The Tailor's Girl

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘See you outside in half an hour, then.’

  Within moments he had wrapped his scarf around his neck again and was dashing back down to the lobby.

  ‘Oh, Mr Wynter, there’s a gentleman —’

  ‘Back soon, Henry. Six at the latest,’ he called to the frowning concierge and was closing the door on the cab and giving the driver the address. ‘Can we make it in half an hour?’

  ‘Easy,’ the driver said and pulled away from the kerb.

  _______________

  With Sarah’s help Madeleine had not only been able to return to the bank and deposit the Aubrey-Finch cheque, but they had readied the collection for their client tomorrow and set up appointments for other bridal parties who had heard ‘on the Chelsea wireless’ – as Edie liked to call it – about the Aubrey-Finch choice of salon. They’d shifted furniture around in the salon and Sarah had done two of her fabric sculptures, which impressed.

  ‘I have to say, Sarah, those look somehow lazily chic.’

  The new assistant smiled. ‘Do you think Miss Valentine will like it, though?’

  ‘Oh, she’ll love it. She’ll be mostly impressed that you showed some initiative and daring. They’d make me want to use those fabrics for my gown.’

  ‘I’m all for practicality, Miss Delacroix.’

  Madeleine nodded. ‘Good first day. Off you go, Sarah. It’s freezing out there, and you’ve got a bit of a journey . . . to Lambeth, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘My family’s house is just off Clapham Common.’

  ‘All the more reason to be on your way. Hang your uniform up. It’s best not to wear it home.’

  Sarah went to the back room to change, and Madeleine turned on the small lights in the window that was dressed to present two vastly different bridal gowns. One spoke to the modern woman with a shorter mid-calf length, and was narrow and loose. The other dress was ankle-length and featured a richly adorned Belgian lace of a more traditional shape, with a bodice nipping in at the waist. Both beautiful, both costing more than Sarah’s income for several months, but a mere splash to the well-heeled women who passed this window and lived in Knightsbridge.

  Madeleine thought about Penelope Aubrey-Finch and smiled to herself, reflecting on the dashing Mr Wynter. What a handsome couple they made.

  Sarah emerged from the back room in her heavy plaid coat, carrying her umbrella, hat pulled low and pulling on thick gloves. ‘See you tomorrow. I loved my first day.’

  ‘Bon,’ Madeleine said. ‘And it loved you,’ she added, turning away from the main window.

  ‘Mr Wynter commented on the window. He used the word “delectable”.’

  ‘That’s what we like to hear. What else did he remark on? It’s not often we get treated to a man’s opinion.’

  Sarah recounted his words.

  ‘Funny, he struck me as a little hesitant about the wedding.’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I couldn’t breathe he was so handsome!’ she said, blushing, and then burst into laughter.

  ‘He is certainly that,’ Madeleine agreed. ‘Right, get your umbrella up.’

  Sarah moved to the door but paused before opening it. ‘He did ask me about the name of the salon. I mean, where it comes from. I think he said something like, did Miss Valentine have any connection to . . . oh, wait, what was that name?’ She frowned. ‘Ah, that’s right, he asked if she was connected to an Abraham Valentine.’

  Madeleine nodded. ‘That was Eden’s father.’

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘Why would you? Anyway, it is of no consequence. He was a tailor —’

  ‘That’s right. He did mention that he was trying to hunt down a suit that was made by Abraham Valentine.’

  ‘A suit?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘Odd. I’ll ask Eden,’ Madeleine said dryly.

  Madeleine followed Sarah out of the salon, feeling a lot brighter for being busy but still seduced by the thought of a bowl of steaming chicken soup. She was sure she could remember the few ingredients, and she’d surprise her friend with a meal, some company and then she was definitely going home for an early night.

  _______________

  Nancy was waiting at the hospital steps when the car pulled up. She grinned and waved as Alex stepped out to hold the door open for her.

  ‘Oh, my word, this feels so fancy,’ she said.

  Alex took her hand before helping her into the taxi.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Wynter.’

