The following morning she was due to start work at Brown Thomas in the centre of Dublin. She had carefully chosen what to wear that morning, a chic black tunic and some patent shoes with a silk scarf wrapped around her head to keep her bob in place. The walk to the store wasn’t far and the day was surprisingly sunny. The trees had turned to a wintry shade of grey and silver. The leaves had not fallen yet. That would happen when the winds came. Miriam kept thinking of Len and whether she should phone him. She still had his card, in her bag.
“Today we will be initiating you on the shop floor. The most important thing to remember girls is that you are there to serve the customer. You must compliment them at all times. Politeness will be expected of you at Brown Thomas.”
To be honest, Miriam didn’t really want to start on the shop floor, but you had to start somewhere. In some ways, she felt the shop floor was beneath her, but if she was to climb up the ladder, she had to make a lasting impression to the management. That is why she had taken such pride in her appearance that morning. That and of course Len. Working at Brown Thomas was equivalent to working in Harrods in London in those days. The building was imposing with two footmen at the door. The clothes were expensive and would be worn by the wealthy in Dublin. The store was immaculate with lines of brass counters equipped with measurers and cutters. There were made to measure suits and ready wear items, neatly stacked next to each other. The store smelt of exquisite clothes and fabrics.
“Miriam, I propose that you start in the menswear department. You will find that a good place to start, particularly in the made-to-measure section. If you follow the guidance of your mentor, Mrs O’Grady, you will learn the essentials of the trade.”
She was introduced to Mrs O’Grady who was an elderly lady, she guessed in her late fifties, who had long grey hair scraped in a bun. She was dressed in tweeds and had a small badge on her jacket lapel which said her name and roll as supervisor.
“Miriam, may I introduce myself and take you to the men’s department.”
They duly marched off in quick step to the men’s department. All the men’s heads turned as they entered the room, many casting their eye on the new girl, Miriam. Most of the glances she got were appreciative and she returned them with a smile. Some she thought even David would approve of. Maybe she should suggest he comes in and sees her at the shop when he is next about, or maybe not? Mrs O Grady showed her all the fabrics and which materials should be used for which suit. She explained the measuring table to her and where to keep the pins and fasteners. She then explained how to fill out an order in the order book and how to use the till. She explained that Miriam’s hours would be strictly nine to five with an hour for lunch. She was to be punctual and prompt in all things at all times.
To start off with, she found dealing with customers difficult. Each request was individual and bespoke to that particular client. Some would be in a hurry and want to be sold something straight away. Others would take time to choose their fabrics and colours to measure up a tailored suit. She enjoyed serving the customers who wanted to be involved in the design more than the ones who just wanted one off the shelf. You could often make suggestions as to the width of the leg or the length of the jacket.
“I would like something a little more modern than traditional.”
Even the Beatles, who were becoming superstars at this time, were seen wearing suits. People wanted designer suits like them. They would often bring in pictures of them, demanding the latest look. The orders would be placed and the customer told to expect the suit ready within the next week or so. Once they had ordered their suit Miriam would help them with their ties and suggest some suitable shoes to go with the suit. Mrs O’Grady was always happy when she persuaded a client to buy the whole ensemble. Over the ensuing days in that first week she quickly got the hang of serving customers and started to enjoy herself. She made sure that every day she dressed immaculately and dealt with customers politely.
During that week Miriam would be tired and exhausted in the evenings. She would often get out her own sketch pad and draw her own ideas. She would come up with all sorts of designs not just for men’s clothes, but for women’s clothes as well. She would spend hours doodling sketches.
“Why haven’t you phoned him sis?” her sister said one evening.
“Oh I don’t know. It is something David said. I don’t want to be seen chasing him.”
But she was dying to ring Len, dying to meet him again. All through the days she couldn’t stop thinking about him, how she might bump in to him on the street or see him again at the bar. Something inside her told her not to pick up the phone in case he was seeing somebody.
That Friday, Miriam was in the shop as usual, tidying up the order book, ready to go off duty. Mrs O’Grady was taking the day’s takings to the back of the store and the boys were folding up and tidying away the various fabrics.
“Have you been avoiding me?” A man’s voice said in that South African accent. She looked up and saw his beautiful eyes smiling at her, the eyes that had grabbed her across the bar the week before.
“How did you find me? How did you know I worked here?”
“Well, you didn’t call me, so I had to ring Pat and find out where you were. She told me you had just started here.”
Mrs O’Grady started to walk back in to the room. Miriam’s heart leapt a beat. “Shssh,” she whispered. “My boss is coming back! You’ll have to pretend you’re buying something.”
“What do you sell?”
“Anything.”
“Are you for sale?”
“No!” she said with a hint of a giggle in her voice.
“Miriam! Is this gentleman being served?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Sir, I can show you our extensive range of ties, if you would care to come this way.”
