The Sunday Girls (22 page)

We obviously had the same foot size because the shoes fitted like a glove and I preened myself in front of the mirror, first turning one way then another. No matter which side of me was mirrored, I looked elegant. I was still doubtful about taking them but, when she mentioned maybe putting them into the church jumble sale, I smiled my thanks. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Barrie.’

‘No, thank you, Ann, for giving me so much pleasure with your reading. You bring the story alive – so much so that I can almost imagine the murderer is in the room with us.’ She lay down on her bed. ‘We’ll start another story tonight if that’s all right.’

She closed her eyes and I ran down the stairs with the lovely coat over my arm. Jean looked at me with surprise as I almost careered into her. Her eyes opened wide when she saw my goodies. ‘Oh, it fair suits you and it sets of your bonny black hair. You look like Pola Negri – she’s a film star.’

She looked on in admiration as I twirled around the room. ‘Aye, she’s a right generous woman is Mrs Barrie. She offered me some clothes when I started here but of course I was too plump so she gave me some lovely ornaments for the house – just bonny wee knick-knacks but I treasure them because they’ve been given with a good heart. Not like Lady Snootynose.’

I explained how Maddie had christened her Creepy-Crawly and Jean laughed so much she had to sit down.

‘It’s time for our afternoon tea and some hot home-made scones,’ she said, buttering a large scone and placing a dollop of jam on the top. ‘Maybe I should stop eating fattening things like these and I could fit into a lovely coat like that.’ She ate the remains of her calorie-laden scone and licked her fingers. ‘Or maybe I’ll not bother – I like my food too much.’

As I carefully carried my coat upstairs to my room, Jean called after me, ‘Make sure you hide it from Her Ladyship, Ann. Don’t let her see it.’

That was my intention. Although I planned to wear my new outfit on Sunday, I was going to leave the house dressed in my old trench coat. Then, when out of sight of the house, I would change into my fabulous fashion creation.

What Creepy didn’t know wouldn’t harm her, I thought.

When I was in the isolation of my bedroom, I wondered where I would hide my coat. The black spectre memory of Miss Hood was still fresh in my mind and I wondered what her reaction would be should she spot it. Would she, in one of her dark rages, assume that I had stolen it and perhaps tear it from my back causing havoc, as she had with the book? This image made me all the more determined to hide it from her and not let her cold, fishlike eyes ever see it. Still, in spite of this secrecy, I couldn’t resist the urge to try it on again. Once again I was entranced to see the instant transformation from a gawky thin girl to a svelte creature who could well have graced the stage or screen – at least I thought so.

I grinned at the mirror. ‘Don’t be daft,’ I told my reflection, mentally scolding myself for my foolishness. But one thing was crystal clear – the feel of this luxurious coat was no dream. It must have cost Mrs Barrie a fortune and she had given it to me. I couldn’t believe my good luck.

That night I came to an arrangement with Jean. The next day, she would bring her largest message bag into work and she would smuggle out my treasures, leaving me to sally forth in my ancient trench coat.

But there was another financial worry looming on the horizon – the folding pushchair. Jean had seen it advertised in the post-office window. ‘It’ll be just the thing for your wee sister,’ she had told me that afternoon, her mouth full of delicious home-made cake. ‘I know Mrs King, the woman who’s selling it, and she keeps a right clean house so it’ll not be in a dirty condition. In fact, it’ll be a right good buy, Ann.’

I had almost burst out laughing at this glowing testimonial, the memory of Lily’s first pram still fresh in my memory. However I remained silent.

Jean chattered on. ‘I think she’s asking seven and a tanner for it but maybe she’ll let you pay a wee bit every week till it’s paid up.’

I didn’t want to tell Jean that the sum of seven and sixpence was well nigh impossible for me to find but, on the other hand, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. That was why, after the Saturday night chores were finished and before Mrs Barrie and I started another detective novel, we both made our way to view the pram.

Mrs King eagerly pointed out all its sterling qualities and I had to admit it was in excellent condition. In fact it looked quite new and well worth the asking price. The pushchair’s pristine condition was probably due to the fact that it hadn’t been hauled up a couple of flights of stairs because the front door of Mrs King’s cottage led directly on to the street.

We sat in her tiny front room on fireside chairs that were as hard as a board, almost as if the original cushioned padding had long since disappeared into the blue yonder.

