by Diane Allen
‘Isabelle, my dear, how lovely to see you. I trust you are keeping well?’ Lady Crofts caught her by the wrist.
‘Yes, thank you, extremely well. And you?’ Isabelle smiled at the round-figured elderly woman, who was known by everyone and was a terrible gossip.
‘Yes, I’m fine, dear. Just enjoying some of your delicious cakes with my friends. We were all hoping to catch a glimpse of that husband of yours – he’s a dashing fellow and such a charmer.’ Lady Crofts smiled and looked round at the group of ladies, who hung on her every word.
‘I’m afraid he is in Leeds today, at our shop in the Queens Arcade, along with my new seamstress. They won’t be back until much later.’ Isabelle smiled and looked around at the wealthily dressed group, most of whom were clad in her designs.
‘That’s such a pity, my dear, but still we have enjoyed spending a moment with you. And we just needed an excuse to visit your store and catch up with any news over a nice cup of tea.’ Lady Crofts picked up her teacup and took a long sip, before turning her back on Isabelle, putting an end to their conversation.
Isabelle walked away and made for the doorway before looking back at the group, who were intent on gossiping. She noticed that they were all looking at her as she left the busy tea-room, and she smiled. If they were talking about her, then at least they were leaving someone else alone. And what they didn’t know they made up, she thought, as she made her way down to the warehouse.
‘Now, you are in bother, lass – your mother’s come to check up on you.’ Bert Bannister looked across at his new ward, Jane, who was busy unpacking the latest consignment of Devon Violets perfume and moaning about how much she hated the smell.
‘How’s Jane doing, Bert?’ Isabelle leaned over the packing table and looked at the old man and her daughter, who seemed bored.
‘She’s alright; could perhaps do with working upstairs for a while, in the perfume department, seeing as she loves the scent she is unpacking at the moment.’ Bert grinned at Jane. If her mother had not been there, she would have pulled a face at her instructor, knowing that she could get away with it, as Bert was more a family friend than an employee.
‘I just don’t know why anyone would wish to smell so sickly. It’s so sweet.’ Jane blew the packing straw off yet another bottle and straightened the green ribbon around its neck.
‘Violets were your grandmother’s favourite flowers, along with primroses. She always had to have a bunch on her desk, once spring was upon us.’ Bert looked across at Jane and smiled.
‘You miss her, don’t you, Bert? We all do. In fact, since her death I can’t seem to turn my hand to anything with vigour,’ Isabelle confessed.
‘It’s only to be expected; she held everyone together and was always there for them. A good woman, that’s what she was.’ Bert shook his head as he thought about days past.
‘I’ve some good news anyway, Bert. Harriet and her family are visiting us on Wednesday. James is to take a family photograph, and then I hope to try and persuade Harriet that the firm still needs her.’ Isabelle looked around her and watched as a carter dropped off his load for Bert and his small team to unload and unpack. Bert just had to look at the two warehouse men for them to know what was expected of them.
‘It will be good to see Miss Harriet back with us. It’s what your mother would have wanted. How old is her youngest now? I lose track of time.’ He looked across at Isabelle, remembering when the two sisters-in-law used to work together.
‘She’s one next week. That’s why I thought a photograph of the children was apt.’ Isabelle smiled.
‘Aye, that’ll mean a lot to Miss Harriet. Especially since the two twins died. It broke her heart and she’s never been the same since, despite going on to have more family. You never get over the loss of a child. My old lass and me have lost two – one at birth and one who was just not born right. They were always sickly, but we still remember them.’ Bert looked across at young Jane and smiled. ‘Is Mr Fox at Leeds today with Madge Burton? They were saying upstairs that she’s quite a good seamstress.’
‘Yes, James has a full day of bookings, and Madge is meeting the manager at the shop in Queens Arcade. I thought it was time she made herself known to him. They went on the seven o’clock train together this morning.’ Isabelle twiddled with the string that sat on the packing bench and thought about James and his visit to Leeds with Madge. He hadn’t wanted to go with her, and had made such a fuss when he left her that morning.
‘She’s a bonny woman, is Madge; she could do with finding herself a good single man.’ Bert’s face clouded over.