Mrs O’Grady looked at Miriam a little suspiciously. Normally she would be selling a customer the full range of options, the tie, being the last one of them. It was the only section where she could get Len out of earshot.
“I’ll buy a tie if you say you’ll come out with me tonight.” He whispered. “I’ll be around the corner at O’Neills waiting for you.” He added.
She nodded and with his eyes still smiling at her, she took a tie to the counter and he paid for it. He then winked at her and left.
“That man looked far too expensive to just be wanting to buy a tie!” exclaimed Mrs O’Grady.
“I’m sure he will be back.” Miriam smiled.
“I just don’t get you Miriam sometimes.”
With that they closed up the department. Miriam put on her coat, re-touched her make up and grabbed her bag. The night air was cold when she stepped outside and made her start to shiver. The street lamps let out a faint glow shining on the puddles in the streets. It must have rained earlier on, but now it had stopped leaving the street fresh from the showers. Len was waiting for her outside O’Neill, his suited demeanour looking slightly out of place outside the pub. When they got close, their faces inches from each other, he bent down and kissed her.
“I should have kissed you last time I saw you.” He said.
“I know.”
“And look at the tie you made me buy! It’s bright orange. I’ll never wear it. It gives me an excuse to come back to the store and return it.” They both collapsed into giggles.
“My boss won’t forgive me for not selling you a suit, never mind a returned tie. You can’t do that to me.”
“Let me take you somewhere for dinner. There’s a great place called O’Sheas just round the corner. It won’t be noisy in there and at least we won’t be distracted.”
He took Miriam to a restaurant which was just around the corner in Sheep Street. It was an intimate restaurant lowly lit with several small tables covered with white table cloths and candles.
“Good evening Mr Jackson. You have a reservation I believe?”
“How did you know I would come? Or did you have someone else in mind?”
“I knew you would want watering and feeding.” He said. Miriam nudged him in the ribs.
“I’m not some piece of cattle you know. I was a Lucie Clayton model.”
The waiter led them to their table. There were a few people who recognized him as they passed their tables. Len said his hellos and then they sat down at their table in the corner. He ordered an expensive bottle of champagne and then stroked her fingers. His suit was beautifully tailored, a pale blue cotton shirt with a thin navy silk jacket, both of which brought out the blue in his eyes which gently danced in the candle light. Len ordered the food. Miriam couldn’t decide what to eat on the menu. It all seemed beautifully expensive.
“I’m glad we met that night. Did you stay long after I left?”
“Only long enough to see if my sister’s boyfriend would turn up.”
They talked about Miriam’s plans to become a fashion designer, how she had already learnt some of the tricks of the trade by working at Browns, how she had managed to put some of her own input in to the designing of the suits. She also told him about the drawings she had done and the inspiration for those drawings. He gave her some advice on how to set up a business, what areas of the fashion industry he had been involved in and where it was so easy to go wrong.
“The most important thing is to retain the loyalty of your staff,” he said stroking the rim of his glass. “If they like you, they will like working for you. I don’t see that being a problem in your case.” He smiled slowly.
Miriam asked about his work and he said he was passionate about what he did. At the moment he was working on a number of property developments in Ireland and South Africa. He flipped between his locations in South Africa, London and Dublin. For the near future he planned to stay in Dublin for a while although he did need to go back to South Africa to see his two daughters. She asked him how painful it was to leave his daughters behind, and he said “very”. They had had to change their surnames to his ex wife’s new husband’s, so they could get citizenship in South Africa.
They didn’t touch their food that evening. Some of the others, cast intriguing glances their way. They were locked in to each other oblivious to those around them. As the evening drew to a close, Len asked to settle the bill. They then put their coats on and made for the door.
“Goodnight sir”
Outside they wrapped themselves together.
“I’d like to see you again, Miriam.”
“Me too.”
“Listen, give me your number and I’ll call you.”
Miriam scribbled her number on a piece of paper. He then hailed her a cab home. She still knew that they had something special. She was smiling broadly as she took that taxi home.
MARJORIE 1965
LONDON
MARJORIE DIDN’T HAVE to wait long for Arthur to phone her after their chance meeting at the Planetarium. She was sitting in her offices at Trower and Hamlins in New Square just off Middle Temple when the phone rang.
“I have a gentleman on line one for you Marjorie. He says it’s personal.”
She checked to see that Mr Maitland, her boss was otherwise engaged and then pressed the extension.
“How is my birthday girl then?”
“Oh so, so.” She said with a smile. Marjorie was glad he had called. She had been worried that he thought she had been quite forward agreeing to go with him to lunch that day, despite hardly knowing him. She knew that she had met a potential soul mate, as she hadn’t stopped thinking about him since they last met.
“Listen, I can’t speak for long,” he said with some urgency, “As I am really busy at the moment, but do you fancy meeting for a drink after work?”
Marjorie glanced over at her boss again who was now riffling through some papers, clearly having mislaid something. She knew he would come marching in to her offices barking some orders, if he couldn’t find it. She quickly responded.