‘I did say I wanted seven and sixpence for it but I’m willing to drop the price to six shillings if you’re interested.’

She pushed the pram back and forth over the well-polished linoleum as if further extolling its virtues. She nodded to Jean who reclined in her chair with a comfortable expression on her face. Maybe, I thought, she didn’t feel the hardness because of her natural padding.

The woman said, ‘I can keep it aside for you if you like and you can pay me a shilling or whatever a week.’ She glanced once more at Jean and I realised they had discussed my financial circumstances but I wasn’t angry. No one could ever be angry at Jean’s kindness and, after all, beggars couldn’t be choosers. So we struck a deal there and then.

‘I’ll be here with the first shilling tomorrow, Mrs King, before I go home.’

I had done some quick thinking and I had already made up mind on how I could pay this money up. I would walk home to the Overgate and walk back to Whitegate Lodge every week. That way, Granny wouldn’t be burdened by trying to make ends meet on less money.

There was also the worry about Grandad having to manhandle the big pram up and down the stairs every day. Now, with this lighter, folding model and the thought of the approaching warmer weather, it would prove to be a real boon to the family.

The following afternoon was nerve-racking. Miss Hood appeared, dressed in a bilious green outfit. She almost had a purple fit when I marched out with no mention of wages.

Jean was waiting for me in the courtyard, surrounded by a clutch of blackbirds who were gorging on the scattered crumbs. She was clutching her outsize bag. She laughed. ‘I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head – speak about having apoplexy! And did you hear yon strangled wee cry she gave?’

I hadn’t heard a sound and I said so, my mind concentrating on walking away from the birds.

‘Well, maybe she didn’t,’ Jean conceded with a deep chuckle. ‘But I bet she mentally said it and did you see she almost burst into tears? I’ll bet a tanner on it.’

Danny was waiting for me once again and, to my delight, he was carrying Lily. She seemed to be fascinated by the sound of the sea and her clear blue eyes were transfixed in puzzlement as she twisted her head in its direction.

‘Oh would you look at the lovely wee babby?’ crooned Jean, holding out her arms to take her.

Lily responded by blowing a stream of frothy bubbles. Meanwhile I could hardly contain myself as I wanted to tell Danny all about my lovely new coat and also the imminent purchase of the pushchair.

Almost as if she read my mind, Jean said, ‘Ann, let me buy the pram for Lily now and you can pay me just as easily as Mrs King.’

I was mortified. ‘Oh, no, Jean, six shillings is a lot of money.’

She was adamant. ‘Honestly, if I couldn’t afford it I wouldn’t have offered. Let’s go round and pick it up right now.’

Danny looked at me in puzzlement as we trooped round to the cottage. We all stood in a circle on the pavement at Mrs King’s front door as the woman wheeled it out. Jean strapped Lily into it while Mrs King produced the gabardine cover that hooked on to the hood to keep out inclement weather. She then added a bonus of three cosy checked blankets, pocketed the money and gave us a cheery wave.

Before setting off down her lane, Jean handed over her bag while I paid the first instalment of a shilling. Now we had this new pram, the world was our oyster.

Hattie was at the Overgate when we arrived. Her expression beamed approval at the new acquisition. ‘Compared to that monstrosity over there, anything would be an improvement,’ she said, nodding towards the big pram that lay beside the bed.

On the other hand, Grandad was so impressed that he immediately put on his overcoat and cap and headed off with Lily.

Then Hattie spotted my coat in the bag. Her eyes widened with undisguised delight and she swooped on it with a cry of joy. ‘Let me try it on. It’ll fit me, I’m sure.’ She slipped the coat over her slender shoulders and almost purred. ‘What did I tell you? It fits like it was made for me.’

The shoes also fitted and she pranced around the kitchen almost crooning. ‘I’ve always wanted a coat like this. It’s cashmere, don’t you know? And real fur. None of your ordinary rabbit fur here. I’m sure it’s fox fur or it could even be sable although that’s usually a dark fur.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as she mentioned the word sable.

To say I was annoyed was an understatement. I quickly took the coat from her. ‘Well, it’s mine, Hattie,’ I said quite firmly, making sure she was in no doubt about it.