  ‘Please call me Alex. You’ve bathed me, after all.’ Nancy giggled with delight and pretended to look coy. ‘We’re at your command, Miss Nancy,’ he continued. ‘Tell our driver where you wish to go.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sat forward and gave an address. ‘How are you then, Alex? You’re looking fine.’

  ‘I am well,’ he nodded. ‘I am,’ he said as though trying to convince himself. ‘And you?’

  ‘Oh, overworked, underpaid, picked on by Matron – you know how it is. But,’ she let out a sigh, ‘I love my work.’

  He nodded. ‘The patients are lucky to have you. And thank you very much for agreeing to this.’

  ‘Who else gets to ride home after a long shift in a swanky taxi? So go on, then, what’s the burning question?’

  Alex immediately became intense. ‘It’s a crazy question, I know, but I keep having a repetitive dream . . . it’s actually more of a notion, Nancy, because it’s a sound more than an image.’

  She frowned, nodded for him to continue.

  ‘I hear heels, a woman’s heels, and they’re walking away from me. It’s connected with the hospital.’

  She looked baffled. ‘Well, no one wears heels on the staff, obviously. Only visitors, and the visitors to your ward were few and far between. There were four of you. Three of the fellows were found by loved ones quite quickly. Perhaps it’s someone to do with one of those families? Although, now I recall, each of those boys was discovered by their fathers and one by both parents. The mother was older, and unlikely to be wearing higher-heeled shoes.’

  He sighed out of his nose in soft anguish. It felt like another door slamming in his face. He only had one more door that was open to him. Alex took a slow, inaudible breath this time – it was the last chance.

  ‘All right, Nancy. I said I had a couple of questions. Here’s the final one and then I promise I’ll let the matter drop.’

  ‘You look like you have a good life, Alex, and lots of men came home to sad lives, to learn loved ones had died, or they were too wounded to live full lives.’

  He pushed on, despite her obvious warning that she felt he shouldn’t be dwelling any further on this matter. ‘I discovered that a tailor by the name of Abraham Valentine made suits for the hospital director who would have been in charge of Edmonton at the time I was a patient.’

  She nodded. ‘And?’

  ‘We believe the suit I was wearing when I remembered my real name had an Abraham Valentine label in it.’

  Nancy bit her lip. ‘So how does this help you? What are you trying to find out?’

  ‘Well, firstly, can you recall whether the suit you gave me was made by that tailor?’

  She shook her head, smiling faintly. ‘No. Nothing so fancy. If the head of the hospital wore a suit by that tailor, I can assure you Archie Blundell, who wore it before you, certainly didn’t go to the same tailor. The suit I gave you was worn, patched in places, and really very low quality.’ She smiled wider. ‘But you managed to make it look extremely dashing.’

  Alex frowned. ‘You’re sure of that? The patches?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The suit I’m referring to had no patches. It was navy in colour and was a high-quality cloth.’

  Nancy shrugged. ‘Definitely not the same one, then. Does this help you?’

  ‘I don’t know. It means I acquired a new suit. Unfortunately Abraham Valentine is dead.’

  ‘Well, his daughter is probably still alive. She used to deliver the suits to the hospita
l. Why don’t you track her down? You’ve got money and connections. I’m sure she can be found easily enough and would be happy to help a war veteran. You probably don’t recall this, but you and I discussed her brother, who died at Ypres.’

  ‘Did we?’

  ‘Yes. I mentioned it once because she walked past the garden outside your window, and I think she returned the same day of the party to drop off his suit. Yes, she did. I saw her talking to Matron.’ She glanced past his shoulder, dipping slightly to look out and gauge where they were. ‘You take a left once over the bridge, please, driver, and then it’s first right.’

  ‘Certainly, Miss,’ he said over his shoulder.

  She sat back and smiled at Alex. ‘Thank you for this. Would have been a damp journey home for me. I didn’t bother with the errands. This way I got a longer drive in your fancy car.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, a loose thought nagging.

