by Lesley Eames
‘It won’t hurt us to have some money coming in anyway. That’s if the business goes ahead,’ Ruth said. ‘What have you decided, Grace?’
‘I think we can give it a try, though the biggest uncertainty is customers. If they don’t materialise…’
‘I’ll still have the five hundred pounds you placed into an account for me. The car and carriage house too.’ With that, Ruth beamed broadly. ‘We’re in business! Thank you, Grace.’
‘Thank Jenny,’ Grace said. ‘The figures would never have added up if she hadn’t suggested using the upstairs rooms at Shepherds Mews as both our office and our living quarters, though they’ll need a lot of work before they’re ready to be used. And thank Lydia. The business was her idea, after all.’
Ruth thanked them with hugs.
‘Oi!’ Lydia protested, but she was smiling too.
‘Be warned, though,’ Grace cautioned. ‘The moment it looks as if we’re doomed to failure I’ll call for us to close.’
‘We’re going to try,’ Ruth said. ‘That’s the important thing.’
They agreed a plan of action. Grace would extend their booking at Oak View again, then focus on organising the business, while Jenny and Lydia concentrated on cleaning and painting Shepherds Mews. Ruth would only be able to give limited help as the shoe shop wanted her to start immediately.
‘Of course, the real reason I found a job is because I couldn’t face all those spiders at Shepherds Mews,’ Ruth joked, but beneath the frivolity she glowed with satisfaction and relief.
If the business prospered, it would give all of her friends the chance of fulfilled and happy lives.
Eighteen
‘Where do we sign?’ Lydia asked.
‘You need to read it first.’ Grace handed over the document she’d prepared. ‘I’m not pretending this is the sort of partnership agreement a lawyer would draw up, but it’s the best I can do.’
Mostly it was about money – how Ruth would pay the costs of setting up the business but then they’d share equally in business expenses, losses and, hopefully, profits. And how they’d repay Ruth individually for the sums she was lending each of them for living costs.
‘Looks good to me.’ Lydia scribbled her messy signature, then stood back to let the others sign.
She’d cleaned the car and many of its parts earlier in the week having found pails and brushes at Shepherds Mews. Jenny had cut rags from Aunt Vera’s more lurid clothes and Lydia had purchased polish and a Selvyt cloth. Luckily the water and gas had still been connected, so she’d been able to heat water in a dusty kettle that had been sitting on a shelf.
Lydia had also taken the car for a short drive, which confirmed that it ran beautifully. A strange thought had occurred to her as she’d driven. If Celia had got to London and found a wealthy husband, she might be the sort of woman who’d like to ride in the Silver Lady. The thought made Lydia feel oddly squeezed-up inside, though the chances of seeing Celia anywhere were tiny. The chances of her becoming a customer of Silver Ladies were tinier still. And for all Lydia knew, Celia could be working in a laundry in a back street of Northampton, faded and bitter.
‘Let’s take the car for a proper spin,’ Lydia said now.
‘Today?’ Grace asked.
‘We’ve just decided to run our own business and signed our partnership agreement. We should celebrate. If you don’t mind using up petrol, Ruth?’ At almost two shillings a gallon, petrol wasn’t cheap.
‘I’d love to go for a spin,’ Ruth said eagerly, so to Shepherds Mews they went.
Grace and Ruth opened the garage gates so Lydia could drive into the mews, then closed them again and jumped into the car.
‘Tally-ho!’ Lydia cried, as they set off.
She’d found the Silver Lady to be much more powerful than the Arleigh’s Talbot but still felt in control. With the map of London reproducing itself in her head, she took them along Bayswater Road, then down Park Lane to Piccadilly, merrily joining other drivers in ignoring the twenty miles per hour speed limit. Reaching Piccadilly Circus, she cut down to Trafalgar Square, then drove along the Strand and Fleet Street to climb Ludgate Hill.
‘St Paul’s Cathedral!’ Grace cried, and they craned their necks to admire the magnificent dome.