But she was determined to have my present and she pleaded. ‘I’ll swap my new grey woollen coat and a new pair of shoes and a good hand-knitted cardigan.’ Her voice held a strange wheedling tone that I had never heard before but I was determined to stand firm.

‘No, Hattie, they’re gifts from Mrs Barrie and she says I’ve to wear them because she’ll get pleasure from seeing me in them.’ I knew this was a white lie but I could visualise my lovely gifts being swept away in front of my eyes by my auntie.

Suddenly, as if tired of all this female bickering, Danny stood up to leave. ‘Honestly, you women are crazy about clothes. Imagine argy-bargying over a coat.’ His eyes were full of wonder at the secret minds of his womenfolk. ‘Mind you, I think Ann suits the coat better than you, Mum.’

He ducked under her hand as she went to give him a playful push but her face looked annoyed. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you change your mind, you know where to find me.’ She moved towards the door, her face like thunder, with Danny tagging on behind.

Granny, who had been slicing vegetables for her huge pot of soup and keeping out of the argument, sighed. ‘Now look what you’ve done, Ann – you’ve put your auntie into a huge huff.’

I was mortified until she burst into laughter, loud guffaws that echoed around the small kitchen. She stopped stirring the soup and wiped her eyes dry with the corner of her apron. ‘Good for you, Ann. It’s about time somebody stood up to her grabbing ways. Of course, she’s just green with envy that you happen to be the same size as your employer. With Mrs Pringle being plump, it means that her cast-offs are far too big for our Hattie.’ She erupted into laughter again. ‘Otherwise she would make sure she fell heir to them. No, Ann, don’t you feel guilty. Just you enjoy wearing your bonny coat because it makes such a difference to your appearance. You look like a real rich toff.’

The next afternoon found me at the entrance to D. M. Brown’s department store. Maddie appeared and walked right past me without recognising me in my new finery.

‘Hullo, Maddie,’ I called out to her retreating back

She swung round with a look of puzzlement. ‘Ann, I didn’t see you. Where did you get that swanky coat?’

I put my arm through hers. ‘I’ll tell you about it inside. Did you bring your patterns?’

The dressmaking department, much to my surprise, was almost an entire floor given over to lovely fabrics. There were rolls and rolls of material in every colour under the sun – a colourful kaleidoscopic chamber with everything from the finest sheer silks to the heaviest of knobbly woven tweeds.

Maddie was studying her patterns when an assistant appeared, dressed in a smart black frock with a white lacy collar demurely buttoned at her thin neck. Her glossy black hair, which looked as if it owed more to a Tonirinse than mere nature, was swept back in an enormous bun. She had a patient, fixed smile on her middle-aged face and this seemed to be a requisite of the job.

Maddie was obviously well known in this treasure trove of home-dressmaking. ‘Miss Pringle, can I help you?’ She gave her a deferential smile and, much to my surprise, bestowed the same smile on me.

It suddenly dawned on me that this was the result of the expensive coat. I was being treated like a valued customer. If I had come in with my old coat and scruffy shoes, would I have had this same service? Probably but the assistant would have summed me up as having no money to buy anything and she would have been correct.

Maddie explained what she wanted, showing the pattern to the woman. To give her her due, she was a well-trained expert in her job because she guided us towards a display of materials in a selection of cotton, silk and crêpe de Chine.

‘What do you like, Ann?’ asked Maddie. ‘I thought we could make a frock for the summer.’ We gazed in awe at a dressmaker’s dummy that was draped in something green and expensive.

‘What? No camiknickers?’ I whispered. She laughed. ‘We’ll get the material for them today but we’ll make them later.’ She rummaged through her bundle and produced the relevant pattern.

‘Oh, yes,’ said the assistant in her cultured voice that somehow sounded far posher than Maddie’s, ‘they are very popular this year and I would recommend these fabrics.’

We spent ages browsing around while the assistant floated away to attend to another potential customer. Maddie kept referring to which materials I liked and I was beginning to get worried.

‘Maddie, I can’t afford to buy anything just now. Just because I’ve got this posh coat doesn’t alter my financial state.

She looked at me in dismay. ‘Oh, you’re not paying for the material, Ann, and neither am I. It’s mother’s treat and we can both use the sewing machine.’

I was dumbfounded. ‘Maddie, I can’t let your mother buy things for me. No, just you buy what you want and I’ll save up for something later.’