by Ali Harris
‘Oh my God!’ Barbara from Shoes bursts through the stockroom door, nearly spilling her tea in the process. ‘Have you seen the beauty department? It’s had some sort of amazing makeover! Quick! Come and look!’ She disappears again and I watch as the other staff members quickly get to their feet. I’ve never seen them move so fast. I follow behind them. I can’t help grinning as I hear their exclamations.
‘Wow!’ breathes Becky.
‘It looks so cool, doesn’t it!’Barbara claps her hands in delight.
‘Where did that gorgeous soap come from? I’ve never noticed that before? Is it some new brand?’ Jenny says.
‘I want one!’
‘Oooh, look at the cool dressing table!’
‘Who did this? It’s amazing!’
‘Maybe it was Guy again.’
‘What about Carly? Isn’t she meant to be trying to change the direction of the store? I bet it was her . . .’
I’m standing on tiptoes, trying to see over everyone’s heads. Sharon and Gwen are in the middle of the displays, turning round in a circle and trying not to show their astonishment.
Sharon claps her hands briskly and turns to face us all. She is still in her outdoor attire, which shows how flummoxed she is. Normally she is immaculately dressed and ready for action by eight forty-five. But today she is still wearing her mackintosh over her work outfit of a sleek, deep red pencil skirt and black opaque tights. Her black high-heel court shoes are still clasped in her hands and her beige Ugg boots are on her feet. She looks more like a chicken than ever. I can just imagine her striding proudly around on Rupert’s farm, pecking at all the farmhands to get them to work harder.
She focuses her beady eyes on each of us, one by one. ‘Who is responsible for this?’ she says sharply.
No one answers. Everyone just looks at the floor, inspects their fingernails or looks out of the windows. I bob down behind Barbara.
Sharon turns to Gwen. ‘Have you taken it upon yourself to completely remerchandise the department without permission?’ she barks.
I hold my breath and for a moment regret my actions. Poor old Gwen looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Her flushed, well-powdered face clashes somewhat with her cerulean-blue eyeliner and matching mascara, and she looks at the floor.
‘I have to admit—’she begins nervously.
‘Well, it’s good,’ Sharon interrupts briskly. I peek out from my hiding place and am amazed to see Sharon smile at Gwen who, understandably, looks shocked. Sharon never smiles.
‘Oh, I can’t take the credit for this—’ Gwen looks around desperately, trying to see if anyone looks guilty. I hide behind Barbara again.
‘Oh, Gwen, shush now,’ Sharon interrupts. ‘Don’t make such a fuss. I might think your shop floor looks good, but will the customers? That’s the real test.’ She ruffles the papers on her clipboard. ‘Now, enough of this jibber-jabbering.’ She raises her voice above the excited chattering. ‘Ladies, let’s start—’
‘And gents!’ interrupts Guy as he dashes into the department clutching a venti latte that looks almost as big as he is. He is wearing one of the vintage trilbys with a camel scarf tied jauntily round his neck over a beautifully cut chocolate-brown overcoat. He looks hot. The girls all wolf whistle and he curtsies. ‘Sorry I’m late, Sharon, I didn’t get out of here till well past closing time yesterday. I had so much clearing up to do before I went . . .’ he pauses and pulls off his leather gloves delicately, finger by finger, ‘. . . ON MY DATE.’
‘OOOH!’ we all gasp, and he puts his hand up to stop us.
‘Do not fear, treacles, all the juicy details will be revealed later. Suffice to say the date in question won’t be complaining about the customer service at the store!’ He winks as he shrugs his coat off and throws it over his arm, but leaves his hat on. He tilts it slightly and looks at us all. He is wearing a suit. He never wears suits. ‘I’m here to work now.’ And he nods reverentially at Sharon to let her know she can continue.
Sharon rolls her eyes; she’s never had much patience for Guy. ‘Thank you, Guy, I’m sure we’ll all be dying to hear about your date later,’ she says with sarcasm that is lost on him. He just nods in agreement.
