Anne Douglas (18 page)

She sighed, moving her hand in his. ‘I don’t know, Rod –’

‘Promise me you’ll at least think about it. Promise, Lindy.’

‘All right, I promise.’

‘Oh, Lindy, I knew you would.’

Drawing her into his arms they sat together, her face against his, and kissed long and deeply, over and over, until their breath was gone and gradually they pulled apart.

‘Oh, God,’ Rod murmured, ‘I’ve got to organize the tea. The chaps will be back soon, starving, as usual.’

‘Let me help!’ Lindy cried eagerly. ‘Come on, it’d be no trouble.’

‘Thanks, you’re a sweetheart, but better not.’ He sighed. ‘Hate to say it, but it’s already dark and I think you should be going home. I’m going to get you a taxi.’

‘A taxi?’ She laughed. ‘That’s crazy, Rod! I don’t need a taxi, I can take the tram.’

‘Not in the dark, not on your own. If I can’t take you home, a taxi it has to be.’ He leaped to his feet. ‘I’ll phone for one now before the lads start coming home.’

It was useless to argue – his mind was made up – and all too soon she was at the door of the hostel, Rod at her side, waiting for the taxi and his half crown in her purse.

‘I just wish you’d at least let me pay for it myself,’ she told him. ‘And you’ve given me too much, anyway.’

‘Best be on the safe side.’ He kissed her cheek and crushed her hand in his. ‘I asked you to come; I’m not having you out of pocket.’

‘I’ve enjoyed it, honestly, it’s been grand.’

‘And you haven’t forgotten your promise?’

‘I haven’t forgotten, Rod.’

‘Here it is, then – the taxi.’

Rod let go of her hand. ‘When will I see you again? Dougie’s on duty Saturday night – shall I come round for you, say, six? We can go to the pictures.’

‘Oh, that’d be lovely, Rod. I’ll be waiting.’

The taxi arrived at the door, the driver jumping out to let Lindy in, asking where she wanted to go.

‘Nineteen, Scott Street, please.’

Am I really going home in a taxi? Lindy asked herself, seated in the back, waving to Rod as the driver closed her door and drove away. Bet he doesn’t get many fares going to Scott Street. Except for Miss Rosemary, of course, when she wasn’t amusing herself going on the tram.

By strange coincidence, when Lindy arrived home, having paid off the taxi as though it was the most usual thing the world, Rosemary herself was in the hall of number nineteen, seemingly about to knock on the Gillans’ flat door.

‘Oh, Lindy, there you are – so lovely to see you. I was wondering – that is, Jemima and I were wondering – if you’d like to come up later to my place for a little chat?’ Rosemary was opening her blue eyes wide. ‘Would that be convenient?’

A little chat? What was all that about?

Intrigued by the invitation, Lindy, though not filled with warm feelings for Rosemary, who had, after all, hurt Neil, even if she hadn’t meant to, found herself willing to accept. ‘About seven?’ she asked.

‘Perfect!’ cried Rosemary.

Having survived Myra’s probings on her visit to Rod’s hostel, Lindy, on the dot of seven, made her way to Rosemary’s flat. Oh, dear, how her stepmother did go on, she reflected, climbing the stairs.

‘What was it like then, Rod’s place? Did you see any o’ the homeless men? Did they behave well? Didn’t try anything on? You never know what these folk off the street will do, eh? You have to think, if they were respectable people, they’d no’ be on the street in the first place. Now is that no’ true?’

Thank the Lord that Lindy had been able to put Myra right and told her how it was – that Rod was with her all the time and that the homeless men had behaved very well indeed. No need to mention Jem’s accusation of snooping! The poor fellow was depressed, anyway. Now, however, she could put the hostel out of her mind, at least for the time being, and concentrate on finding out what the little chat with Rosemary and Jemima was about.

Rosemary was looking as charming as ever in a blue woollen jacket and matching skirt, while Jemima was also dressed smartly in a dark red two-piece Lindy didn’t recognize. The pair of them seemed rather excited as Rosemary poured coffee for Jemima to hand out, and it seemed to Lindy that they were cooking something up. She just wished they’d hurry up and tell her what it was.

First, however, Jemima had to ask brightly, ‘How’s the romance going, Lindy? With the gorgeous Rod?’

‘I don’t think of Rod as romantic,’ Lindy answered coolly. ‘Today he wanted me to see his hostel for homeless men. That’s where I’ve been.’

‘A hostel for homeless men?’ Rosemary cried. ‘Lindy, whatever was it like?’

‘In very good order, I thought. I only saw a few of the men and they were very nice. Very polite.’

