Anne Douglas (24 page)

‘Very good!’ cried Miss Revie. ‘Why, if I didn’t know how nervous you were I’d say you enjoyed that, Miss Gillan!’

‘Think I did,’ said Lindy, wondering – had she really been that girl out there? Wearing her ordinary blue dress, her hair still damp, her make-up not repaired? She longed to ask if she’d passed the test, but Miss Revie was already bringing on the lovely Jennifer, who was finding the courage to smile, and all Lindy could do was return to the models’ room.

‘Think we’ve done all right?’ Kitty whispered as Lindy went across to the clothes rail and began studying the selections, examining flared skirts, wide collars, cuff buttons, little jackets, silk pyjamas – everything that was in vogue for 1936.

She shook her head. ‘Who knows? I just want to have a crack at wearing these outfits.’

And it seemed she was to get her wish, for when Miss Revie returned with Jennifer, it was to tell all three of them that she was pleased with their performance and that she would be happy to see them at the show two days later.

‘I want everyone here from nine a.m. onwards,’ she announced, ‘for the show starts at eleven, as soon as coffee is served, and you’ll need to be trying things on, getting ready and so on. Any questions?’

‘Yes,’ answered Kitty. ‘How do we know what we’re wearing?’

‘All taken care of. I have my own methods.’ Miss Revie walked them across to the rails. ‘Each model has her own selection, beginning with coats through to leisurewear, and they are hung here in order of appearance. There’ll be a list up when you come. That clear?’

‘Very clear. Thanks, Miss Revie.’

‘Thank you for coming then, and filling the gaps for me. Good luck, ladies, and I’ll see you at the show.’

In a flash of time it was all over and they were back outside in the rain again, coats on, hats over their hair, umbrellas up, but in such a state of euphoria none of it mattered.

‘Let’s have lunch,’ suggested Kitty. ‘There are plenty of cafés round here.’

‘Yes, let’s celebrate!’ cried Jennifer. ‘Girls, do you realize, we’ve landed our first jobs!’

‘I feel so happy I shouldn’t mention that we still have the show to do,’ said Lindy, laughing.

‘Except that you already have mentioned it,’ Jennifer told her. ‘But compared with Miss Revie’s interview I think it’ll be a doddle.’

‘A walkover,’ said Kitty. ‘On the catwalk.’

‘Oh,’ they groaned, but then ran through the rain to find a café for their celebration meal – egg salads, pots of tea and sinful sticky buns. Perfect!

Surprisingly, perhaps, the girls were right about the fashion show itself, for if they didn’t dare to call it a ‘doddle’ on the actual day, all went so well for them they counted themselves lucky, especially as Mrs Driver had been spotted in the audience.

To begin with, of course, they’d had to face the expected chaos in the dressing room, where there were models everywhere: some dressed, some not, some fully made-up, others not, all milling around, talking and laughing, paying no attention to the newcomers. When they’d finally found a corner to do their hair and make-up, they were intrigued to hear on all sides that there was going to be trouble as the bride had not turned up.

‘What bride?’ asked Lindy.

‘Why, the girl who models the wedding dress,’ someone close by explained. ‘They always show a bridal group here, to finish the show.’

‘And the model’s no’ come?’

‘Not yet, and Mrs Revie’s furious. Look at her – like a thundercloud! Of course we all want to know who’ll have to take her place. Someone blonde like you, dear.’ The girl – a statuesque blonde herself – looked at Jennifer. ‘You’d be just right.’

But another voice was calling from the door, ‘She’s here! She’s here!’

And in strolled Rosemary, in a coat with a fur collar and matching fur hat, seeming quite at ease as she smiled all round and moved towards Miss Revie.

‘Am I late? So sorry. I took a taxi but the traffic was terrible, we were stuck so long in a jam I thought I’d never get here!’

‘So did I,’ Miss Revie said grimly. ‘Won’t do, Miss Dalrymple. Kindly remember, for future reference, that trams don’t get stuck in traffic jams. I was just about to ask someone else to be the bride.’

‘Oh, dear, I really am sorry, Miss Revie, I didn’t think about the traffic.’ Rosemary’s expression was suitably contrite. ‘But I’m here now!’

‘Yes, well, you’d better check on your earlier outfits; we’re nearly ready to start.’

‘Why did you no’ tell me you were coming here today?’ Lindy asked Rosemary quickly. ‘I thought there were only three of us coming from Mrs Driver’s.’