Reaching the City of London, they saw the Bank of England and the Lord Mayor’s Mansion House. According to the old story, Mayor Dick Whittington had come to London hoping to find streets paved with gold. He’d found only flagstones and cobbles but he’d still been successful. Lydia felt a surge of determination to make their business successful too and not just financially. The success she craved most of all was the freedom to be herself.
‘You drove superbly,’ Grace complimented, on their return to Shepherds Mews.
‘The car behaved superbly,’ Lydia corrected, though she couldn’t stop smiling. ‘It’s perfect for what we’ve got in mind.’
‘Did you notice people staring?’ Jenny asked.
‘I did and it was a pity we didn’t have any business cards to give them,’ Grace said. ‘I’ll have some printed once we know what our telephone number will be. We need to decide on a name for the business too.’
‘Gosh, yes.’ Jenny turned thoughtful. ‘It needs to be a name that reflects what we do but also captures the imagination. Something feminine too.’ Walking around the car, she peered at the small silver figure in flowing robes that topped the radiator. ‘This is pretty.’
‘It’s the Spirit of Ecstasy,’ Lydia told her. ‘The Rolls-Royce mascot.’
‘I suppose that’s why Mr Tedris calls the car the Silver Lady. Actually, there’s a thought. We’re ladies too, so why don’t we call ourselves Silver Ladies, chauffeur-driven luxury car hire?’
‘I like it,’ Grace said.
‘Me too,’ Ruth nodded.
It sounded soppy to Lydia, but the others knew more about these things than she did. As long as she got to drive, Lydia didn’t care what the business was called.
‘It’s a pity we’ve no wine,’ Jenny said. ‘I feel we should drink a toast to it.’
‘A toast to what?’ a male voice enquired.
Owen Tedris was standing between the open garage gates.
‘A small venture of ours,’ Grace told him calmly.
‘I’m interrupting again.’
‘Not at all. You’re waiting to hear about the car, but I’m afraid Miss Turner has decided not to sell.’
He took the disappointment well, sending Ruth a smile. ‘She’s a fine car for a lady.’
‘The car isn’t for me,’ Ruth told him. ‘It’s for a business.’
‘A business?’ His interest was piqued.
‘Chauffeur-driven car hire.’
For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he rubbed his jaw. ‘That’s what I planned to do with it. You’ll have seen my business at the end of the mews. Owen Tedris, Motor sales, maintenance and chauffeur-driven car hire.’
Ruth blinked. ‘We haven’t seen it. We didn’t realise you did more than look after engines.’ She looked to Grace for help.
‘We’ve had no reason to go to your end of the mews.’ Grace explained.
‘Is that so? Well, I’m not a man to shy away from healthy competition, so I’ll wish you good luck in your venture.’ He bowed his head politely but Lydia found it impossible to guess if he genuinely wished them well or was holding back annoyance. ‘Ladies,’ he said, and with that he turned and left them.
‘Oh dear,’ Ruth said. ‘How unlucky.’
‘Not unlucky. Just unfortunate,’ Grace corrected. ‘We’re perfectly within our rights to open in competition to him.’
Yet she was upset about it. Lydia could tell.
‘I hope it isn’t a bad omen,’ Ruth added.
‘Omens are superstitious nonsense,’ Grace told her firmly.
Lydia didn’t believe in all that claptrap either. But she saw a stray stone and kicked it viciously into the mews.
Nineteen
The business couldn’t st
art soon enough for Grace. She was keeping a careful record of how much each of them was borrowing from Ruth for living costs and it was mounting up. Grace’s borrowings in particular were mounting up as she was sending money home for Gran. Not that she begrudged a penny of it. Grace would have liked to send a lot more. But money borrowed had to be repaid and every time she looked at the figures, Grace felt a pang of anxiety.
And every time she thought of Owen Tedris she felt vexed with herself. She should have investigated local competition. It stung her pride to think she’d looked incompetent.
Time and again, Grace considered walking down the mews to explain that Silver Ladies would be specialising in female customers, but she couldn’t decide if she’d improve the situation or fan the flames of hostility. She did take a look at his premises, though, approaching cautiously on the opposite side of the road, then stepping into the shadows of a shop doorway.