‘He’s a saint, doing that sort of work,’ Jemima commented. ‘No’ for us, eh?’

‘He wants me to do it,’ Lindy said after a pause. ‘Well, something in that line, anyway.’

‘He wants you to do social work?’ Jemima glanced at Rosemary. ‘I thought you’d told him you’d never be able to do anything like that?’

‘I did. But he wants me to think about it.’

‘Lindy, don’t,’ Rosemary said firmly. ‘Don’t consider it for a moment. We have – well, we have something else we think you might like to do. That’s why we’ve asked you up this evening, to tell you about it, and we hope you’re going to be interested. Isn’t that right, Jemima?’

‘It is.’ Jemima leaned forward, her hazel eyes fixed on Lindy. ‘This work would be perfect for you, Lindy. It was my idea for Rosemary – you remember I told you once that I’d suggested something? And now it’s Rosemary’s idea for you. You’ll have to go with it – mustn’t turn it down.’

‘But what is it?’ cried Lindy. ‘You’re talking in riddles. What is this job that’d be so wonderful?’

Rosemary took a breath, smiled and answered, ‘Modelling.’

Lindy, astonished, for a moment could only stare from Rosemary to Jemima and back to Rosemary. ‘Modelling?’ she repeated at last. ‘You mean, fashion modelling?’

‘Yes, fashion modelling, with mannequins. You know the sort of thing?’ Rosemary smiled. ‘Girls like you, showing off new clothes. Making everything look marvellous.’

‘Girls like me? Are you joking? You’re no’ being serious, eh? I’m a tenement girl. I can’t be a mannequin, or whatever they’re called. They’d never want someone like me.’

‘No’ true,’ Jemima told her calmly. ‘Since I’ve been working at Logie’s I’ve seen the fashion shows and the girls who come. I do adjustments, help make things fit, so I’ve got to know the lassies who model and they’re no’ grand ladies. No’ like Miss Rosemary here, for instance.’

‘Oh, Jemima!’ Rosemary murmured. ‘You’re wrong. If I could be as good at their jobs as those mannequins, I’d be very proud.’

‘Aye, but you’ve had trouble making your mother agree to you doing that sort o’ work after I’d suggested it, eh? She thinks it’s no’ for you, no’ the sort o’ thing the debs would do – I’m only glad she’s given up arguing now.’

‘I told her I needed the money,’ Rosemary said frankly. ‘And I made her see that it was fascinating work for anyone who likes clothes, and that would be you as well, Lindy, wouldn’t it? Oh, I know you do, and you’re so wonderfully slim and pretty you’d be a great success. You must give it a try. You must!’

‘I wouldn’t have the first idea how to do it,’ Lindy protested. ‘I mean, the models must know how to walk and show off the clothes – how could I learn all that?’

‘Why, the same as I’ll have to learn it,’ Rosemary exclaimed. ‘Oh, I’ve done a bit of walking around with a book on my head – for posture, you know – and I learned how to curtsy for my presentation, but otherwise I know no more than you. The thing is, there’s a lady from London who’s just opened a modelling agency in Edinburgh. She’s very keen to be successful here and wants to find the right girls.’

‘I can see you’d be one,’ said Lindy.

‘Well, she’s agreed to take me on and I’m sure she’d take you too, Lindy. No need to worry about what to do – she gives classes for new models.’

Lindy’s frown showed she was not convinced. ‘She might have taken you on, Rosemary, but who’s to say she’ll want me?’

‘You can but try,’ Jemima put in. ‘I mean, it’s a job tailor-made for you, I’d say, because you’ve always been interested in clothes, eh? Clothes and fashion? And as a mannequin you’d be working with clothes all the time.’

‘Maybe, but I still say I won’t be what this lady will be looking for, and even if she did want me, there’d be something to pay and I couldn’t afford it.’

‘No, there’ll be nothing to pay until she finds us work,’ Rosemary said quickly. ‘Once we begin to earn she takes commission. That’s the system. Do say you’ll at least apply, Lindy.’

‘Yes, you should,’ Jemima added with some impatience. ‘You did say you wanted to change jobs – this is your chance, so don’t mess it up.’

‘I just don’t want to look a fool,’ Lindy answered quietly. ‘I’d feel so bad if I was turned down.’

‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And you’re lucky – you look so right, you’ve everything going for you. If you ask me Mrs Driver will snap you up.’

‘I agree,’ said Rosemary. ‘Look, Lindy, I’m going to one of her classes next week. If you write a letter with all your details and add a snapshot of yourself, I could give it to her and arrange an interview. How about that?’

