Packards

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Come on, I can see some places,’ she said to Isobel, and marched across the room to claim them.

  They were over halfway there before Isobel realised just where she was heading for.

  ‘Oh – do we have to go there? Isn’t there anywhere else?’ she asked, looking anxiously around.

  ‘Not together. Come on, quick, or someone else’ll get them,’ Daisy said.

  She fairly ran round the packed tables, squeezed between the seated rows of shopgirls and plonked her plate down on the coveted place. She looked back to see Isobel still hesitating three tables away, trying to locate some alternative seats. She waved at her.

  ‘Come on, Iz, move y’self!’

  Very reluctantly, Isobel complied.

  Almost before Isobel had sat down, there was interest from the other side of the barrier. Two young men were giving them the once-over.

  ‘Aye aye, what’ve we got here, then? You girls new?’

  Daisy gave them a withering look. ‘What’s it to you?’

  They were rather nice, she decided. They were both in their early twenties. The one who had spoken to them had a snub nose, freckles and a cheeky grin, the other was darker, with a strong square face. For just a moment, their eyes met and in that moment Daisy knew that nothing was going to tear her from her seat now. Going to the lav would have to wait.

  ‘Just being friendly,’ the darker one said. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  ‘Who’s yours?’ Daisy countered.

  They introduced themselves. The snub-nosed one was Arthur Grigg from Men’s Gloves.

  ‘And I’m Johnny Miller, Carpets.’

  Johnny Miller. Something about the name made her heart beat a little faster.

  ‘Come on,’ Arthur said. ‘You know ours, now who are you?’

  Daisy told them.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Brand, Miss Phipps.’

  Isobel gave the briefest of nods without actually looking at them, then gave her full attention to her meal, though she only picked at it and pushed the food around her plate.

  ‘What department are you?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘Ladies’ Sportswear,’ Daisy told him.

  ‘Oh – Miss Packard’s special, eh?’ Johnny said. ‘And what about you, Miss Brand?’

  Isobel said nothing.

  ‘She’s in Ladies’ Sportswear and all.’

  ‘Like it there, do you?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Miss Packard, she’s right there working with us, unpacking stuff and that. And she give us these badges –’ Daisy pulled at hers, displaying it. The two young men leant forward.

  ‘Very nice. Don’t have them in Carpets. You got one and all, Miss Brand?’ Johnny asked.

  Isobel nodded.

  ‘You like working with Miss Packard, do you? What’s she like?’

  ‘Miss Packard is a very friendly and clever young lady,’ Isobel said, still not looking directly at the men. Her tone indicated that this was all she had to say on the subject.

  Johnny Miller did not take the hint.

  ‘Not often you get one of the Family grafting alongside of us lot, is it? Must be a bit odd, like, isn’t it?’

  Isobel did not reply. Daisy could not understand her. Why was she giving these two the cold shoulder? Or was it a trick to get more of their attention? If so, it was certainly working. They were both looking intently at Isobel, waiting for a reaction from her.

  ‘Not all of us is up to it,’ Daisy said loudly. ‘You got to be special to work in Ladies’ Sportswear.’

  ‘I’d like to see the Kaiser behind the counter in Men’s Gloves,’ Arthur said.

  ‘The Kaiser?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘Yeah. Mr Edward.’

  ‘That what you call him?’

  ‘That’s what everyone calls him, when the floorwalkers ain’t listening, that is.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘It’s obvious, ain’t it? You only got to see him walking round or talking to someone.’

  ‘I think I’ve seen him just a couple of times,’ Daisy said.

  ‘How long you been working here?’

  ‘A fortnight.’

  ‘You really are new, ain’t you? No wonder we ain’t seen you before.’

  ‘You new here and all, Miss Brand?’ Johnny asked.

  Isobel nodded once more.

  ‘Living over in Trent Street, are you?’

  Daisy’s heart leapt. They were interested. She put on a heavily casual tone. ‘Yeah, that’s right, number twenty-four.’

  Isobel stood up. Her face was pink, her hands, as she steadied herself by leaning on the table top, were trembling.