“Yes I’d love to.”
“How about we meet in your neck of the woods. You work in the Temple, am I right in assuming?”
“Yes,” she replied still eyeing Mr Maitland. “But can we meet somewhere more non local. I mean most of my bosses grab a quick swifter round here before going home?”
“OK, I get the drift. Lets meet at Hampstead tube station and we can go for a drink at the Flask, say 7 o’clock?”
“See you then.” Marjorie clicked the phone down just in time to hear the buzzer calling her into the office. She stood up quickly and straightened her skirt, then grabbed a note pad and pen. Mr Maitland in the short time she had been there, nearly always needed to dictate some shorthand to her. It was always wise to go in prepared.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Various assistants would pop in to her offices asking for small jobs to be done. The phone would ring intermittently, often calls from clerks at chambers, asking her to confirm details of conferences with counsel. She would then check that the instructions to counsel had been sent out and that a copy had been retained for that meeting. The documents were neatly stacked on her table with swathes of red ribbon round them.
That evening she tidied up her desk and covered her typewriter, making sure she had enough ink for the following day. She also blotted her blotting pad. As she left the offices, she checked her tube map. Her nearest tube station was Inner Temple, so she took the walk, across Middle Temple Lane and into Fountain Court. There were various barristers mingling around, no doubt discussing the events of the day. It was too cold to keep still for long. The street lamps cast a lovely glow over the old stone buildings. When she got to the underground there were crowds of commuters anxious to get home after work. She dashed down the escalators into the warmth of the station. There was a slow hum before the roar of the underground train as it hit the station.
When Marjorie got to Hampstead, Arthur was standing outside in his thick winter overcoat. He had a cashmere scarf tied around his neck and was clutching his brief case.
“Hello stranger.”
He then put his arms around her shoulders and they walked with ease over Hampstead Heath towards Highgate. The Heath was quieter in the night air compared to the hustle of Central London. She could hear her footsteps falling into time with his own.
“I like to get out of London.” he said, lighting a cigarette “I’ve got a place in Barnet. It’s a bit of a commute.”
“I know what you mean, London can be a bit claustrophobic. I love it though. I originally, came from Yorkshire. There was nothing to do there.”
“Snap! My family are from Cheshire, from a long line of Ronsons. We’ve all somehow ended up here though.”
As they approached the Flask, you could see the place was packed, through the leaded windows. Arthur opened the door and ushered Marjorie to a table in the corner by the fireplace which was crackling away with some new thrown logs on it. Arthur went to the bar and ordered them some drinks.
“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us two shepherd’s pies. They are really good here.’
He said placing the drinks on the table. He slowly removed his coat and scarf and placed them on the clotheshorse behind him. The pub was crowded yet cosy and warm.
“That sounds perfect, particularly on a cold winter’s night like tonight.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said offering her a cigarette ” Have you been single for long?”
“I won’t answer that question unless you answer it first.” She said smiling.
“Well I’ve been single for too long,” he paused, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “Do you think we can work? I’m afraid I come with baggage.”
The fact that he had two sons and had been married before didn’t phase Marjorie and in many ways made him more beguiling to her.
“Do you think people are destined to be together?” Marjorie said, allowing Arthur to light the cigarette he had given her. Arthur took a sip of his pint and licked the foam from his lips.
“I think if an opportunity arises, and you don’t take it, then y
ou can’t blame yourself later, if things don’t work out for you. In life you are given various olive branches, and you have to take them.”
“I remember going to Italy when I was younger and they have a different attitude to life, as if they live life for the moment.” Marjorie said. She could feel the warmth of the fire start to warm her fingers and decided to take her jacket off.
“Us English are quite cool and reserved. It holds us back in a number of ways, which means sometimes we miss these opportunities. It doesn’t always mean we end up with the right person, it just means that when the right person comes along, we may well miss them without realizing it. Similarly, we could grab an opportunity which was the wrong opportunity, and forever regret in our lives that we were shackled with responsibility with the wrong person, if you understand my reasoning.”
Marjorie continued to listen, the alcohol was clearly helping to relax him.
“So sometimes, following your heart can be a mistake. Not always, but your heart needs to be in the right place when you are following it. In other words you need to be happy in your own soul to be able to hold on and join with another. I know it sounds deep, but we lead such short lives, we only have one chance of getting it right.”
Arthur paused as the barmaid brought their shepherd’s pies to the table. The steam was still rising from the mash potato topping. She laid down two sets of knives and forks for them wrapped in two serviettes. Arthur opened his and placed it on his lap.
“So many people get it wrong, maybe that is why there are so many sinners in the world. Who knows it may be the basis of the Christian religion.”
“You mean forgive us this day for our daily trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us?” She responded.
“Exactly.” He said, picking up his fork and diving into the pie.
Abandoned Love Page 4