Packards

by Patricia Burns

  Nobody could be that scared without a reason. Daisy held her friend as she huddled her head against her, and abandoned her dawning sympathy for the man’s cause. She faced him over Isobel’s trembling shoulders.

  ‘You heard her – she don’t want to know.’

  His whole attitude changed instantly. He gave a cold, dismissive look.

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, miss.’

  Daisy knew just what she was in his eyes. She simply did not count. She was just a working-class girl, there to shut up and do his bidding. Anger boiled inside her.

  ‘I won’t do nothing of the sort. Isobel’s my mate. If she don’t want to go with you, then she ain’t going, see?’

  Quite a crowd had gathered round them by now. There was a murmuring of agreement.

  The man’s mouth tightened in impatience. He ignored Daisy.

  ‘It’s time to stop playing these foolish games, Isobel. This is getting ridiculous. Come along at once.’

  Isobel shook her head and huddled closer to Daisy. The man reached out and gripped her arm.

  ‘I’m not waiting any longer, Isobel. Come now.’

  Isobel cried out. Daisy tried to hit his hand aside.

  ‘Get off!’

  But he only held on harder, and began to pull Isobel away.

  ‘Come now, Isobel, before I have to use force.’

  Daisy held on to her friend with one arm and tried to fend him off with the other.

  ‘Lay off, you great bully!’ she screamed. ‘Leave her be!’

  Voices from the crowd began to join in.

  ‘Yeah, let her be.’

  ‘You got no right.’

  Daisy picked this up. ‘No, you got no right. You’re not her old man. You can’t tell her what to do.’

  For the first time, he looked at her properly. There was loathing in his eyes.

  ‘On the contrary, I have every right. I am her brother-in-law and responsible for her safety. Which includes taking her from the clutches of little sluts like you. Isobel, you will stop making a public spectacle of yourself and come with me now.’

  The sympathy of the crowd swayed. Family was family, it was not for them to interfere. The man gripped Isobel’s other arm and wrenched her away. Isobel screamed and Daisy launched herself at him, kicking and punching.

  ‘Let her go! Let her go!’

  At that moment, a familiar voice emerged out of the crowd.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘Johnny!’ Daisy yelled. ‘Johnny, help!’

  Two male shapes dived forward. A fist hit the man’s face and as he lost his grip his arms were pinioned behind him. Isobel fell back into Daisy’s arms, sobbing.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Daisy said. ‘It’s all right, you’re safe.’

  Arthur and Johnny had Isobel’s brother-in-law firmly held between them.

  ‘Let me go, you fools. I’ll have the law on to you.’

  Johnny looked at Daisy. ‘What d’you want us to do with him?’

  ‘Get rid of him,’ Daisy said. ‘Isobel don’t want nothing to do with him.’

  ‘Right you are. Leave it to us,’ Arthur said.

  ‘You’ll regret this!’ their prisoner threatened. ‘I’ll have you both dismissed from your jobs.’

  ‘I’m shaking in my boots,’ Johnny said. ‘Come on, mate. We’re going for a little walk.’

  The crowd parted with catcalls and whistles, happy now to see some of their own triumphing over the forces of authority. The man struggled to look back over his shoulder at Daisy and Isobel as they stood on the steps of number twenty-four.

  ‘I won’t leave it at this. I know where you are now. I’ll be back.’

  ‘You and whose army, mate?’ Daisy yelled at him. ‘Isobel’s got friends now, and don’t you forget it.’

  To cheers and cries of agreement, she led Isobel into the safety of number twenty-four. It wasn’t until the door was closed behind them and the rest of the girls, together with Mrs Drew the housekeeper, were gathered protectively round them that her legs began to shake.

  ‘Blimey,’ she said. ‘That was a close call.’

  The other girls wanted to know what it was all about, but Mrs Drew cut through their questions.

  ‘Leave the poor thing alone. Come along, both of you, upstairs to your room. You’ll be needing some peace and quiet.’

