In her years as an admin assistant and PA, perfecting business plans for the boss, she’d learned a lot about budgets and strategic planning, if not about matters of the heart. The affair with the big boss, Damian? Total fail. But at least she’d learned enough about profit and loss to create a plan for this new venture - her own business. She even had a name for it - Stellar.
Elation dipped to despair. Without an income, how could she hope to pay her rent, her phone bill, or a grocery bill? She’d be no different from Flame, eking it out all her life, living from one meal to the next, always shifting house, half a step ahead of eviction.
She burned through her savings, Damian’s offer circling her consciousness like a shark.
“Am I being irresponsible, Jeannie? Part of me thinks I should swallow my pride and go back to Damian and save up more money first, but ...”
“Do not go back there!” Jeannie insisted. “Think of all the reasons you left. No. We can do this. Just take out your living costs. Come east! Come and live with Matt and me. I’m going insane home alone with the little ones, what with Matt travelling all the time. Power saving software. Everyone wants it! ‘Australasian manager’ sounds so fabulous and the money’s good. And it’s good for the planet. He loves it and I know he’s the right person for the job, but he’s almost always away! Do it. Come east. Go on. Please. Just give it a go. You’ve got nothing to lose. You keep telling me you’ll never sell enough to make a living. Well, how do you know? You keep wondering if people will actually buy your things. Well, find out! Get a stall like mum’s. Just run it while you work out what people want to buy. Call it the first step of your own business venture. You can hire stalls right near our place. Take a space in the Oxford Street mall. Think how much you’ll learn! Find out which designs sell best. Experiment with your pricing. See what happens, Stell. If you can make a go of it for six months, I’m sure you’ll be able to make a case at a bank to get funding to mass produce your designs or something. And if nothing else, you’ll enjoy a well-earned holiday and a bit of an adventure out east. And you’ll be keeping me company. Come on.”
It didn’t take much to convince her.
Bing! Here came a selfie of Jeannie and the girls at Bondi Beach.
Bing! Another of them heading across the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the double stroller - glimpses of the city skyline, the parks and bays and beaches, and that great, big blue horizon out to sea. Why not?
How she wanted to hug those adorable nieces who were growing up so fast!
Yes. She would sell her jewels in Sydney, at least for the first six months. After that, the world! She’d progress from the stall, unlike Flame. She would show the world the beauty of her designs, sell them to other jewelers, and go on to design even more dazzling possibilities. Stella had big plans. She could do this.
Whole days disappeared as she refined her designs. She stockpiled creations and dreamt up new ones, bringing long-imagined designs into reality.
If ever she thought of Damian, another stab of fury propelled her to work faster. He’d taken Stella’s innocence and wasted years of her life, but he would no longer take her future. She’d finally broken free, and she would never, ever allow herself to fall in love with someone like him again. Bosses? Forget them. Stella was her own boss now.
Chapter 4
And now, here she was, selling it all, not just surviving, but thriving, her dream a reality.
Strangely, here in the mall on her first day of trade, Stella had another problem. She’d worried about failure, but nothing had prepared her for this kind of success. A good part of her day’s supplies sold out, and if she didn’t work for hours tonight, sorting, polishing and arranging more stock, there’d be nothing to sell tomorrow. She was glad she could only trade Thursday to Saturday, 11am to 7pm. At least that left her with Sunday to Wednesday to make more pieces.
At that moment, a glint of sunlight reflected off the polished brass handles of Huntleys doors as they swung open. Stella noticed the strikingly ornate H shape they made. Clever. Classy. A bit Art Nouveau, they oozed distinction. How she’d love to go in there and explore some time.
A short man with a large microphone emerged. He bustled right up to her, his microphone and small camcorder aimed right at her mouth, and his own smooth voice already recording.
“I’m in Oxford Street Mall right outside Huntleys, at the new stall, Stellar, that’s caused all the commotion. New jewelry stall owner Stella Rhys achieved a major publicity coup earlier today, hijacking Heist movie star Antoinette Lacy’s attention as she was on her way to promote the famous Huntleys House of Diamonds.
