Christina felt as if she was falling… falling through dark space, and she snapped her eyes open, half sat up with a start, coming awake. She wondered where she was for a moment, feeling disoriented, and then she realized she was lying on her bed in the Walton Street flat. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was almost one in the morning. She had slept for hours, an exhausted sleep.
She turned out the light, fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Her mind turned on her dilemma yet again. It struck her that getting a job to support herself whilst she painted would be easy enough, but that was not relevant, not the real issue. What was crucial was the debt she owed her mother.
This sudden revelation was so enlightening it brought her upright in bed again. And as she stared out into the darkness of the room she understood then what had been troubling her for hours. The debt she owed her mother. That was it. She must repay it.
If I do not it will weigh heavy on my conscience all the days of my life, she thought. And that I could not bear.
CHAPTER 36
‘Listen, Crowther, I know something’s been troubling you for weeks, and tonight we’re going to talk,’ Jane announced aggressively, pouncing on Christina the moment she walked into the flat.
Christina stared at her, closed the door, then allowed Jane to take her arm, to propel her into their living room.
After gently pushing her dearest friend down onto the sofa, Jane took the chair opposite. ‘I am right, aren’t I, Christie?’ Jane pressed, a blonde brow lifting questioningly. ‘Something is terribly wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Christina admitted. ‘I have been wrestling with a problem, a number of problems really, and I’ve wanted to talk to you, to unburden myself, but…’ Christina paused, shook her head slowly, looked out of the window, a faraway expression touching her lovely eyes.
Jane sat watching her, waiting patiently now, understanding that Christina was finally going to confide in her. She was filled with relief. Her friend had not been at all like herself for the past two months, ever since she had returned from Yorkshire after the Easter holidays. She had been subdued, distracted, depressed, irritable and gloomy by turn, but every time Jane had approached her she had denied there was anything amiss.
Finally, Christina spoke. ‘First, I must apologize, Jane,’ she said, giving her a loving look. ‘I know I haven’t been easy to live with, and that I’ve been very short and snappy at times. I’m sorry… forgive me?’
‘Don’t be so silly, there’s nothing to forgive. But if it makes you feel any better, yes, I do forgive you.’
A fleeting smile crossed Christina’s face. She went on, ‘I’ve been struggling to make some decisions and I didn’t want to talk to you until I had.’
Jane returned Christina’s long thoughtful look but made no comment, merely nodded her understanding.
‘I’ve decided to give up my painting,’ Christina said softly.
‘You can’t be serious!’ Jane shouted, sitting bolt upright.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘I won’t let you!’ Jane bellowed.
Christina shook her head vehemently. ‘You can’t stop me. And anyway, listen who’s talking. You told me six months ago that you were going to give up your art to become a scenic designer. I distinctly remember you telling me that you had no intention of starving in a garret in the faint hope that somebody would buy one of your paintings one day. In fact, you went on to add that art lovers who had money to spend bought only big name artists, such as Renoir, Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Utrillo, Chagall, Picasso etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.’
‘But you’re better than I am!’
Christina ignored this remark. She said, ‘Rob Petrie, Jamie Angers, Danielle Forbes and Patricia Smith, to name only a few of our classmates, are all going into other areas of art—textile design, interior design, costume and scenic design, like you are.’
Jane repeated, ‘But you are better than we are.’ Her deep-violet eyes swept the room, and she waved her hand at two of Christina’s paintings hanging on the walls. ‘Look! Just look! How can you give that up?’
‘Very easily,’ Christina said, her voice so low it was hardly audible. ‘Since it’s costing a woman’s life.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ Jane cried in astonishment. ‘Whose life?’
‘My mother’s.’
Christina did not give Jane a chance to respond to this. She began to speak slowly and carefully; with great eloquence she explained everything to Jane, recounting the history of Audra’s background, the years of hard work, struggle and sacrifice on her behalf. And when Christina had finally finished Jane had tears in her eyes. She could only nod, so touched was she by the story.
Christina continued, ‘You see, Jane, I don’t believe I could convince her to stop working, even after I graduate later in the summer. She’ll insist on supporting me until my paintings start selling. She’s stubborn, implacable really. I could get a job, earn a living whilst I paint, and send the money she sends me back to her. And I suppose I could eventually convince her that I can stand on my own two feet, and so put an end to her toiling. But none of that is quite good enough for me, Janey.’
‘I don’t think I’m following you, Christie.’
‘It’s simply not enough for me to just say to her: Thank you, I can look after myself now, Mother.’ Christina shook her head. ‘No. I have a terrible need, a compelling need, to bring ease and comfort to her life. I want to give her the kind of luxuries she’s never known. And the kind of luxuries I’m thinking about cost money… oodles and oodles of money. As a struggling artist it would take me years and years to earn enough to give her those things. I don’t have time to wait. I want her to have them as quickly as possible, whilst she’s still young enough to enjoy them.’
‘But how are you going to make your pots and pots of money?’ Jane asked, looking at her, baffled.
‘I’m going into business, that’s where the money is… and I mean business with a capital B. I’m going to become a fashion designer, but I aim to be a rich and famous fashion designer, and very, very quickly.’