‘Quiet, please,’ Sharon snaps. ‘We’ve got some important things to discuss before the store opens. Now, first on my list is sales figures. It was a pretty poor week, even by our standards.’ She glances down at her spreadsheet. ‘I cannot emphasize how important it is for you all to raise the figures in your departments. Hardy’s simply cannot go on as we are. You must all know that we are barely taking any money at all. Rupe—’
The staff’s giggles undulate through the room like an ocean wave. We all know how much Sharon fancies Rupert. Sharon glares at us and continues, ‘This is not a laughing matter, ladies.’
‘And gents,’ pipes up Guy pedantically.
Sharon ignores him. ‘As I was saying, the Hardy family are under a huge amount of pressure from the board to drastically improve the store’s takings by Boxing Day. That gives us just over three weeks to make a marked improvement.’
‘We can’t help it if the customers don’t want to come in,’ grumbles Elaine.
‘Yeah, we’re all doing everything we can to make the sales. But no one bothers to come in here,’ adds Carly’s colleague Paula. ‘They all go to Selfridges, or Liberty, or the big department stores on Oxford Street. And frankly, I don’t blame them.’
‘Then we must do something about it,’ retorts Sharon crisply.
‘Like what? Have us all marching round the West End with sandwich boards?’ laughs Becky.
‘Don’t joke about it, Becks,’ calls out Elaine.
‘I don’t think any of you understand the seriousness of what I’m saying,’ Sharon snaps. She looks around at us all in irritation and I can suddenly see how much she cares about this place. She may not have the best management skills in the world but she’s passionate about Hardy’s and she can see that it needs to change. This place is her life, too. ‘If we don’t all drastically improve the takings in this store, we’ll all be out of a job.’ Her statement silences everyone.
‘What are you going to do?’ says Guy, ‘Fire us all?’
Sharon sighs. ‘No, you are all wonderful employees and I doubt anyone else could do a better job than you.’ I raise my eyebrows. Sometimes Sharon surprises me. There is a trickle of approval through the group at her words. ‘What I meant is, none of us will have jobs because Hardy’s won’t be here any more.’
‘Hardy’s is going to close?’ gasps Guy, and clutches his hand to his heart, inadvertently trickling coffee down his slick suit. ‘Fiddlesticks!’ he exclaims, and brushes his hand manically down the stain. ‘I just bought this on staff discount.’
‘It is more than likely,’ Sharon confirms.
A shocked hush descends upon the room, then the babbling begins again.
‘We can’t let that happen!’ calls out Barbara.
‘London needs Hardy’s!’ says Gwen passionately.
‘We need Hardy’s,’ adds someone else tearfully.
‘What can we do, Sharon?’ calls out Jenny.
‘Well, we can begin by following Guy’s lead,’ smiles Sharon thinly, waving a long till receipt. Guy looks up from where he is still furiously dabbing at the coffee stain on his suit. ‘His takings were up a massive five hundred per cent over the weekend. I don’t know what he did or how he did it, but he’s proved that Hardy’s still has a chance.’
Guy curtsies again and we all laugh. Even Sharon.
‘We can do this, people. We just need a bit of vision and a lot of hard work. Are you all prepared for that?’
Everyone looks at each other as if waiting for someone to agree to the terms: work hard for a few weeks or lose their job for good in a climate where it’s practically impossible to get a new one.
‘We’ll do it!’ says Barbara, the unofficial spokesperson of the group.
‘I hope we get a pay rise at the end of it, though,’ gr
umbles Elaine. ‘I didn’t sign up for this when I took this job. I should’ve stayed at Selfridges.’
Sharon ignores her. ‘Well done, ladies, I’m really proud of you. And well done, Gwen, for taking the initiative and following Guy’s lead. It’s a good start, but you and your team need to work hard today to follow through with sales. And I don’t need to tell the rest of you that we all need to be thinking of the best ways to maximize sales in our departments and get customers through our doors. I’ll be sending Carly round to each department to help you creatively. After all, she seems to have the right vision for the future of the store. Although, where is she this morning? Does anyone know?’