“Refusing to move her tiny stall at the request of third generation Huntley’s heir James Huntley, Stella created a social media storm by giving Antoinette a pair of Stellar earrings. Stella, how does it feel to have attracted the endorsement of a star like Antoinette?”
There was something a bit wild about the reporter’s eyes. They were shiny, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath - no doubt Huntleys’ French champagne. Who was this guy? Stocky, insistent...
“Um. Hi. Thank you. I’m quite busy ...” She quickly reconsidered. This was a golden opportunity to raise her profile. Any publicity was good publicity, wasn’t it? That’s what Jeannie had told her, and she knew a lot about marketing.
“Busy indeed. Just look at the custom Antoinette’s endorsement has created. Stella’s stock of faux jewels is flying off her stall as passers by capture the magic of the moment. Stella is practically out of product. Yes, it’s pure PR genius. What gave you the idea, Stella?”
“Pure accident, more like. I’m thrilled Antoinette likes my earrings...”
“Likes them? Antoinette loves them. She was still wearing them when she left Huntleys. Stellar earrings are the hottest product in Australia right now. Before we know it there’ll be a retrade racket.”
“Really? Look, I had no idea Antoinette was going to be here. It’s my first day of trade. It’s sheer good luck, I guess.”
“Sheer talent, I’d say, and all these customers seem to agree.” He switched off the recorder.
Stella rapidly handed over some of her stock.
“That was so nice of you. I wasn’t expecting an interview.”
“Wow. These are really beautiful. Got any more brooches? Anything purple? My girlfriend’s crazy about purple.”
“Uh, yeah. Purple’s over there. Please, take the brooch, earrings and choker for free. Tell her it’s the very first Stellar ‘Antoinette set.’ I didn’t expect this free publicity.”
“Brilliant.” He’s videoing again. “So, give us a few facts, would you? How much trade have you done?”
“I haven’t actually done a stocktake, but you can see for yourself these trays are nearly empty. It’s been amazing.” She forced herself to make the most of the unexpected opportunity. “Hello, Sydney. You are amazing.” To her own ears, it sounded awkward, but at least she could tell Jeannie she tried.
“Do you make these yourself? Where did you get the inspiration for these things?”
“I’ve always loved jewelry. Doesn’t everyone? It’s just a bit of fun, to brighten up your day or spice up the night. A bit of a novelty, you know. So we’re not always ‘same old, same old.’ jewelry makes us feel fresh. A bit of sparkle never goes astray. jewelry makes people happy.”
“Well, it’s certainly made Antoinette happy, and these customers are ecstatic. This is Ruben Slavonicus, multimedia influencer.”
Pigeons and seagulls competed for scraps as more workers emerged from the office towers. It smelled like fast food – like franchized hamburgers and pizza and coffee.
Ruben Slavonicus, huh? Stella would have to remember to ask Jeannie about him. There was so much to learn.
Ruben had switched off his mic and was over at Fritz’s stall, buying a cold soft drink. Stella eyed it thirstily, reminding herself she must bring water tomorrow.
Ruben was back. He thrust a cold lemonade into her left hand.
; “Complements of Fritz. Great guy. He’ll help you out. Heart of gold.” Ruben settled himself on the concrete edge of the planter beside her stall, as if he’d sat there a thousand times. Maybe he had. He started up a commentary. Couldn’t seem to help himself.
“Yeah. Huntley’s, eh,” he said conversationally, between swigs, gesturing with the bottle at the fancy old building. Always a reporter, even when off duty. “Had the chance to sell up and get a prime space in the biggest new mall, but Jimmy wouldn’t do it. He was the second Huntley...”
Stella listened to him as she smiled and handed over change and tiny parcels of her unique jewelry to her customers.
“Jim’s the original Huntley. Must be in his 80s now, all stooped over, but still on it. Bright as can be. Not one to underestimate. No. He did alright. Married Eleanor Montgomery after the Korean war, after her sweetheart was killed. Quite a story. Her family already owned the building. Jim was the one who turned it into a jewelry business. Saw the potential. Everyone got married back then, not just him and Eleanor. Engagement rings were big business.”
