sister. ‘It’s what we use for sweeping!’ she added sarcastically. ‘It’s something you said you’d do. We need to leave this place clean.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Stephanie shot back at her, resentful of her sister’s tone. She took the broom begrudgingly with a well-manicured hand. ‘Were leaving anyway.’
‘Exactly! And I don’t want the next tenant thinking we’re a filthy lot.’
‘Does it matter what they think? We’ll be gone and they, whoever they are, don’t even know who we are.’
Julia turned away and went back to their mother who’d given a cry at the sound of raised voices and was now indulging in a little weep.
‘I’m sorry, Julia, I can’t face all this fuss with everyone shouting.’
‘No one is shouting, Mummy. I just told Stephanie to…’
‘It sounded like shouting to me and it’s making my poor head ache.’
To her relief, Simon called up to her from downstairs, providing her with a blessed chance to escape before her mother could find something else to lament over.
* * *
It was frightening, all this settling in. She hadn’t given a thought to all that went into setting up shop from a standing start; hadn’t thought just how much would be involved in getting things up and running. With the previous tenant having apparently gone broke and allowed his business to fall away, his customers to dwindle, it was taking a long time to get the place back on its feet. There was so much cleaning up to do, as well as serious repair work and redecorating to the style that she and Simon had chosen, that two months had gone by and nothing was yet up and running. In fact they seemed to be teetering on the edge of disaster. With rent, rates, builders’ and decorators’ bills to be met, the money was flying out and nothing yet coming in, and there was still so much more to do. Julia’s nights were sleepless from worry, the more so since some of their outlay had been partly due to her lack of forethought.
As soon as they’d arrived, transferring all their stock from the old shop to this, she had ordered more materials for her side of the business. She now realized that she’d let herself be carried away; she who had worried about Simon’s spending. Instead he had shown himself to be the steady one. Neither of them, however, could have envisaged the amount of work needed here and the way it would delay the start of trading. Meanwhile Julia watched the loan he’d raised from the bank dwindling alarmingly.
‘We’re not going to do it, are we?’ she said quietly as they sat on their own together in the half-decorated back room. Her family were upstairs in their flat, content to relax. Young James had worked his socks off helping to get the place up to scratch. He’d been a treasure, while Ginny had helped with painting bits and pieces. Stephanie of course had done nothing at all to help. Julia was not surprised but nevertheless annoyed at her sister’s selfishness.
But none of them had any inkling of her and Simon’s worries and she wasn’t about to pop their bubble just yet. She dreaded having to tell them that she and Simon might have made a mistake. God, how would they take it, especially her mother? They were content with their lot. James was doing well at his bank job, now earning three pounds a week, a man’s wage, he boasted. Last month Ginny had excitedly disclosed that her wages were now up to one pound ten shillings a week. Eager to show that she could go one better than her sister, Stephanie had immediately and carelessly declared hers to be almost two pounds a week.
‘An assistant on the cosmetics counter of a high-class department store is expected to advise customers of what is best for them. It’s an important position and of course I am earning good money.’ Although the other two were giving more or less three-quarters of their wages towards the family upkeep, Stephanie contributed only half of hers. ‘My job calls for me to look the part and that takes more money than if you’re just office staff. And James merely needs a suit, shirt and tie to look smart.’
It annoyed Julia that her mother meekly accepted the excuse, yet it was hardly worth making a fuss about since the combined income of the four of them was now more than enough to pay rent, rates and food, with enough left for clothes when needed. And now that summer was here there were no worries yet about buying coal. It was here, in the shop that the hammer was threatening to fall.
‘We mustn’t give up hope yet,’ Simon said as they sat over a cup of tea at the small table in the shop’s back room, as yet stil
l to be redesigned and decorated. At least the shop was now looking good.
Simon had insisted they shouldn’t try to trade while it was being done up. ‘It’s just the thing to turn customers away,’ he had said, but the money he’d borrowed was running out far too quickly for her peace of mind.
Sixteen
Betty Lewis looked up from cutting out a gold lamé evening dress to Julia’s own design. ‘This is lovely, just right fer these warm, end o’ September evenings. Mind you, I don’t exactly like these new knee-length hems, but I do like yer idea of this back panel. It sort o’ flows, don’t yer think?’
Yes, she did. After selling known labels Julia had tried designing her own dresses and had found herself quite good at it. Now suddenly the vogue was for skirts up to the knees and as a designer of sorts she needed to go along with the times. But this delicate panel she’d come up with, draped from the back of the shoulders to fall straight down to just above the ankles, rippled like a golden river and gave a wonderful effect as one moved. In fact these days she was full of new ideas, ever eager to see the finished product.
Betty was proving a treasure. She’d jumped at the chance to come with them when she and Simon had moved. Now in charge of a couple of girls who treadled away on sewing machines, Betty was the cutter for the clothes Julia was devising with growing confidence.
She was helped by today’s fashion for simple, straight lines and often wondered if she’d have achieved the same success twenty years ago when the fashion was for intricate gowns with wasp waists and figure-hugging drapes.
Surprisingly, despite their misgivings, the shop had finally opened for business and was proving a success. Julia had begun by making clothes for window display as she’d done in the old shop, to help sell her materials. Instead it was the dresses that had sold. Simon had helped by sending out leaflets to publicize them and now, six months later, she was being asked more and more often to design garments exclusively for a specific clientele.
