Being naturally friendly and easy to talk to she had no trouble in engaging the assistants in conversation, no trouble either in creating a plausible reason for her seeking out the hire establishments.
At lunchtime she found a small park where she sat and ate her packed lunch and made notes. She’d discovered that the cost of hiring an outfit with a good designer label was quite high and there was also a deposit to make as insurance against damage or loss, repayable on return – something she hadn’t thought of. All garments were dry cleaned after every hiring, but she learned from one of the chattier assistants that they had an arrangement with a local dry cleaning firm who gave them special rates. She had a good look through the stock in each of the shops she visited and felt sure that Fantaisie could offer something more exclusive and, as she pointed out to Imogene later, with her able to do any repairs and minor alterations, they’d save money all round. (Nothing like making yourself indispensable, she told herself.)
Imogene was delighted and announced that she had been to the bank in her lunch hour to make a tentative enquiry and told to make an appointment to return with a business plan and financial projection the following day when her loan would be given consideration.
‘So can you stay behind with me this evening and help me work out some kind of business plan?’ she said. ‘I’ll treat you to dinner afterwards in lieu of overtime.’
Katie was stunned. Never in a million years would she have imagined Imogene putting so much faith in her. ‘OK, if you like,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘I’m not doing anything else.’
‘And I think you’d better come to the bank with me tomorrow as well,’ Imogene added. ‘You’re so much better at talking than me. You’ve got the gift of the gab whereas I’m only articulate when I’ve got a few drinks inside me as you know.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘And somehow I don’t think that’d go down too well, do you?’
‘I think you’re probably right,’ Katie agreed.
They sat in the office after closing time working on the business plan. When it came to the financial projection Katie found that although she had failed her maths GCSE she was actually better at it than Imogene. Finally they had worked out something that was to Imogene’s satisfaction. Before she began printing it out ready for the bank Katie decided to voice the idea that had been nagging at her all day.
‘Imogene. Before you start there’s just one thing.’
‘What? Have I forgotten something?’
Katie cleared her throat. Her heart was thumping and her mouth was dry. What she was about to say might well ruin the whole thing. ‘It’s just, won’t the advisor at the bank wonder why I’m there too.’
‘I’ll explain that you’re my assistant.’ Imogene shook her head exasperatedly. ‘All right, I’ll say it was all your idea if you like. Will that do?’
Katie took a deep breath. ‘I’d rather you said I was a partner.’
Imogene stared at her. ‘Partner? You’ve got to be joking!’
It was the reaction Katie had expected and she stuck to her guns. ‘No, I’m not. After all it was my idea. I could have started a hiring agency up on my own without saying anything to you. I’m having to take on a bigger flat and work longer hours and you said yourself you couldn’t afford to pay me much more. There has to be more in it for me than that.’
Imogene sat back in her chair and looked at Katie for a century-long minute. After a moment she said. ‘OK, you’ve got a point. So, how much cash were you planning to put into the venture, Katie?’
‘Cash?’ Katie’s jaw dropped. ‘I wasn’t. I mean – I haven’t got any.’
‘Then how do you think you could have started up a business on your own?’ Katie shook her head and Imogene went on, ‘That’s what being a partner means: equal ownership. Surely you can see that if I’m going to share the profits with you, you have to share in the initial outlay. That’s fair, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but my contribution to the partnership would be the idea.’
Imogene laughed. ‘Oh! You see yourself as the brains of the business, do you?’
Katie thrust her chin out. ‘If you want to call it that – yes!’
Imogene’s smile faded and for a moment she sat back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. Katie held her breath until finally Imogene looked up.
‘I appreciate your candour, Katie, and yes, I agree that your idea might well save my business, so how about this: I make you a partner in the hire business. Not Fantaisie. My ex’s name is still on the lease of the shop and it could get complicated. But the hire business is something new. We could keep it completely separate. How about this: we give it – this partnership idea – a trial for six months, dividing the profits say – eighty/twenty until we have a proper contract drawn up legally. What do you think?’