  Daisy opened her mouth to protest. She was buzzing with excitement now, despite having the shakes. She wanted to go over it all, and hear the cries of horror and admiration. But then she realised that Isobel was near fainting with shock.

  ‘Yeah, come on,’ she agreed reluctantly, and helped her friend up the steep flights of stairs to their little attic room.

  Still sobbing, Isobel collapsed on the bed and rolled into a defensive ball.

  Mrs Drew shook her head. ‘Poor thing. I never saw the like of it in my life before. You stay with her, and I’ll bring some tea up for the both of you.’ She raised her voice a little to carry to Isobel. ‘Don’t you worry, pet. If he shows his face at this door, I’ll soon see him off.’

  Isobel gave no sign of having heard. Mrs Drew looked at Daisy.

  ‘Best get her into bed proper. I’ll help you.’

  Together, they undressed Isobel, unpinned her hair and got her into her nightgown and under the covers. As she promised, Mrs Drew then brought up a tray of bread and butter and tea, but no amount of coaxing from her or Daisy could get Isobel to sit up and take so much as a sip. Daisy, hungry now that the drama was past, wolfed down the lot. She tried to reassure Isobel, to tell her she was safe now and amongst friends, but she could not get a word out of her. Isobel lay with her face to the wall, silent but for the occasional sob.

  Daisy could guess what the other girls would all be talking about as they sat round the big table in the basement. Isobel’s assailant and the parts she and Johnny and Arthur had played in the affair would be the talk of Trent Street for weeks. Temptation pulled at her. It would be very sweet to go down now and be hailed as the heroine and questioned all about what had really happened, especially as some of the girls had been very snotty to her in the past. But she could not go and leave Isobel all by herself. She might not be talking, but she needed someone to watch over her.

  In the quiet of the austere room, Daisy began to wonder just what it was that made Isobel so frightened of her brother-in-law. It didn’t take too much deduction. Either he was knocking her about or he was trying to get his leg over. He might have nice clothes and a posh voice, but underneath it all, men were all the same.

  ‘Nasty bit of work, that brother-in-law of yours,’ she said, without really expecting a reply. ‘Whatever made your sister marry him? I suppose she didn’t know what he was really like. Don’t get to know people proper do you, your sort, before you go and tie the knot? I bet he was all lovey-dovey until after it was done. No wonder you said you didn’t have no family. But ain’t there no one else you can go to?’

  There was a faint stirring from Isobel’s bed. Daisy looked hopefully at her, but she was only pulling the covers more firmly over her head.

  ‘I suppose that means no,’ she said. ‘Oh well – perhaps you’re best off without them. Best off without him, anyway, if he’s been trying it on with you.’

  There was a faint moan from the bed. So she had been right. That threw light on a lot of things, like the way Isobel was with other men.

  ‘Well, he won’t be coming back here in a hurry, that’s for sure,’ she said.

  She talked on for a while, about the shop and the department, Miss Higgs and Miss Packard, anything to let Isobel know there was somebody around. As the excitement died down, she began to feel very tired. A normal day was exhausting enough, today with all its emotional strains had been draining.

  ‘I’m going to bed myself, Iz,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I’m all shot to pieces.’

  Suddenly, it was all too much effort to go all the way downstairs for hot water. She stripped
off and washed in what was left in the ewer. Washing was something she had learnt from Isobel. At home, it was so crowded that an all-over wash in anything like privacy was almost impossible. They had baths in front of the fire every now and again, but often they went for days without washing properly. Isobel, however, was fastidious about being clean. Daisy, eager to improve herself, followed her example and was amazed to find that she really did feel better for it.

  ‘You want a wash, Iz?’ she asked. ‘I could go down for some hot water for you.’ For Isobel, she would face the stairs. But there was no response. ‘You really must be feeling bad,’ Daisy said.

  She turned off the light and climbed into her narrow bed. Despite her tiredness, she lay awake for a long time while the events of the day ran round in her mind. She was just beginning to drift off when a small voice croaked from the other bed.

  ‘Daisy?’