‘You don’t always have to be dependent on a man,’ young Jane spouted up. ‘Women should be independent. I don’t think I will ever marry.’
Both looked across at the young lass with a mind of her own.
‘Jane, will you stop reading the rubbish that the stupid women of the Women’s Social and Political Union keep feeding you? Of course you will marry; it is what is expected of you, when the right man comes along.’ Isabelle sighed.
‘The times are changing, Mistress Isabelle, even I know that. Better to be single than unhappily married.’ Bert looked at his mistress, who was oblivious to all the gossip within the store, which he had tried to ignore.
‘Well, I never thought I’d hear that, Bert Bannister: you telling me, at your age, to move with the times. It must be working with our Jane; you must have heard too many of her radical ideas.’ Isabelle stood back and looked at the pair who were trying to tell her the way of the world.
‘Aye, well, sometimes we can’t see what’s going on under our own noses, and I’m as guilty as the next man of that.’ Bert walked over to the consignment of goods that had just arrived and thought better of saying anything about his concerns. After all, it was only idle gossip that he’d heard and there was always plenty of that in Atkinson’s department store.
10
James Fox sat across from the new love in his life and did not feel one bit guilty for his thoughts about the sweet-faced young woman who had captured his heart.
‘I can’t believe we are travelling to Leeds together, James, and that your wife knows and doesn’t suspect a thing.’ Madge giggled and looked at her employer, and the man she had made it her business to fall in love with.
‘Ssshh! Keep your voice down. Nearly everyone knows me on this train, as I make this journey regularly. Anyway you’ve to meet the manager at Queens Arcade, and I have a full morning of photography. The afternoon, however, will be ours to spend as we please, and I can think of lots of ways to pass an hour or two.’ James winked at the young blonde-haired woman with cupid-bow lips and come-to-bed eyes, and couldn’t believe that someone her age would possibly look at a middle-aged man with greying hair. A slight pang of guilt caught him by surprise when he thought of Isabelle, hard at work in the main store at Skipton; but he shook it off as Madge smiled at him in such a seductive way that all thoughts of guilt were banished. If only Isabelle would look at him that way and have time for him, instead of being hardheaded and caught up in her work. It was always the children, Atkinson’s or Windfell; there was no time in Isabelle’s life for him. Or at least that was how it felt.
This afternoon he would enjoy his time with Madge, who showed him quite openly the love he craved. He’d booked a room at the new Queens Hotel at the station, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, as he had stayed there in the recent past when he was needed for more than one day in the studio at Leeds. He was going to make the most of his day with the alluring Madge, and no one need be any the wiser. He smiled as his new flame looked out of the window at the passing countryside. The afternoon could not come soon enough – a bottle of champagne and a nice double bed were already calling him away from his work.
Nearly a week had passed since James and Madge had shared an afternoon of illicit passion together, and Madge was beginning to wonder about the true reason for Isabelle’s invitation for Harriet and her family to visit Atkinson’s.
‘
What’s Harriet like? Is she like your wife?’ Madge looked out of the window of the photographic studio down onto the busy High Street of Skipton, while quizzing James about the impending visit of his sister-in-law and her family.
‘Oh Lord, no! She’s anything but. Harriet is very maternal – her family is everything to her. She’s not material in the least.’ He looked across at the woman he was besotted with, as he made ready for the Atkinson family photograph. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered. Everyone seems to be talking about Harriet with a wistful fondness and, as I’ve never met her, I am curious. And, if I’m truthful, a little worried, as everyone says she is an expert seamstress. Your wife won’t be replacing me with her, will she?’ Madge turned to face James and looked at him with a worried expression.
‘Madge, my dear, whatever gave you that idea? Isabelle would not replace you – I’d not let her.’ James walked over to her and ran his hand down her back and kissed her on the cheek. ‘My wife is just hoping that now her mother has died, Harriet will come back to the fold, as it were. She needs Harriet’s support when it comes to running the firm, until Jane shows more interest.’ James let go of Madge and looked out of the window. ‘There’s Harriet, over on the other side of the street, with baby Georgina in her arms and her daughter Rosie and son Ben. They are making their way here, so you’d better make yourself scarce.’ James held her at arm’s length and quickly glanced around the studio to make sure everything was in place for the photo he was about to take. ‘Go on, get back to your dressmaking before you are missed.’ He patted Madge fondly on her bottom.
