A New Dream

by Maggie Ford

  Stephanie had known a few times herself when a kiss and a cuddle with some young chap after a dance had threatened to develop into a bit of a fumble. But she’d never let it go any further than that, and unlike Julia she managed to keep her bits of fun well away from her family’s door, as any sensible girl should.

  Smug at having a darn sight more sense than Julia had, she couldn’t help a surge of satisfaction at her mother’s indifferent response to her daughter’s latest news. It had been the same when Julia had bounced into the flat with Simon one morning six weeks ago to show off her diamond cluster engagement ring after having blatantly spent the whole night in his rooms. Mummy’s disgust had taken all the bounce out of her, along with Stephanie’s own reaction; she had made a big point of giving the lovely engagement ring no more than a contemptuous glance before going back to eating her breakfast.

  Perhaps her behaviour had been a little too pointed. She had been taken aback to see Simon’s happy face change to an expression of bewilderment. He and Julia had left; she in tears, he with a comforting arm about her, their happiness completely deflated.

  Simon had not set foot up here again since that morning and Stephanie was haunted by the thought that she might have gone too far. She persuaded herself that Julia had brought this upon herself, by not bothering to think how her conduct might have upset others. She had given no thought to how unfair she was being towards her mother by not respecting Victoria’s admittedly old-fashioned sense of values or her peace of mind.

  Clinging to that thought now, Stephanie tried to ignore the insidious seed of jealousy that was growing inside her; jealousy of Julia who, when it came down to it, had done all right for herself since their father died. She had taken over responsibility for the family, with no thought of consulting anyone else, bossing them all into finding work as if she were queen bee, but doing nothing herself except dream of riches gained from that stuff she’d purloined from their father’s warehouse. Yet Julia had been the one to benefit most from their misfortune. Julia had landed nicely on her feet, acquiring a successful business and soon to marry a handsome businessman. She, on the other hand, was still at her boring, foot-aching, nine-to-five job behind a cosmetics counter, even if it was Selfridges.

  Ginny too was doing all right. She had always been Julia’s favourite sister and now, having been taken under her wing, she looked as though she too could go far, modelling. On one occasion last August Stephanie had gone down to the well-laid-out, modern fashion room to see how their younger sister was faring. She’d come away screwed up with resentment that it was Ginny and not herself parading up and down in front of a small but admiring group of customers like the Queen of England. She’d never gone to watch her again.

  ‘Please, Mummy, be happy for us,’ Julia was now saying, breaking the long silence. Even Ginny, still finishing her breakfast of toast and marmalade, had not said a word; she had just gaped, toast poised between plate and mouth.

  All at once Julia’s sad, pleading voice made Stephanie feel uncomfortable. It sounded so unlike her strong, self-assured sister. Perhaps her mother felt it too. She looked up at last with a heavy, tremulous sigh, her mending falling idle, her eyes glistening with tears.

  ‘How can I be happy, Julia, when I know what’s going on down there? Can’t you see how it upsets me?’

  ‘It was just that one time, Mummy,’ Julia broke in. ‘You must believe me.’

  ‘How can I?’ came the quavering reply. A stronger woman might have raised her tone, but not Victoria. ‘You spend your evenings with that man in his rooms, which is just as wrong. You are there until nearly midnight, time enough to…’ She broke off, unable to voice her thoughts. After a moment she continued. ‘Surely, knowing you’ll soon be married, you could abstain from indulging yourselves for the sake of decency. You ask me to be happy for you. Do this one thing for me, resist the temptation to go to his rooms, and I shall be the happiest woman in the world.’

  Stephanie saw anger steal into her sister’s eyes; saw her head go up.

  ‘What about lunch times, Mummy? We eat lunch together. But that’s all right? Who is to say we don’t do something else other than eat? We go to the pictures, the theatre, have dinner out. Why not take time to do what you say we do of an evening, maybe down some back alley or in a dark corner?’

  It was so loaded with cruel sarcasm that even Stephanie’s breath was taken away, while Ginny, who had looked on without a word, possibly quietly taking her sister’s part, cried out, ‘Julia!’

