by Vicky Adin
“He’s not my fella, I tell you. He’s a friend, ’tis all.” Brigid always denied the obvious, but Sally knew otherwise. Thomas Price was now a regular visitor, and Brigid had indeed accepted his invitation to walk out with him on occasions. If Brigid wasn’t smitten, Tom certainly was.
“If you say so.” Sally shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll look after the shop while you take him into the salon if you like. Just call if you need me, which I doubt.”
The once dirty anteroom had become a favourite place of theirs since its refurbishment back in April, and the more elegant furnishings they’d added since then. Brigid entertained all the society ladies in the salon, where she could show the fabrics and laces to their best advantage on the long table, and in private.
With natural light pouring in through the rear window, off-white walls and drapes, a chaise longue and two chairs with cabriole legs, the room was as elegant and modern as you’d find anywhere. Since Brigid had started selecting exclusive lengths of fabrics for preferred customers, she was able to guarantee the exclusivity she’d staked her reputation on. Dressmakers now flocked to her for materials demanded by their clients.
On warm sunny days, such as today, the women opened the doors wide, thinking them more welcoming. Tom strode on in, tossing the snub of his cigar into the street. “Bore da. And a fine good morning to you, Miss Brigid and to you, Miss Sally.”
“Good morning, Mr Price,” said Sally, lifting the hinged section of the counter top. “Come on through.”
“Will you join me? I’m about to have a cup of tea.” Brigid extended her arm towards the salon.
“Would I ever say no to anything you ask of me, Miss Brigid?” Tom’s infectious grin lit up his face, and Brigid smiled in response.
Sally tittered quietly and turned to Brigid pointedly. “What did I tell you?” she whispered.
“Thank you, Sally.” Brigid tried but failed to sound severe. “I’ll leave you to the shop, I will. I believe Mrs Armstrong will pick up her parcel this morning.”
In jest, Sally poked her tongue out at Brigid as she turned her back and retreated to the salon, leaving the door open, as usual, for propriety’s sake.
An hour or more passed. Sally could hear voices in the background, but they were muted and no laughter had erupted to startle the steady stream of customers.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Dufresne, Miss Brigid is tied up for the moment. Would you like me to make an appointment for you? Say, tomorrow?”
At a time when Sally was trying to serve three customers at once, a man walked into the shop. Voices stilled and, as one, they turned to look at him. A man in a ladies’ shop was a rarity, but a fashionable gentleman with an arrogant tilt of his head was unheard of. Sally recognised him instantly, even though she hadn’t seen him for more than two years. Her spirits plummeted.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir. Now Mrs Smith ... your parcel. Ah, yes. You’ve chosen well, Mrs Sedgely.”
As quickly and efficiently as possible, Sally completed the sales for the women still hovering around the counter, watching the man who was inspecting the place from top to bottom, peering intently into each of the glass-topped display drawers. Moving from behind the counter, Sally guided the ladies to the door. As soon as they’d stepped onto the footpath, she closed the doors and slid the bolt home.
She gathered her breath and pasted a smile on her face before she turned towards him. “Mr Harrison-Browne. It’s been a long time. What brings you to ‘Miss Brigid’s’?”
The man flinched slightly at the inference Sally made as to who owned the shop. He inclined his head slightly but did not remove his hat. He carried gloves in the hand that held his cane, his shoes were the latest fashion and he looked prosperous, and indifferent. For a man whose father had just lost everything, he seemed remarkably assured. “Miss Forsythe, I believe? If my memory serves me.”
Sally said nothing. In the silence, a murmur of voices could be heard, and she immediately attempted to cover the sound with a cough. “Pardon me,” she apologised. “This is a surprise. Can I help you?” Retreating behind the counter, she bustled about tidying up the laces.
“No, I don’t think you can. I wish to see Brigid. Will you fetch her for me? That is, if it’s not too much trouble for such a busy person.”
