The Tailor's Girl

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Oh, I’m relieved to say he wasn’t injured beyond being dazed momentarily. We hadn’t seen him for years but we still had a pre-war suit of his that I could give him, as his own navy one was torn. I heard later from another client – a doctor – that he pulled up surprisingly well and was on his way home that evening.’

  ‘Well, that does sound like an unusual day.’ Edie was reminded of Tom’s navy suit, a daring colour she always loved him in.

  ‘Indeed. Especially as he was a returned officer who —’

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Fitch.’ A young man appeared, hovering behind him. ‘Your two o’clock appointment will be arriving half an hour earlier. Is that all right with you?’

  Fitch frowned, took out his fob and tutted again. ‘I suppose it must be. Sorry, ladies. Duty calls,’ Fitch said.

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Mademoiselle Delacroix.’ He gave a gallant nod to Madeleine before giving Edie’s arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘Good luck, Edie. I’ll watch your progress with fond interest.’

  The women made their way up Conduit Street, towards Regent Street and a bus to take them closer to home.

  ‘He could have asked us in to warm up,’ Madeleine complained.

  ‘Anderson & Sheppard is not a woman’s place, Mads. Savile Row isn’t either, but I’m glad you’ve seen it.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell a French person about discretion. It’s second nature to us because everyone’s having affairs!’ Madeleine said in a dry tone.

  ‘The tailoring shops of Savile Row are the old guard, but ultimately changes will come as younger blood arrives. Ready-to-wear is on our doorstep, Mads, which is why if I can get a few brides into the salon, I can start thinking about my first collection beyond bespoke. Buying ready-made clothes is the future.’

  _______________

  The family had gathered once more in the drawing room at Larksfell; Fern was noticeably absent, and Alex suspected she wasn’t yet ready to face the entire Wynter clan again when clearly something formal was afoot.

  Afternoon tea had been served and Elsie had just finished cutting a sugar-dusted jam sponge into slices.

  ‘Will that be all, Ma’am?’

  ‘Thank you, Elsie,’ Cecily said.

  Bramson remained at the far end of the room, away from the warmth of the fire but never so far that he couldn’t be the eyes and ears of the household that Cecily Wynter depended on . . . and always had.

  ‘So, Mother, what brings us back together so quickly and demands I rush up from London?’ Rupert said, adding a spoonful of sugar to his tea.

  ‘On such a cold Monday afternoon, no less,’ Dougie added.

  ‘Yes, really, Mother,’ Charlotte bleated. ‘Julian and I were hoping to spend a few days together.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darlings, but we have some rather startling news to share.’

  Her words were accompanied by groans.

  ‘Oh no,’ Charlotte said. ‘No more bad news, please.’

  ‘It’s good news, actually,’ Alex cut in, taking over the conversation as he shot a look of assurance to Pen, who was sitting as quietly as Bramson stood.

  ‘Are you paying us a new dividend or something, Lex? Spit it out,’ Rupert urged.

  Alex grinned. ‘No, old chap. We asked everyone here today to announce that I shall be getting married next spring.’

  Cups were clattered onto saucers, mouths opened and gasps were heard before all the Wynters began speaking at once.

  ‘You’re so recently back! How can you be announcing an engagement?’ Charlotte squealed.

  ‘Hurrah for that! It takes the heat off me!’ Rupert jested.

  Dougie, after his initial groan, said, ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Darlings, please,’ their mother appealed. ‘I’ll get one of my headaches.’

  ‘Who’s the lucky girl, brother?’ Rupert winked at Pen.

  ‘Well, you see, everyone . . . you all know her rather well.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ Dougie exclaimed. ‘Pen, can you shed any light on this? I’m afraid Alex is being deliberately obtuse.’

  Alex noticed that Pen didn’t quail beneath the Wynter stares that suddenly regarded her.

  ‘I can, as a matter of fact, Dougie. I happen to know the very happy girl extremely well,’ she said, helplessly smug. ‘It’s me.’

  Later, after the initial shock had worn off and the questions had adjusted to offers of congratulations, Rupert departed and Dougie was not far behind.

  Alex accompanied his middle brother to the door. ‘No problems with her being distantly related?’