  She was instantly wide awake again. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I – wanted – you were marvellous –’

  Daisy brushed off the hesitant compliment. ‘Yeah well, couldn’t let the sod get away with it, could I?’

  ‘– good friend.’

  ‘You – er – you want to, like, talk about it?’

  There was a long pause. Daisy thought she had clammed up again. Then the thread of a voice resumed.

  ‘I couldn’t go back – live under – same roof again.’

  ‘No, of course you couldn’t,’ Daisy agreed. She ventured a question. ‘He – er – he was after a bit of the other, was he?’

  Another pause, then a ‘yes’ so faint that Daisy hardly caught it.

  ‘You should of told your sister. That would of put a stop to it,’ she said.

  ‘No!’ There was real force in Isobel’s voice.

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘I – because – it was all my fault. I’m wicked, wicked –’ The sobs broke out again, wild and desperate.

  ‘Blimey,’ Daisy said. Here was a turn-up for the books and no mistake. Had Miss Cold-Shoulder Isobel been giving him the come-on, her own sister’s husband? She slid out of her bed and onto Isobel’s, stroking the huddled form under the covers.

  ‘Went all the way, did you?’

  ‘No – no – he tried to do – horrible things – said – said – my fault – asking for it –’

  ‘Oh well, they all say that, don’t they?’ Daisy said.

  She had been fourteen when she had lost her virginity. She had been lucky. She had not fallen pregnant.

  ‘– had to get away.’

  ‘’Course you did. Once they think they can have it, they won’t take no for an answer. You did the best thing, love.’

  She could understand now why Isobel didn’t want to go back. She couldn’t carry on living under the same roof with her sister with him after her like that.

  ‘You – er – you liked him at first, did you?’ she asked.

  ‘He – he seemed so nice – kind – I was upset after my parents died – he was – kind –’

  And one thing led to another.

  ‘It ain’t your fault, love. You wasn’t to know, was you? Stop blaming yourself.’

  Eventually the weeping subsided. Daisy stroked the damp hair back from Isobel’s hot forehead.

  ‘There – that’s better. You go to sleep now. You’re safe here.’

  If there was any more trouble, they had only to call on Johnny and Arthur. And as she climbed back into her own bed once more a new aspect of the affair suddenly struck her with a dazzling light. After this, Isobel couldn’t possibly turn down an invitation from Johnny and Arthur. And once they all went out together, who could tell what might happen?

  12

  AMELIE’S MOTHER WAS in her boudoir as usual when Amelie came in from her morning ride. Dressed in a loose muslin négligé adorned with lace and ruffles, she was sitting at her writing desk making lists. She looked up and gave a rare smile of approval.

  ‘Enjoyable ride, my dear?’

  ‘Very. It’s such a beautiful day, Mama. It almost feels like summer. The air’s warm and the sun is shining through the new leaves. I could have ridden for ever.’

  The early morning turn round the park was one of the aspects of the Season that Amelie actually liked. Society – the people her mother was so desperate to be accepted by – were country-dwellers at heart. They left their vast estates when the hunting season was over and returned when the shooting began, and while they were in London they liked to keep in touch with their roots by riding in the park. Amelie had learnt to ride on one of her rare visits to her father’s family’s estate, and took to it with the relish that she felt for all sports. Winifred herself loathed horses and being out early, but she encouraged Amelie’s riding because it was a good way to be noticed by the right people. For once, their interests were in tune.

  ‘And was there anybody in the Row?’ By this, Winifred meant anybody who was anybody.

  ‘Oh, dozens,’ Amelie said, wilfully misunderstanding her. Of course there had been crowds of equestrians out on such a lovely morning, but many of them were people even less in with Society than Winifred, and even more desperate to be part of it.

  ‘Yes?’

  As she was in a good mood, Amelie mentioned a few names that she knew would mollify her mother. Winifred nodded.

  ‘Very well. Now sit down, Amelie. I want you to help me to write names on the cards for our drum on the twenty-third. Your best handwriting, mind. Here is the list.’