Silver Ladies backed on to the garden of the tall house on Shepherds Street where Aunt Vera’s friend, Mr Benson, had lived. There was no tall house or garden at this end but instead a series of connected buildings facing Farley Street itself. They comprised a two-storey house on one side, a garage displaying cars for sale on the other and, in the middle, an office with a sign above the window: Owen Tedris Motors – Sales, Maintenance and Chauffeur-driven Car Hire.
Owen had people working for him. A man in a suit sat at a desk beside the office window. Another man in overalls walked out of the mews and along to the office door. Owen came out to talk to him, then waved to someone who drove up in a car. The car bonnet was raised and all three men conferred over the engine. A moment later the man in overalls laid a cloth on the driver’s seat then got in and drove the car into the mews, where, presumably, Owen had a workshop. The customer shook Owen’s hand and walked away, and Owen bent to pick up a ginger cat that was winding its supple body around his legs. An elderly woman was passing. Owen sent her a pleasant smile and she stopped to chat.
Seizing her opportunity, Grace slipped out of her hiding place and retraced her steps so she could reach Shepherds Mews by the Silver Ladies end. Owen’s business was a much more impressive affair than Silver Ladies, but what did that mean? That he really did think there was room for both of them? Or that he was determined to protect the business he’d worked hard to build?
Grace had no answers to those questions but she did know she needed to sharpen up if she were to lead Silver Ladies to success. Her friends were depending on her. So too was Gran. The important thing now was to put all her energies into making the business succeed.
A telephone was on order from the Post Office but installation and the allocation of a number wouldn’t happen for a couple of weeks at least. Until they knew their telephone number they couldn’t order business cards. It was frustrating as Grace wanted to start distributing them to the sort of businesses and organisers who might be able to put customers their way: hotels, restaurants, ladies’ clubs, theatres and even shops such as hairdressers, beauty parlours and dress shops. With advertising in the luxury magazines their potential customers were likely to read being beyond their budget, recommendations were going to be vital.
Grace made preliminary calls on a few of those business and organisations, finding that some were keen to help while others snubbed her, but she’d never expected them all to co-operate. Silver Ladies didn’t need thousands of recommendations. Just enough to make the business viable.
Promoting the business would begin in earnest once Silver Ladies was ready to take bookings. There were plenty of other things for Grace to do in the meantime, not least preparing a scale of charges taking into account distance and petrol costs, and scouting for furniture, household items and a typewriter in second-hand shops.
Jenny and Lydia had to be helped too. Dressed in some of Aunt Vera’s old clothes to protect their own, they were busy clearing and cleaning Shepherd’s Mews.
After a week of hard graft, Grace judged the premises to be clean enough for them to move into the back room. They weren’t going to paint their living quarters. ‘We can live with bilious green walls,’ Grace said, keen to save on the cost of staying at Oak View.
A couple of days later, the second-hand shops delivered four iron-framed beds, a rickety wardrobe, an equally rickety chest of drawers, a plain table and four plain chairs. There was a tin bath too, a screen to protect the modesty of bathers and a motley collection of pots, pans and cutlery. Shepherds View became their home and the painting of the rest of Shepherds Mews began in earnest.
Lydia was chief painter with Grace as chief assistant as Jenny had other work. Grace had bought furniture for the office too: a desk with one chair to go behind it and two to go in front, a sofa and another screen. They were all in a sorry state. ‘I’m relying on you to make them lovely,’ she’d told Jenny.
‘I’ve plenty of ideas,’ Jenny had assured her.
Having hired a sewing machine, Jenny was also busy creating chauffeurs’ uniforms. ‘Wait and see,’ she said, when anyone asked what they’d look like.
Ruth helped with painting too when she got home from the shoe shop.
‘We feel bad that you’re working while we spend your money,’ Grace told her.
‘We’re all working. Just in different ways…’
Gran had been thrilled to hear about Silver Ladies. She couldn’t see well enough to write these days but Mattie sent messages for her. ‘It’s the perfect role for you, Gracie,’ she said.