  ‘I’ll see you at the department,’ she said to Daisy, and walked away, leaving a half-eaten first course and untouched pudding.

  Daisy and both young men were left staring after her.

  ‘Blimey,’ Arthur said. ‘I think I been put in my place.’

  Johnny watched Isobel until she left the canteen. Then he looked at Daisy.

  ‘Your friend, what’s she doing working here?’

  A hot wave of jealousy swept over Daisy. It was Isobel he fancied. Isobel with her pretty face and her la-di-da ways.

  ‘She’s just earning a crust, like what we all are,’ she said sharply.

  She stood up herself. Somehow, her usual ravenous appetite seemed to have deserted her.

  ‘I got to go. Ta-ta,’ she said.

  She picked up the plates and threaded her way towards the exit. All of the shine had gone out of the day.

  8

  AMELIE AWOKE WITH a start. This was it, the big day. She switched on the bedside lamp and peered at the clock beneath it. Five to six. For a moment she lay listening to the sounds of the house. All was quiet on her floor, but faintly, from down below, could be heard the footsteps and voices of the lower servants. She had asked to be called at seven, intending to be at the store before the staff arrived at half-past eight, but now she was wide awake and so full of energy and excitement that she could not stay in bed a minute longer. She flung back the covers, slid out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and padded out along the silent landing to the bathroom.

  The Amberleys’ house had every modern convenience, thanks to Thomas’s generosity. There were electric lights, bathrooms with hot and cold running water, flush lavatories, and, down in the basement, a kitchen with a huge gas cooker and all the latest devices. There was even talk of buying one of the new vacuum cleaners, though Winifred was not convinced about that, maintaining that it would only make the servants lazy. This morning, Amelie was extra glad of the huge white bathroom since it meant that she did not have to wait for water to be brought up to her, but she did not turn the hot tap, as the pipes made a terrible noise and the last thing she wanted to do was to wake her mother.

  By a quarter to seven she was dressed and ready but for her hair. She had thought long and hard about what she should wear. The shopgirls had to wear plain black skirts and white blouses. Women employed in offices often wore stiff-collared shirt blouses with ties. She wanted to look businesslike, but not dull. She hated looking dull. So in the end she settled on a dark green tailor-made costume of fine wool and velvet with a bolero jacket, over a lacy blouse. She pinned on her tennis racquet brooch and stood back to look at the finished effect. Yes, very good, or at least it was going to be when her hair was up. The head parlourmaid who had been assigned to look after her since she was not allowed her own personal lady’s maid, did not get up till seven. Only underservants rose before then. So Amelie rang for her breakfast to be served in her room.

  When the parlourmaid deigned to appear she was most disapproving.

  ‘Does your mother know you’re up and planning to go out at this time of day?’ she asked, as she brushed and pinned Amelie’s hair into place.

  ‘She knows I’m going to the store today, yes,’ Amelie hedged.

  The woman pursed her lips. Amelie knew just what she was thinking. Servants were such snobs. It was not the way she expected a young lady of �
�her’ family to behave, rushing off at the crack of dawn to work.

  ‘We New Women are doing all sorts of things these days, you know, Parker,’ she said.

  Parker was not convinced. ‘I’m not at all sure I shouldn’t go and tell your mother right now,’ she said. ‘If I let you go there’ll be trouble, sure as eggs is eggs.’

  ‘If there is, then I’ll take the blame. Don’t you worry about that,’ Amelie assured her.

  It was half-past seven before she was ready, and then Parker insisted on walking with her. The thought of Miss Amelie Amberley going out in London by herself was totally scandalous. Parker simply would not hear of it. Amelie sighed and gave in. It was a small point, and it prevented the maid from going to her mother.

  The windows were being cleaned and redressed when she arrived in Oxford Street. Amelie paused to admire hers. In contrast to all the others, which as usual were being packed with as many items as they could hold, her window was hung with green drapes, and contained just three lifelike wax dummies, one dressed in a golfing outfit, one in a tennis dress and the third in a riding habit. They really did look very effective. A notice on the floor of the window stated ‘Ladies’ Sportswear – exclusive to Packards.’ All it needed now was the one that said ‘Opening Today.’