Rude creature, thought Sally, standing her ground. “Ah, but Miss Brigid is tied up at the moment. Can I ask you to come back in about an hour?”
Philip raised his chin and sneered. “You could, but as it is not convenient for me to do so, I will ask you again to fetch her.” He took two paces forward and stood immediately in front of her. She was grateful the counter was between them. “Or I will find her myself.” His threat was not a hollow one.
Without warning, his hand flashed across the counter, and he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You always were a pretty little thing.”
Instinctively, she batted his hand away. “Take your hand off me.”
“Fiery too. Mm, I like what I see.” He chuckled. “Now, will you get Brigid or will I?”
“Wait here,” she ordered, and feeling distinctly nauseated, hurried to the back room. She shut the door behind her and leant against it, afraid she would fall down without its support.
“Sally. Whatever is the matter? You’ve gone a funny shade of green.”
If the alarm in Brigid’s face meant anything, at least she’d do as Sally asked without argument. “Come to the kitchen with me, will ye?”
Brigid looked at Tom. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I’ll be here, waiting for you.”
Sally made sure the salon door was securely closed and pulled Brigid across the corridor into the kitchen. “It’s Philip Harrison-Browne. He’s out front,” she hissed. Brigid’s eyes widened with shock. “I tried to put him off until Mr Price has gone, but he’s insisting on seeing you right now.”
“Aye, well. I’d better speak with him, then.” Brigid turned to leave.
Sally grabbed her arm and held her back. “Don’t let him see Mr Price. He’ll put two and two together and make it into something it’s not.” Sally didn’t say that Philip had frightened her. She lowered her voice. “And you mustn’t let him see Maggie either.”
Comprehension registered in Brigid’s eyes. She nodded. “Will ye see Mr Price out the back door then, will ye?”
“Where is she, by the way?” Sally looked around the kitchen expecting to see Maggie somewhere.
“Gone to the markets.”
Brigid patted her hair and straightened her gown, and walked into the shop. Sally followed a few paces behind and hovered by the screen dividing the store to listen in and see what developed next.
“Mr Harrison-Browne.” Brigid extended both her hands to take one of his in hers before releasing it again. “’Tis wonderful to see you, again.”
Philip bowed and smiled, returning to the suave, charming person of old. “I am so pleased I have found you at last, Brigid. You have been elusive.”
Sally detected the cold tone, despite his manners.
“We must talk at length, and you can tell me all that has been happening, that ye can. I especially want to hear about your mother,” Brigid replied enthusiastically. “But for the moment, I must apologise I’m a bit tied up. Could we meet again later? I know a delightful tearoom further up the street.”
The smile fixed on his face never quite reached his eyes.
“I can wait for a few moments more while you finish whatever you consider more important than me. I have travelled a long way to find you, but I won’t wait any longer.”
Sally turned and rushed into the salon. “Mr Price ...”
“Isn’t it about time you called me Tom, Miss Sally?” he grinned. In contrast to the menace she had felt not more than ten yards away, the natural, easy-going goodwill of this man was a tonic.
“Tom, then. But there’s no time for questions. Come with me, quickly.” She glanced around the room. “Bring your hat.”
“What’s going on?” A frown creased Tom’s brow.
“Miss Brigid will tell you when she can, but right now can I ask you to leave? By the back way. It’s important.”
Tom shrugged, seemingly nonchalant again. “Anything to help. Tell Miss Brigid I’ll be back later.”
Sally sighed, relieved. “I’ll send you a message. Are you staying at your usual boarding house?”
He confirmed he was and skipped down the three back steps into the yard and set off down the alleyway.
She had just shut the kitchen door behind her when Brigid appeared in the corridor, heading towards the salon. The question on Brigid’s face was obvious. Sally nodded.
Brigid raised her voice slightly so Philip could hear. “Aye. Miss Forsythe, will you unbolt the front door again, please. I would hate to turn customers away. And then I’d like you to join us in the salon. We’ll hear the bell should anyone come in.”