  For one moment Julia looked as though she was about to throw herself into her mother’s arms to beg forgiveness. Instead she merely shrugged and stood stiff and erect as her mother clamped a horrified hand to her mouth, for a moment struck dumb. Then, without another word, Victoria gathered up her sewing with shaking fingers, got up from her chair as if in pain and went slowly out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Stephanie couldn’t help herself. She turned savagely on her sister. ‘Now see what you’ve done! How could you speak to her like that? It was wicked – wicked and cruel.’

  ‘No crueller than the treatment I’ve just received. I came to tell you all that Simon and I have set our wedding date. I didn’t expect such a reaction from you, especially after I’ve done all I could for this family. Without me…’ She stopped as if defeated, ending quietly, ‘How would you have felt if you’d been given the same delightful welcome as I have received?’

  ‘I’m not the one doing what you’re doing,’ Stephanie began but then stopped, her cheeks grown hot, remembering her own secret pleasures, even if she had not been quite as shameless as Julia. But Julia didn’t seem to notice. She merely gave a small, tight laugh. ‘Well, I’ve told you my news. Whether you want to come to my wedding or not is up to you. I couldn’t care less!’

  * * *

  The dance band was finally packing up, leaving the hall with a strange, lonely air, filled only with the buzz of young men and women departing to catch buses, taxis, trains for home. Dancers filtered slowly out into the foyer and then into the street, couples and groups tired yet still lively. Among them, Stephanie clung to Jimmy Waring’s arm as they emerged into the December night. An icy blast whistled around her legs below the short dress and coat, making her shiver.

  ‘Cold?’ he queried.

  ‘Freezing!’

  Freeing himself from her hold, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders so that she could snuggle up against his thick overcoat and scarf. He grinned down at her from beneath his trilby hat. ‘Fancy going on to a nightclub I know? Be warm there. Afterwards you can go home by taxi. I’ll pay.’

  ‘Oh, yes, please!’ The offer was too good to miss. To be bought a drink in a nightclub! Not many young men she’d met offered that luxury. Usually it was, ‘Can I see you home?’ and that was usually by bus, with a bit of a grope on the corner before she went indoors.

  It was quite all right, she could look after herself. She was a modern girl, did what most modern girls did these days. So long as her mother didn’t know. An off-putting giggle would soon shut off a boy’s ardour, followed quickly by, ‘Got to go, I think I saw my mum peep out of the window, thanks for seeing me home, ’bye!’ As he hesitated, asking, ‘Can I see you again?’ she’d say lightly, ‘We’ll see,’ if she didn’t fancy him that much, but if he was gorgeous it would be, ‘When?’ He’d suggest an evening, to which she would usually agree. As yet there was no regular boyfriend, she was having too good a time for that. And if she got tired of them she could let them down, though she couldn’t help feeling put out if one did the same to her.

  But Jimmy Waring had really taken her fancy; she could really take to him as a regular boyfriend. He was a good-looker, slim, tall, debonair, about twenty-five and far more mature than most boys she’d so far been out with.

  She’d met him last week when she’d been with a couple of girls from Selfridges. He’d been in a mixed company of about half a dozen, but as the dance floor began to fill he’d looked tow
ards her and come straight across. The next thing she knew they were dancing a tango, he commenting on her grace and the ease with which she followed him.

  He’d turned out to be a smashing dancer and after that had asked her for almost every dance, to the envy of her friends. After escorting her back to her seat though he’d gone back to rejoin his group, leaving her feeling’ a little deflated. This week he was here again and made straight for her. Now he was cuddling her against the cold and offering to take her on to a nightclub.

  ‘But I mustn’t stay out too late,’ she told him. ‘I need to be home at least by twelve.’ It seemed to her that offering her a drink in a nightclub amounted to a first date and one mustn’t look too eager on a first date.

  ‘Then we’ll make sure of it,’ he said cheerily. ‘One quick drink to warm you up, it’s only a couple of minutes’ walk from here. You won’t even notice the cold after that.’

  One drink became two, then three. Chatting and laughing with him, she didn’t notice time passing. When she finally glanced at her watch Stephanie saw that it was one thirty.

