Packards

by Patricia Burns

  Then at last it was over and there he was again, this time chatting to her mother, laughing, at ease, as if nothing untoward had happened. He smiled as she approached.

  ‘Ah, and here she is. Good evening, Miss Amberley. I was just remarking to your mother that you dance as well as you play tennis. I hope you have left one free for me?’

  ‘I’m not sure that I have.’

  Wouldn’t you rather be out in the garden with Her?

  Her mother gave her a little tap on the arm with her fan.

  ‘Now then, Amelie, don’t be naughty. I’m sure you are not engaged for the supper dance.’

  Between them, Hugo and Winifred kept the conversation going, often addressing remarks to Amelie, which she answered as shortly as possible. She could hear herself sounding like a spoilt child, but somehow could not stop it. The long interval between dances limped by and Hugo excused himself. Amelie watched him cross the room ready to hate whomever it was he was engaged to dance with. If only she had not been so short with him. Now he would think she was cross and rude and had nothing to say for herself.

  Amelie pasted on a smile and trudged through the desert of time until supper. Of all the long evenings she had suffered, sitting next to boring dinner partners or making meaningless small talk at overcrowded receptions, this seemed infinitely the worst. Everybody else was enjoying themselves immensely. Talk and laughter swirled with the lilting notes of the music. Edward danced by with Sylvia Forbes, the pair of them totally absorbed in each other.

  ‘That seems to be progressing very satisfactorily,’ Winifred commented. ‘Such a nice girl. Very suitable. Your grandfather will be pleased.’

  ‘Grandfather?’ Amelie repeated, jolted for the first time that evening from under her jealous cloud.

  ‘Oh yes, your grandfather wants to see all of you well married.’

  So Edward was going to get in first as usual, with efficient, well-bred Sylvia Forbes, who would make an excellent wife for the future head of Packards. But for once Amelie was not thinking only of her rivalry with Edward over the store, but more that it was all right for him, for he was a man, so he could take the initiative. All she could do was to wait.

  At last one o’clock came round and Hugo appeared to claim his dance. Amelie put her hand in his and the evening was transformed. She moved into his arms and her whole body came alive.

  ‘I was quite right, you do dance as well as you play tennis,’ Hugo said.

  Amelie flushed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to watch you, but a much greater pleasure to dance with you.’

  Amelie did not know quite what to say to that. Had he said the same to That Woman?

  ‘At least one can dance properly here,’ she answered.

  ‘Yes, it is a treat to have space to move,’ Hugo agreed. Then his voice changed, became softer and more teasing. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what I have done to upset you, or do I have to endure your freezing me out for the rest of the evening?’

  Amelie’s insides churned. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Oh come now, you could hardly bring yourself to speak a word to me earlier, and it’s obviously a great effort to do so now.’

  She hadn’t realised quite how bad she was at covering her feelings.

  ‘Nonsense. Of course it isn’t,’ she lied.

  ‘You wouldn’t even dance with me until your mother made you. And you know I only came here to see you.’

  ‘Really?’ Amelie was stung into saying what she meant. ‘It did not look like that to me.’

  ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It must mean something.’

  ‘If you don’t know then there’s no point in my telling you.’

  There was a silence between them while they circled half the floor, bodies moving in unison, hearts at war.

  ‘We can’t talk here with half of Society looking on. Will you come out to the garden with me? It’s much quieter there,’ Hugo asked.

  ‘You know that already from experience, of course,’ Amelie said, unable to keep the sharp edge from her voice. Immediately, she regretted it. How she had really ruined everything. He would never want to have anything to do with her again.

  To her utter bewilderment, he laughed.

  ‘Oh, so that’s it. No wonder. I can explain everything, if you’ll let me.’

  Limp with relief, she could only agree.