‘Just from your group. Two of her other models were already booked for this – I’m one.’ Rosemary was drifting away to find her outfits. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen you, Lindy, but I’ve been packing. I’m leaving tomorrow.’

The well-dressed audience assembled, the coffee cups cleared away, it was time for the show to begin. Everybody was in position: the head fashion buyer, who was to give the commentary, the manageress and senior staff of the store, Mrs Driver in the front row. Out of sight, waiting to go on, Miss Revie’s watchful eye upon them, were the models, each one wearing a long, straight coat of the season, with a small hat worn to one side and their own high-heeled shoes.

‘Oh, Lord, I wish I was on first,’ Kitty whispered, but it was the statuesque blonde who sashayed down the runway after the head buyer had welcomed everyone and somebody had put some music on a record player.

‘I’m more nervous about Mrs Driver being out there than anything else,’ whispered Jennifer, ‘though I don’t feel too bad, really.’

‘Not after being watched by Miss Revie,’ Lindy agreed, and was grateful that she’d had that experience, so that when it came to her turn to walk down the catwalk, wearing a grey coat with square shoulders and wide lapels, she was ready almost to enjoy herself and knew that she was acquitting herself well.

As the show continued it became clear that Miss Revie’s organization was immensely efficient and of the greatest help to everyone. Though the backroom might appear chaotic, no one had trouble knowing what to wear and when, just as Miss Revie had promised, and to Lindy and the other beginners this was especially helpful to their confidence. As they worked their way through their lists of outfits – the smart little suits with short jackets and long skirts, the floating tea gowns, the pleated day dresses with pretty necklines, the silk pyjamas for leisure, the two-pieces for golf – things seemed only to get better, and at the end of the show they could relax and enjoy the bridal finale along with everyone else.

And how lovely Rosemary looked as the bride, moving so slowly down the catwalk in her slim-fitting ivory satin gown, her blonde hair veiled, her eyes cast down! Surely, thought Lindy, she should be playing the part in real life very soon, for tomorrow she would no doubt be returning to her old life, surrounded by admirers all willing, probably, to pop a diamond ring on her finger. Oh, poor Neil, how could he ever have competed? Suddenly Lindy felt a longing to see him again, her old friend, and tears pricked her eyes as she joined in applause at the end of the show, thinking of how he’d suffered.

The little rush of sadness quickly faded as she found herself caught up in end-of-show euphoria, with the models gladly getting back into their own clothes, all chattering again as Miss Revie went about crying, ‘Well done, well done, girls,’ and Mrs Driver congratulated her models, especially Lindy, Kitty and Jennifer.

‘A very successful debut,’ she told them. ‘But don’t expect all shows to be as well organized as this. Miss Revie here is a byword in the Scottish fashion world for efficiency – very few are like her. But write this up in your portfolios, girls: your first success.’

‘Well deserved,’ Miss Revie added warmly. ‘I won’t forget you. Or you, Miss Dalrymple,’ she added warningly as Rosemary came to say goodbye and had the grace to blush. But Lindy knew that she would always get work, not just for the way she looked but for her manner and style, both so expensive to acquire there were few who could offer the same.

‘What time are you leaving tomorrow?’ she asked as she stood with Rosemary outside the store, Jennifer and Kitty having already set off on their separate ways home. ‘I’d like to say goodbye.’

‘Oh, probably not till late afternoon. But don’t think of saying goodbye, Lindy! You must come and see me in my new flat.’ Rosemary was already waving for a taxi. ‘Look, I’ll take this – I’m doing some last-minute shopping in Morningside – may I give you a lift?’

‘No, thanks, it’s out of your way. If I can, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m away now for my tram.’

A routine journey home, but her mind was still so full of her first show that when she finally caught the tram she scarcely noticed the other passengers around her. Until someone spoke her name. ‘Lindy?’ she heard. ‘Lindy, don’t you know me?’

‘Of course I know you!’ she whispered. ‘Hello, Neil.’

He didn’t look too bad. Better than when she’d last seen him, anyway, though his face was more gaunt than she remembered and very slightly older. Was that possible? He was her contemporary – they weren’t ready yet to change. Still, she was relieved to see that his eyes had lost the dead look that had upset her before, and now were bright on her face as he slid along the slatted seat in the tram to make room for her.

‘I can’t believe it’s you,’ he murmured. ‘What are you doing over at this end of town, then?’