  ‘Yes, right just here, please,’ Nancy said. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help. I’d like to think of you being very happy, though, with your new bride, and maybe you can put the war and its troubles behind you.’ She patted his arm and there was something achingly familiar about the gesture. He had a flash of Nancy giving him a cheer-up smile, and dressed in an identical uniform. Suddenly he could smell coal-tar soap and the notion of a tarnished mirror struck him, the sound of heels clicking away and the glint of a coin . . . a robin warbling and party bunting being strung up around the hospital, along a short pathway that led to a privet hedge.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said, brightly. ‘It’s number five, just by the green door.’ She looked up at the darkened sky and the drizzle that had become insistent before turning back to Alex. ‘Don’t get out. You’ll only get wet. Be safe, Alex . . . and, just as important, be happy.’

  She turned and opened the door to step out onto the kerb but Alex suddenly grabbed her arm. ‘Nancy, wait!’

  She paused. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You said the only delivery people on the day of my disappearance were the grocery boy and a physician, didn’t you?’

  She frowned. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But now you’ve mentioned that the tailor’s daughter was there too.’

  ‘She was. That’s right. She remarked on all the lovely decorations but wouldn’t stay for the celebrations.’

  ‘Nancy . . . did the tailor’s daughter wear heels?’

  She laughed. ‘Yes. Always immaculately dressed too, she was. She was terribly pretty. Small, dark, lovely figure – and the clothes! She made them herself, I gather. Quite a fashion horse.’ Nancy flipped up her umbrella and as she dashed away he heard her say ‘Bye, Alex!’ He watched her skip up the short path and disappear behind her green door.

  Alex hadn’t heard a word she’d said since she’d admitted that Abraham Valentine’s daughter wore heels and wished now he’d asked Nan if she knew her name. He heard the taxi driver asking him whether he was to head back into London and he realised it was getting dark and late.

  ‘Yes, please, back to St James’s,’ he replied and even shared a grumble at the weather, but Alex didn’t register much at all other than his racing thoughts and a new conviction that the tailor’s girl might hold the key to his past.

  Questions collided until his head hurt. He had to find her! And given that Valentine was an unusual name, perhaps Pen’s bridal salon owner might be a relative or may be able to point him in the right direction.

  He took out the red handkerchief and stared yet again at the heart-shaped hole cut in its middle. Alex didn’t know the driver was watching from his rear-vision mirror.

  ‘From your valentine, Sir?’

  And Alex’s heart felt as though it skipped a beat.

  29

  Edie’s guilt had been escalating since she’d dragged herself from bed mid-morning and finally taken a shower. As soon as she’d emerged from the steam her head felt clearer and the nausea had settled. But now as it closed on four in the afternoon she felt remorseful at having put Miss Aubrey-Finch’s appointment back and regretted that Sarah had spent her first day alone with Madeleine. Edie stared out into the gloom and then back to Tommy, who was playing with wooden bricks . . . or at least with the cardboard box that contained them. A drift of loneliness had swum through her at the sight of the toy that had formerly been Daniel’s, turning her mood from optimistic of the previous evening to fractionally melancholy. In spite of her anger at Ben, it didn’t reduce her sorrow at cutting ties with a childhood companion.

  ‘Shall we go to the park, Tommy?’ she offered, even though it was darkening rapidly; they could be quick and she could use some fresh air.

  ‘Park,’ he repeated and blew her a kiss. Her son’s sweetness was just what was needed to remind her she had plenty of love and affection in her life.

  The phone rang. ‘Go find your woolly scarf, Tommy. The blue one, like this,’ she said, pointing to her cardigan. ‘Blue. And your gloves,’ she said, mimicking pulling them on. Her little boy lurched off eagerly on surprisingly steady legs. He was defying all the warnings about a premature baby’s development. Soon he’d be running, she thought, and instead of exciting her, it made her even more gloomy. Don’t grow up and leave me too soon, Tommy . . .

  She reached for the jangling receiver. ‘Eden Valentine?’

  ‘Oh, hello, Eden. Forgive me for disturbing you at home when I know you haven’t been well today.’ She recognised Penelope Aubrey-Finch’s bright voice, full of concern.

  ‘Hello, Miss Aubrey-Finch.’

  ‘Oh, do call me Pen, please.’

  Eden smiled. She wondered if every person who met this girl fell in love with her. ‘Sorry . . . Pen. Is something wrong?’