‘Seventy/thirty,’ Katie countered. ‘With a view to increasing it to sixty/forty once it’s legally binding.’
Imogene gasped. ‘I’m beginning to think I’ve underestimated you, Katie. You’ve got the bloody cheek of the devil! Look, shall we agree on seventy/thirty for now and see how things go? After all, we haven’t got the loan yet.’
Katie held out her hand. ‘OK, done,’ she said.
When Thursday morning arrived Katie was looking forward to seeing her old friends for lunch and bubbling over to tell them her news. She’d had a call from Fran on her mobile when she was on the bus on her way home on Wednesday evening to tell her what she had arranged.
‘I want something suitable to wear for Harry’s new school’s open day next week,’ she said. ‘I can’t find anything I like locally so I’m hoping to find it at your boutique.’
‘I’m sure we’ll find something to suit you,’ Katie said. ‘What time are you coming?’
‘You said it’s your half day, so I’ll come close to lunchtime,’ Fran said. ‘I’ve booked a table for three at a nice little Italian restaurant I know and arranged to meet Sophie there at half past one.’
Katie sailed through the morning on cloud nine. The meeting at the bank had gone well. The financial advisor had shaken his head when he saw the last six month’s figures for the boutique but he seemed impressed with Katie’s idea of a dress hire business and after studying the projected figures he thought it might have a good chance of saving the current business. Imogene had pointed out that they planned to rent a small outlet shop in the future in which to dispose of exhausted stock second hand and the advisor had nodded his head approvingly. Finally, after some consideration and a brief consultation with a more senior colleague, a loan had been agreed. Imogene had taken Katie out for dinner that evening to celebrate.
Fran arrived soon after midday and Katie was gratified to see that Imogene approved of her appearance and style. The outfit she wore was clearly of the quality Imogene favoured and she summed up her taste quickly which was what she was so good at.
In her turn Fran was impressed by the boutique’s wide choice and was soon being ushered into one of the changing rooms with three outfits. Katie went with her but she had already guessed which one would suit her best. She was right. When Fran emerged from the changing room in the silver grey dress with its smooth, figure-hugging lines, Imogene beamed.
‘That looks so elegant,’ she enthused. ‘Not many of my customers could wear something so plain,’ she said. ‘But then not many have your figure. On you it looks perfect. I’d suggest no jewellery except perhaps some rather special earrings. Now, what about accessories?’ She looked at Fran, her head on one side. ‘I think either cerise or kingfisher blue.’ She looked at Katie. ‘We’ve got just the thing, haven’t we, Katie?’
Fran tried both and chose the blue accessories, which looked fabulous with her colouring: a stylish wide brimmed hat, matching sandals and a clutch bag. By the time she had paid for her purchases it was almost lunchtime. Imogene looked at Katie as she packed the outfit into one of the distinctive black patent carriers.
‘You might as well go too, as you’re having lunch with your f
riends,’ she said.
Sophie was waiting for them at Napolitano, the Italian restaurant where Fran had booked. She looked a little flushed and explained that she’d almost missed her train because her car had a flat tyre.
‘Don’t these things always happen at the wrong time?’ Fran said as the waiter ushered them to their table.
‘That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t bought a car,’ Katie put in as they sat down. ‘Though with the way things are developing I might have to rethink that.’ To her annoyance a waiter reappeared at that moment and handed each of them a menu, asking if they’d like to order drinks at the same time. Fran looked at the other two.
‘Shall we have a bottle of wine?’
They agreed and the waiter departed.
They consulted the menu and agreed on their choice of food. Sophie looked at Katie. ‘What were you saying just now – something about recent developments?’
Katie smiled. ‘Yes. Imogene – she’s my boss – has invited me to be a partner in the business.’
