Lizzie's Secret

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Tilly will trim them differently,’ Ed told her when they resumed work ‘but this semi-cloche style is popular and easy to wear, so we make it all the time. It can look very different with ribbons or feathers or silk flowers.’

  ‘Yes, I saw an order that Harry was getting ready to go out early this morning,’ Lizzie hesitated, then, ‘How was your wife when you got home, Ed?’

  ‘Not too bad. She says she’ll be able to get her own meal by next week – but I may still go home just to make sure.’

  ‘May I ask what is wrong with her?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Madge’s back went weak after she had our son,’ Ed told her. ‘The doctors didn’t know why, but she ended up in a wheelchair for six months. I had to get someone in to care for her. Couldn’t give up work or we would have starved.’

  ‘But she is getting better?’ Lizzie asked. ‘How does she look after your son?’

  Ed’s eyes looked away as he replied, ‘He lived half an hour or so and then he died. Madge wasn’t able to be present at the funeral, which was a great distress to her…’

  ‘Oh, Ed, I’m so very sorry.’

  ‘So am I, but sorry doesn’t change things,’ Ed said and came back to himself. ‘We’ve still got each other and that’s all we’ll ever have. Madge mustn’t ever have another child.’

  Lizzie wanted to hug him, to reiterate how sorry she was, but it wouldn’t help, because he didn’t want sympathy. ‘Are you going to show me how to cut out the felt now?’

  ‘Aye, that’s the way of it, Lizzie, get on with living; it’s the only way.’

  Chapter 5

  ‘Your mother makes a delicious Victoria sponge, Beth,’ Aunt Jane looked at her with approval. ‘Lizzie does her best, but she cannot cook as well as your mother. I’ve never had the time to show her…’

  Lizzie hid her annoyance, because her aunt had never even tried to show her how to bake, only to cook their basic meals. She’d learned by trial and error and her uncle said she was much better than Aunt Jane had ever been. He’d tucked into his slice of the larger jam tart she’d cooked for them to have at home, but Ed had been thrilled with the four small ones she’d given him for his wife.

  ‘I dare say you’ve taught Lizzie how to sew…’ Beth said politely.

  ‘I’m helping Lizzie make a smart black dress for work. I suppose you have to have the same?’

  ‘Yes,’ Beth confirmed ‘Mr Oliver is very particular about that, especially if the girl is going to serve in the showroom.’

  Lizzie silently blessed her. ‘Mr Oliver asked me this morning if I had a dress yet and I told him it would be ready for me next week – that’s right, isn’t it, aunt?’

  ‘It should be – but you’ll have to do the finishing touches by hand. I haven’t time…’

  ‘Of course I shall, it’s my dress.’ Lizzie felt pleased that she would be able to choose the buttons and trimmings herself.

  ‘And you won’t mind if we go to the flicks next Wednesday?’ Beth pressed home her advantage. ‘My dad will fetch us if you like…’

  ‘I think Lizzie will be quite safe with you, Beth – and the idea that she should stay overnight is a good one. I don’t have to worry about her missing the bus and walking home.’

  ‘My brother or father always meets me if I ask, but I think Lizzie and I together will be quite safe. Mum would worry if we were late back.’

  ‘Quite right too.’ Aunt Jane got up from the table. ‘Well, I am glad to have met you, Beth. I can see you’ve been properly brought up and that is just as it should be.’

  ‘Let me do the washing up,’ Beth offered. ‘Lizzie can help. You should sit and rest, Mrs Banks. I think you must work awfully hard…’

  ‘How kind. You may certainly dry for me and Lizzie can put away… but I do like to wash and rinse my best china myself.’

  Uncle Jack winked at Lizzie as she made to follow behind them. ‘Your Beth has won her over, love. I’m glad you’ve got a friend. You may need one soon enough…’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I went to see the doc this morning, Lizzie love,’ her uncle said. ‘I was thinking that if a war came later this year I might be of some service, on fire watch or something, but he told me the old ticker is slowing down, bit of a problem…’

  ‘A problem with your heart? What did he say exactly?’