  Dougie shook his head. ‘Keep it in the family, I say, but to be honest, Lex, I thought you were just being brotherly escorting Pen to various events. We all did, I suspect. It’s not as though you are . . . er, well, overly affectionate.’ Alex visibly inhaled at the soft rebuke. His brother gave a small laugh. ‘You’re full of surprises, Lex. But this is the best yet. You are sure, aren’t you?’

  ‘Pen’s a great girl.’

  ‘That sounds incredibly romantic,’ Dougie replied, unable to disguise the sarcasm. ‘I don’t know why I’m shocked. I’ve always known Pen had a desperate crush on you, but I thought she’d grown up.’

  ‘She has. I suppose the crush has changed to love.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not hearing love in your voice.’

  ‘Just be grateful you have it with Fern and don’t judge others. I’m doing my best, Dougie.’

  Bramson blinked as Alex returned to the drawing room and he had no idea what the gesture meant. Alex hoped it was approval.

  ‘Well, I’m glad that’s over,’ he said, refreshing his cup with a fresh pour from the pot.

  ‘You must allow for the shock, Lex,’ Charlotte soothed. ‘It’s odd, I won’t lie to you both, but I think you’re extremely well matched and I hope you are very happy,’ she added, taking Pen’s hand.

  ‘Well said, Charlie,’ Cecily said. ‘The boys will come around. Rupert can now officially be called the Wynter playboy and Dougie is just a fraction jealous. You’re a catch, Pen dear. No two ways about it. Alex is a lucky fellow.’

  ‘So . . . your dress!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘Your gown will be the talk of the south.’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ she admitted. ‘Only child, only daughter – it’s going to be a big one, Lex. I’m sorry, Aunt Cecily. I know you prefer more low-key affairs.’

  ‘Nonsense, darling. This is going to be the biggest day of your life and your mother is perfectly entitled to make it as loud as she chooses.’

  ‘Pen, I don’t think I could bear the full-on society wedding . . .’ Lex began.

  ‘You may have to,’ Pen said with apology. ‘I did give you an opportunity to marry me on Brighton Pier but you turned me down. So grit your teeth and bear it. I promise beyond the wedding I shall never put you through any more pomp . . . not even for the christening of our children, which I’ll be very glad to hold in the Wynter chapel.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ Charlie warned. ‘I want to know about your gown. White, of course.’

  ‘I thought ivory, actually,’ Pen said.

  ‘I saw in the weekend paper that House of Ainsworth has released a daring new range of designs for next spring,’ Cecily noted.

  ‘Oh, I saw those too. Very exciting,’ Charlie gushed. ‘You must go there.’

  Pen shrugged. ‘I’m not planning to, actually. You know I’m Nicola Fincham’s number one for her wedding?’

  Alex looked bored already and threw a look of plea to Bramson to rescue him. ‘I refuse to talk matrons-of-honour and bridesmaids’ fluffery.’

  ‘Fluffery? Is that a word, darling?’ his mother baited.

  ‘Er . . . Mr Alex, could I have a word with you, please?’ Bramson said, taking the hint. ‘Forgive me for interrupting.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alex replied gratefully, swallowing his tea. ‘Excuse me, Mother. I won’t be long.’

  The women barely noticed him leave.

  ‘Go on,’ his sister
said, eager to hear more.

  ‘Good heavens, Charlie,’ Cecily said. ‘I’ve never known you to take an ounce of interest in clothes, let alone bridal wear. Should we expect wedding bells from you and Julian soon?’

  Charlie blushed and Pen gave a squeal. ‘Really?’

  ‘You and Alex stole my thunder,’ she admitted.

  ‘Oh, darling!’ Cecily said, reaching for her daughter. ‘How exciting. I’m thrilled for you.’

  ‘Julian’s in a bit of a rush, I have to say, so I’m quite pleased you two have got in the way. I can slow things down. I do want to say yes to him, and Father did like Julian, didn’t he?’

  Her mother nodded. ‘Very much so. And I do too. I approve without reservation, so whenever you’re ready, you give that fine young man of yours an answer.’

  ‘Thanks. I was going to speak to Lex about it soon. Anyway, Pen, don’t think I’m cross because I’m relieved. But I am interested in your thoughts about the gown. Will you help me?’

  ‘Only if you’ll be in my bridal party. I want a Wynter on both sides!’