‘Why, I might ask you the same thing!’

‘I live round here,’ he answered calmly. ‘Today’s my half day. I’m going to see Ma.’

‘You have a flat round here? I never knew where you lived.’

‘I have a room,’ he corrected. ‘With use of a bath. But you still haven’t told me why you’re in these parts? Have you got a new job?’

‘Two new jobs. I’m working part time at Logie’s, just for Christmas. But today . . .’ She hesitated a moment. ‘I’ve been to a fashion show at Johnson’s. I’m – well, I’m a mannequin. Or a model, we like to say.’

‘A model?’ Neil whistled. ‘So that’s why you look different.’

‘I look different?’

‘I suppose it’s the make-up. You never used to use quite so much.’

‘Oh.’ She put her hand to her cheek. ‘I haven’t taken it off yet, that’s all. We need to wear it for the show, you know. I hope I don’t look too different.’

‘Don’t worry – you’re as beautiful as ever.’ He shook his head. ‘And it’s good that you’ve got what you wanted, eh? You’ve spread you wings.’

She smiled. ‘I’m no’ sure yet. It was my first show today. I’ve had to do some training and I think I did well, but it’s early days.’

‘And what’s happened to your shop work with your stepmother? Why’ve you gone to Logie’s?’

‘The owner wouldn’t let me do part time so I got this temporary job, selling in their Christmas shop. Cards and decorations.’

‘I might come in and see you there. Buy a card for Ma.’

They were silent for a moment as the tram travelled noisily on its way, each gazing earnestly at the other’s face until Lindy finally spoke. ‘Neil, mind if I ask – are you – you know – all right now?’

‘You mean, over her?’

As though a shutter had been rolled down, his expression became quite blank. ‘Hard to say,’ he said quietly. ‘Partly, I suppose.’

‘You don’t want to talk about it?’

He shrugged. ‘Why not? I’m better than I was, and I’m hoping to be better still. I can already say her name, for instance.’

‘That’s good, Neil.’

‘So, what’s
Miss
Rosemary doing now, then? She still at number nineteen?’

‘She’s moving out tomorrow.’

He was silent again and Lindy guessed he was remembering the day when Rosemary had first arrived and he had carried in her luggage. A disastrous day for him, had he only known; one that had brought him a happiness that was false and a pain that was real.

I wish I hadn’t said anything, thought Lindy. I should never have asked how he was. Yet she had been so glad to see him again she knew she could have done little else. He had been her friend; she had to know how things were for him.

Suddenly he seemed to be making an effort to move away from whatever dark thoughts still occupied his mind, and half smiled.

‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘You still got that young man of yours?’

It was her turn to remember pain. ‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘That’s all over.’

‘Oh? Why? He seemed a good chap.’

‘He is – he’s perfect. Just doesn’t approve of me doing what I want to do. Thinks modelling is all wrong, selling your looks to make rich women buy clothes. I told him that was nonsense.’

‘Is it?’

‘Of course! Models are just ordinary girls, they’re doing nothing wrong, and the women aren’t all rich who like new clothes. I tried to make him see that, but he wouldn’t listen, so we parted.’

‘I think that’s a shame. You should have tried to meet in the middle somehow.’

‘Easy to say.’ Lindy rose and clung to a hanging strap while trying to clutch her bags and umbrella. ‘But here’s our stop, Neil.’

‘All too soon, Lindy. Let me carry the bags for you, eh?’

When they left the tram he looked down at her with a softness in his eyes that reminded her of the old days. This was the way they had been, she and Neil – good friends comfortable together, and it made her relieved to see him so much like his old self.

‘How about your writing?’ she asked as they walked slowly together. ‘That going well?’

‘It’s saved my life,’ he said simply. ‘I’m writing something that’s really good, something I think will succeed. Better no’ say any more.’

‘Is it about poor folk, Neil? Struggle and that sort of thing?’

‘No, it’s no’ about that at all. Look, I’d rather I didn’t go into detail. Maybe you’ll read it one day, then you’ll understand.’

And because she was still so close to him, she understood already just what his book was about, but would never tell him. She would never say she’d guessed it was about what had happened to him over Rosemary but, as he’d said, maybe he’d let her read it one day.

‘Here we are,’ she said brightly. ‘Home again.’

He stopped and let her take back her possessions. ‘Lindy, now we’ve met again, could we – could we have a meal together, or something? Just for old time’s sake?’