  ‘I’ve got to have some tests at the hospital, Lizzie – but the doc seems to think I need to take things easy.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’ Tears stung her eyes, because she couldn’t bear the thought that he might die. It was no wonder that he looked so very tired these days. ‘I’m so sorry, uncle. If there’s anything I can do…’

  ‘Just try to be happy, my love,’ he reached for her hand. ‘We never had a child of our own. Your aunt had two miscarriages and after that… we just gave up. She was so happy when you came to us that I hoped… But she’s changed over the years. I’m sorry you haven’t been more loved, Lizzie.’

  ‘You’ve loved me. You’ve been a father to me, Uncle Jack. Please believe me, if ever you need me I’ll do whatever you ask.’

  ‘I dare say it is all a storm in a teacup. You’d best help your aunt or we’ll both be in trouble – and we don’t want that on your birthday.’ He smiled and gave her a small package. ‘Your aunt might not have remembered, love, but I did…’

  Lizzie opened the little jeweller’s box, inside which was a pair of clip-on pearl earrings. ‘Oh, these are lovely, Uncle Jack, I love them.’

  ‘That’s all right, Lizzie. Go and help your aunt then, before she gets cross…’

  Close to tears, Lizzie hurried after the others. Uncle Jack needed peace and quiet and Lizzie would do her best to see he got it…

  *

  Tilly was late into work that Monday morning, and got a telling-off from Mr Oliver. She looked upset, and when Lizzie made tea at the mid-morning break, she asked her what was wrong.

  ‘It’s my little Sally. She’s got a nasty cough and I was up all night with her. My husband has to be at work at six in the morning, and couldn’t help me. Mum was late coming, and she was fussing about Sally, asking if she should take her to the doctor. We’re on the panel but we’ve been with her three times this last month and I know we’ll have to pay extra if we take her again.’

  ‘It must be worth it if she’s ill.’ Lizzie knew how hard it must be to manage on Tilly’s wage, even though she was a trained seamstress. Her husband worked as well but was on piecework and didn’t always get taken on.

  ‘Mum insisted she was going to take her, even if she had to pay herself, but we couldn’t let her do that. Dad died four years ago and she’s only got a small pension – but it’s hard with a baby…’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard other people say that. I think most people are in the same boat, Tilly.’

  ‘You’d better get on, Lizzie. We don’t want to lose our jobs, even if the pay is miserly.’

  ‘I’ve heard they’re payin’ three quid down the munitions factory.’ Vera Marsh replaced her empty mug on Lizzie’s tray. ‘I’ve a good mind to get a job there.’

  ‘It’s a worse atmosphere there than it is here,’ Tilly said. ‘My neighbour’s daughter works there and her skin is goin’ yellow…’

  ‘Oh, poor thing,’ she sympathised and left Tilly to her work.

  Lizzie joined Ed at his bench. He was shaping some pink felt into a dome rather like a bowler hat, but it would have a larger brim than the cloches he’d made yesterday, and be trimmed with silk flowers and veiling.

  ‘This is one of our specials,’ Ed told her as his hands worked their magic, with a little help from the steamer. ‘Mr Winters will be in this afternoon and he ordered six of these hats last time. I’m making it in six different colours. What kind of decoration do you think they need, Lizzie?’

  ‘Well, the pink one could have a silk rose… I saw a lovely one in the new stock, Ed. It is purple at the centre and shades out to a pale pink.’

  ‘Perfect, fetch me
the rose and the ribbons,’ Ed instructed and Lizzie obeyed, pleased that Ed had seemed to like her suggestion.

  ‘Let’s have a look’ Ed placed the rose against the hat and then draped the ribbon next to it and nodded approval. ‘You’ve got a good eye for colour, Lizzie. ‘Give these to Tilly.’

  Lizzie would have loved the chance to sew the ribbon and rose into place herself but did as she was told and delivered the various pieces to Tilly.

  Tilly nodded in approval. ‘I like that colour choice. This is one of Mr Winters’ specials – he’s one of our best customers, but if you serve him be careful, Lizzie. They say he’s a womaniser and breaks hearts…’

  ‘I’ll be careful then,’ Lizzie laughed and moved away.