Sally went to do as she was bid, leaving Brigid to tidy up the two teacups.
Philip stood exactly where she’d left him, but his pose was belligerent. He meant trouble, if Sally’s instinct was anything to go by. She reached up to unbolt the door, but he grabbed her wrist. She pulled away from him, but couldn’t break his grasp. They glared at each other.
“Leave it. I don’t want anyone interrupting our little tête-à-tête.” His voice was icy smooth, and his face wore the slightest hint of a sneer.
Sally’s mouth went dry. “What do you want?”
“What’s owed me.” He let her go and Sally rubbed her wrist where he’d left red finger marks. “What was taken away from me.”
Sally didn’t quite understand his meaning. Every penny Mrs Browne had spent on stock for the shop had been repaid, and they had started paying a small monthly rental. “We owe you nothing.”
“Oh, but Miss Forsythe, I beg to differ.”
At that moment, Brigid returned. She looked between the two of them, sensing the tension and animosity. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing, my dear Brigid.” Philip removed his hat, flopped his gloves inside and held it out with his cane for Sally to take. “Miss Forsythe and I were reaching an accord, weren’t we, my dear.”
Sally forfeited the battle and took the proffered articles.
“Now, is there somewhere private we can talk? Behind here, maybe?” Philip started to move behind the counter, but Brigid didn’t budge or allow him to pass. She clearly wasn’t convinced any accord had been reached. She smiled sweetly. “If you wish, the three of us can talk in my salon. Maybe it is better the doors stay shut for now. Come along, Sally.”
Brigid extended her arm and Sally crossed in front of her to lead the way into the salon. She placed Philip’s hat and cane on the hat stand and stood at the far side to watch Brigid and Philip come through the door.
Philip’s face was thunderous, and his temper barely under control. “Brigid, is this really necessary? It’s you I want to talk to.”
Sally saw him flick his hair into place, a sign she remembered from the ship. She was sure he was up to something.
“I think it is, Mr Harrison-Browne.” He squared his shoulders against Brigid’s self-assurance. “If you want to talk business then, aye, I need her advice. Miss Forsythe is the clever one with the figures. Please take a seat.”
Philip sat, flipping the tails of his coat. “Very well. Have it your way.” He leant back in the chair, placed one foot on the other knee and hooked his fingers in his waistcoat pocket. “I’ve come to claim my property.”
Brigid blanched. Sally knew it had been the one thing she’d dreaded ever since she’d heard about the fire.
“Forgive me, but I’m not sure I understand? Your property, did you say? What property is that?”
A wave of admiration washed over Sally. The timid girl who usually accepted authority was directly challenging him. She’d never seen Brigid like this, but then, maybe she had. Sally knew Brigid would fight to the death to protect those she loved.
He waved his hand around the room and pointed up to the ceiling. “This property. The shop, a showroom and accommodation, I believe.”
“Ah, I see. Miss Forsythe. Can you explain the arrangements we came to with Mrs Browne, please?”
After Brigid had got the money from the bank to buy the stock she wanted, Mrs Browne had agreed to offer her the right to purchase the building once she had some capital.
Philip jumped to his feet. “I know all about your little arrangement with my mother, but she had no right. You ...” he pointed at Brigid, “you have no right. You were my idea. You were mine to say what happened and how it happened. How dare you go behind my back? And as for this harlot ...” Philip swished his hand towards Sally.
Brigid stood. “I’ll thank ye to keep a civil tongue in your head. You forget your manners. I don’t know what has upset you, but I will not have such language in my house.”
Somehow, Sally managed to keep a straight face while she rejoiced for Brigid standing up to the man who once offered so much, but who had turned into a right bully.
Philip exploded. “It’s not your house. Nor your shop. And your name should not be on the door. It should be mine!”