Ruben took another long swig then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Those must have been the days. Everyone who was anyone went to Huntleys. Engagement rings, wedding rings, then eternity rings, Christening spoons, pearls, cufflinks, shirt studs, tie pins... All that stuff’s still in there, you know.” He gestured at Huntleys again with his half empty bottle. “Council got me to do a series on Waverley landmarks, you know. Noticed all the old businesses literally shutting up shop. A lot of ‘em went bust when the new malls went up. Chain stores have taken away loads of custom here over the years. I reckon even this lot are still struggling.”
He gestured at the strip shops lining the mall on both sides, some a hundred years old and showing their age, while others were constructed in the sixties and seventies, replacing the originals. Huntleys stood out. Grand. Still in good shape, at least on the outside.
“Interesting family, the Huntleys. Jim’s got a memory as big as their safe. Told me all sorts of stuff about those days, 1950s, ‘60s, when he transformed his wife’s family’s old department store into the jewelry store. He and Eleanor had their boy by then, Jimmy Huntley the second, and he took it all on in the 1980s when he turned 21. Jim and Eleanor were going to retire, go around the world, but by then Jimmy and his wife, Cynthia, got a bit busy with their own family, and then Jimmy got this cancer.”
Stella hadn’t said a word to encourage the commentary. She kept serving, swiping cards and accepting money, wrapping the purchases, whipping out new stock at every available moment to replace what was sold. Ruben could be talking to himself for all she’d shown any interest. Still, it was great to get some background, especially James Huntley. James’s blue eyes had been distractingly attractive, even though she’d clearly annoyed him by refusing to move her stall ahead of their publicity stunt.
“They got the chance again when the other new mall was being planned, but by then Jimmy the Second was dying and James was in charge. Bet he wishes he’d made the big move after all. James, eh. And Will. Younger brother. What a playboy! James wanted to do it, sell up and move in with Eastleighs, the newest mega mall, but his mum got a heritage order slapped on the place when Jimmy died, just before she went overseas. Maybe she wanted to keep it as a memorial to Jimmy, you know. She loves heritage stuff. Showed me all around the place before she went off to France. Beautiful wooden cabinets with bevelled glass. They’ve even got one of those old gold cash registers you see in the movies. Council’s right to make a fuss of these places. Bondi Junction’d be dead boring without it. Character. That’s Huntleys. Class.”
Ruben’s drink was all gone. Stella hadn’t asked for a history lesson. Still, she’d found herself increasingly intrigued. Ruben could certainly tell a good story.
“Can’t imagine Jim would have wanted to pull it down. Eleanor died about 10 years ago. It’s his home now, as well as his work. Top floor. Top guy, too. Always welcomes me. Real gentleman. Where’re you from, anyway? Haven’t seen you around.”
He burped and tossed his bottle in the recycling bin, then checked his phone.
“Perth.”
“That where you learned to make this stuff?”
“No, I’ve always made things. Ever since I can remember.”
“Yeah?”
Stella remembered all those markets of her childhood. She’d linger by white elephant stalls, riffle through the costume jewelry from every era, hoping for scraps of beads or chain, and seek out spare coils of wire in the stalls that sold hardware.
Creating things was her consolation. Sometimes Stella thought of her childhood as a long silver chain, each link just one of the many places she, her mother and Jeannie had unpacked their precious possessions before bundling them up again, bound for the next adventure.
“Wire shapes - coils, circles, triangles and, once I learned to read and write, I’d make letters and people’s names.
“I sold them from a coat hanger on my mother’s stall of scarves - earrings from buttons, beading.”
It was the elegance of her shapes that caught people’s eyes. They were almost organic.
When she ended up at Mandurah High School in Perth, and Mr Finnigan taught her how to use a jigsaw, her designs really took shape - teardrops, moons, stars and flowers. When he taught her how to solder, she spent every spare minute in the art room creating jewelry. Her pieces were so professional she could start to charge real money. She was well on the way to a career of making jewelry, selling it with her mother at markets, all around Australia. Except she’d stayed in Perth. And fallen for Damian.