  Outside in the velvet night, the air was perfumed with the scent of roses and night-scented stocks. Chinese lanterns hung from the trees, turning the English garden into a scene from a fairy tale. Hugo tucked Amelie’s arm under his and led her down a brick-paved pathway past a trickling fountain. This way and that they walked, round clipped yew hedges and under trees, and on every bench couples were seated. Those under the coloured lamps were talking together, maybe with hands joined, but in the darker corners the glimmer of pale ball gowns in the warm June night gave away couples locked in breathless embraces. With every step, Amelie could feel painful excitement building inside her.

  ‘I think there are more people out here than in the ballroom,’ Hugo said. ‘Here – a vacant seat at last. Would you care to sit down?’

  He indicated a wrought-iron bench under a cherry tree. Amelie hardly knew whether she was relieved or disappointed that it was hung with red and pink and orange lights. She sat, her hands clasped in her lap, while Hugo sat slightly sideways on the bench, so that he was looking at her. Their knees touched.

  ‘Now then, let me guess. You saw me coming in from the garden earlier this evening with a young lady?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s no business of mine,’ Amelie said.

  ‘We won’t argue about that for the moment. Let me just tell you that Evie Markham and I are cousins. We practically grew up together. We’re like brother and sister. Evie’s been away for three months and we were catching up with each other’s news.’

  She wanted to believe him. It was certainly true that this Evie Markham was his cousin, for she had read the Rutherford entry in Burkes so many times that she knew every member of his family off by heart. But cousins could be sweethearts, even ones who grew up together.

  ‘I see,’ she said.

  ‘I’m closer to Evie than to my real sisters. We can confide in each other. This evening she was especially eager to speak to me, as she had a very important piece of news and she wanted me to be the first to hear it. It will be officially announced tomorrow. She is engaged to be married.’

  ‘Oh –’ Amelie could hardly stop herself from laughing. She felt quite dizzy. ‘I see,’ she said, but this time she meant it.

  ‘I would like to introduce you to Evie. I think you would like each other.’

  ‘Thank you, I’m sure I would.’ In her relief she spoke without thinking. ‘How lucky you are to have someone to share secrets with. My brother Edward and I have always fought. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t trying to be better than him. I don’t like my Amberley cousins at all and Perry –’

  She stopped, suddenly realising that she was about to say that she could not altogether trust Perry. It threw her off-balance.

  ‘Perry’s an Amberley,’ she said, trying to explain it to herself. ‘But I’m a Packard, and so’s Edward. That’s why we fight. At the store, I’m called Miss Packard. It’s as if the Amberleys did not exist.’

  ‘Which do you prefer to be, an Amberley or a Packard?’

  ‘Oh, a Packard.’

  Except that it was as an Amberley that she had met him.

  ‘The Amberleys are such a boring lot. They never do anything,’ she said by way of explanation.

  Her mother, of course, would maintain that they did not need to do anything. They were an ancient family. They did not need to justify themselves by being anything else.

  ‘They’re an old family,’ Hugo said, as if reading her thoughts. The Rutherfords, she remembered, were very similar. Hugo would see things from he
r mother’s point of view. ‘Like many old families they’ve become weak and degenerate. One can see it all around. It comes of too much inbreeding, it enfeebles the line. I know all about the Amberleys. Tell me some more about the Packards. They interest me far more.’

  Amelie recounted some of the most dramatic details from the story of how her grandfather had built the store from nothing.

  ‘And now your brother Edward is set to take over the reins?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you are still fighting him? You run the Ladies’ Sportswear and undertake the advertising?’

  ‘Yes.’ Except that since she had met him, things had changed. Little by little, the store had ceased to be the centre of her ambitions. ‘Ladies’ Sportswear was my idea. I persuaded Grandfather to let me set it up, and it’s been a great success.’

  ‘You set it up yourself?’

  ‘Oh yes, I interviewed the staff and chose the merchandise and arranged the department and designed the advertising. Edward was just waiting to see it all go wrong, but it didn’t. It’s flourishing, so he tries to treat it as if it’s a little toy that I’m playing with.’

  ‘I should very much like to see this department of yours.’

  Amelie felt as if the breath were being squeezed out of her chest.

  ‘It’s a shop. You’re very welcome to go in any time you choose,’ she said.

