The Shop Girls of Harpers

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘That was the nicest meal I’ve ever had,’ Minnie said when they had done. ‘I don’t know how to thank you enough, Rachel dear.’

  ‘It was my pleasure,’ Rachel said. She stood up and Mr Henry came hurrying over to help them on with their coats. She smiled and thanked him. His special attention had made them all feel welcome and the food had been excellent.

  ‘Do not stay away so long next time, madam,’ Mr Henry said and she felt warmed by the smile he gave her. ‘And you must bring your ladies again…’

  Rachel assured him she would and they all left. The evening air was cool after the warmth of the restaurant, but they soon caught a bus that took them back to Mrs Malone’s lodging house.

  ‘That was the best night of my life,’ Minnie whispered as she kissed Rachel’s cheek. ‘You’re a lovely lady and I’m glad you’re my friend…’

  ‘It was very kind of you, Rachel,’ Mildred said. ‘I too, enjoyed the evening.’

  Rachel’s eyes were a little moist as she kissed Minnie’s cheek and then her sister’s and wished them goodnight. She went into her room, feeling more relaxed than she had for some time. For a long while after her husband’s death, she’d felt as if her life was over, but the new job at Harpers and the friends she’d made here had brought her back to life.

  She was thinking about what Minnie had said as she prepared for bed. Rachel was still young enough to marry again but knew she would have to really love a man before she could marry him. She wasn’t ready to consider it yet, because she was still grieving. She’d been lucky when she was given the job at Harpers because it meant she could live comfortably with the occasional luxury like that evening’s meal.

  Rachel had neglected her friends after Paul’s death, refusing invitations to dine at their homes, her grief making her solitary, but she was ready now to resume the life she’d known. Mr Henry had been sympathetic but tactful enough not to mention Paul’s death, which made Rachel feel better. One of the worst things about losing someone you loved was all the well-meaning people who kept saying how sorry they were. She would write a little note to two of her closest friends, asking if she might call on a Sunday. Now that she’d made a start, she could invite other friends to the restaurant she liked so much…

  Sally paused outside the public house where Mick worked as the manager. She didn’t want to go in, because she knew that a young woman alone in a pub drew comments that ranged from impertinent to rude. Sally was about to turn away when Mick came out to her.

  ‘Was it me you were lookin’ for?’ he asked with a warm smile.

  ‘Yes…’ Sally glanced over her shoulder. ‘I wanted to ask about Sylvia – is she all right?’

  ‘Your foolish friend is recovering well,’ Mick told her with a slight frown. ‘The divil’s own work I’ve had to make her stay in bed, but she’s on the mend now. I dare say she’ll be back in a day or so…’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Sally was relieved. ‘I’ve been worrying about her.’

  ‘I’d have told you if there was anythin’ to worry you,’ he said, and his eyes seemed to caress her. ‘I could take you to see her, but I’m on nights all this week and you’re working every day.

  ‘I get Monday afternoon off,’ Sally said, ‘but she may be back by then. Tell her to be careful of Jean – she thinks she knows everythin’ but she’s only guessing.’

  Mick nodded, his eyes narrowed. ‘I doubt your friend will stay long at the hostel. She told me she was going back home for a while – she comes from Cambridgeshire, so she says.’

  ‘Sylvia isn’t London born.’ Sally took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t thanked you properly for what you did for us…’

  ‘I did it for you,’ he said and his grin took her breath away. ‘Sure, you don’t know it yet, Sally lass, but you’re special to me…’

  ‘I’m not that grateful,’ Sally snapped and he laughed, seeming delighted with her spurt of temper. ‘You’ve been a good friend, but I’m not going out with you.’

  ‘Now did I say you were? When I’m after askin’, you’ll know.’

  His mockery made her glare at him. She turned on her heel and stormed off. She glanced back and saw he was still watching her, laughing at her outrage. Sally was tempted to make a rude face at him, but it would only make him laugh more, so she raised her head and went into the hostel without giving him the satisfaction. He was a devil and didn’t deserve she should speak to him – and yet he’d saved Sylvia and her from endless trouble, because the law was very strict about abortions.

