Fire

by Deborah Challinor

  ‘Are they doing their own make-up?’ Allie asked.

  ‘Yes. Well, they’re bringing two make-up artists with them, if that’s what you mean.’

  A make-up table had been set up behind the dressing rooms, where there would be no chance of the models accidentally being seen from the foyer. Dunbar & Jones prided themselves on presenting only the most glamorous models, and the illusion would be irreparably spoiled if they were to be spotted wandering about like mortal women with curlers in their hair, bare feet and no make-up.

  Minutes later the models appeared like a small flock of exotic, twittering birds, escorted by Miranda de Saint-Castin, who ran the modelling agency. She was tall, slender, raven-haired, very self-assured and always impeccably attired, but ever since Miss Willow had told Allie in confidence that Madame de Saint-Castin’s real name was Mabel Biggs and that she originally came from Bulls, Allie hadn’t been able to regard her in quite the same light.

  As usual, the models had come along in their casual clothes—slacks, sleeveless blouses and flat shoes. With them were their two make-up artists and a hair stylist. Allie saw that the stunning-looking dark girl was here again: even without make-up she was easily the most beautiful and exotic-looking of them all.

  Madame de Saint-Castin clapped her gloved hands. ‘Now, girls, we have an hour before the parade starts and I want to get your maquillage started. Tea? Is there tea?’

  ‘Tea?’ the dark girl said disparagingly. ‘What about something stronger?’

  The other models laughed, though Madame didn’t.

  While Miss Willow sent Rhonda up to the cafeteria to get pots of tea organized, Allie found a chair and placed it near the make-up table so she could watch. Tending to a girl with long, almost platinum-blonde locks, the hair stylist first brushed the hair out, then began to back-comb it until it sat up from the crown by several inches. She then took the hair from the front and swept it back over the teased section, making a smooth dome, and tucked the ends into a ponytail fashioned from the rest of the hair. This was then twisted around several times to form a gleaming knot and pinned to the back of the model’s head, creating a very elegant and tailored effect. The stylist then sprayed the whole thing with enough lacquer to cement bricks together. The model sat very still the whole time, not even blinking when the make-up artist skilfully applied several coats of thick black mascara to her lashes. When her make-up and hair had been completed, the model rose from the table, lit a cigarette and wandered over to the tea trolley. The Young Miss models received similar treatment, though their make-up was lighter and their hairstyles less elaborate.

  At half past six, thirty minutes before the fashion show was due to start, Allie checked the White Room to make sure that everything had been set up properly. As usual, the tables and chairs had been rearranged to create a temporary runway down the middle of the room. It made for a tight squeeze, but the audience didn’t seem to mind—in fact the tables right next to the runway seemed to be the most coveted. A lectern, with Dunbar & Jones’s distinctive logo on the front, had been set up at the far end, where Miss Willow and Miss Button would stand and describe each outfit as the models appeared. Behind the lectern was the most enormous flower arrangement, which the store’s florist had been working on all day. It was crammed with roses and other summer blooms, and the delicious scent filled the room.

  At a quarter to seven the audience started to arrive, and Allie made her way back to the dress department ready to help the first model, who happened to be the lovely dark girl. Allie knocked outside the dressing room, but didn’t know where to look when she saw that the girl was completely naked.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she said, mortified.

  The girl waved her hand dismissively.

  ‘Shall I wait outside?’ Allie suggested.

  ‘No, you’re supposed to be helping me, aren’t you?’ the girl said, though she looked amused rather than angry. She had the widest eyes, the most gorgeous caramel-coloured skin and the most perfect nose and mouth Allie had ever seen, and she couldn’t help staring.

  ‘Yes, I’m your dresser,’ she said nervously. ‘Um, sorry, but what was your name?’

  ‘Heliopolis,’ the girl said. ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘Allie. That’s an unusual name. Lovely, though.’

  ‘What? Allie?’

  ‘No, your name, Heliopolis. Is it foreign?’

  ‘It’s Egyptian.’