Everyone looks around as if noticing for the first time that Carly isn’t here. Whilst she’s not the best timekeeper in the world she doesn’t usually miss the Monday morning meeting.
Sharon frowns and looks at her watch. ‘Well, I’m sure she’s got a good reason. Carly has been working very hard on her creative vision for the store. Rupert has put his faith in her that she is going to steer the store in the right direction and I want you all to support her. As assistant manager she is going to be working alongside Rupert to bring a fresh look and direction to Hardy’s.’
‘Good luck with that,’ yells someone.
‘She’s got a tough few weeks ahead of her,’ says Sharon, ignoring the heckler, ‘so I want you all to support her – even if her ideas for your departments are not what you expect – although Guy and Gwen have obviously got there first and taken control of their own departments, which is wonderful to see.’ She turns to them and nods her head. ‘Rest assured I will be passing on news of your hard work to Rupert.’
Guy beams at everyone and Gwen smiles uncertainly. She is still battling over whether to take credit for the work or not. I want to catch her eye and telepathically translate to her that she should. Neither of them knows that their job is the first for the chop this week.
I just hope that what I’ve done is enough to turn that decision round. At least for now.
Sharon dismisses us, and the staff all scatter across the store like mice, squeaking excitedly and nibbling hungrily at the gossip they’ve just received like it’s a particularly tasty bit of cheese. Whilst the threat of closure is obviously worrying, I know they’re all trying to work out who the secret elf is who’s making such big changes in the store. We all know Gwen well enough to presume it isn’t her. Guy is more plausible. Everyone always thinks gay men have creative flair.
I wander back to the stockroom, feeling elated. It was so great hearing the staff come together to fight for Hardy’s survival. I just hope it continues. I don’t think I can do this alone.
I’ve just popped the kettle on and am trying to think up ways to transform the next department when Carly bursts into the stockroom.
‘Morning!’ she gasps as she throws off her red coat and takes off her thick cream snood and cute matching beanie. She looks like a latter-day Ali MacGraw in her Love Story-style preppie winter clothes. She shakes her hair so it pours over her shoulders like melted caramel.
‘What have I missed, babe?’ she says as she throws herself onto the sofa.
‘Just the morning meeting,’ I reply quietly, suddenly regretting the fact that I didn’t make an effort to wear something from The Wardrobe this morning. My old, shapeless Arran jumper was cosy at five o’clock this morning when I left the house, but now I just feel like a slob. I’m also worried she’s going to ask about the date she helped get me ready for, and I don’t know what to tell her. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have remembered.
‘Oh shit, I completely forgot about that.’ She looks worried for a moment. ‘Did Sharon notice I wasn’t there?’ I nod. ‘Damn.’ I wave a mug in front of her. ‘Ooh, tea? Yes, please, hon.’ She bites on her lips and then waves her hand dismissively. ‘I’ll just tell Sharon my tube got stuck in the tunnel.’
She claps her hands and her eyes glisten with excitement. ‘Now, you’ve got to promise not tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.’ She pauses and waits for me to agree. I feel strangely honoured that she should choose me to confide in. But that’s part of what I like about Carly. She makes you feel good purely by choosing you to be her friend. It makes you think you must be special.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘You know you can tell me anything.’
Carly smiles gratefully at me and I feel like singing.
‘Well,’ she begins carefully, looking around the stockroom before lowering her voice conspiratorially, ‘the truth is I’ve just had a brilliant meeting with the CEO from Rumors. Apparently, they’re just waiting to confirm the location of the store and then it’ll be all systems go. Whoever they employ, they want them to be there right from the start, helping to set up the premises. They might even be sent to New York to be trained! I mean, imagine that!’
I smile and try to be excited for her, but I can’t help but feel she needs to know what’s happening with Hardy’s. After all, it’s more than likely to become Rumors, so her job won’t be so different after all.
