by Maggie Ford
Julia watched with excitedly beating heart as Ginny posed elegantly for a moment on the edge of the fur-covered chaise longue she had placed at the end of the platform. Her legs were tucked neatly under her, her body lightly supported by one slender arm while her other hand delicately held a long, ivory cigarette holder. Occasionally she would put it to her mouth to allow a gentle trail of cigarette smoke to issue from her painted lips; then, rising nonchalantly to an outburst of applause, she would resume her slow, studied pacing of the catwalk, finally disappearing behind the curtain for Betty to dress her hurriedly in another of her employer’s creations.
The necklaces she wore were Simon’s designs to match each different dress, each different skull cap. Bracelets glittered like real diamonds; rings and earrings, looking like pure sapphires, emeralds and rubies, were how set in gold and silver to ape the real thing.
Simon spared no expense to make them look so. Few people other than the experts would have been able to see the difference.
The exhibition was proving a roaring success and Julia felt her slender, figure-hugging evening gowns were a glittering triumph. The emphasis was still on the young, boyish look but she was keeping an eye on the bosom which she felt was about to make a gentle reappearance. She was sure this would be a welcome relief to the larger lady who’d been struggling for a decade to keep hers as invisible as possible. It seemed she was being successful at gently introducing it today.
Simon too had enjoyed great success with his costume jewellery but was growing restive. Usually it took twenty to thirty minutes to present a show, as opposed to the preparation which took hours. This time the show was to last a whole morning and continue through the afternoon, repeated over and over for the benefit of ever-changing audiences. It was exhausting and draining but it was imperative to keep going while other exhibitors continued to do so.
‘I think I’ll take a quick look around the other stands,’ he muttered and Julia nodded, wishing she could too. But he would bring back reports of what he saw and that was as important to her as managing her own show.
As he moved off she put her mind to the reaction of the crowd. There were almost as many men at this exhibition as women, mostly with wives or girlfriends on their arms. Some were on their own, but they were usually buyers whom one could easily pick out. One such Julia noticed. He didn’t look like a buyer though as he came towards her. There was something slightly familiar about him. She stared then moments later gasped as she recognized the face of Chester Morrison.
Twenty-Four
For a moment he looked as startled as she. But seconds later his expression was replaced by a broad smile as he moved towards her through the groups of people, reaching her in a few long strides.
She had been standing by the curtain to the small changing area from where she could judge the reactions to her designs by both the public and, hopefully, buyers.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
His voice still bore the energetic, amiable timbre she remembered and which now made her heart flip to hear. Why, she didn’t know. At the same time came a resurgence of the old resentment at his callousness in breaking off their engagement the moment she and her family had found themselves in financial straits. But he’d been younger then and under the strong influence of his arrogant family. No doubt he was married now and his own master.
He made to step up on to the low, temporary catwalk but she stopped him with an almost imperious out-turned palm of her hand. It was typical of him to assume everywhere to be his domain. He hadn’t changed. But at her signal he stayed where he was, forced to look up at her from his position. She found that quite gratifying.
‘What am I doing here? I have my own a business – I’m a fashion designer and quite well known.’ No harm in saying so and she was, to some extent.
Julia lifted her head proudly and made herself stand a little taller. She had noted a buyer hovering a few paces away, making notes as her second model turned at the end of the catwalk to retrace her steps with expert casualness back to the changing area.
Chester looked suitably impressed. ‘Glad to see you doing well,’ he said, but Julia had her eye on the buyer. Chester’s presence might prevent her from speaking to the man and he could prove important to her.
And where was Simon when she wanted him? She looked down at Chester. ‘Excuse me for a moment, will you?’ She saw him step back a little, obviously not expecting her reaction. ‘I have to speak to someone,’ she offered as an excuse as she moved casually off towards the man making notes.
He looked up from his pad at her approach and smiled, tilting his head towards her stand. ‘Very good,’ he appraised. ‘You are the designer?’ When she nodded he said, ‘I am a buyer for…’ The name was drowned by a group of young people passing close by, laughing noisily. But Julia wasn’t worried. She could ask him again later. ‘So you are Julia Layzell?’
‘That’s correct,’ she answered calmly though her heart was pounding rather surprisingly. She had dealt with many buyers and was mystified why she should feel so on edge and excited this time.
‘I wonder if we might have a small business chat,’ he was saying. ‘I have to be somewhere in a few minutes, but what do you say about having lunch together, say in about an hour, around twelve thirty, at the George Hotel? That’s only just outside this exhibition, a small place but we can talk better there.’
‘That would be fine,’ she replied, all thoughts of Chester flown. ‘I will need to bring along my business partner.’
‘Fine,’ he replied. ‘I shall see you then.’
‘And you are?’
He held out a hand. ‘The name’s Thompson.’
Julia nodded as they shook hands and watched him shoulder his way through the moving knots of people, realizing that she hadn’t asked him to repeat the name of the people for whom he was a buyer. She would ask him later when they met in the George.
She returned to find Chester still where she had left him. He grinned at her and said, ‘Quite the important young lady these days, eh?’
She ignored the remark. ‘And why are you here?’