  ‘Oh. Is that where you’re from?’ Allie asked. She knew the girl had to have come from somewhere exotic.

  ‘No, I’m from here. Auckland.’

  ‘Oh, right. Your family’s Egyptian, though?’

  ‘No, my family’s from New Zealand.’ Allie must have looked confused because the girl rolled her eyes. ‘Heliopolis is the hospital in Egypt where my uncle died in the First World War. I’m named for him,’ she said slightly crossly, as though she’d had to explain it a thousand times. ‘But most people call me Polly. I’m Maori, not Egyptian.’ She picked up some undergarments from the dressing-room chair and started to undo the hooks on them.

  Allie felt silly. ‘Sorry, I just thought—’

  ‘Most people do,’ Polly interrupted. ‘Most people don’t believe that a Maori girl could model couture clothes for Pakeha women.’ She slipped her arms into a bra and turned her back so Allie could do it up. ‘I am, though, eh? I’m doing all right, too. One day I’m going to Paris and I’ll be a world-class model.’

  Allie didn’t doubt it.

  Polly pulled on a girdle and wriggled it up over her hips, then sat on the chair and began to roll on a pair of very sheer stockings. The bra made her breasts look like two bullets, and Allie didn’t think she needed the girdle because her stomach was already firm and flat, but she supposed Polly had to have something to hold her stockings up.

  Polly stood and studied her reflection in the mirror. ‘What am I wearing out first?’

  Allie stepped outside the dressing room to fetch the first outfit. When she returned, Polly was smoking a cigarette and drinking from a small bottle.

  ‘Want some?’ she said, offering it to Allie.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Gin.’

  ‘Er, no thanks.’ Allie wasn’t at all sure that Madame de Saint-Castin would approve of drinking alcohol during a show. Neither would Miss Willow, for that matter.

  ‘Come on, a sip won’t hurt,’ Polly insisted.

  ‘It will. I’d be fired if Miss Willow found out.’

  Polly shrugged, took another swig and slipped the bottle back under her street clothes, which were lying in a heap in the corner.

  Allie handed her the first dress, zipping it up when Polly had stepped into it and fluffing the pleats so that it sat properly. The bright floral pattern looked spectacular against Polly’s darker, glowing skin. She dropped her cigarette butt into her teacup, slipped on high-heeled sandals, gloves and a hat, grabbed the handbag and stole that Allie was holding out to her, and sauntered out of the dressing room.

  Allie followed her out to the black curtain, where they waited for Miss Willow to introduce the proceedings.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ Ruby began in her clear, ringing voice. ‘It is my pleasure to welcome you here tonight to Dunbar & Jones’s latest seasonal couture collection. We will, as usual, begin with a special selection of day dresses and accessories, then move on to leisure wear and swimming costumes, with our latest line in latex floral bathing caps imported especially from France. This will be followed by Young Miss, with our new summer range of Teena Louise, which I’m sure many of you mothers are anxious to view on behalf of your lovely daughters. There will then be a short interval with refreshments, after which we will recommence with evening wear and ball gowns, followed by mantles and, of course, bridal wear, the jewel in our haute couture crown.

  ‘Please note that your programmes provide an indication of the price of the items you see here, should you wish to place an order at the end of the evening. Remember, ladies, these ense
mbles have not yet been displayed on the shop floor and as our valued customers you are seeing them here first. I know that many of you will be attending events to honour the imminent visit of Her Majesty the Queen next week, not to mention the many and varied Christmas engagements you have planned over the festive season, so I hope that you may perhaps see something here tonight that will fulfil your particular requirements. So, thank you for your attention, and we will now begin.’

  Ruby nodded at the pianist sitting behind his baby grand just inside the entrance to the White Room and he launched into Nat King Cole’s ‘Mona Lisa’.

  Peering through a gap in the curtain, Allie spotted Louise and Daisy sitting at a table in the third row back from the runway, both dressed in their smartest clothes. It was a treat for them to be here tonight, and an even bigger treat for Donna and Pauline. Allie spied her sisters sitting against the far wall, without their hats and gloves, which they must have ditched somewhere along the way. Her mother wouldn’t have let them out tonight if they weren’t dressed like the little ladies Colleen thought they should be. And, bloody hell, was Donna smoking a cigarette?