  ‘I have to go,’ she blurted, and made to get up from the table where they’d been sitting, wobbling a little as she stood.

  Jimmy was on his feet holding her steady. ‘You can’t go home like this just yet,’ he said with sudden concern. ‘Look, I’ll get a hotel room where you can rest and recover.’

  As tipsy as she felt, she wasn’t so tipsy that she had abandoned all caution. ‘No, thank you! I shall be all right. If you’d just get me a taxi…’

  He was all consideration. ‘Then it might be best if I see you home. You can’t go alone as you are.’ So he hadn’t designs on her after all, she thought, relieved. She had begun to fear that he had deliberately got her drunk in order to have his way with her.

  In the dark taxi he was so kind, holding her close, asking if he might see her again. She was only too happy for him to do so. He gave her his address in Kilburn and for once she was happy to give hers, an address that at last she could be proud of, in the heart of the West End.

  Jimmy told her that his father was a stockbroker on the London Stock Exchange and that he worked with him. So he was pretty well off, came the unavoidable thought as Stephanie cuddled close to him. It didn’t seem wrong for him to put his arm about her slim neck and kiss her quite masterfully on the lips; kisses she returned with pleasure, aware of his hand slipping down inside her coat, the top of her dress, beneath her bra. Other boys had done this but she usually put them off with a quick laugh, but this time she found the sensation pleasurable, the warmth of his fingers on her breast, gently manipulating the flesh, making her nipple stand up. In fact it was so delightful that, as his other hand moved up inside her skirt and between her legs, she actually drew in a sharp breath as the touch on that place that had never been touched by any boy before caused her senses to respond involuntarily – one second later, in fear.

  Pulling her lips from his, pushing the hand away violently, she came upright, realizing she had let his body bear her down upon the seat. There came real fear that he could easily render her powerless, and her imagination suddenly ran riot. But to her surprise he also sat up, taking his hands from her with not even a sign of anger. He even gave a deep chuckle.

  ‘You’re a good girl,’ he muttered. ‘There are few of those about these days. I’m sorry if I worried you. It was quite unforgivable of me. Am I still permitted to see you again next week?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ came her meek reply. She did want to see him again. Already gratitude for his understanding was overwhelming her, almost to the point that she wished she had let him go further with her. In a way she felt cheated, wanting it to happen again; that delightful sensation she’d never before experienced, could never even have guessed at. Just thinking of it made her tremble deliciously.

  But there was something else. She’d nearly let him go on; something in her had wanted – needed – it to happen. And this need was making her understand, as she finally alighted from the taxi, Julia’s need to share with her fiancé that most natural thing, being in love and wanting to cement that love, with no care for what others might think.

  * * *

  Christmas came and went. She had shared the festive season with her family though Julia spent most of it with Simon. When she came to be with them she came on her own. At last Stephanie understood. She could think of no one but Jimmy, yet had to conceal those thoughts from everyone because like Julia she had allowed their natural feelings for each other to take over and she was happy to express her love for him in every way that a woman can. Each day away from him was a yearning torture; she could hardly wait for the New Year to be over when they could forget their families and be together and enjoy the love they now indulged in as well as the new, exciting life he was showing her.

  Over the past weeks he’d introduced her to his friends, and she had enjoyed sharing in their escapades. She was truly one of the ‘Bright Young Things’ as the wealthy young gadabouts were called. Jimmy paid for everything, even her clothes. It was such fun, dashing about in cars, drinking cocktails and champagne, smoking cigarettes in long elegant holders. There were fancy dress parties, babies’ parties where everyone dressed as a baby, dancing to wild music, party crashing, Underground parties where they all went round on the Circle line for hours, getting drunk until they were forced off. Best of all was going to bed with Jimmy. Who cared what her mother said about her staying out until the early hours? She was enjoying herself. She no longer minded what Julia and Simon got up to. It was natural, after all. Everyone was doing it with someone. Before long Jimmy would propose. Who knows, she thought, we might even have a double wedding.