  Going up to her lonely room, Sally calmed down. Mick had only been teasing her and she shouldn’t let him make her so angry, because she knew it amused him. She was smiling when she locked the door behind her. For a while she’d been worried that Sylvia might die, but Bridget had sorted her out and Mick had taken care of the rest. He was a good friend – perhaps the only person in the world she could rely on…

  Beth told her aunt the good news when she got home. ‘The store did well the first week or so,’ she said. ‘Mr Harper was pleased and he’s giving us a bonus system…’

  ‘Well, that’s a blessing, I suppose,’ her aunt said. ‘I’ve copied the pattern for your work dress and bought some material from the market. I don’t think that floor supervisor will know the difference, but it cost half the price they wanted to charge you for a second uniform.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, that is very kind of you,’ Beth said, because it meant she could afford a second work dress now rather than waiting. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you?’

  ‘Just do your normal chores,’ her aunt said, nodding. ‘I wasn’t sure it would work out when I first took you in, Beth – but you’ve settled in nicely, found work for yourself and the money you bring in pays the coal and electric. We’re lucky to have the electric. A lot of houses in London are still on the gas. I prefer electric for working at night.’

  A little smile touched her mouth and Beth nodded. Sometimes her aunt seemed to be thawing towards her, beginning to appreciate her and be pleased with her company.

  ‘Do you need to work every night?’ Beth asked doubtfully. ‘I thought perhaps we might go to a concert together one night… or to a play, if you’d rather…’

  ‘A concert?’ Her aunt stared at her oddly. ‘I used to like music. I played the piano as a girl. My teacher said I might be good enough to go on the stage, but then Mother died and Father sold the piano. He couldn’t bear to hear me play, because it reminded him of her – and I started to sew clothes for others…’

  Beth hadn’t known of her aunt’s lost dreams. It made her realise how sterile and empty her aunt’s life must have been for years. It wasn’t any wonder she’d resented her prettier sister. Beth wanted to show sympathy but guessed it would not be appreciated; Aunt Helen had put the past firmly behind her.

  ‘So you enjoy music then?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I do – I’d like to go to a concert with you, Beth. If you book our seats, I’ll pay my half.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll go on your birthday – and I’ll pay for the tickets.’

  Aunt Helen looked at her sharply. ‘You can’t afford that out of your wage, girl.’

  ‘I’m getting five shillings’ bonus this week,’ Beth said. ‘My sales have been really good these past two days and I’ve earned the weekly bonus.’

  Aunt Helen hesitated and Beth knew she was considering whether to ask for her half of the extra, but she decided against it.

  ‘Very well, you may spend the money on a birthday treat we shall both enjoy.’

  Beth thanked her and tried not to feel slightly resentful that her aunt seemed to think that any increase in wages was half hers.

  Going into the kitchen, Beth set about cleaning the cooker and the sink before washing the floor. When it was all neat as a new pin, she went up to her room and prepared her clothes for the morning. The dress she wore for work each day had to be sponged and pressed to keep it looking fresh and clean. When she had a second dress, she could wash this
one, but for now sponging and pressing would have to do.

  Beth sighed but knew she was lucky. Aunt Helen wanted her own way in most things, but Beth was still able to afford the things she needed every day. She would have preferred to spend what little she had over on a pretty dress, but she did need a second for work and Aunt Helen had saved her at least ten shillings. She knew Miss Hart would not be able to tell the difference once she put on the lace collar that all the girls wore with their neat black dresses.

  As she slipped into bed at last, Beth was feeling tired but content. It had been a long, busy day. Sally had spoken out for all of them, because their departments all needed more stock. After two weeks of busy trading, much of the best had gone. Beth was happy with the scarves that had been chosen for her counter, but she knew that some of the men were grumbling because she’d spoken to Fred Burrows as she was leaving that evening and he’d told her there was discontent on the men’s floor.