Grace was always pleased to receive letters from home; the others less so. Ruth’s letters from Eunice mostly contained complaints, while Jenny’s letters from Alice always included news of Jonas that made Jenny go quiet for a while. Lydia had written only once to her father and received only one letter back. ‘Politics, politics, politics,’ she’d said, tossing it aside.
Another week passed and Grace had reached the office door after buying turpentine one afternoon when a ginger cat butted her legs. Owen’s cat?
She bent to stroke the orange fur. ‘You haven’t been sent to spy on enemy territory, have you?’
Footsteps sounded on the cobbles. Looking up, Grace saw Owen approaching. Was he intending to accuse her of trying to poach his cat as well as his customers?
Apparently not. He was smiling and his green eyes gleamed with what appeared to be genuine good humour. ‘I see you’ve met Jenkins.’
‘He’s very affectionate.’
‘He’s a shameless attention seeker.’ Jenkins jumped into Owen’s arms. ‘See what I mean?’
Grace did see and it made her smile.
‘You’ve been busy.’ Owen glanced up at the freshly painted gates.
Here was her chance to clear the air. ‘I’m sorry we’ve landed on your doorstep, but I hope you won’t regard us as competitors. Our service will cater specifically for women, so we’ll be different from a general service.’
Owen frowned. ‘I think I’m the one who should apologise. I was a little taken aback to find you on my doorstep as you put it, but I shouldn’t have made you feel uncomfortable. You’ve every right to set up your business here. Motors are growing in popularity all the time and I’m sure there’s enough business for both of us. Besides, chauffeuring is only a small part of what I do. Sales and maintenance are my major interests. I like your idea of a women’s service, by the way. I can see how it might work.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’
Grace felt suddenly light-hearted. It was wonderful to know they hadn’t upset a neighbour and it was even more wonderful to know that another business person approved of their idea.
‘Well,’ Owen said, ‘I’ll let you get on. Say goodbye to Miss Lavenham, Jenkins.’ He picked up one of Jenkins’s paws and waved it.
Grace waved back.
Letting herself into Silver Ladies, she ran upstairs. ‘I’ve just seen Mr Tedris. I don’t think he objects to our presence in Shepherds Mews, after all. In fact, he approves of us.’
‘Actually approves of
us?’ Jenny asked. ‘That’s wonderful.’
She set to work with her paintbrush with renewed vigour while Lydia sent Grace a satisfied grin and hauled a can of paint across the room.
Ruth was delighted to hear the news too. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said to Grace later. ‘It’s been weeks since you last saw your gran. You should go home on a visit. I know we’re spending only on essentials until we start making money, but visiting your gran is essential. And it’s your birthday soon. I want to give you the fare as a present.’
‘You’re an angel, but it isn’t a good time to leave the business.’
‘It’ll be much harder to spare you when the bookings start coming in.’
‘That’s true.’ Grace’s heart was suddenly lighter. It would be wonderful to see Gran again. ‘Thank you, Ruth.’
Grace went to Ruston the next day and spent one night there, returning even more determined to make the business succeed so one day she’d be able to bring Gran back with her.
‘Did you hear how they’re getting on at Arleigh Court?’ Jenny asked.
Grace laughed. ‘Apparently, Ivy, Ida and Iris aren’t the cleverest of girls. Gormless, I heard. Doctor Arleigh’s new secretary isn’t competent either. She sent Mrs Bartlett’s bill for haemorrhoid treatment to her arch-enemy, Mrs Green, by mistake. Naturally Mrs Green wasted no time spreading gossip about Mrs Bartlett’s posterior. Mrs Bartlett was furious.’
‘The Arleighs have got what they deserved,’ Lydia said.
‘No one mentioned the necklace, so I assume it’s still missing. You three should go home on visits too.’
None of them looked enthusiastic. ‘I suppose I should visit my mother,’ Jenny finally conceded, ‘but I’m not staying overnight.’
‘I’m only going on a day visit too,’ Ruth said.
They travelled together later that week, returning in the evening to report on how they’d got on. Jenny’s mother had made a happy fuss of her and, luckily, Jonas had been at work so Jenny had managed to avoid him completely.