Chester shrugged. ‘Just having a look around but it’s an unexpected surprise seeing you here. I’ve often wondered about you. Have you ever thought about me?’
He paused but when she didn’t answer he went on, ‘It is delightful to see you again.’
No reference at all to the way in which their relationship had ended. She noticed he was looking down at her left hand.
‘Not married, I see?’
‘No.’ Why had she said that? Of course she wasn’t married but she need not have stated the fact so definitely. She should have explained that she was in a committed relationship.
Too late to alter it now as he said in a light tone, ‘Fancy!’ He became thoughtful then said suddenly, ‘Look, why don’t we have a drink together?’
‘Sorry, I’m needed here.’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘I’m forgetting you’re a businesswoman now. And business comes first.’
‘Comes first before what?’
‘Before being sociable to old friends,’ he replied lightly.
Old friends! Julia blinked. She wanted to retort that old friends did not walk out on one another in their hour of need but she held her tongue.
‘I’m sorry, Chester,’ she said instead, as coldly as she could. ‘I told you, I’m in the midst of exhibiting my garments and also expect my partner to return any minute. Then we are going to lunch with the person to whom I was speaking just now.’
Chester’s smile widened at her high-flown little speech. ‘Well, perhaps tomorrow.’
‘I shan’t be here tomorrow. The exhibition ends today.’
‘Then I’ll pop round to where you work and see you. I’ll find the address easily enough and perhaps I’ll meet your partner then.’
‘No!’
She had spoken far too sharply and knew she had given herself away, for he gave a knowing little ch
uckle.
‘No, I don’t expect he’d be pleased to see me. Well then, what about a coffee together somewhere so I can tell you what’s been happening to me since I last saw you? And you can tell me all that’s been happening to you.’
He grew suddenly serious. ‘I’m glad you seem to have done well, Julia. I’ve felt terrible for years, wondering about you. It wasn’t really my fault, you know. But I’ll tell you all about that when we meet. I’ll be in my car at the end of the road where you work tomorrow, say around eleven? It’s a white Bentley sports car. Please be there. I need to explain myself, get it all off my chest. It’ll make me feel a lot better. And maybe you will too. Is it a deal?’
He really did sound so repentant that Julia found herself nodding agreement.
With a small but almost gallant bow, he turned on his heel and she watched him walk swiftly away until he disappeared into the moving crowds. She was left staring after him, in a whirlwind of emotion. What had she done, accepting his invitation so readily – far too readily? She was a fool!
Quickly she turned her attention back to her exhibition. Celia, her second model, had just returned to the little changing area and Ginny was now on the catwalk again. Betty, looking trim and efficient in her smart suit, had temporarily taken over from her otherwise engaged employer.
They had all managed quite well without her and she suddenly felt very slightly redundant and undermined. It was Chester’s fault. When she met him tomorrow, and she was now determined to do so, she would give him a piece of her mind and send him packing. It would make her feel better, much better.
* * *
In her most sophisticated attire Julia emerged from her salon on to Maddox Street. Looking both ways she saw the white Bentley parked at the Bond Street end. A quick glance over her shoulder showed only the two counter staff inside the salon. There was no sign of Simon as she hurried away, now caught up in feelings of guilt. She had left a note for him to say that she had an appointment to keep but had provided no further explanation.
Yesterday, when he returned to the stand, she had said nothing to him about Chester or their appointment. There had been so much else going on, particularly the promising meeting with the buyer, who had hinted that he might be able to bring them in a good deal of business.
When they arrived home, they had been busy unpacking their stock and going over the orders to be sent on to the factory to be made up in quantity. Finally they had slipped out for a quick meal nearby, after which they were only too glad to take themselves, weary but triumphant, up to their apartment, she to drop gratefully onto the settee while Simon mixed them a nightcap.
In bed at last, they’d made love, afterwards talked of the long-term business deal they’d clinched with Thompson, who was a chief buyer for Bourne & Hollingsworth in Regent Street. There was so much else to discuss as a result of their successful day that she really had no opportunity to tell him about Chester, even if she had wanted to.
As she reached Chester’s car now, he got out and came round to hold open the passenger door for her. ‘What do you think of the old heap?’ he asked flippantly as she got in the splendid vehicle, which was anything but an old heap.
‘Very nice,’ she said non-committally.
Dropping into the driving seat with an energetic bounce, making the thing shake, he chuckled. ‘So where would you like to go?’
‘You said we would have a coffee somewhere,’ she reminded, staring ahead. ‘Anywhere will do as long as it’s not too far from here. I need to be back by lunchtime.’
‘Or you’ll be in trouble with your Boss-man?’
‘No,’ she said sharply and haughtily ‘We are partners – fifty-fifty.’
Noting her tone he grew serious. ‘Sorry. But honestly, Julia, it’s so great to see you again. We’ll have coffee nearby then, and tell each other all about ourselves. At least I’ll spill the beans if you don’t want to talk about yourself.’