  For the rest of the morning Ed had her running back and forth collecting the materials he needed for the hats he was making. She was amazed at how quickly he worked, and thrilled when she saw he’d completed eight beautiful hats, most trimmed to Lizzie’s specifications.

  At lunchtime, Lizzie met Beth in the staffroom. Nancy, Vera and Harry were there and having a laugh together. Lizzie saw the way that Vera made up to Harry, and looked away; it was embarrassing to watch her flirting, because Harry obviously found it amusing.

  ‘Mum is looking forward to having you stay on Wednesday,’ Beth told her. ‘You won’t mind sharing my room, will you?’

  ‘It will be fun,’ Lizzie said and smiled. ‘I can’t really believe that my aunt allowed it, but you won her round. She spent all day Sunday telling me that I should try to be more like you.’

  ‘Poor you,’ Beth sympathised. ‘I just wanted to make sure she let you come out with me.’

  ‘I know. I’m so grateful,’ Lizzie said. She opened her overall to show off the black dress beneath. ‘What do you think? Is it all right?’

  ‘Take the overall off and let me look,’ Beth said as Lizzie revealed the simple fitted dress beneath. It had short sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and a straight skirt that finished just beneath her knees. ‘Yes, that does suit you; I like it. Why don’t…’

  Beth paused as the door opened and Mr Oliver entered. ‘I was looking for…’ His eyes narrowed in appreciation. ‘Much better, Miss Larch. You can serve Mr Winters for me please. Collect the hats Ed made this morning and take them into the showroom please.’

  ‘Yes, sir, of course,’ she replied. ‘We made eight this morning and Ed said they were all specials.’

  ‘Eight, that’s good. Let’s hope Winters likes them,’ her employer said. ‘Get on with it, girl. What are you waiting for?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Lizzie was galvanised into action, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement.

  ‘Perhaps she wants her lunch,’ Harry spoke up as Lizzie rushed back to the workroom.

  She collected all the hats, placing them in a large box and carrying it through to the showroom. Lizzie had visited this hallowed place only once before. There was a glass counter and a couple of hat stands, also a mirror on the wall, but it could be so much more attractive with just a small amount of money spent on mirrors, a couple of pretty chairs and elegant stands.

  A man was standing near the window, looking at some of what Lizzie termed the basic stock – felt cloches and a couple of straw hats with large brims, which were piled on top of a small square table, and not set off to advantage. His back was towards her and she had time to take all the hats from the cardboard box and place them carefully on the glass counter. She set two of her favourites on the stands, and wished she could make a proper display of the others, but all she could do was set them out on the glass top of the counter.

  ‘And whom do we have here?’ a deep male voice asked and Lizzie looked up to see their special customer regarding her with his deep blue eyes. His hair was black and slicked away from his face with some kind of oil. He looked a bit like Clark Gable as Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, which was one of the few films Lizzie had managed to see, his skin rather pale and his eyebrows thick and dark.

  Lizzie’s cheeks warmed as his gaze went over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. ‘I’m Miss Larch,’ she said in a formal tone. ‘I work with Ed as his apprentice and I’ve been asked to help in the showroom as everyone else is busy.’

  ‘Ah, I see. I wonder why they’ve been hiding you from me. Or do I?’ His eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘Has my reputation gone before me, Miss Larch?’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.’ Lizzie gave him a straight, no-nonsense look, and he laughed, picking up one of the hats to examine it.

  ‘So these are the latest designs, are they?’ He transferred his gaze to the show of hats. ‘Yes, well, I can see a little originality in these…’ He picked out one of the hats for which Ed had asked Lizzie’s advice. ‘I love that colour combination and this hat is elegant… are they the usual price?’

  No one had told her the prices. Lizzie hesitated, because she didn’t want to make a mistake, and yet to run back to the workshop and ask would make her appear foolish.

  Clearing her throat, she said, ‘Not quite, sir. The pink one is five shillings more and the others have all gone up by half a crown…’

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he nodded, the faint flicker of a smile on his mouth. ‘Oliver’s making hay while the sun shines, I suppose. I can’t say as I blame him, because once this war starts, we none of us know where we’ll be…’

  He took out his wallet and began to take out some money. He counted out eight pounds and then added another one pound two shillings and sixpence.

