by Maggie Ford
James had organized every last thing from beginning to end. But one thing he couldn’t control – the weather. Julia thought she’d never seen such rain. Poor Caroline had arrived shielded by an umbrella held over her by her father. It was fortunate her wedding dress only came to just below the knees, following the current trend, and so didn’t suffer much. But the trading lace veil had to be bundled up unceremoniously by her mother, who held it at arm’s length as much under the umbrella as she could while the two made a most unladylike dash to the church porch, followed by the bridesmaids, also under umbrellas wielded by a couple of uncles.
Even so, Caroline entered the church all smiles, ignoring the fact that those already in the church were filling it with the faint damp odour of mackintoshes and umbrellas piled up on empty chairs at the back.
Julia felt sorry for her brother more than for Caroline. He’d worked so hard. In that staid manner which had now become part of him he seldom smiled even when pleased, reminding her so much of their father in looks and attitude.
She only hoped Caroline would be of a stronger character than her mother and weather James’s overbearing ways. Otherwise she could have a miserable life. But today she looked radiant despite the rain as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm while James rose from his seat to stand beside her.
Julia saw her feel for his hand, and saw James grip it briefly, and felt her heart give a tug of envy. Angry with herself for feeling so when she should be thinking of the happiness of those two, she had felt for Simon’s hand, curling her fingers round it and feeling his curl around hers. ‘Darling, we should get married,’ she whispered and heard him whisper back, ‘I know.’
The rest of the service became a blur in the euphoria that swept over her. Now though, posing for the official photographer, with the small band of close relatives arranged about the newly-weds in the studio all smiling fixedly lest the result blur, she wondered how genuine had been those two words of Simon’s.
At the reception he was on the far side of the room – she could only glimpse him amidst the gathering, just beyond the wedding cake – and seemed oblivious to her. But if he’d meant what he said in the church surely he would be at her side now.
Her spirits drooping again, Julia smiled as Stephanie came up, champagne glass in hand though little of it had been drunk, and couldn’t help glancing at her sister’s waistline, already imagining she saw the first sign of thickening.
Eddie was at her side holding little Violet and a small, ugly, sneering thought went through Julia’s head: ‘A baby not yet out of nappies and she’s pregnant again, it’s disgusting!’ Deep inside her heart though she admitted that it was not disgusting but that it was so totally, totally unfair!
Twenty-Three
His investments were healthy, the business was doing well. ‘Lately it seems we can’t go wrong,’ exclaimed Simon.
But all Julia could think of were those two words he’d said in church: ‘I know.’ Had they truly had the quality of a promise or had he merely been conveying that he’d heard what she said?
So many times she had been on the verge of reminding him of it but again work intervened. Christmas, despite thick snow, had brought a rush of orders and it wasn’t until the festive season was over and they could breathe again that she found the moment to bring it up.
She did so one evening a few days after the New Year as they reclined on the settee hardly listening to the BBC’s reports of terrible flooding in London, the result of a high tide combined with a sudden thaw. She snuggled against Simon who had one arm about her and was studying a jewellery catalogue he held in his other hand. As yet he didn’t deal in precious stones but his costume jewellery was of the highest quality, designed to his specification, and was always in great demand.
Although he held her close to him, his mind was obviously in another world; he didn’t even look up when she began quietly, ‘Simon, you remember at James and Caroline’s wedding?’
‘Mmm?’ he murmured absently.
‘What you said in church when I whispered in your ear during the service that we should get married?’
Glancing up from the catalogue, far too quickly for her mind, as if startled, he looked a little perplexed. ‘Did you, darling?’
‘You know I did. And you said, “I know.” Don’t you remember?’ He frowned and shook his head, but Julia meant to pursue her quest. ‘It was the only few words we said to each other during the whole service and I need to know, did you mean that you know we should get married?’
‘I’m not sure I remember what I said.’
It was as if he was deliberately evading her and she felt a sudden desperation to pin him down. She sat up away from him, snatching the catalogue from his hand and throwing it beside her on the settee.
‘All these years together, the times we’ve promised ourselves to get married, to set a date, and here we are, the same as ever.’
‘Aren’t we happy as we are?’
‘I’m not!’
The words were torn from her so forcefully he was left gazing at her in amazement and some apprehension. She almost read the question in his eyes: You’re not saying you want to leave? But suddenly he smiled.
‘Don’t be silly, darling, we’ve everything we’ve ever wished for. We’re comfortably off, we’ve a nice apartment, and we have each other. We’ve…’
‘But were not married!’ she broke in. ‘Don’t you want to be married?’
‘Yes, of course, darling, as soon as we get the business really up and running.’
Her temper flared, surprising even her. ‘How up and running does it have to be? Haven’t we come up in the world enough? How far do we have to go before you consider it time you married me?’
She was trying to calm down, gain control of her anger. ‘Simon, we’ve done so well. How much more do you want?’
She watched him get up and go over to turn off the wireless. The room was suddenly quiet, so that his voice, though soft, sounded almost too loud.