‘It’d have to be on a Wednesday afternoon, when I’m no’ at work,’ Lindy said slowly. ‘But that’s very kind of you, Rosemary. I appreciate it. You and Jemima have both been so nice, thinking of me – I’m sorry if I’ve seemed ungrateful. I was just that surprised, you see. I never thought I’d even be considered for a job like modelling.’

‘Confidence, Lindy, confidence!’ cried Jemima. ‘Don’t ever let on that you thought you’d be anything but perfect for the job. And – a word of advice – don’t mention the interview to Myra, or even your wonderful Rod, until it’s all decided one way or the other. No point in getting them interested before they have to be, eh?’

‘That’s good advice,’ said Lindy, rising. ‘I’ll take it. Will you let me know, then, Rosemary, if this lady wants to see me?’

‘Of course. I’ll give you all the details. But won’t you stay and have another cup of coffee?’

‘No, thanks all the same. I’ve had a busy day – got a bit of a headache. I’ll just get back home.’

A bit of a headache? A lot of a headache, Lindy thought, having said goodbye to Jemima and Rosemary, and set off down the stairs. One that wasn’t going to clear in a hurry; certainly not till she’d had this interview and knew what was going to happen.

And had told Rod about it, if she was successful. He’d be pleased, though, wouldn’t he, if she got the chance of this modelling job that had dropped from nowhere into her lap? Because she did want it, she really did. Tailor-made for her, Jemima had said it would be, and that was true, even if she was a tenement girl. Thinking of that as she reached her door, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Confidence, Lindy! Make this Mrs Driver believe you think you’re perfect for the job! And in the meantime, not a word to Aunt Myra. Or her wonderful Rod.

On the following Wednesday afternoon, Lindy and Myra, as usual on early closing day, had a snack meal at home, after which Myra said she’d do some cleaning and Lindy said she’d go shopping.

‘Shopping?’ Myra frowned. ‘What are you going to use for money?’

‘Window shopping, I meant,’ Lindy said, not meeting her stepmother’s eyes. ‘I can’t afford to buy anything but I like to look around.’

‘You meeting Rod?’

‘Oh, no, he’s at work. It’s – well, it’s Rosemary who’s coming with me.’

‘Miss Rosemary? That’s a change of heart, eh? I thought you weren’t keen on her any more after what happened with Neil.’

‘She did ask me up the other evening. I think she wants to be friends.’ Lindy glanced at the clock. ‘Look, I’m away. She’s calling for me at two o’clock, so I’d better get changed.’

‘Why, you look fine as you are, Lindy. What’s all the excitement?’

What indeed? Lindy, hurrying with Rosemary for the tram, felt quite eaten up with guilt over telling little lies to Myra, but what else could she do? She really didn’t want to tell her she had an interview with Mrs Driver in the West End, and not just because Jemima had warned against it. Lindy herself knew how it would have been if she’d had to give all the details to her stepmother, and then maybe returned to say she hadn’t got the job after all. No, no, better keep it secret till she had something definite to say, and then face the music.

‘You’re not nervous?’ Rosemary whispered as the tram jolted along towards the West End of the city. ‘You needn’t be, you know. As Jemima said, you’re everything Mrs Driver will be looking for, so try to be as confident as possible.’

‘I am trying, but it’s no’ easy. Before you told me that Mrs Driver would see me, I thought I could carry an interview off, no trouble, but now it’s really staring me in the face I just feel she’ll think I’m no’ suitable.’

‘She won’t, she won’t! I’ve told her you’re from a tenement and that you haven’t much money, and she understands. She’s had other girls like you and they’ve done very well. Why shouldn’t you?’

Lindy sighed and shook her head. ‘What’s she like, then, this Mrs Driver?’

Rosemary looked down her high-bridged nose. ‘She’s all right. Very fair, I’d say, but rather like her name, you know. Drives people hard – drives herself hard – and expects one hundred per cent from everyone. That’s what I’ve heard.’

Lindy groaned. ‘A bit of a tyrant, eh? Well, I don’t mind hard work. No’ so sure I want to be driven, though. Why’d she come to Edinburgh if she’s a Londoner?’

‘Oh, she isn’t a Londoner, she’s from Edinburgh. Seems she worked in a London modelling agency even when they were quite a new idea and did very well, but then she thought, why not open one at home? There’s nothing much here, you see, and she felt she could fill a gap. So far she’s doing very well.’

‘And how about her husband? What did he think about coming here?’

‘I don’t think he is here,’ Rosemary said cautiously. ‘From what one of the girls at the class said the other day I think she might be – divorced.’

‘Divorced?’ Lindy stared. ‘I’ve never met anyone who’s been divorced. Very expensive, eh?’