  Allie straightened up as Polly glided past her to the end of the curtain and stepped out onto the runway, her beauty and the elegance of her outfit eliciting murmurs of appreciation from the audience.

  Ruby put her glasses back on and consulted her notes. ‘Tonight Polly is modelling one of our in-house designs, a day dress suitable for an afternoon event or a garden party, in elegant charmeuse with a tableau of aqua blue flowers on a pale coral background. As you can see, this style is designed to accentuate a shapely silhouette with a small waist. The dress is available in a range of sizes, and the fabric is available from our own dress fabrics department and can be made up to your requirements.’

  Polly did another circuit of the runway.

  ‘Polly is wearing this beautiful frock,’ Ruby went on, ‘with French elbow-length coral suede gloves, a gorgeous deep coral, imported all-wool stole for those slightly cooler summer afternoons, a soft leather handbag in aqua blue, and matching high-heeled leather peep-toe sandals with ankle straps. Polly’s divine hat is, of course, one of our own millinery department’s wonderful creations, and I will invite my colleague Miss Beatrice Button to comment on that.’

  Miss Button, so short she almost couldn’t see over the top of the lectern, stepped up and cleared her throat.

  ‘We are very proud of this particular creation,’ she began, ‘because as you can see it captures all of the elements of today’s finest millinery trends. Into a timeless picture-hat style featuring a widened east to west brim with grosgrain trimming, we have incorporated an ornamental bird, its pink and coral plumage designed to directly complement the tones in our model’s dress. The crown and the brim are of novelty straw, which is both light and airy. I am sure you will find that this hat will become an essential piece in your summer wardrobe this year.’

  Miss Button stepped down and Ruby Willow took her place. Passing the next model on her way out onto the runway, Polly disappeared behind the curtain, whipping the example of ‘today’s finest millinery trends’ off her head and tossing it aside as she hurried towards the dressing rooms, Allie close behind.

  And so it went for the next forty minutes, a mad dash to get the models changed into their next outfits, a few minutes’ reprieve, then another rush. By the interval Allie was quite frazzled, so she could imagine how the models themselves were feeling. The second half of the show, however, featured the ‘glamour gowns’, so there was no opportunity to slow down before the show ended.

  The bridal ensembles were particularly tricky to get the models into, as there was the dress itself and the special lingerie that went under it, the shoes, stockings and decorative garter, jewellery and, finally, the headgear. So while two of the older girls and the two teens modelled the evening gowns and the mantles, Allie assisted the three ‘brides’ into their ensembles. Polly, wearing Dior, looked absolutely stunning in the startling whiteness of the gown and its long veil, her small waist accentuated and her generous breasts moulded by the stiff satin of the bodice.

  While they waited behind the curtain for the evening wear models to come off, Allie slipped out into the foyer and went to stand at the back of the White Room, wanting to see the reaction to the bridal wear with her own eyes. The first two gowns—a Balenciaga and then a Dunbar & Jones design—went down very well, eliciting gasps of admiration from the women in the audience, including Daisy, who sat with her hands clasped and her mouth open in delight, obviously imagining herself walking down the aisle in one of the fabulous, frothy creations. The Dior, however, literally stole the limelight, as Miss Button deliberately turned off all the lights except for those above the runway to highlight the gown’s shimmering beauty. Or was it Polly’s beauty that was making such a stunning impact? She certainly looked like a fairy princess, albeit a very chic, modern one, gliding along the runway, the beading on the dress glittering and the white satin giving off a soft light of its own.

  Raising her hands to applaud, Allie inadvertently elbowed someone and glanced behind her to apologize.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ she said, smiling as Sonny did his best to blend into the shadows. ‘I didn’t realize you liked couture fashion.’

  ‘I don’t,’ he muttered.

  ‘Gorgeous dress, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Of course, the model certainly helps. She’s gorgeous as well,’ Allie noted.