  ‘There, isn’t that splendid? It really makes you stop and look, doesn’t it?’ she said.

  Parker sniffed. ‘Very nice, I’m sure.’

  Amelie had no patience with the woman. ‘It’s this place that pays your wages, you know,’ she said. ‘Now, you’ve delivered me to the door, so you can go back. I’m quite safe here. My grandfather and my brother are around to see I don’t get into any trouble.’

  The sense of pride as she entered the doors was even stronger than usual. Her store. Truly hers now that she was working here. Ladies’ Sportswear might be only one small department, but it was hers, and she was going to make it a huge success.

  She hurried through the first floor and gazed at her archway, adorned with sporting equipment. Today, people would be coming through it to buy. She passed underneath, ready to admire once again the arrangements she had supervised. Instead, she stopped short. The glow of ownership drained away, leaving a chill of disbelief. Water was trickling down one of the walls, round a counter and spreading into a puddle on the floor.

  ‘No!’ she cried.

  For a long moment she stared at it, hoping that what she was seeing was not true. Then she ran forward, trying to make out where the water was coming from. All the plaster down the wall was soaked. She could only guess that a pipe had burst. She opened the drawers nearest to the wet wall. The contents were soaking. It was a disaster. Even if it could be fixed and the mess cleared up, the floor where the water was lying would look wet and stained. Her beautiful new department! And on opening day, too. She thought of all the people she had tried to talk into coming today. She was going to be made to look a fool in front of them. She thought of her mother and how pleased she would be to find the scheme ruined. And Edward – he would be delighted. Despite the fact that he had changed his tune lately, she was sure he still resented her gaining a foothold in the store. Dismay hardened into resolution. They were not going to get the better of her. She was not going to delay her opening. She ran to the little office cuddy belonging to the buyer for Ladies’ Outerwear, lifted the internal phone and asked for Maintenance. Then she got to work taking all the wet stock out of the drawers.

  When the plumber arrived he couldn’t understand it.

  ‘Whole blooming pipe’s cracked. Shouldn’t of gone like that, miss. Never seen nothing like it in my life, I ain’t. Not indoors like this. It’s not as if it’s frozen, now is it?’

  ‘Can you fix it?’ was all Amelie wanted to know.

  ‘Well yes, I can fix it –’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘Take an hour so so.’

  ‘Then do it.’

  The water had been turned off so at least it wasn’t running down the wall. But her lovely department looked a mess. A heap of soggy garments now lay beside the puddle on the floor. If she hadn’t been so cross, Amelie could have cried. Instead, she started taking out the wet drawers and piling them up. Miss Higgs arrived, closely followed by the four girls. They all gazed in dismay. Amelie realised that she had to act.

  ‘You clear this lot up. I’m going to find something to cover the damp,’ she said, and set off.

  At first she did not even know what she was going to do. She headed for the fittings workshop in the lower basement. Then in the lift going down, it came to her. Grass.

  ‘Grass?’ the fittings storekeeper repeated.

  ‘Yes, artificial grass, the sort of thing they have in Greengrocery to display the fruit and vegetables. You must have plenty of it in stock.’

  ‘Well, I suppose so, Miss Packard. It’s just that I ain’t never been asked for it by another department, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m asking for it now. So will you please fetch it for me, and quickly?’

  The man disappeared, and Amelie telephoned Maintenance again to ask for two men with scissors, hammers and nails to be sent to Ladies’ Sportswear. They were there by the time she arrived back with a lad from Fittings carrying the roll of greengrocer’s grass. There was a certain amount of head scratching and sucking in of breath from the men, but in the end Amelie convinced them that she really was serious in wanting grass on the floor and covering the ugly wet patch on the wall.

  ‘It will still dry out underneath it, and it will look simply splendid. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It’s like bringing the outdoors into the department,’ she said.

  Her staff, who were becoming used to her odd ideas now, were enthusiastic.

  ‘That looks really pretty, Miss Packard,’ Daisy Phipps said.