‘Really? Well done you.’ Sophie and Fran exchanged wry glances but before Katie could continue the waiter reappeared to take their order. Katie bit her lip in frustration. Their bottle of wine arrived at the same time, was duly uncorked, approved by Fran and a glass filled for each of them.
Fran raised her glass. ‘To us,’ she said. ‘Long may we flourish.’ She looked at Sophie. ‘How are things with you? Is the house restoration going well?’
‘Oh yes,’ Sophie said. ‘Rex is an absolute whiz at all the DIY stuff. Every time I come home I see a difference. And now that the holidays are here I’m helping as much as I can.’
‘With moral support and lots of delicious meals, I expect,’ Fran said.
‘Of course.’ Sophie surreptitiously hid her roughened hands and broken nails under the table’s pristine white cloth. ‘Have to keep his strength up.’
Fran took another sip of her wine and looked at Katie. ‘What was that you said about a partnership?’
Katie cleared her throat. At last! ‘Well, I suggested to Imogene, the owner of Fantaisie, that we open a hiring service. She thought it was a fantastic idea and she straight away….’ Once again the waiter arrived with three steaming plates of lasagne. Katie longed to pick up her plate and empty it over his head. When he had once again withdrawn Sophie looked across the table at Katie.
‘So, what about your designing work?’
‘Oh, I’ll still do that,’ Katie told her, picking up her fork. ‘We’re going to open another shop eventually in East London and I’ll be in charge. It’s all so exciting.’
‘It must be. Congratulations.’ Fran and Sophie smiled at her and each other indulgently.
‘I’m dying to see your new outfit, Fran,’ Sophie said.
‘She looks lovely in it,’ Katie put in. ‘It’s to wear at your son’s open day at school, is it?’
Fran nodded, lowering her eyes. Every time she thought about it tears threatened, a sight which irritated Charles intensely. She swallowed hard and looked up with a smile. ‘He’s looking forward to it so much,’ she said. ‘Charles and I will miss him so much but it’s what’s best for him after all so we can’t be selfish,’ she said, echoing Charles’s words. ‘And of course a whole new world will open up for me.’ Again, Charles’s words.
‘You’ll go back to work?’ Sophie asked.
‘I hope to,’ Fran said. ‘Being part of Charles’s business will be so fulfilling.’
After lunch the three went to a film and afterwards Fran insisted on treating them all to afternoon tea at the Ritz.
They parted company, the three of them agreeing on a date for their next meeting and went their separate ways. On the bus on her way home Katie reflected on the day. Clearly her friends hadn’t believed her when she’d told them her news. Why did they think she was still that pathetic, fantasizing schoolgirl from the past? She’d told the truth – well, almost. She had to admit that she’d made it sound just a little bit better than it actually was. She sighed. Maybe one day what was in her head and what came out of her mouth would coincide!
CHAPTER SIX
SOPHIE
Driving home from the station I couldn’t help feeling depressed. It had been a lovely day and I really enjoyed seeing Katie and Fran again but for some reason being with them had made me feel sad. It wasn’t their fault of course. They’d been great company, each with their stories of what life held for them in the future. No doubt Katie’s bit of news about the partnership was exaggerated but nevertheless, life definitely seemed to be on the up for her. As for Fran – well, she had it made, hadn’t she, with her wealthy husband and adored son? They both seemed so fulfilled and happy with life that I’d felt obliged to put on a brave face about my present situation.
It wasn’t just that either. They both looked so fantastic. Fran was so soigné and well groomed. Even tear-away Katie had looked sophisticated today in the little black dress she had to wear for work, her wild red hair tamed into a neat French pleat.
After lunch, in the Ladies, I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror and decided that the time had definitely arrived when I must change my style. I looked long and hard at the reflection staring back at me and all at once I saw how ludicrous I looked – a thirty-something woman still dressing like an art student. I took in the maxi-skirt decorated with mirror embroidery, the gypsy top and sandals – all of which had seen better, not to say younger days. This morning I’d briefly considered making a trip to Fantaisie myself until Fran told me how much she had paid for her chic new outfit. I felt my jaw drop and tried hard not to gape in horror when she casually named the price. The kind of money I’d had to spare for clothes since Rex and I took on the restoration of Greenings wouldn’t buy an outfit from a jumble sale let alone designer clothes.