‘So you’ve decided to take the job?’ I ask.
Carly nods. ‘I just can’t let an opportunity like this pass me by. I mean, I’ll miss everyone, but it’s not like Hardy’s is the best place to have on your CV, is it?’
I hand her a steaming cup of tea. ‘Well, you deserve it. You’re brilliant at your job, but we’ll all really miss you. Not that it matters now anyway . . .’ Carly looks at me questioningly. ‘Hardy’s is being threatened with closure,’ I say dramatically.
Carly’s eyes widen and her mouth forms a wide O. ‘Really? Shit, that’s awful.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘Well, I’m just glad that I’ll be able to walk out of here when it closes and straight into a job at Rumors. What about you, though? What will you do?’
I shrug. I honestly haven’t thought about it. Mainly because I don’t want to.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll be all right, hon,’ she says as she settles down with her tea. ‘You’re the best stockroom girl we’ve ever had. Everyone says so. Sharon even says you were born to work in here.’
‘So what are your plans for today?’ I ask, faux brightly, feeling a sudden urge to change the subject.
She puts her cup of tea down and sits forward in her seat eagerly, clasping her hands together so I get full view of her perfectly varnished fingernails, which are painted a gorgeous soft mink colour. I look at my own and decide that tonight I’ll give them a polish.
‘I’ve got a hard day in front of me, actually,’ Carly says, ‘in that I’m going to have to actually, you know, do some work! I had a meeting with Rupert on Friday and today’s the day I’m going to introduce my ideas and concepts into Designers and then roll them out in the rest of the store. Actually, I meant to ask you, did you get the delivery of my stuff this morning?’
I nod and get up to show her what I’ve unpacked.
‘Fabulous.’ She waves her hands dismissively and makes to leave as I pull out the sexy, daring, slashed, thigh-skimming, cleavage-plunging items that came in Sam’s delivery this morning. ‘Can you bring them up for me? I’m going to need your help, if that’s OK? I’ll run it past Sharon. I’m sure she’ll be fine with that. It’s not like there’s going to be many orders on a Monday morning, are there! Although, weirdly, the beauty department looked pretty busy when I walked through just now. Gwen was running around like a mad thing. Anyway, see you in a minute, hon!’ She disappears out the door.
The beauty department looked pretty busy? I’m suddenly excited to have a chance to see what’s happening on the shop floor, as well as to spend more time with Carly. It’s a brilliant opportunity for me to allow her style and personality to rub off on me more. I feel like I subliminally need her help to guide me through the dating process with Joel. The more time I spend with her at the moment, the better. I know I should feel guilty about what I’ve done, but I don’t. Carly’s got a promotion and another brilliant job offer on the table, a brilliant social life with lots of friends,
and, let’s face it, she’s not exactly lacking in male interest. The last thing she needs is my sympathy. The thought is actually quite laughable.
I pick up an armful of stock and push the stockroom open with my bum, letting it slam shut behind me as I step out onto the shop floor. I look up as I hear a commotion and nearly drop the entire pile of clothes I’m holding.
All around me, customers are weaving around the beauty department, grabbing perfume bottles, picking up lip glosses and cooing over the displays. They must have been drawn in by the vintage products I showcased in the window, held by the female mannequins that I dressed in vintage 1950s clothing, positioned as if they were looking in a mirror to reapply their make-up. It went well next to the window with the male mannequin proffering the Tiffany box. Anyway, now there are people sitting at the different counters, playing with make-up. Some are being followed by dutiful husbands, who are nodding robotically as they’re shown yet another pretty product that looks the same as the last to them. I can see from the expression on their faces that they’re desperate to find an excuse to slip off downstairs to Menswear.
And there is even a handful of customers who appear to be clamouring to buy the soaps from my pyramid display. Gwen and Jenny are run off their feet, but they look completely elated. They have managed to sort out a system between them, but they clearly need more help. I wave at Becky in Handbags, but she doesn’t see me. I wave again and this time she spots me, puts away her phone and hurries over.