  * * *

  The wedding had had to be postponed. Work was coming in thick and fast; so was money, but there was no time for making any plans other than financial ones. The February dock strike had paralysed every port in the country, holding up delivery of Julia’s lovely silks from India. They cost half the price being asked at home and without them she was left worrying how to meet the growing demand from her customers for ever more exotic garments.

  The finding of more treasure from the young Pharaoh Tutankhamun’s tomb in Egypt had begun a ‘Tutmania’ craze for turban hats, Egyptian earrings and bangles. Colours were named Coptic blue, mummy brown, carnelian and lotus in honour of the Egyptian craze. The wealthy flocked to Egypt to see the wonderful treasures and take part in more discoveries. They returned home with yet more exotic ideas and Julia was at her wits’ end to keep up with their demands for exclusive and exotic clothes. She spent hours searching for fine brocades, gold-embroidered taffeta, chiffon in deep Egyptian colours, Oriental silk, all to meet the demand for this new style. It was not the time to think of marriage.

  ‘We’ll try for the summer,’ Simon said glumly and Julia had no option but to agree with that. They were now living together virtually as man and wife anyway. Her mother said little and Stephanie had appeared to come to terms with the situation. They were being careful, not only for the sake of propriety but because a pregnancy could interfere with business.

  James had tried to lecture her just after Christmas when she and Simon had stayed downstairs together instead of sharing the festival with her family.

  ‘You are a silly ass you know, Sis! No one other than a raging idiot shits on their own doorstep.’

  As Julia drew in a shocked breath, he grinned. ‘Sorry about that, but it’s the truth. I mean, did you really expect Mother to throw her arms about you? It’s best to keep what you do outside the home well out of sight. As I said, you’re an ass, Julia, and you only have yourself to blame if Mother hardly speaks to you.’

  ‘I’ve done a lot for her,’ Julia reminded him. ‘I’ve done a lot for you all.’

  ‘I know, but that doesn’t give you licence to run roughshod over our mother’s feelings. Yes she’s old-fashioned and these are modern times but you should spare a little thought for her, Julia.’

  Julia had wanted
to say that her life was her own, but instead she merely turned away, counting James as another finger in the pie denying her happiness.

  Simon told her not to worry about it. ‘We’ll be husband and wife by the end of summer,’ he said, drawing her to him when she expressed her anger at her family. ‘We might be able to make it September, if that’s OK with you, darling, just before the Christmas rush starts to get going.’

  It sounded a good plan but in her disappointed state Julia somehow couldn’t see it happening as easily as they hoped. At least by April, with the date of their wedding come and gone, and with it much of her disappointment, she was already organizing an important fashion show in her showroom.

  Ginny had given up her job to work full time with Julia and was as excited as a puppy with two tails. Almost seventeen she was growing into a beauty and always drew rapt attention from the women customers. Julia had hired another young model to help out at times but Ginny was the one they looked for. Husbands and fiancés accompanying their ladies obviously enjoyed seeing her too, and Julia was proud of her sister.

  The dock strike was now over and a specially ordered consignment of beautiful Oriental-type materials was at her disposal. Julia was designing a whole host of the new styles, among them a Turkish trouser suit and an Oriental pyjama suit for house parties. Another evening garment was a sleeveless, straight-sided, Eastern-style embroidered silk tunic with a stand-up collar meeting edge to edge. There was also an evening cloak in black velvet embroidered with coloured silks and pearls inspired by an Egyptian drawing she had found. She liked one design especially, a beautiful evening dress with an Egyptian girdle, the ends of which hung down to trail upon the ground.

  She planned to redesign the harem skirt. This time round she hoped it would be a wow, though it had not been popular before the war. But then that was before Tutankhamen had appeared on the scene! There was also a new innovation all her own, a straight-sided Egyptian-style dress in gold chiffon with a scooped neck embroidered with colourful zigzag emblems based on the Egyptian styles seen on paintings on the walls of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Even the modern evening bandeaux currently being worn just above the brow would match the designs of those seen on the wall paintings of the tomb. It would mean a lot of work if her garments were to be ready to meet the July deadline Julia had set for herself, but any later would lose her the summer trade and that would be a disaster.