  ‘Too bleedin’ dear, them fancy suits are,’ he’d said. ‘Especially, them smart frock coats with the astrakhan collars. Pardon me language, miss, but I’ve ’ad it in me ear all week. They get the customers, but the stuff ain’t movin’, and it ain’t likely to if yer ask me, and they don’t reckon that’s fair to them, ’cos they never get a bonus.’

  ‘Oh dear, that is a shame – and it’s too soon for a sale,’ Beth had said.

  ‘Ah, well, they’ll have to do somethin’, you mark my words.’

  Beth had smiled and bid him goodnight. She hadn’t wanted to be late and had hurried to catch her bus. Each night, she looked round, half hoping that she would see Mark but knowing it would be wrong if he came looking for her. Mark hadn’t loved Beth enough to wait for her. He’d married someone else and that meant that she could never find happiness in his arms.

  Sighing, she turned out her light. Aunt Helen only had the electric downstairs. Up here, they still used oil lamps. Still, most houses in the area had no electric at all. Aunt Helen kept a store of shillings for the meter and they had a good coal fire when the weather was cold.

  Beth turned over in bed and closed her eyes. She fell asleep almost at once and dreamed of an ocean and a sunlit beach, though she’d only ever been to the sea a few times and it was nothing like the miles of golden sand she saw in her dreams.

  As she slept, the dream changed and where the silence of the beach had been broken only by birds screeching, there was suddenly the sound of guns booming and she saw men lying everywhere, men with broken bodies and sightless eyes, their clothing stained with blood.

  Waking with a shiver, she wondered where such an awful dream had come from and then remembered Fred had talked of some old soldiers he knew who had fought in foreign parts. One of them had lost a leg and another his sight, fighting in the second Boer War, which had ended eleven years earlier. She shivered, feeling cold all over. Aunt Helen had made them cheese on toast for supper so perhaps it was the cheese that had brought on the nightmare. It was something that happened to her now and then, especially if something was playing on her mind.

  Beth decided to go down and make herself a pot of tea. It was almost six in the morning and she didn’t think she could get back to sleep after a horrible dream like that…

  16

  Sally was serving a customer who was after a silver bangle the next morning. There were only a couple left and the young woman looked disappointed to be shown only two examples.

  ‘I wanted something a little wider,’ she complained. ‘I’m sure you had lots more when I looked the first time.’

  ‘We’ve had a run on them,’ Sally said. ‘I’ve been told that we shall have more stock soon – however, these two are much cheaper than the wider ones and they look very smart worn together. Why don’t you try them on like that?’

  The customer hesitated and then slipped both over her hand and held her wrist up to admire the thin bands of silver, one of which had the turquoise stones and one that was just plain.

  ‘Yes, that is nice – and different,’ she said, studying them carefully. ‘The bangle was a gift for my sister…’

  ‘She could start a little collection,’ Sally said, ‘and you could purchase the two for the same price as one wider bangle.’

  ‘Yes, you are right.’ The customer beamed at her. ‘I shall take both. I think Amie will like them.’

  Sally placed the bangles in a box and wrapped it in tissue. She sent the money off to the cashier’s office and placed the box in the distinctive black and gold bag.

  ‘These are so smart,’ her customer said as she took it. ‘It looks as if it might have come from a Bond Street jeweller. I think my sister will be thrilled.’

  ‘I do hope so,’ Sally replied. ‘We should have new stock in quite soon – perhaps you might think of buying your sister something to match the bangles at Christmas?’

  ‘Yes, I might,’ the woman said. ‘I have my eye on a couple of pieces I should like for myself too, but I’ll come in again next month and see what is new…’ She smiled at Sally. ‘I love the way your windows here reflect things that are going on, like spring, Easter and that one with all the parcels and the birthday cake was wonderful.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Marco is so clever,’ Beth said. ‘I loved that one too…’

  The sound of a ping told Sally that her change was back and she removed it from the container and counted it into her customer’s hand. The woman nodded, smiled, bid her good morning and left. It was only then that Sally became aware of the very smart young woman watching her, her dark-eyed gaze narrowed and thoughtful.

  ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting, madam.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she replied and smiled. ‘I’m not a customer and I enjoyed watching you serve, Sally. It is Sally Ross, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes…’ Sally hesitated and then, ‘You’re Miss Harper. Mr Harper’s sister…’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Jenni Harper advanced, her hand held out. Sally took it and they shook hands. ‘I’ve very pleased to meet you and now that I’ve seen you in action, I think my brother was right.’

  Sally wrinkled her brow, uncertain what Miss Harper meant. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you mean…’

  Jenni Harper laughed. ‘No, I’m sure you’re not, Miss Ross, for I know my brother and he would not have said much before consulting me. He is five years younger than me and I have more experience with the stock – but I understand from Ben that you and some of the staff have strong opinions on my choices?’

  ‘I hope I haven’t offended you, Miss Harper,’ Sally said and glanced at her supervisor, who was serving a customer with hats. ‘It was just that we need more of certain pieces of stock – and the men’s department find the expensive suits unsuitable for conservative British pockets.’

  ‘You mean they don’t want to pay for a good suit,’ Jenni said, nodding. ‘Yes, I do see that, Miss Ross. I hadn’t been to this end of Oxford Street when I helped my uncle buy that stock. I’ve sourced some good-quality merchandise here in England for our New York stores and I thought it would sell here. Back home, we sell to men who want the best and they are willing to pay our prices for good styling and quality cloth. I’ve spoken to the supervisor of the men’s department and I’ve sourced a lower-priced range for them. I’ve decided I’ll have the very expensive suits shipped back to New York and we’ll feature them in our winter sale.’

  ‘That is a good option,’ Sally said, smiling easily now. Apart from a slight accent, there was nothing to show that Miss Harper was American, but she was clearly friendly and outgoing. ‘We have the chance to sell the less-expensive stock here and the bulk of the sales are sure to be a middle range. Good sporting jackets and slacks could be a strong seller for the summer, I think.’

  ‘Do you speak from experience?’ the older woman seemed really interested and Sally blushed.

  ‘I worked in Selfridges for a few months. I knew one of the staff from the men’s department and he told me that was their strongest seller. British men tend to buy a suit that last
s them for years and more often wear a jacket and slacks – unless they have to have a suit for work. That’s why the lower-priced range is best, because who wants to spend the earth on a suit for office work?’

  ‘Clear thinking,’ Jenni said. ‘A good suit is a sign of affluence at home and men like to look as if they’ve got to the top.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure those that can afford it do here, too,’ Sally agreed. ‘But they visit Knightsbridge or one of the specialist tailors to have them made to measure – and they go for something quieter, more subtle.’

  Jenni nodded as if she agreed, then, ‘My uncle should have done his homework before he bought, shouldn’t he? What other mistakes have we made between us?’ She really wanted to know and wasn’t angry or indignant because she’d been told of possible errors.

  ‘I thought some of the skin bags would never sell,’ Sally told her. ‘However, I have managed to sell two for special gifts – but I think the lower-priced bags go more quickly, so we will need larger numbers of those. We still have sufficient in stock, but I think we’ll need more in a month or so.’

  ‘Good, that is exactly the information I need,’ Jenni said. ‘My brother has some ideas he wants to put to you, Miss Ross. Will you come to supper with us this evening? It will be a quiet meal in a quaint little pub by the river, so you need not dress for the occasion.’

  Sally’s nerve endings tingled with excitement. She’d thought Mr Harper would forget all about her after their brief interview, but it seemed he had consulted his sister about her. Now she couldn’t wait to discover what the brother and sister meant to suggest…

  ‘Is everything all right, Miss Ross?’