  ‘Not at all. I was just making sure you are well enough and I didn’t want you getting out of a sick bed just for me. You see, I want to invite you out to lunch at The Savoy, tomorrow, where chef Monsieur Escoffier will make you believe you’ve arrived in heaven. I’m having a get-together with a few friends – all on the brink of tying the knot and potentially new grist for your mill . . . if you get my drift.’ She gave an intoxicating chuckle that reached down the line to fully dismiss Edie’s glum mood. ‘I am frankly tired of choosing flowers to adorn every room, and my mother’s fussing over the menu or the gilt on the invitations!’

  Edie smiled. ‘Wedding blues?’

  ‘I just want it to be over and done with.’

  ‘Oh, surely not?’

  ‘I do, Eden. Really. I don’t require any of this ritual and fuss. Don’t misunderstand me. I love my gown and I am having fun with certain aspects – especially Valentine’s – but I can’t bear the way this event is consuming my mother. It’s just a lot of bother when I would be happy to say “I do” in a tiny church in Scotland or Devon and elope.’ She gave a small gasp. ‘Oh, now I wish I’d thought of that earlier! We could have run off to Paris together.’

  ‘That does sound romantic.’

  ‘It does, doesn’t it. Alex came by the salon today to drop off the cheque. I’m sorry you missed him. I would so love for you to have met.’

  ‘Oh, now I’m sorry too. He sounds like the perfect Prince Charming.’

  ‘He is. He is my dream come true, Eden.’

  Edie blinked. ‘You sound a bit sad when you say that.’

  ‘Do I? Yes, I suppose I do. Alex is a bit distracted at the moment. I think all the planning is wearing him down too.’

  ‘Do try and stay bright, Pen. No doubt his own family is fussing also.’

  ‘Oh, they are. Well, his mother is. She and Mother are obsessed with the guest list. I hate it all.’

  ‘Society weddings are hard work, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’ll bet your wedding was far more fun and less frantic.’

  Edie smiled to herself in soft, sad memory. ‘It was the happiest day of my life. As you love Mr Wynter, I loved Tom. I still do.’

  ‘I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. Now you sound sad.’

  ‘It’s an old hurt. I k
now how to put it back in its box and lock it away. I think you should let the wedding excitement wash around you and worry about only what you can control.’

  ‘My wardrobe.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Eden laughed. ‘You are going to make Mr Wynter’s eyes pop when he sees you arrive at his side, I promise. What’s more, I’ve been drawing some designs for your wedding-night trousseau . . .’

  Pen gave a short squeak. ‘Oh, gosh, I hadn’t even thought about that yet.’

  ‘Well . . . lucky for you, then, that I have. You’re going to love what I have in mind. But don’t ask me to explain lace that is almost not there. Maybe that’s an excuse for another trip to London.’

  ‘I can’t wait. You see, you always manage to excite me, Eden.’

  ‘And you have cheered me too.’

  Tommy walked up, trailing his blue scarf and gloves. ‘Park,’ he called.

  ‘Is that your little boy?’ Pen asked.

  ‘Yes. I promised Tommy a quick play in the park. We’ve both been cooped up for most of the day and I’m sure I’ll feel brighter for a walk.’

  ‘I won’t keep you, then. So you will join me for lunch? I want to show you off, my new and dear friend. And I’m sure my husband will want to kiss you once he sees me on our wedding night in your whisper-quiet outfit.’

  ‘Gossamer,’ Edie murmured. ‘Thanks for your invitation – I’d love to join you.’

  ‘Perfect! I'll pick you up at the salon at midday. Wear that darling red tie of yours.’

  ‘Oh, no, I’ll have to think of something far more theatrical.’

  The women shared a laugh and another farewell before Edie put the phone down, and as she did so, Madeleine let herself in through the front door. ‘Hope you didn’t mind me taking the spare key. I only did so in case you called and I had to make a dash back to you lying prone in the bathroom.’

  ‘Hello, Mads.’

  ‘Well, you look perky.’

  ‘Sorry about today. All go well? Can you hand me Tommy’s duffel coat – we’re just off to the park for a few minutes.’