He grew quiet and said no more. After a short drive he pulled up outside the Ritz. Julia’s lips tightened in a derisive smile. Trust Chester to show off. But she smiled graciously as he helped her out while a doorman held the car door open for them with a polite salute. The car would be driven to an area set aside for the vehicles of patrons, leaving them free to enter the hotel.
Julia had to acknowledge that Chester had chosen a beautiful setting for their meeting. They sat at a tiny table near a trickling fountain, laid with white bone china crockery, silver cutlery and delicate napkins, and ordered coffee from an attentive waiter who treated them as if they were his only customers. Soft music played on an unobtrusive grand piano to add atmosphere. They might have been quite alone but for the faint muffled conversation of the other customers.
The waiter poured their coffee and offered sandwiches and cakes from a silver stand. Julia pointed to the ham and he picked some up with silver tongs and placed them on her plate for her, before doing the same for Chester.
As the waiter departed, Chester leaned forward with his elbows on the white damask tablecloth, his laced fingers supporting his chin, his blue eyes searching hers.
‘Now, tell me about yourself, my dear, what have you been doing?’
It sounded as if he was ready to quiz her. When she said nothing, merely sipping her coffee, he straightened up.
‘Then I shall tell you about myself,’ he stated, also sipping from his coffee and pulling an appreciative face at the coffee’s mellow taste before replacing the cup in its saucer and sitting back in his chair. His face was serious, almost sad.
‘First I really must say how sorry I was that things didn’t turn out as we’d planned.’
Julia made no reply.
‘I wanted so much to explain,’ he went on. ‘But circumstances got in the way. I had so many long arguments with my parents but I couldn’t bring them round to my way of thinking, no matter what I said. Indeed I became quite a rebel.’
Not rebellious enough, it seemed, thought Julia, but said nothing and he continued.
‘I got near to falling out with them completely, but you can’t do that with families. In the end I had to capitulate and see their side of things.’
Julia found her voice. ‘And what was their side of things?’
He grinned wryly and took a sip of his coffee, reaching for another sandwich to leave it on his plate untouched beside those already there.
‘I suppose like all families of their standing, they looked to me, their only child, to make a good marriage, keep up the family name, you know the sort of thing. You remember my telling you that I was on the point of coming into my inheritance?’
Yes, she remembered – a very substantial one that would have seen their marriage off to a wonderful start. She had to admit she had been just as eager to enjoy it as he was.
‘It was to be mine on my twenty-fifth birthday, two weeks after our engagement dinner with our families, you remember?’
Julia nodded silently.
‘It was that which my father held over my head,’ he went on, ‘when things went… well… I won’t go into painful details.’
No, don’t go into painful details, her mind cried. Didn’t he realize how painful it was having it all brought back to her?
‘I wanted so much to find you,’ he was saying. ‘To tell you it wasn’t me, it was… well, circumstances. I wasn’t strong enough or equipped enough to fight my parents. I suppose I was weak. I don’t know. But we’d have been left without a penny. I didn’t want that to happen. Not to you.’
‘But it did,’ she burst out at last, unable to contain herself. Her raised tone caused those at other tables to glance towards her. ‘It happened anyway. And I was left on my own, trying to cope,’ she added, lowering her voice.
‘I know. I was to blame. I should have come after you. I wanted to, so much. But I couldn’t go against my family, I love them. My father threatened to disown me if I came after you, and I know him – he would have done. And I was selfish enough not to go against him or my inhe
ritance. I’m sorry.’
Gone was the youthful smile, the debonair confidence; she had never seen him look so remorseful, so sad. She found herself trying to imagine a young man, an only son, lost under the onslaught of determined, ambitious parents, who had raised him and cared for him, and wanted only the best for him. And what good would it have done him or her had he come after her with nothing to support them – and she with a distraught mother and three younger siblings hanging on to her skirts?
Suddenly she wanted to comfort him. She reached across the table and took his hands in hers. ‘Tell me how you’ve been since,’ she said, if only to see him brighten a little. ‘Did you ever marry?’
He seemed to have recovered a little, though no smile lightened the now serious expression. ‘Yes. Eighteen months later. Someone my parents thought suitable.’ His voice held the ring of scorn as he spoke this last word. ‘She was very pretty and she came of a good family, just what they were looking for, you see. It lasted three years. I’m going through a divorce just now. Decree absolute should be in a month or so.’
He gave a quietly ironic chuckle. ‘I don’t live with my parents now. I’ve a flat here in London. I don’t see them. They go their way, I go mine. Now isn’t that a laugh? We could have married, you and I, and cocked a snook at them if only I’d been stronger. It’s odd, isn’t it, now you are the one with the money. My inheritance is all but gone. I tried starting a business but couldn’t make a go of it. My wife loved spending and when my money gave out she went back to Mummy and Daddy, who see me as a failure. Now, isn’t that ironic? My family saw yours as a failure because things went wrong for you – talk about chickens coming home to roost!’
His tone had become monotonic, and Julia listened, mesmerized. As his voice fell away she came back to herself.
‘Look, let’s leave here,’ she said briskly. ‘Let’s take a walk in Green Park then I must be back before one o’clock. My partner and I always have our lunch together.’
She still had not mentioned Simon’s name. She wondered why not.