  ‘There you are then, Miss Larch,’ he said. ‘I normally pay cash. If you’d like to make out my invoice – Sebastian Winters of Bond Street…’

  Lizzie looked round for something to make out his invoice on. He nodded towards the small table with the basic hats on top. ‘I think you’ll find the invoice pad is in that drawer.’

  Feeling stupid Lizzie went to the drawer and took out the invoice book. There, on the first page, was an invoice made out to this same customer. All the hats were priced at twenty shillings, except for a basic cloche, which was twelve shillings. Relieved that she hadn’t made a mistake, Lizzie made out the invoice, adding the extra she’d charged on top and totalling the amount. She marked it as paid with a rubber stamp she’d found in the drawer.

  ‘Did you want to take your order or is it usually delivered?’

  ‘You could deliver it if you like? I would be happy to take delivery in person…’ he arched one eyebrow and laughed at her dismay. ‘No, no, I’m joking, Miss Larch. If you would replace the hats in that cardboard box, I’ll take them with me. I came in because I was running low on this particular style. I think my customers are stocking up in case they can’t get what they want once the war starts…’

  ‘Do you think it will really come to a war?’

  ‘We’ll be fighting the Germans within the year,’ Mr Winters said. He hesitated, then, ‘Whose idea it was to trim these hats? I can recognise fresh talent when I see it.’

  ‘I’m working under Ed; he’s our head cutter… and he asked my opinion on most of them.’

  ‘Ah, yes, now I begin to see. Well, you’ve got a good eye for colour and style. Send my congratulations to your employer, Miss Larch.’

  Lizzie was just wondering what to reply when Mr Oliver entered the room.

  ‘Everything all right, Mr Winters – Lizzie looked after you properly?’

  ‘Yes, very well. I was just saying she has talent. You’re lucky to have found her, Oliver – you should make sure you don’t lose her to the competition. I could do with a girl like Miss Larch in my shop…’

  Mr Winters picked up his box and went out without waiting for Mr Oliver’s reply, but just before he left, he turned back and winked at Lizzie. She felt hot all over, especially as her employer was frowning over the copy of the invoice.

  ‘What’s this, Lizzie? I see you sold Mr Winters all eight of the specials… but what else did he buy?’

  ‘We trimmed t
he hats differently, sir, so I charged a little extra for them. I charged five shillings for the one with that lovely pink silk rose, and half a crown extra for all the rest, because we used the best trimmings. I believe the normal price is a pound?’ She crossed her fingers in case she’d got it all wrong.

  ‘Mr Winters pays a pound for each of the specials,’ he said. ‘And who told you to put the price up?’

  ‘It was my idea, sir. Mr Winters was very complimentary about the new styles so… I didn’t want to charge too little, because we’d used the best trimmings, and no one told me.’

  ‘We always use the best for the specials,’ Mr Oliver said, frowning. ‘Did he complain or say he might buy fewer in future?’

  ‘No – he said that his customers were stocking up in case there was a war and they couldn’t find anything they liked once it started… and he said he didn’t blame you for making hay while the sun shone…’

  ‘Did he indeed?’ Mr Oliver’s frown cleared. ‘You used your initiative, Lizzie. I’ve been thinking of charging a bit extra for the better hats…’ He considered for a moment. ‘Any other bright ideas in that head of yours?’

  ‘Well, I think if the showroom was made a little smarter we might attract more passing trade, bring customers in off the street…’

  He shook his head emphatically. ‘We’re wholesale, Lizzie. It wouldn’t work, trying to mix the two. Most of my customers have regular orders; they just ask for variations in colour and trimmings and leave it to us. Winters is the exception. His customers are the top end; he buys a lot of his stuff from our competitors and they employ a designer to think up new styles for him…’

  ‘Couldn’t we do that?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Mr Winters sells our hats in the West End – I bet he gets more than twice what you charge for them…’

  ‘Too much outlay for me,’ her employer told her. ‘Right, get back to Ed. We’ve got a larger than normal order for the basic hats this month…’

  Chapter 6