  Charlie grinned. ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Well, anyway, Nicola originally visited a rather amazing new salon that’s opened in Chelsea, called Valentine’s. Not only is the salon frightfully daring, the owner – Eden Valentine – is stunning and her sketches are breathtakingly original. Everything we look at in the American or French magazines she’s already channelling, but better.’

  Her listeners looked impressed.

  ‘Then why are they now using House of Ainsworth for the bridal party?’ Cecily wondered.

  ‘Beats me, but I’m going to stick with Eden Valentine. I think she’s fabulous and her model could make a bag of rags look spectacular. I shall definitely be dressed by them.’

  ‘Well done, Pen. Then I will too,’ Charlie said. ‘She sounds exciting.’

  ‘As we’ve ruined your few days with Julian, do you fancy coming up to London with me and we can meet her?’

  ‘Yes, you two. Away to London. You can stay at the Belgravia apartment if you need, Charlie.’

  ‘Perfect, Mother. We can walk to the salon, no doubt?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Pen said. ‘I may use the telephone now and make an appointment.’

  Alex strolled back in. ‘Oh, you’re not still talking about satin and lace, are you?’

  ‘Just finished,’ Pen said. ‘Will you drive us up to London tomorrow, Lex?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. I need to see my own tailor, anyway. Time to get that spring wardrobe sorted.’

  ‘And a Morning Grey for the wedding, darling,’ Pen reminded.

  _______________

  Although they were as close as sisters these days, Edie and Madeleine had opted not to share their accommodation, even though it made sense. Edie had offered to look for a three-bedroom apartment but Madeleine had been wise enough to point out that such an arrangement had the potential to fast become a thorn in Edie’s side.

  ‘I stay up late, I smoke, drink champagne when I can afford to and I like entertaining men when the mood takes me. And I play jazz very loudly on the gramophone while we enjoy each other. I like to walk around in my dressing gown; better still, naked.’ She’d smiled lazily at her friend. ‘I’ve lived alone for too long, cherie. I love you, I love Tommy, but I live by a set of my own rules that are not ideal for raising a child.’

  So while Madeleine had moved into a rented apartment at Thurloe Square in South Kensington, Edie had made her home in a tiny two-bedroom flat in Flood Street, Chelsea, that she was able to buy. It was so convenient for her salon, she could cut down into the Kings Road via the embankment and at the end of the street was The Coopers Arms, where she and Madeleine could share a meal when they were too tired to cook. Or if Edie was missing her cottage garden in Epping, she could spend a happy hour in the Chelsea Physic Garden at the end of her street, and Tommy had somewhere to play.

  A lady from the neighbourhood whom Edie had spent time finding and interviewing was a retired teacher who was happy to earn some shillings, and between her and Tilda, the two provided all the grandmotherly love that Tommy could want. Mrs Miller had Tommy for a few hours most days and Eden took Mondays off to be at home just for her little boy and Wednesday afternoons when she did her chores with Tommy in tow. The fourteen-month-old was thriving in the care of several women and soon would be ready for nursery school.

  Buses plied the busy King’s Road but Edie preferred to walk it, passing by its shops, getting a feeling for the streets and the people moving through them and what they wore.

  Madeleine usually opened up, as Edie was rarely in before quarter past ten, after settling Tommy with Mrs Miller. Madeleine walked into the ‘wardrobe’, as they called it, to view the gown that Eden had been working on. Eden had kept a cloak of secrecy around it, even from Madeleine. She was apparently frightened of seeing looks of disapproval as she took an even more daring path.

  And as the French model unbuttoned the soft cotton bag that protected the fragile gown and watched it fall away, she gave a soft gasp of pleasure.

  It was exquisite. Flying in the face of the trend towards shorter hemlines, Edie had dropped the length back down to the ankles of the mannequin upon which she’d hung it. Madeleine knew it had been made to her height and sizing, and also instinctively recognised that this was her friend’s most inspired creation to date.

  She remembered Edie’s words after the Fincham fiasco: ‘I think a bride in a short dress, no matter how young she may be, appears somehow undignified. For a start, the length becomes immediately unbalanced with a veil and train.’