  ‘She always was.’

  Allie went very still, a hot shard of jealousy lodging uncomfortably in her chest. ‘Oh. Do you know her?’

  Sonny nodded.

  Allie knew she should leave it alone, but all the common sense she’d ever possessed deserted her and the words were out of her mouth before she could clamp it shut. ‘How well?’ she said, trying to make the question sound casual, but it still came out rather aggressively.

  ‘Very. She’s my sister.’

  Allie worked her way steadily through the discarded clothes and accessories strewn across the floor outside the dressing rooms. Now that she thought about it, there was quite a resemblance between Polly and Sonny. He was a little darker, but their facial features were similar. Allie wondered if the colour of Maori children’s skin got lighter as more and more of them were born. Could a thing like Maoriness get diluted the more it was used? No, probably not, she thought, and smiled to herself for being such a twit. Sonny had asked her if she wanted to go somewhere for a cup of coffee, so she was hurrying to get everything tidied up before she could leave. There were shoes and hats and bags and roll-up jeans and knitwear and dresses and scarves and bathing caps everywhere.

  ‘I think that was very successful, don’t you?’ Miss Willow said, her arms full of shoes. ‘Especially the off-the-peg formal daywear. We’ve taken lots of orders for that. It’s the queen, I expect.’

  ‘Probably,’ Allie agreed. ‘Do you want us to put everything away tonight?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Ruby replied. ‘I’m quite exhausted after all that and the display people are coming in early tomorrow to tidy up the White Room, so why don’t we come in early as well? That is, if you haven’t planned a night out on the town,’ she added slyly.

  Allie blushed. ‘Well, actually, I am going out for coffee, but it definitely won’t be a late night.’

  ‘With your Maori chap? Well, you’ll certainly make a splash in your Dunbar & Jones uniform, dear.’

  ‘What? Oh bugger,’ Allie said as she realized she was still in her work clothes. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Willow.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Ruby said, ‘though I have heard worse, you know.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Look, why don’t you take something off the shop floor to wear?’

  ‘I can’t actually afford it at the moment,’ Allie replied uncomfortably.

  ‘Did I say anything about paying for it?’ Ruby leaned closer. ‘Just between you, me and the gate post, I have myself been known,
on occasion, to, er, borrow the odd item to wear to a special function. And Miss Button certainly flits around town in a remarkably extensive selection of hats, given her modest income. As long as you don’t damage or stain it and you have it back in the morning, it can go upstairs with the rest of the garments from the show to be cleaned and pressed, and no one will be any the wiser.’

  Allie didn’t know what to say: the idea of Miss Willow borrowing clothes from the shop floor, wearing them, then putting them back on the racks was both shocking and astonishing.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that, dear,’ Ruby said mildly. ‘I’ve been doing it for years and no one’s ever caught me out. And there’s no harm done. I like to think that in a way I’m actually fulfilling the role of a poster girl for Dunbar & Jones. Well, not a poster girl as such, more a poster middleaged spinster, but people know I work here, and if I’m well dressed then surely they’ll assume that all my clothes come from the store, don’t you think? And they do, of course; it’s just that I don’t always pay for them. So, really, I suppose I can say I’m in advertising these days, as well as sales.’

  She said it with such conviction, and sounded so much like Donna and Pauline when they were trying to justify away something naughty they’d done, that Allie laughed.

  Ruby smiled, though a little ruefully. ‘Yes, I know, it does sound, well, somewhat creative, but one has to have one’s small victories, even if they’re silent, doesn’t one? And I know what you’re thinking, Allie. You have a very expressive face—you’ll never be any good at poker, you know. No, unfortunately all is not what it seems in terms of my position here at Dunbar & Jones. There’s so much more I could achieve if only I wore trousers instead of a dress. But I don’t, and by the time that changes, if it ever does, I’ll be long gone.’ She plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve, picked up her glasses and polished them vigorously. ‘But perhaps that’s a conversation for another day. I suggest you select something from the racks, discreetly of course, then go out and enjoy yourself.’