  ‘I know, but it would be far more enjoyable if you were to show me round.’ He reached out and placed his hand over hers. ‘Would you do that?’

  ‘I – I’d be pleased to,’ Amelie stammered.

  ‘When are you likely to be there next?’

  ‘T-tomorrow, or the next day,’ she hazarded. It all depended on him.

  ‘It’s already tomorrow,’ Hugo smiled.

  He put an arm round her shoulders and drew her closer. Music from the ballroom stole over the garden, and around them the air was alive with sighs and whispers. Under the coloured glow of the lamps, Hugo’s face was very close to hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She closed her eyes and felt his lips meet hers, kissing her once, then repeatedly. The evening that had threatened to be a disaster was lifted into the realms of magic.

  30

  IT SEEMED TO Daisy that she lay awake all night. Guilt gnawed at her. If she hadn’t told Johnny about Mr Perry and Isobel, he would not have told Mr Edward, Mr Perry would be taking Isobel out still and she would not be so desperately unhappy. And after all, where was the harm in it? Isobel was in love with him, or thought she was, and he had treated her well. If she had played her cards right, she might have got him to set her up in a nice little house somewhere with a maid and everything. Since she wasn’t much good as a shopgirl and wouldn’t look twice at nice blokes like Johnny who would marry her, it seemed like a good idea. Except of course that Isobel wouldn’t consider being set up anywhere, her being brought up the way she was with no idea about how life really was. Round and round went Daisy’s thoughts, but they always came back to the same question – where was Isobel now?

  According to Mrs Drew she had gone out in a cab at half-past seven that evening, without a word of explanation to anyone. Again, Daisy blamed herself. She should have realised that her friend was not really ill, though heaven knew she had looked it. But in that case Daisy should have given up her evening with Johnny and stayed in with her. She was sure that she could have stopped Isobel from whatever she was doing.

  When first she heard the story she hoped that Mr Perry had relented and come for her and everything was now all right between them, but as the night went on and faded into morning, this seemed less and less likely. Isobel would never willingly stay the night with a man.

  She tried to persuade Mrs Drew of this.

  ‘Willing or not, you know the rules, and so does she. In by half-past ten. And those as doesn’t obey the rules can pack their bags.’

  ‘There must have been an emergency. Family or something,’ Daisy said.

  Mrs Drew gave her a sceptical look.

  ‘You know as well as I do that she ain’t got no family. Spent Christmas here, didn’t she, when nearly everyone else went home?’

  Daisy knew that was so, but she also knew that Isobel was not in fact totally without family. There was the sister and that sod of a brother-in-law. Surely she could not have gone back to them? A look at Isobel’s drawers in the shared chest told her that wherever Isobel was, she had not intended to stay away, not even for the night, for both her nightdresses were still there.

  For the first time since coming to Packards, Daisy did not want to go to work. Her first thought on arriving at Baby Linens was as to how soon she might have dinner and a chance to ask about Isobel. She set to polishing the mahogany counters and tidying the already meticulously tidy banks of glass-fronted drawers, but her heart was not in it. Even a choice sale did not rouse her to her usual degree of enthusiasm. A lady came in enquiring after American monthly gowns, Daisy’s favourite item amongst the huge range of merchandise the department held. She got out a selection of the dainty baby dresses, ones trimmed with embroidery and insertion work, ones trimmed with Valenciennes lace, the most expensive one of all, at an incredible sixteen shillings and sixpence, the one trimmed with embroidery and real torchon lace. Any other day, she would have prided herself on selling the expensive one. Today she let the customer get away with a mere embroidery-trimmed gown at a measly four and elevenpence, and not even a cap or a muslin bib to go with it. She just could not bring herself to be persuasive when all the while she was worrying about exactly where Isobel might be at that very moment.

  Dinner time found her hurrying not to the dining room, but up to Ladies’ Sportswear. One glance told her that Isobel had not reappeared, as she had dared to hope might happen. So she waited, practically dancing with impatience, for Miss Higgs to be free. The senior saleswoman pounced on her the moment she had got rid of her customer.