‘I want us to reach the top of the tree,’ he said evenly, ‘to be up there with the big fashion houses – Chanel, Caret, Hartnell. I want your name to be the one that everyone remembers when they think of fashion.’
‘And I want a baby! I don’t want to climb to the top of any tree.’
She could hear the pleading in her own voice. ‘We never have time for ourselves these days. That’s why we never get around to the subject of marriage. I know you love me, Simon, but sometimes I feel taken for granted. I want to have a baby and I can’t while we’re not married. We never make love properly any more in case I fall pregnant. I don’t know if I’m even able to have babies. We’ve never tried…’
She broke off. He was looking at her but his expression was obscured by the mist of her tears. Seconds later she was in his arms, weeping as if her heart were broken.
‘Sweetheart,’ she heard his soft voice in her ear, ‘let’s get the next fashion show over then I promise you, my sweet darling, we’ll be married and this time nothing will stand in our way.’
She should have felt soothed, but it was as if she were seeing a rerun of a film, as sometimes happened in the cinema when the film would break and have to be restarted. How many times had he promised marriage and even begun to make the arrangements, only to have them all fall through as work interfered?
She didn’t really believe it now but she let him carry on holding her, so confident he’d solved everything, really believing his own promises. Despite everything a small spark of hope hovered inside her that this time it would happen.
* * *
Julia stared at the expensive sapphire and diamond dress ring Simon had given her. The thought crossed her mind, maybe uncharitably, that this was to make up for last week. In the past, when they’d been struggling, he had often thrilled her with little gifts he could hardly afford. As they had climbed their financial ladder so his gifts had become more costly. But this was far too much. Even so she understood and kissed him ardently
.
They were going out more as a couple too, to the cinema, theatre, dinner; just the two of them without the company of friends. But she knew work suffered and was sure that he too silently fretted over it. He was trying so hard to make her happy and she loved him for it; it was she who was now feeling guilty.
‘We should be concentrating on next month’s display,’ she murmured as they lingered over dinner one evening after seeing a show. He smiled.
‘Like you said, darling, we need some time to ourselves.’ It sounded like criticism but he took her hand reassuringly across the table. ‘We can make up for it the rest of the week.’
The rest of the week did see them hard at work, realizing how the time soon slipped away. Julia’s next fashion show was still several weeks away. The cost of these shows often made Julia’s mouth dry up with fear. The hire of the venue and the models, the cost of sets, lighting, music, and all else that went into putting on a fashion show could amount to around ten to twenty thousand pounds depending on its size and where it was held. The bigger fashion houses would pay even more. Bank loans usually paid for their shows, the money to be repaid by a certain time. So far they’d come out with a profit, such was the measure of their growing success.
Thoughts of work were always with them. As they sat together in a cinema one Saturday night their minds were elsewhere. It was only a matter of time before the next wave of new fashions descended on them. Already Julia was mentally preparing herself for the coming season’s styles.
Her mind more on the clothes than the film, a talkie called The Last of Mrs Cheyney, she whispered to Simon in the hushed auditorium, ‘I’m sure America’s ahead of us in dress.’ She was immediately shushed into silence, and glanced angrily at the shusher before turning back to gaze woodenly ahead.
She wasn’t all that interested in the film, despite the fine acting of Norma Shearer and Basil Rathbone, two of the most popular stars, whose voices now held audiences spellbound. Many silent film stars had not survived the move to ‘talkies’, their high, scratchy tones putting off the fans who had previously adored them.
With the arrival of talkies just under a year ago the atmosphere in the cinema had changed. It was often difficult to catch the rapid American accents, so it was necessary to keep one’s whole attention on the film. Consequently, the slightest cough, rustle of a sweet bag or the hiss of whispered conversation was a distraction. During silent films the place would have been full of open talk, crunching of peanut shells, shuffling feet and open comments about the film, with the audience even reading the captions aloud.
‘Styles are changing. I’m going to have to keep my eye on them.’ Julia risked another whisper and saw Simon nod his agreement in the pale glow from the screen, his eyes trained on the actors.
For the rest of the film, a stilted story without much movement to it, Julia’s mind churned over the changing trends in fashion. Bosoms were making a slow reappearance; the wildly gyrating dances popular a few years ago were now slower as dresses were becoming more ladylike and skirts lengthening. Belts were still at hip level but tops were now bloused, and hats had larger brims while still covering much of the face. Jewellery no longer dangled in long, garish strings and there was not a slave bangle to be seen. Everything was more elegant, the sleek, trading, figure-hugging evening dress becoming ever more de rigueur.
As they moved towards the closing years of the 1920s she felt the new decade would be totally different from this one. A sense of eagerness assailed her as she stared vacantly at the screen. Already there was a change in the air. She and Simon would be ready for it.