Contrary to the scene I’d painted for the girls, Rex wasn’t working on the house at all these days. True, he’d had a lot of commissions and, as he’d pointed out, that was where the bread and butter came from. (Rex is old fashioned about being ‘kept’ by a woman, even when that woman is his wife.) He’s started spending several days a week away from the house, taking the early train up to London in the mornings and returning sometimes quite late at night. He says he needs to keep in closer touch with his agent and calls it ‘keeping a finger on the pulse’, says it’s important to meet up with other freelancers and find out what they are doing. Of course I can see his point but his attitude isn’t likely to get the house in order any time soon.
Since school broke up for the summer holidays all my time has been spent in old jeans and baggy tee-shirts; sandpaper, or a paint brush in my hand. My hair badly needs cutting and my hands are a disgrace. Commissions for the portrait work have fallen off too, no doubt due to the recession. I’ve only had two since May and although I still love the house dearly there are days when I wish we’d never set eyes on it. Bit by bit it’s slowly taking over my life and undermining everything including our marriage. There’s no time for leisure any more, no time for fun, no time to spend together – at least, not in the way we used to. When we are together nowadays we’re always arguing, usually about money. Clearly we can’t put the house back on the market until the restoration is finished and at the rate we’re going that day grows more distant with every week. It’s a ‘catch twenty-two’ situation.
As I turned the car in through the gates I wondered whether Rex would be at home. However, as I swung round the curve in the drive I saw that a large blue van was parked outside the house. My first thought was that we were being burgled. No doubt they had watched us both leave the house and then broken in to steal the new bathroom equipment, still waiting to be plumbed in. I stopped the car in the drive and got out, reaching into my bag for my mobile. At least I could block their way out.
Phone in hand I gingerly approached the front door, which stood open. I could hear men’s voices coming from upstairs. Hastily I punched in 999 and asked for the police. After a moment a voice answered.
‘Police.’
‘I want to report a burglary.’
‘Can you give me your name and address, madam?’
At that moment a man in overalls appeared on the stairs. When he saw me he smiled and called out, ‘Hello there! Mrs Turner, is it?’
I nodded, speechlessly. ‘Who – who are you?’
‘Bob Harris from Harris and Jarrold, builders. Your husband said you’d be surprised when you got home.’ He ran down the stairs and began to cross the hall, rubbing his hand on the seat of his overalls before he held it out to me. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
I could hear the voice at the other end of the line repeatedly asking for my name. I raised the phone to my mouth again. ‘I’m so sorry to have troubled you. It’s a misunderstanding.’ I switched off the phone and stared at the man.
‘I thought we’d got burglars.’
He laughed. ‘I warned your old m— er, your hubby that some ladies don’t like surprises.’
‘But – I don’t understand. You say my husband engaged you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you’re here to do – what?’
He held out his hands. ‘You name it. And believe me there’s no shortage of jobs.’ He began to count off the tasks on his fingers. ‘Plumbing in the bathroom and the en-suite shower; tiling them both, and the kitchen, not to mention fitting the rest of them kitchen units. I could go on as I’m sure you know.’ He smiled sympathetically at me. ‘How you’ve managed with the place in this state all this time beats me. I reckon that old bathroom must’ve been put in by Adam and ’is mate!’ He laughed loudly at his own joke. ‘If you ask me, you deserve a medal.’
‘Thank you,’ I said weakly.
‘We’ve cleared out all the old stuff. It’s in the van.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Er, I know you’ve only just got in, Mrs T, but we’d really appreciate a cuppa.’
I looked at my watch. ‘Isn’t it time you were knocking off?’
True Colours Page 6