‘But how are you going to get started?’
‘Actually, with your help.’
‘My help.’
‘Your mother’s really, if you’ll give me your permission to talk to her about this project.’
‘Of course you can talk to her. But how can Mummy help?’
Christina leaned forward, sudden enthusiasm filling her eyes, extinguishing the worry of earlier. ‘She’s constantly after me to make her one of my hand-painted silk dresses, and she told me only a few weeks ago that she could sell them to her friends like hot cakes, if only I had a secret hoard of them tucked away somewhere. She was laughing when she said that, about her friends, I mean, but I bet some of them would be interested in buying from me. You know, at that party your mother gave for her American agent, both Polly Lamb and Lady Buckley were admiring my hand-painted silk jacket. They both wanted to know where I’d bought it. Don’t you see, Janey, my hand-painted evening clothes are very original, my exclusive design, and they would be a beginning. Later on, I could make my tailored suits… everyone so admires those.’
‘You’re right!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘You must talk to Mummy, get her measurements, and then design the dress for her. And I’m sure she won’t mind if you approach her friends, especially those who were so interested at the cocktail party.’
‘Oh, I am glad you agree! However, there’s a slight problem.’ Christina threw Jane a worried glance, plunged in. ‘Do you think your mother would give me half the money in advance? You know, pay half the price of the dress before I deliver it? And get her friends who order dresses to do the same? If they did, it would help me immensely. I could use the money to buy the fabrics and the special paint I need.’
‘Of course Mummy will pay up front, and she’ll jolly well make sure her friends do too.’ Jane sat back, looking confident, then she frowned, screwed up her mouth in a thoughtful way. ‘But
that’s not the real solution, Christie. If you’re going into the fashion business, and want it to become big business, then you must have working capital.’
Christina laughed hollowly. ‘Don’t I know it… however, I’m afraid I don’t have a bean to my name.’
‘Oh but I do!’ Jane announced gleefully. ‘I have the five thousand pounds that Granny Manville left me, and the money’s just sitting there in the bank earning a bit of interest that’s worth tiddly winks. I’m going to lend you my five thousand pounds!’
‘Jane, that’s truly a wonderful gesture, but I couldn’t possibly borrow money from you,’ Christina protested.
‘You’re going to take it… I shall force you to take it. If you have a bit of decent capital behind you, the business will grow much faster, and things will run better. You could take on a seamstress, maybe even two, and also find small premises.’
‘Yes, you’re right. As a matter of fact, I had made those sort of plans, thought everything through,’ Christina remarked, standing up, walking over to the fireplace. She ran her hand over her mouth, pondering for a moment. ‘Of course, I hadn’t intended to branch out like that until next year, when I’d already made a little money.’ Christina directed her steady, smoky gaze at Jane. ‘If you lend me your five thousand pounds, I could do it sooner, that’s true. So—thank you, I accept your offer, and I’m very grateful, Janey darling.’ She went over to Jane’s chair, bent down and hugged her.
Jane immediately sprang to her feet, hugged Christina in return, her face wreathed in smiles. Then she thrust out her hand. ‘Shake, partner. I’ll draw the money out of my savings account tomorrow morning first thing, and voilà you’ll be in business!’
They stood in the centre of the floor, grinning broadly at each other.
Jane said, ‘And I’ll help you any other way I can, rustle up business, do whatever you want me to—’ Jane broke off and her face fell.
‘What’s the matter?’ Christina asked.
‘I just thought of something… how on earth will you break this news to your mother? She’ll be devastated when you tell her that you’re giving up painting. Oh my God, Christie, she’ll be dreadfully upset.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Christina agreed, sounding suddenly gloomy. ‘Don’t think I haven’t wrestled with that problem for weeks, because I have. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s better I don’t tell her anything at all now. Once I’ve graduated in August, I shall let her think that I’m painting away, and about four or five months after that, let’s say around Christmas, I’ll tell her I’ve sold some of my work and that I can start supporting myself.’
‘Do you think she’ll believe you?’ Jane asked.
‘I hope so, Janey, I sincerely hope so.’
CHAPTER 37
Artistic talent was not the only thing that Christina had inherited from Audra.
She had her mother’s penchant for hard work, her physical stamina and energy, her stubbornness, and her determination to succeed at whatever she did.
And all of these characteristics came into play in the first six months she was in business; they were fundamental to her extraordinary success in this relatively short period of time.
Christina also discovered that she had a good head for business, something she had not hitherto realized she possessed, and this too played a large role in her rise to stardom in the world of haute couture.
Even so, perhaps her greatest strength was her gift for translating art into fashion, in the form of the exquisite, elaborately painted evening gowns and coats and jackets which were to become her lasting trademark, and which would forever be in demand throughout her career.
Jane said to her one afternoon, ‘Fortuny became renowned for his pleated silk Delphos gowns, Chanel for her cardigan suits, Dior for his New Look, and Balenciaga for his perfect cutting. You are going to be known for your translation of art into couture, for your incredible paintings on silk. Those gowns will soon become classics, just like Poiret’s beaded evening gowns. People are going to keep your dresses for years and years to come, Christie my pet.’