It wasn’t until they’d arrived back home that it came to her that the surge of eagerness she had experienced had temporarily pushed out all thoughts of marriage and babies. The realization made her look afresh at what she had now and what she’d achieved: this tastefully planned apartment, her wardrobe of lovely clothes, her expensive shoes, her jewellery, her beautifully manicured hands. And there was more: the inspiration that gripped her each time she entered her workroom, the exhilarating smell of new fine materials, the stimulating touch of tracing paper under her fingers. All this had become her life. Did she really want to give it all up? She couldn’t imagine life without it. Was she really cut out for marriage and babies? Would marriage now in fact make any difference to her and Simon’s lifestyle?
Suddenly she could not visualize herself bringing up a baby, nursing it, comforting it when it cried, bathing it, putting it to bed. With the money they now had she could afford a nursemaid and a nanny, but what would be the point? Perhaps Simon was right. Why worry him when they more or less had everything? No one could expect to have it all. She needed to learn to be content. She was a businesswoman. Babies and business just did not mix, she concluded sternly, and believed it.
* * *
Ginny burst into the cutting room. ‘Stephanie’s had her baby!’
Julia looked up from talking to Betty, still her number one cutter. But before she could speak, Ginny rushed on, her face alight with excitement.
‘She went into labour in the night. Edward’s just been on the phone. He wanted to speak to you but he couldn’t wait. He had to get back to her.’
The old surge of envy and strange emptiness ran through Julia. ‘Why weren’t we told earlier?’ she demanded as if Ginny were at fault.
Ginny didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Because it started in the early hours and she only had it around seven. It’s only nine o’clock now. Edward went in to see her afterwards and this is the first chance he’s had to phone us, I suppose.’
Julia steadied her thoughts and tried to forget the empty churning in her stomach. ‘I suppose so,’ she relented. ‘Did he say how she is? And the baby – what has she had?’
‘He said Stephanie and the baby are fine. She’s had a little boy, eight pounds.’
‘Aah!’ sighed Betty, laying her work aside for the moment. ‘Have they a name for him, bless his little soul?’
‘He never said,’ replied Ginny, looking across at her. ‘But he sounded over the moon.’
‘He would be,’ said Julia a little sharply but no one noticed as she went on, ‘Well, I’m glad there were no complications. We’ll have to go over there to see them when we can. But for the moment I’ve got to get on.’
Ginny went out, faintly disappointed that there hadn’t been as much excitement as she had expected.
Julia had meant to ask if their mother knew. She probably did. Ginny was the only one of her children living there with her now. She no longer went out to work, being more than well enough paid as a model, so it was Ginny who kept their mother company, cared for her, listened patiently to her complaints and no doubt dreamed of the day she and Robert could be married, when she would be free of it all.
Robert had proved to be a really charming, caring young man. Ginny was lucky and said so more often than she needed to. ‘I’m so very, very lucky! I can’t believe how lucky I am to have him. I can’t wait to be married.’
That would be next year, probably early spring, when she would be twenty-one. Julia already had it in mind to make hers the best wedding there ever was. She loved Ginny above both her other two siblings. A sweet and selfless girl like Ginny deserved nothing but the very best.
* * *
Stephanie named her second child Stephen Edward James. He was such a beautiful baby, so like his handsome father. Julia was asked to be his godmother, with one of Edward’s aunts as the other and Simon as his godfather. As she held the little scrap at the christening she found herself wondering who a child of hers might take after. If it were Simon, that would be perfect.
Her heart thudded with longing all over again as she held him, before handing him gently over to be baptized and receiving him back, whimpering in protest at the water on his little forehead. She felt her heart break that he wasn’t hers and drew in her breath with a huge trembling sigh.
‘Are you all right?’ Simon whispered as the mother took the baby for everyone to cro
on over. He was looking deep into her face but Julia smiled back at him.
‘Of course I’m all right,’ she said sharply, but later when they had returned home and sat together in their lounge listening to quiet music on the wireless, she said, ‘When you asked me if I was all right, I was in a way but I did suddenly wish little Stephen were mine.’
‘Mmm…’ was the quiet reply. Seconds later he leaped up from the settee and went over to their glass and chrome drinks cabinet.
‘Fancy another drink, darling?’ he called over his shoulder.
‘No, thanks,’ she said curtly as she studied her half empty brandy glass. ‘I’ve still got mine.’
‘Well, I’m having a top-up,’ he said brightly, dismissing the subject of babies. He came back to sit down beside her and began talking of their next show in just over a month’s time.
‘It’s coming along quite splendidly,’ he said, ‘don’t you think?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘You do such wonderful miracles with stuff. I don’t know how the business would have expanded so well without you, darling.’
‘No,’ she said.
‘I really do think this is going to be the big one, darling, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
* * *
The following March the Women’s Wear Exhibition was held in London. Julia had lost sleep worrying about competing with so many stands. She needn’t have done. Hers was proving far more popular with the public than she’d ever dared to hope.
Ginny was at the height of her beauty as she paraded in the shimmering sleeveless tops and equally shimmering pleated skirts that fell to just below the knee. Teamed with them she wore the new skull caps of silver and gold tissue that completely covered her ears and hid the whole of her short hair.