  ‘You could even pin small items to the piece on the wall. Gloves, perhaps, or handkerchefs,’ Isobel Brand suggested.

  ‘Oh yes! That’s a very good idea,’ Amelie cried. ‘We shall not let anything spoil our opening day. Miss Higgs, has the “Opening Today” notice been placed in the window?’

  ‘Not yet, Miss Packard. I wasn’t sure whether we were still going to open.’

  ‘Of course we are! See to it at once.’

  Just as Maisie was sent scurrying off with the notice, Edward came strolling through the archway.

  ‘Good morning, Amelie. How – Good heavens! What is going on here?’

  Amelie explained. Edward was all concern.

  ‘I can’t think how that could have happened.’

  ‘Neither can the plumber.’

  ‘Somebody is evidently at fault. Don’t worry, Mel, I’ll see to it that I find out who was responsible. At the very best, it amounts to gross negligence. What a pity, though, on your opening day. You were so looking forward to it, weren’t you? It must be very disappointing for you.’

  Amelie still couldn’t make him out. He seemed to be genuinely sympathetic. His attitude had changed remarkably since the last family dinner. He had been really helpful over the department and had made some very sensible suggestions. It was all a bit too good to be true.

  ‘It would have been, but we’re opening as planned. As you can see, I’m covering up the damage,’ she said, waving an arm towards the artificial greenery.

  ‘Yes – well – it’s certainly unusual. Very – original.’

  His eyes strayed round the department, lingered for a moment on Isobel Brand, then turned back to Amelie.

  ‘Are you sure you can manage, Mel? You can’t have customers in here when the workmen are still about their business. I think it might be wiser to postpone the opening.’

  So – just as she had suspected, he was seizing on this opportunity to spoil her big day. Amelie gave him her brightest smile.

  ‘Don’t worry, Brother dear. The men will soon be done and the plumber’s working under the floorboards of the next floor, so he won’t bother us at all. And in any case, who is going to come in here and buy a yachting ou
tfit before ten o’clock at the very earliest? We’ve plenty of time.’

  Edward looked doubtful. ‘If you have any problems, Mel, just call for me and I’ll come and see what I can do.’

  ‘Thank you, Edward. I’ll remember that,’ Amelie said, thinking as she did so that if anything else were to go wrong, he was the last person she would turn to.

  By mid-morning, she was beginning to realise that at least something of what she had said to him was only too true: nobody was buying sportswear at that time of day. Not one penny had been sent whizzing over the wires from her department to the floor’s counting office. The workmen had gone, the ruined stock and cabinets had been replaced from Stores, everything had been dusted, polished, tidied and retidied, but not one customer had come under the archway. Amelie was fairly bursting with frustration.

  Her grandfather came processing through the store as he always did at eleven o’clock, and came to see how she was doing.

  ‘Good morning, Amelie my dear. I heard about your problem, but Edward said it was all being seen to. Everything fixed up now? Looks very pretty in here, I must say. Very unusual. How’s business?’

  ‘Well – we’re not run off our feet yet, but I’m very satisfied,’ Amelie lied.

  ‘Good, good. Staff satisfactory?’ His sharp glance took everything in, including the girls standing alert and ready for the nonexistent customers. ‘Now, you just keep me in touch with everything that happens, won’t you? Must be getting along now. Good luck, my dear.’

  As if he had bestowed a magic touch, a lady in her thirties wandered in not two minutes after he had left. Amelie sailed forward to meet her.

  ‘Good morning. Welcome to Ladies’ Sportswear. How may I help you?’

  The woman gave her a puzzled look. ‘Oh – er – you’re working here, are you?’

  ‘That’s right. Can I show you anything?’

  ‘Well yes. I need a raincape for cycling in bad weather.’

  Amelie was delighted. ‘Certainly. We have a large selection. Miss Phipps! Cycling raincapes for this lady, please.’

  She hovered by the woman while Daisy spread out half a dozen stout waterproofs, all of them guaranteed to keep out the very worst of the English weather. The customer dithered, tried a couple on, looked unconvinced.