Christina accepted this compliment from her friend and partner, knowing that she was speaking from the heart. Then she suddenly broke into laughter and exclaimed, ‘I shall also be remembered for my ability to work eighteen hours a day, seven days a week, for weeks and weeks and weeks on end.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ Jane admitted, grinning at her. ‘You have worked like a galley slave these last few months, but let’s face it, the effort was worth it. We’re inundated with orders—’ Jane gave Christina an amused look, then went on, ‘When I told Mummy you were toiling in the salt mines these days, she said that surely I must mean the gold mines! And listen, talking of the orders piling up, shouldn’t we do something about finding another seamstress?’
Christina nodded. ‘Yes, and the word is already out. Elise and Germaine are asking around amongst their friends in the French community, and I’m sure they’ll dig somebody up pretty quickly.’
‘I hope they do, otherwise we’ll be the ones sitting at the sewing machines making the underslips for the dresses, not to mention the hand sewing. Which would be all we need after painting the damn things!’
Christina said, ‘Listen, I’m very grateful to you for helping with those mandarin sleeves on the two chiffons for Mrs Bolton. Thanks, Janey.’ She eyed her friend with amusement. ‘You’ve got pink paint all over your nose… still, you really do do the best butterflies in town.’
Jane giggled, felt her nose. ‘I’ll wash the paint off in a minute; anyway, I’m glad to be of assistance, Christie. I just wish I could do more in the business for you. I’m merely puttering around, helping with bits and pieces, not making much of a contribution. I feel sort of useless to you most of the time…’ Her voice trailed off and she stared at Christina helplessly.
‘Don’t be so silly, you’re invaluable, Jane! You work on the accounts, do a bit of everything really, and furthermore, without you there would be no business. Don’t let’s forget your five thousand pounds.’
‘It’s a good investment, Crowther. Aren’t I the shrewd one, backing you.’ Jane rolled her eyes, then reached for the coffee pot. ‘Do you want another cup or shall I dump this?’
‘Ugh, no more for me, I’m swimming in it, thanks.’
Jane went to empty the coffee pot in the small kitchen adjoining the office, whistling under her breath.
Christina leapt to her feet, stretched and walked over to the window, stood looking out into the back yard behind ‘the factory’, as she called their premises. She had found these in August, not long after graduating from the Painting School of the Royal College of Art. Previously a greengrocer’s shop and living quarters, the building was located at the far end of the King’s Road, and, apart from its reasonable rent, she considered it to be perfect for her needs for several reasons.
There was a great deal of natural light coming in through the windows, which was essential for the painting of the fabrics and the sewing of the garments; then again, the space was more than adequate, even allowed for growth, since the living quarters attached offered plenty of room for additional staff if and when they were required.
The shop part, where vegetables had been sold until very recently, had been transformed into a small reception area. Here clients could wait to be measured and fitted. Christina and Jane had painted all of the interiors white, except for the reception area; they had used soft pearl-grey paint on the walls here and had hung a café curtain of grey watered silk across the window fronting onto the street. It prevented pedestrians from looking inside, offered a degree of privacy to the waiting clients. Dulcie had given them an oriental rug, several chairs, a table and a lamp, all cast-offs from Hadley Court, and with the addition of a couple of potted plants and some of their own drawings on the walls, the girls had created a cheerful decorative effect.
The living room behind the shop had been turned into a general office; upstairs, one bedroom had become the sew
ing room, a second smaller bedroom was the fitting room, while the third and largest bedroom was the studio where Christina worked. It was here that she painted the fabrics for the evening clothes, and where Jane and a couple of their former classmates helped her out at times by painting sleeves. Since the major art work on the gowns and coats was signed by Christina she would permit no one else to do this.
Now, as she stood staring out of the window on this grey March afternoon in 1955, the hand-painted fabrics were very much on her mind. She swung to face Jane and said, ‘Listen, I know we’re making a great deal of money with the evening clothes, but I do think I have to start designing other garments and expand the line.’
‘I’ve been expecting you to say that… the painting is very time-consuming, Christie. I think you must always make the hand-painted clothes, they are your trademark after all, but perhaps you can cut down on them a little.’
‘Yes, and I’ll start designing the tailored suits and dresses your mother admires so much… she’s a good judge of what will sell, Janey.’
‘That’s true, and talking of my mama, I had better love you and leave you,’ Jane murmured, rising to her feet. ‘She’ll be cross if I’m late for my appointment with her and Gregory Joynson, and I do have to dash home and change first. So, Crowther, aren’t you going to wish me luck?’
‘Of course I am, and I know he’ll like your preliminary costume designs… they are out of this world.’
Jane gave her a sly wink as she picked up her handbag and coat. ‘It’s a good job the star likes them, isn’t it? Thank God for my mother, the actress, who is such an advocate of nepotism.’ Pausing at the door, Jane added, ‘And don’t stay here burning the midnight oil, Crowther, you’re starting to look tired.’
‘No, I won’t. See you back at Walton Street later.’
Act of Will Page 33