  And here was the result. Madeleine caressed the gently drop-waisted dress in the softest of organza and ecru crepe de Chine, with its elaborate embroidery at its base studded with pearls. Sleeves of gossamer Duchesse Brussels lace gave the gown a sense of the provocative without any vulgarity. The flesh of this bride would be seen, but sheathed. ‘Oh, Eden, you are a sorceress with the needle,’ Madeleine whispered. ‘No woman could resist this.’

  The phone rang and Madeleine glanced at her watch. It wasn’t even nine-thirty yet. She ducked out of the wardrobe and back to the office.

  ‘Valentine’s, this is Madeleine?’

  ‘Oh, good morning, Madeleine. I don’t know if you remember me but my name is Penelope Aubrey-Finch and I came into the salon with Miss Fincham.’

  Madeleine hesitated as she took her mind back to the warring Finchams.

  ‘Ah, yes, I modelled the bridal and bridesmaids’ gowns for your party,’ she said, taking care to keep all bitterness from her tone. ‘I do hope you are not enquiring after Miss Valentine’s sketches . . . they curiously went missing.’ She let the accusation hang.

  ‘I saw the newspaper feature. I did wonder about the gown and whether it really did belong to House of Ainsworth. I’m so sorry at what must have occurred.’

  Madeleine sensibly hesitated in responding, suddenly curious but also vaguely embarrassed.

  ‘You see, I am getting married too . . . er, we’re in a hurry. Oh, dear, that sounds terrible. I’ve just loved this man since we were children and finally he’s noticed me and I refuse to give him a chance to change his mind!’

  Madeleine smiled, her heart warming to Miss Aubrey-Finch. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. I’m so happy I think I could just explode.’

  Madeleine chuckled. ‘How can Valentine’s help you, Miss Aubrey-Finch?’ she said, although she could now guess.

  ‘Well, I adored Miss Valentine. I adored her salon and her sketches, and the gowns we viewed were the most exciting designs I’ve ever seen. I want to ask her to make my bridal gown and my bridal party’s gowns.’

  Madeleine’s breath caught.

  ‘I also want to know if Miss Valentine would consider making a new wardrobe for me. You see, I could tell she’s a woman of immense style. I wanted to rip that gorgeous tweed suit right off her and claim it as my own,’ Pen said and chuckled. ‘You must think I’m
mad, sorry. I’m intoxicated by happiness. It will settle.’

  ‘I don’t think you are mad at all. Eden Valentine is my friend but in spite of my bias, I believe she is going to create a storm of interest.’

  ‘Oh, so do I! And I want to be one of her first brides.’

  ‘You would be her very first, Miss Aubrey-Finch.’

  ‘All the better. And I want to get her name moving in the right circles if I can lend any assistance.’

  ‘Zut, alors!’

  The client chuckled. ‘I did some of my schooling in Paris, Madeleine,’ she said in flawless but still conversational French.

  Madeleine appreciated hearing her own language and used it to speak candidly to her new client. ‘Thank you for bringing your business to Valentine’s, Miss Aubrey-Finch. I would be lying if I said we have been anything but glum since the sketches were discovered missing and published under another design house’s name. But Eden is choosing to leap over the obstacle and start again. Forgive me, but it was easier to make such an exclamation aloud in French.’

  ‘I understand,’ Pen continued, then shifted back to English. ‘Gosh. She’s a saint.’

  Madeleine returned to her adopted language. ‘What she is, is immensely talented and if what she’s replaced her signature gown with is anything to go by, I believe Eden is going to emerge with an even stronger look. I think she would be delighted to dress you for your honeymoon and beyond.’

  ‘You’ve made me very excited and I desperately want to see the new design now!’

  Madeleine smiled. ‘Are you in London, Miss Aubrey-Finch?’

  ‘I will be tomorrow. May I come into the salon the day after?’

  ‘Of course. Shall we say eleven a.m. on Thursday, then?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Are you accompanied by anyone?’

  ‘Yes, a Miss Charlotte Wynter. She’s to be my head bridesmaid.’

  ‘Excellent. And your mother?’

  ‘No. I’ll be making my own decision about my gown, Madeleine. Mummy can see it at the first fitting.’

  Madeleine smiled to herself and cheered inwardly at the good news awaiting Eden. ‘We shall look forward to seeing you on Thursday – à bientôt.’