The Exciting Life (6 page)

‘
These are for Patrick’s eyes only,’ Iris smiled smugly. ‘If I
was to show you, that
would
cause an embarrassment. Anyway, I must be going.
It was so nice to meet you Kenneth.’

‘
And you Iris,’ he said. ‘Look, we sometimes have charity
events. Dinners and so on. Would you like to come to one? Maybe
help out, as a hostess or something?’

‘
That would be lovely, thank you. I will confess that like you,
I too come from more humble origins, it would nice to help those
who haven’t done better for themselves.’

She
stood up and bent down, kissing Annie on the cheek.

‘
I’ll see you soon,’ she said. ‘You’re meeting with that
cobbler this afternoon aren’t you?’

‘
Yes,’ Annie smiled. ‘As soon as I know what’s happening, I’ll
be in contact.’

‘
Super. See you both.’

She
flounced out and Annie noticed the eyes of every man in the place
focus on her backside. Iris certainly knew how to use her assets to
get her way. It seemed she’d even enchanted Kenneth.

‘
She seems nice,’ he said, draining his glass of
ale.

‘
She probably realises you’re worth a bob or two,’ Annie
replied. ‘Girls like Iris are always on the make.’

‘
Not jealous are you?’

‘
Of course I’m not jealous. If I wanted to look and act like a
scrubber, I could. I thought you were beyond being taken in by the
likes of her.’

‘
You always see the worst in people. Anyway, haven’t you an
appointment to go to?’

‘
Yes,’ Annie replied, standing up and throwing her napkin on
the table. ‘I’d better be going. Don’t forget to tip the waiter
when you pay.’

As Annie
walked to Leicester Square tube, she did all she could to stifle
her tears. She wished that Kenneth had never put Aunt Nesta in that
clinic in Switzerland. She wished she was still in England so she
could at least go and see her. Even though Nesta could hardly speak
these days and had no movement down her right side. Just to be in
the same room as her would be enough for Annie. She needed to be
with someone who loved her unconditionally.

But she
couldn’t just go to Switzerland on a whim, so she pushed her
feelings to one side and got on with business. She was going over
to Whitechapel to meet with a cobbler called Solomon Glass. Out of
the cobblers she’d contacted, he offered her the cheapest price,
and promised that he could knock out a pair of shoes in an hour.
She’d had had no commissions so far, but Annie was determined to
get a couple of pairs made and persuade friends who were actresses
or models to wear them, in order to be seen.

Kenneth
was right. She had taken a huge gamble on her new venture. Her
Uncle Michael had left her five thousand pounds – a considerable
sum of money, and instead of having it in monthly instalments,
she’d chosen to take it in one lump sum, and invested the lot into
converting The Fortune into her emporium. The top two floors were
being made into an apartment for her to live in, and the rest would
eventually be taken up with salons where women could go to have
shoes fitted and maybe even one day she would be able to make
clothes. She still wasn’t entirely sure how it was going to
transpire, and she knew she would have been better off selling it
to Kenneth and using the money to buy a little shop somewhere. But
Annie had always had a reckless streak – it was how she’d ended up
marrying Mario, and she wasn’t going to change any time
soon.

Entering
Whitechapel, Annie got a flashback to her childhood - before she
was taken in by Nesta and Michael. The cobbled streets. The smell
of horse shit and diesel. People who looked as though they hadn’t
washed for ages. The area of Battersea she’d come from was very
similar to this and just being in this environment again made her
determined never to be poor again. It was imperative she made
something of herself, because to live like this was out of the
question.

Solomon’s workshop was down a tiny alley that was sandwiched
between two dingy looking shops and barely noticeable. As Annie
walked along the uneven cobbles, she was glad she’d worn flat shoes
as she would have fallen over in stilettos. The area was so dark
and dingy, she kept thinking about Jack the Ripper walking around,
looking for victims; and it made shivers run down her spine, glad
that whoever it was, was probably long dead, or too old to inflict
any more damage.

To her
surprise, outside the workshop was a very shiny, impressive-looking
convertible Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. Annie knew a lot about cars -
it would have been strange if she didn’t after all those years
married to Mario. And this was not the sort of car one imagined a
back-street cobbler to own.

Entering
the front door, her nose was hit with the smell of leather and boot
polish. She could hear the sound of hammering from all around her,
and she wasn’t sure where she should go. It was dark, and it was
only as she squinted her eyes, that she made out a light behind a
leaded window at the back. The floor was as uneven as the cobbles
outside, and she was scared of tripping.

As she
got closer, she could see ledgers on shelves and realised the room
was indeed an office. She briefly knocked on the door, and a voice
called for her to come in. At first sight, on entering the office,
it looked as if it had come straight out of a Dicken’s novel. It
was lit by lamps; smelt of dust and every surface seemed to be
covered in ledgers and paperwork. It was only as she looked again,
she spotted the tall man standing at the end of the room in a
smart, grey suit. As she turned around, she gasped in shock to
discover Soloman Glass was no more than forty and very handsome,
with swept back, wavy dark hair and a craggy, well-boned face.
She’d been expecting some wizened old man.

‘
Miss Holland?’ he asked, coming towards her, offering his
hand.

‘
Yes,’ she replied. ‘Mr Glass?’

‘
Mr Glass junior,’ he smiled, causing dimples to form in his
cheeks. He was the most attractive man she’d met since Patrick. ‘My
father isn’t feeling too well today so he’s asked me to see
you.’

‘
Oh I see. I can come back if it’s inconvenient.’

‘
No, I like being here. It reminds me of being a boy and Dad
bringing me to work. I know the business like the back of my hand,
so I think I can manage. But, this isn’t the most salubrious office
in the world. How about I take you round the building, so you can
have a look; then we grab lunch somewhere more
glamorous?’