‘It’s just that I know some of the workers in Atkinson’s don’t like me. I hear them whispering about me, and have done ever since I arrived here.’ Madge turned into James’s arms and looked up into his face.
‘You imagine it, my dear. Besides, they are always gossiping about somebody on the shop floor. It’s the nature of shop girls; too busy living somebody else’s lives, when they should be living their own.’ James pushed her away. ‘Go on, get gone.’
‘But—’ Madge stopped quickly as the door opened.
‘There you are! Mrs Middleton is waiting in the fitting room. Had you forgotten your eleven o’clock appointment? And what are you doing here?’ Isabelle looked angrily at Madge. She’d had to pacify Mrs Middleton with a free cup of tea, as she and Jane had scoured the building for Madge.
‘It’s my fault, dear. I asked Madge to give me hand putting up the backdrop for Harriet’s photograph. That will be all, Madge, you had better go quickly and see to Mrs Middleton.’ James dismissed her without blinking and smiled tenderly at his wife.
‘Yes, sir.’ Madge curtsied and quickly gave him a loving smile behind Isabelle’s back.
‘Really, James, you have Jane to help you with little jobs like that. Don’t drag Madge away from her duties again. She is already a bad timekeeper and doesn’t need any further encouragement to get behind with her work,’ Isabelle said haughtily, glancing around the studio.
‘Harriet is on her way. I’ve just seen her and the family cross the road. It will be good to see them here. There was a time when I didn’t think she would ever step into Atkinson’s again.’ James quickly changed the subject and walked to line up the camera with the backdrop, ready for the family shot.
‘I’m glad we have made up and that I decided to show Harriet some sympathy. Madge has such an air of superiority about her, as if she has no respect for me. Even though she is excellent with a needle, I often think I’d prefer to work with Harriet, if I could persuade her to return to the fold. After all, she is part owner, and Mother would have approved. I only hope she has forgotten now the words that we both said in anger. I personally regret every word I said.’ Isabelle stood with her hands on her hips and watched as James played with the lens, getting the focus right.
‘Don’t even consider it, Isabelle! All the times I have heard you cursing Harriet and her family for letting you down. Besides, Harriet wouldn’t leave her youngest. Georgina’s not quite one yet.’ James turned and looked sternly at his wife. Madge had read the situation correctly and Isabelle was plotting her downfall.
‘We’ll see. I’m going to try and tempt Harriet back, despite what you say. Perhaps with a little sweetener at first. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go downstairs and greet them.’ Isabelle looked at her husband, whose face was set sternly.
‘I’ll be late home tonight. I thought I might go and look at the new motorcycles that Pratt’s are displaying. I’ve had my eye on one for a while, and now I think I may treat myself,’ James shouted after her.
‘What on earth do you want one of those for? They are noisy, dirty things; they will never catch on.’ Isabelle stood in the doorway and sighed. ‘I suppose you will suit yourself, despite what I have to say about it.’ She lingered there and then decided not to wait for a reply, as she heard her guests coming up the stairs. James would do as he chose, and at the moment seemed to be his own master. She was getting tired and a little worried about him and his changing ways.
Rosie stood alongside her mother. She’d been told to put on her best clothes and had protested while Harriet put a ribbon in her hair. She hated the ribbon, it made her look like a child. The big pink satin bow hung down at the side of her head and irritated her, as she stood in front of the camera with her mother and siblings. She tried to smile, as her Uncle James made silly comments so that they all laughed, but it didn’t help that Jane was standing at the back of the room looking every inch the young lady, while in her own eyes Rosie looked stupid. But she tried her best. The sooner it was over, the sooner she could go home, so she forced a smile as the shot was taken.
‘There, that wasn’t too bad now, was it, children?’ Harriet looked round at her family and ushered them off the make-believe set of a grand house, and smiled as Isabelle took baby Georgina from her arms. ‘Rosie, are you going to go with Jane? I think she wants to show you around the firm. I’m going to have tea with Aunt Isabelle and will take Ben and Georgina with me; you can both join us when you’ve seen enough.’