“It’ll do you no good to get all hot and bothered, that it won’t. I’m right sorry that what you’d hoped for didn’t happen, but ’twas between you and your father. I had nothing to do with it.”
Momentarily silenced by her insight, he looked at her more calmly, but his eyes were cold. “You are an employee and I require your services in Brisbane.”
“I think you are wrong there. I don’t work for you or your father. Anyway, I have responsibilities that prevent me from leaving.”
“Responsibilities?” His dismissive harrumph troubled her.
“To my family, aye, and your mother. I was saddened to hear about the fire, and Mr Browne’s affliction, I truly was. Are you finding your way? I hope you are.” Brigid’s voice softened, and she spoke as she would to an injured child, or Maggie.
No sooner had the thought of Maggie entered her head than a soft tap sounded on the door, and Sally saw it inch open. Maggie appeared carrying a tray of tea things, as was her habit when she knew Brigid had company.
Philip stared at the woman and then looked back and forth between herself and Brigid. Sally didn’t think he would recognise Maggie from the ship, but Maggie knew who he was. She dropped the tray with a clatter, tea splattered over the floor and china shattered. She stood trembling in the middle of the room, staring.
Brigid went to her and, with a gentleness only Brigid could achieve, eased her from the room. Sally bent to clear up the mess, keeping a wary eye on Philip who had sat down again.
He was watching her. “Who was that woman?”
“A maid.”
“Have you known her long?”
“She was on the ship with us.” The words were hardly out of her mouth, and she knew she’d made a big mistake, but thankfully, Philip didn’t seem to have noticed.
“How can you afford a maid?”
Sally didn’t like the inference she detected in the question. “You’ll have to talk to Miss O’Brien about that when she comes back.”
Having collected all the broken china and put it on the tray, Sally stood up. “Excuse me while I take this away.”
“You have to get rid of him!” Sally whispered, as soon as she entered the kitchen.
Brigid was seated beside Maggie on the kitchen bench, still trying to comfort the terror-stricken woman. She got up and crossed the room to speak softly with Sally without Maggie overhearing.
“I know, but how? I’ve been trying to think of a plausible reason for him to leave, but I don’t think he’d fall for any of them.”
“We’d better come up with something quick, before he takes it into his head to go causing mischief.” S
ally tipped her head at Maggie. “How’s she?”
Brigid shook her head. “Not good. Although why he particularly scared her, I don’t know. She hardly knew him on the ship and I doubt she’s seen him since. It doesn’t make sense.”
Sally bit the side of her thumb, trying to think of a connection. “Didn’t she go outside for a while when we were all at the Browne house in Brisbane? Could she have seen him there?”
“It’s possible, aye. I didn’t know he was there that day, but that might explain it. If she thinks he’s followed her and found her here then others could too.”
Following Brigid’s logic, Sally began to panic. “Maybe she’s right. I just admitted we knew her on the ship. What if the police or that madman from up north find us? Then what?”
“They won’t even be looking.” Brigid had already been through all the arguments. “Pull yourself together, Sal. We’ve more important things to worry about.”
Sally took a few deep breaths. “Well if he’s not after her, he’s certainly after you. My God, but he’s as crazy as a loon. What’s all this talk about taking back what he’s owed?”
“He’s always had the silly belief I was the key to making his dreams come true. He said without me they wouldn’t work. He’s convinced himself the only way to get Harrison Browne’s back on its feet again after the fire is for me to go back to Brisbane with him and work in the store.”
“How is that going to work? You’ve got your own business here.”
“I know that. But if he thinks his ma and I have ignored him and stolen his ideas he’ll want me to pay, tit for tat.”
“You can’t let him get away with that. What’s he got himself so twisted about all of a sudden?” Sally was indignant on Brigid’s behalf.
“It’s not so sudden, Sally. I’ve felt for a while he could be nasty when things don’t go his way. He’ll pay his father back for not believing in him, by some means or other. But listen. I think I’ve an idea that might work.”