‘
Sounds good to me…’

‘
Eddie.’

‘
Sounds good to me Eddie, thanks.’

He
strode off and Annie followed, feeling rather pleased at this nice
surprise. It was always a treat to meet a handsome man; and since
Patrick’s rejection of her in favour of Iris, she’d been feeling
pretty neglected in that department. Not that she knew anything
about Eddie Glass. He was probably married with a hundred children.
But he was nice to look at and there was no harm in
looking.

He ran
up a flight of rather rickety stairs, while Annie held tightly onto
the piece of rope at the side, to steady herself. When he got to
the top, he looked down at her and smiled playfully, his blue eyes
twinkling.

‘
Come on Slow Coach,’ he teased.

‘
I’m scared my foot will go through one of these stairs,’ she
fretted, positive they were swaying.

‘
Rubbish. These have had three generations of Glass men running
up and down them.’

When she
got to the top, Eddie grasped her arm and pulled her up onto the
landing. Part of Annie objected to him handling her roughly.
Another part of her quite enjoyed it.

He let
go of her and walked into the large workshop. It looked like a
Victorian sweatshop – with half the windows boarded up; one of the
electric lights not working and the brick-work chipped and cracked
in places. Elderly men sat over their workstations, hammering and
cutting bits of leather.

‘
Who do you make shoes for?’ Annie asked loudly, over the
noise.

‘
Mostly Adams, Forbes and Delawares.’

‘
Shoe shops then?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
But my shoes are going to be exclusive.’

He
looked at her and pretended to be offended.

‘
We can handle that.’

‘
Those men look very old. Are you sure it’s good for them to be
sitting like that all day?’

‘
It’s all they know. Dad looks after them, don’t you
worry.’

He
walked off and Annie followed. Across the way was a canteen area.
It was small but clean, and behind a little counter in the corner
was a chubby woman wiping a tea urn.

‘
Who’s your girlfriend Bubbelah?’ she asked.

‘
She’s not my girlfriend Aunty May,’ Eddie laughed. ‘Miss
Holland wants us to make shoes for her.’

‘
Does she now?’ May replied. ‘What shop do you work for
love?’

‘
I don’t. I have my own company,’ Annie replied.

‘
Well, we don’t have many like you round here. Lot of your
sorts take their work abroad nowadays.’

‘
No, I want to keep it in England.’

‘
Well good for you.’

Eddie
left and headed back down the stairs. Annie hated the thought of
walking down them – they seemed almost vertical. Like a gentlemen,
Eddie held out his hand and she took it and let him guide her down.
When they got to the bottom, he led her into a room where great
sheets of leather hung up ready to be made into shoes. The smell
was horrible and Annie quickly walked out.

‘
You’ve got to get used to the smell of leather if you’re going
to make shoes,’ Eddie laughed.

‘
I’m not the one making them,’ she retorted.

Sliding
into the car and feeling the cool leather interior against her skin
brought back so many memories of being with Mario to Annie, and she
felt strangely at home. Eddie got in, and she liked the thought of
sitting in a beautiful car with a handsome man in a well-cut suit
beside her. It was this yearning for the good life that rattled
Kenneth, but Annie couldn’t help herself.

‘
Where are you taking me?’ she asked Eddie.

‘
I was thinking of The Holbein. They do very good
cocktails.’

‘
The Holbein it is.’

He drove
at speed out of the dinginess of Whitechapel, through the City,
down through Holborn and into the West End. Annie enjoyed the
admiring glances of those they passed – the men jealous of Eddie -
the women envying her. It had been a long time since someone had
made her feel like that.

‘
So is it just shoes you’re going to be making?’ Eddie asked,
as they turned into Tottenham Court Road.

‘
At first, yes. I’d also like to make bags and purses and
wallets eventually. But I realise I’ve got to start off
small.’

‘
I might have a few contacts for you. I’d have to see some of
your work first though.’

‘
Well, I’ve only got sketches, nothing else. This is all new to
me.’

‘
Good, we can start from scratch then.’

The
Holbein was a large, grand hotel on Margaret Street. Annie always
felt strange going into a hotel that belonged to another company.
All her life she’d stayed for free at various Villiers Hotels
around the world; and to go somewhere else felt almost
treasonous.

Eddie
led the way to the bar at the back of the building. There were very
few women in there, and those that were, appeared to be over-made
up high-class hookers. Annie felt very under-dressed in her basic
dress with a full skirt, and flat shoes. What would Eddie think of
her compared to these glamorous girls?

‘
What can I get you?’ he asked her.

‘
A vodka martini would be nice, thank you.’

‘
Great, take a seat.’

She sat
at one of the glass tables and watched Eddie as he sauntered to the
bar. There was something very alluring about a man who oozed
confidence, and Eddie certainly did that. He kept his hands in his
pockets as he walked, and as he smiled at the two overly-made up
blonde hookers at the bar, they both looked at each other and
giggled like schoolgirls. He came back from the bar with the drinks
– vodka martinis for both of them, and sat opposite
Annie.

‘
It feels strange for me being here,’ she said, sipping the
beautifully-made drink. ‘I have a free pass to all the Villiers
Hotels around the world, so when I come to somewhere like this, it
feels somehow wrong.’

‘
How come you have a free pass to Villiers Hotels?’

‘
It’s quite complicated and a long story,’ she
grimaced.

‘
I have all afternoon, don’t worry,’ he laughed.

‘
Well, my brother and I were evacuated to Oxfordshire at the
beginning of the war. I was five and Kenneth was seven. We were
taken in by Michael and Nesta Holland. They were very wealthy and
lived in a grand house. Aunt Nesta owned Tanner
Beresford.’