Jane looked almost as excited about taking Rosie under her wing as Rosie herself did. In truth, neither girl particularly liked the other, but both knew they had to be polite in their parents’ company.
‘Yes, Mama.’ Rosie walked over to Jane, who scowled at her as she opened the door, leaving the adults talking and Ben seeing how the camera worked with his Uncle James.
‘Don’t you think you are a bit too old for wearing ribbons?’ Jane looked at her cousin and smirked. ‘I haven’t worn ribbons since I left school.’
Rosie reached her hand up to her hair and pulled the offending satin bow out of her blonde locks. ‘Mama made me wear it. I hate the thing.’ She shoved the ribbon into her pocket and walked down the stairs onto the shop floor, trying to walk as elegantly as her cousin. ‘Is Luke not here today?’ Rosie enquired.
‘All Luke thinks about at the moment is the Officers’ Training Corps that he’s volunteered for. He’s always down at Giggleswick School, even in his holidays. And if he’s not there, he’s over at the outdoor range they’ve got at Attermire Scar. He’s even got his own rifle. Mother hates seeing him cleaning it; she’s frightened he will fire the thing, even though he’s told her that he is allowed only blank cartridges.’ Jane stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for her cousin. ‘Luke’s not fit to look after himself, let alone be in possession of a gun, if you ask me.’
‘I think I can hear them firing when I’m at the top of Moughton Scar – at least, that’s what Ethan says it is. You can hear the guns distantly above the skylarks singing, they disturb the peace up there,’ Rosie said innocently.
‘You walk up Moughton Scar with Ethan! He’s only a stable boy, you know, you shouldn’t even talk to him.’ Jane looked with disdain as she weaved in and out of the customers, making her way to the warehouse and delivery bay.
‘Grandfather says we all come from the same maker, and no one’s better
than anyone else. Besides, Ethan and I are good friends, he likes the same things as I do.’ Rosie blushed.
‘He’s a dirty gypsy. One you should keep your eye on. I certainly would not want him near me.’ Jane opened the warehouse doors for Rosie to pass by her and, as she did so, Rosie looked her snobbish cousin up and down.
Jane might be better dressed than her, in a pin-tucked, high-collared white blouse adorned by a silver brooch and a tight beige skirt, with her hair piled high upon her head, but she was not a nice person. In fact she could be downright vicious. From now on, Rosie would not mention Ethan’s name to her ever again.
‘Miss Rosie, I meant to talk to you at your grandmother’s funeral, but I never got the chance.’ Bert Bannister looked across from his bench and smiled at the young woman he’d known all her life. ‘I heard that you and your family were coming to visit, so a good thing may have come out of your grandmother’s passing. It will be good to see your mother taking an interest in the firm again.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bannister. We are only here for a few hours, but it is nice to be able to look around at where my mother once worked alongside Aunt Isabelle.’ Rosie smiled at the old man whom her grandmother had revered.
‘She did more than work here, lass. She was the one who built it, along with Miss Isabelle. They worked well together back then; it was a shame bad things got in the way of their happiness.’ Bert breathed in deeply and thought of all the years and bad feelings that had built up since the opening of Atkinson’s department store.
‘It was Grandmama’s store – she was the one with the money. Atkinson’s is nothing to do with Rosie or her side of the family,’ Jane said curtly.
‘Nay, that’s where you are wrong, lass. Archie, your grandfather, pulled his weight alongside his Lottie. They worked together, and he was her prop. She might have had the brass, but Archie was the rudder that steered your grandmother’s ship, keeping her straight. Rosie has as much right to be here than any one of us – she’s a true Atkinson.’ Bert grinned and patted Rosie on the shoulder. ‘Here, I’ve something for you: a bottle of your grandmother’s favourite perfume, “Devon Violets”. We couldn’t put it out on the shelf because the label is torn, and Jane here doesn’t like it, so I kept it to one side, thinking I’d give it to my old woman. But it’s more right for you, as violets were what your grandfather always picked his Lottie in the spring.’ Bert smiled and looked at the delight on Rosie’s face as she glanced at the little green bottle with a violet ribbon attached.