“Fantastic!”
Not really, but she wouldn’t tell Ruben all of that - how she’d hated her nomadic upbringing, always having to move just as she was starting to make friends.
As an adult, Stella came to realise that most people stayed put. It was her mother, Flame, who grew no roots. Flame loved to tell the story of baby Jeannie, and pull out the old photo, now burnt in Stella’s memory - of her grandparents, a kindly couple with strained smiles, Stella a tight-wrapped cocoon in a soft bunny rug with a dark fuzz of hair, nestled in the crook of Pop’s huge arm and Jeannie a red-haired toddler with an open smile, one chubby hand held high to almost touch the wonder of her baby sister. The trio moved to Wollongong soon after, then Newcastle, Woy Woy, Ulladulla, Orange, Armidale and Albury.
How Stella hated all those moves!
“No, not again!” Stella’s heart would drop every time Flame started stacking the saucepans and throwing their clothes into bags. With barely enough time to farewell new friends, she dreaded walking into the next school, “new girl” again in a sea of strangers.
“You’re okay, Stell,” Jeannie would say, arranging their favourite dolls and teddies. Jeannie, two years older, never minded all the moves. She found friends easily, but Stella was quieter, shy. She learned to laugh about the things they left behind, especially one shoe. It was easier to run barefoot. They’d left the other half of multiple pairs all over the country. In years to come, Stella would point at the map with a straight face and rename their old home towns. “Gumboot.” Or “Flipper.” And in reverse. She was particularly fond of her riding boots, picked up second hand in Ulladulla. When one was left behind she wandered around for days making Jeannie laugh. “Is this one ‘Ulla’? Or ‘dulla’?”
Constant disruption forced Stella to discover her salvation. The space between her hands was the only thing over which she had total control. With her gift for drawing and imagining and making things, she always had something to do, no matter where they were living and which stepfather was in the background. Time disappeared as she crafted one beautiful thing after another, the joy of creation feeding her soul.
Markets were a high point of her week, when she and Jeannie wandered together in relative safety under the watchful eyes of the other stall holders, enjoying unsold baked goodies and over ripe seasonal fruit, and helping themselves to anything
they found lying around, particularly a new pair of shoes that actually fitted.
The girls would mind Flame’s stall while she told fortunes, the scarves wafting softly about them, whatever the weather.
She knew the market life alright. No surprises there. Yet she shrank from the idea of repeating her mother’s life, particularly the drifting. In the longer term, Stella wanted some certainty. Security. But not Damian’s kind of security. All about him.
Ruben’s voice brought Stella back to the present, the bustle of the mall, the sparkle of her jewels, another few customers inspecting her glittering wares.
“You can ask me anything, Stella Rhys of Stellar,” Ruben said, adding her to his contacts, scrolling through his phone and clicking on things. “You need to follow me. Facebook, Twitter, Insta. Whoa! Just topped 26k followers on Insta! They’re gonna love Stellar. Insta’s really starting to pay. I’m loving this social gig. Started off in print, but print’s shrinking, you know. Didn’t take much to expand to podcasts and vodcasts. Like my tagline? ‘Ruben Slavonicus, multimedia influencer.’ You might even want to pay me for a post some time. Doesn’t actually cost that much. I’ve got clients. Clothing, mainly. Fitness industry. Bit of food and beverage. I’m still a reporter at heart. I only post stuff I would have posted anyway. No fake news for me. That would be shooting myself in the foot. My followers trust me.”
“Sure I’ll keep it in mind,” said Stella. “So good to meet you! Thanks again for the free plug. Amazing! And you really do know a lot.”
“That’s my job. Righto. I’m off. Better file this ‘jewelry wars’ story. Great move, by the way, snaffling that Antoinette’s attention like that. Worth PR thousands. Huntleys won’t be happy, but what can you do? It’s a free country, right? Better get going. Got a couple more stories on my plate. New principal at one of the schools and a big council meeting tonight. See you.”
House of Diamonds Page 4