  ‘Ah, Miss Phipps, just the person. Perhaps you can tell me what has happened to Miss Brand?’

  Daisy’s heart sank. She had been depending on Miss Higgs having had some sort of message. It was no use lying about illness, since it was Mrs Drew’s responsibility to notify the store if any of her residents were sick.

  ‘I – er – I think there’s been some sort of emergency, Miss Higgs. Isobel wouldn’t never just stay away. It ain’t – isn’t – like her at all. Ever so conscientious she is, you know that.’

  Miss Higgs sniffed. ‘All I know is, I need her here. She may not be the best shopgirl I have, but I need someone to do the tidying away. We’re rushed off our feet in here, and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of her since she was sent for yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘Sent for?’ Daisy echoed. ‘Who sent for her?’

  ‘Mr Edward. She went off to see him and never came back.’

  ‘Mr Edward?’

  Daisy’s head went round the track of thoughts again – herself, Johnny, Mr Edward, Mr Perry, Isobel. And Mr Edward said to leave it with him. Certainly he had put a stop to Mr Perry taking an interest in her, but what had he done now? The only conclusion she could come to was that he had given her the sack. There was no other possible explanation.

  Daisy went off to the dining room more worried than ever, picked at her meal and returned to Baby Linens for the longest afternoon she had ever spent at the store. When she finally left at the end of the day, she found Johnny waiting for her at the door they always used. For once, her heart did not give a skip when she saw him. Here was more trouble, for just how much should she tell him? Supposing he went off and tackled Mr Edward again? This time he would surely get the sack.

  ‘Daisy! Am I glad to see you.’

  Through all her anxiety for her friend, it still hurt, for she knew he only wanted to hear about Isobel.

  ‘Hello, Johnny.’

  There was none of her usual cheerfulness in her voice. Johnny noticed it immediately.

  ‘Poor old Daise. You must be out of your head with worry. I only heard late thi
s afternoon. How much do you know? Why did he want to see her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Daisy told him, more dejected than ever, for it seemed that there was to be no keeping anything from him. The Packards’ bush telegraph had been its usual busy self.

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t know? She must’ve said something to you.’

  ‘She never said nothing, otherwise I’d of told you last night, wouldn’t I? All she said was, she was ill. She never said nothing about being called to see Mr Edward.’

  ‘I know that, but what about when she come in? Or this morning? She must’ve said something.’

  ‘But I never saw her last night, or this morning. She never come back, did she?’ Daisy snapped, before she realised that this was something she could have kept covered up for a while.

  Johnny’s kind face went quite white.

  ‘She never came back?’ he repeated.

  While the flood of Packards’ workers broke and passed round them, chatting and calling out to each other as they headed for home, Daisy told him as much as she knew. By the time she had finished, there was a dangerous light of anger in his eyes.

  ‘There’s only one thing to do, and that’s to see Mr Edward. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to speak to him.’

  Anguish caught at Daisy. She took hold of his arms with both hands.

  ‘Oh no, please, don’t do that! It won’t do no good. Promise me you won’t.’

  ‘I got to, Daisy. He’s the only person who knows the truth of it.’

  ‘But he won’t know where she is now. Oh please, Johnny, don’t do it. He’d give you the sack and all and I couldn’t bear it!’

  Awkwardly, Johnny patted her shoulder. ‘You’re a good pal, Daisy.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t. Not yet. Please. She might be back right now.’

  Eventually, reluctantly, he agreed.

  ‘Not yet, then, but I still might have to if she don’t turn up.’

  Isobel did not turn up. The official story, as issued by Mr Mason at the staffing department, was that Miss Brand had been sent back to Trent Street because she was ill and had not been heard of since. Under the strange circumstances, her job was still open. Two days passed, and a third. The police and the hospitals were contacted, but no persons answering to Isobel’s description had been found. By Saturday both Daisy and Johnny were beside themselves with worry. Johnny was convinced she had met with an accident. Daisy was not so sure. It was the fact of her going off in a cab that complicated things. She did not know what to think, except that it must be bad.