  Amelie felt her light-heartedness begin to evaporate. Of all forms of evening entertainment, a drum was the worst. It consisted of two hundred or so people crowding through the house, fighting their way to a banquet of refreshments and rushing on to a similar event given by a hostess rather more fashionable than her mother. She could not believe that anyone could take pleasure in being jostled around in overheated rooms, not being able to have a decent conversation, listen properly to the music or even get to see the people they really wanted to meet, but her mother did not measure such things by enjoyment. What mattered was how many people from the right families attended and how many similar invitations she received in return.

  As Amelie began to copy names onto the thick cream invitation cards, her mother ran through the programme for the day – a little shopping followed by a dress fitting, a luncheon party, some calls of ceremony, back to the park again, this time for a drive in the victoria, then a dinner party. The usual round.

  The telephone on the desk rang and her mother picked it up. At this time of day, it was sure to be for her – some other hostess busy making arrangements.

  ‘Oh – Edward. What a pleasant surprise. Amelie? Yes, if you wish.’ She handed the instrument to Amelie. ‘Your brother wishes to speak to you.’

  Edward had never before telephoned Amelie from the store. Nasty possibilities chased through her mind. There had been a fire in the department, or, much worse, Grandfather had been taken ill. She spoke into the mouthpiece.

  ‘Edward? Is there anything wrong?’

  ‘Nothing that can’t be put right, Mel, but I must ask you to take a great deal more care in choosing staff. In fact, in future I think you had better leave that to the staffing department. They know what they are about when they conduct interviews.’

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’ Amelie asked, and then as the second part of what he said sunk in, ‘If there are any problems with my girls, then I’ll take responsibility for them. I knew what I was looking for when I took them on.’

  An impatient sigh came down the line.

  ‘You may have thought you knew, Mel, but you have absolutely no experience of handling people. Rightly so. You’re a young girl and anyone with an ounce of guile can impose themselves on you. It’s not your fault. Just let me guide you in future.’

  ‘But what’s happened?’

  ‘It seems there was some fracas outside one of the Trent Street houses yesterday evening. Your Miss Brand is here under an assumed name and somebody claiming to be her brother-in-law c
ame to take her away. There were fisticuffs in the street. It’s a wonder the police weren’t called. A fine thing it would have been for Packards’ good name if some of our staff had been bound over for breach of the peace.’

  Amelie stood up. ‘I’m coming in right this moment,’ she said, and replaced the mouthpiece before Edward could reply.

  Winifred was looking at her with her frostiest expression. ‘You are not going anywhere, and especially not to the store,’ she said, not making the slightest effort to pretend she had not overheard the conversation.

  Which was just what Edward was counting on, Amelie realised.

  ‘I shall only be half an hour. Nobody is out at this time of day, so I shan’t be seen, if that is what you are concerned about.’

  ‘That is hardly the point, Amelie. I let you have your way about setting up this ridiculous department of yours, much against my better judgement, but I thought I had made it perfectly plain that you were to have nothing further to do with it now that it is in being. Let those who are paid to do so take care of the running of the store. You have more important things to attend to.’

  Arguing would get her nowhere, Amelie knew only too well. Instead, she started walking towards the door.

  ‘I shall be back before you’ve finished answering your correspondence,’ she promised, and made for the stairs.

  Ten minutes later, she was marching into Packards with a footman hurrying behind her to keep up appearances.

  Edward was not in his office. Fuming, Amelie sent his secretary to find him. When he appeared, he was looking surprised.

  ‘Mel! There was no need for you to come round like this. How well you are looking – have you been for a ride in the park this morning? Can I offer you a cup of tea, or coffee?’

  Amelie gave him a fierce look. ‘This is not a social call, Edward. I’ve come to find out what has been happening to my staff.’

  Edward settled himself behind his mahogany desk and waved her to a chair. He leant back and laced his fingers together, regarding her with a patronising smile.

  ‘Now, Mel, you really must not take too much upon yourself. Being a debutante is a very exhausting business. When is the date of your Presentation?’