Island of Secrets

by Karen Abbott

  Her portfolio was duly returned, with no note of thanks or apology. Gini shrugged it off. She had it back and that was what mattered.

  Louise and Simone, two of Gini’s College friends, leapt at the chance to spend the summer working on the island, content to lend their skills for the price of their board and lodgings, plus commission on items sold, knowing that, if the shop were a success, which they were sure it would be, Gini would reward their labour. It would be good to have them as part of her team, since she already knew their strengths and assets. And she would enjoy their company. They had had some good times together.

  Louise was a steady worker, perfectly capable of faithfully painting in Gini’s designs or adding appliqué work. Simone was more adventurous and had her own flair in design. Gini knew that eventually Simone would move on—but she would be an asset as long as she stayed.

  There was no shortage of outbuildings on the home site. While work progressed quickly at the shop, two cool store-rooms attached to the house were transformed into a cutting and sewing room and a former sluice-room became the tie-dye and painting room.

  Two second-hand sewing machines, four cheap fold-away trestle-tables, dress-racks and a number of mesh containers were purchased and installed, along with scissors, boxes of sewing thread, dyes and paintbrushes. By the time Louise and Simone arrived, all was ready for work to start on the manufacturing of clothes.

  Many of Gini’s designs included wrap-around skirts of varying lengths. These were swiftly cut out and sewn, ready for the hand-finished touches that gave them their individuality. Some were given hand-painted designs. Others had stencilled designs or embroidery and appliquéd patterns. Sometimes in toning colours and sometimes in bold contrast.

  Marie and Christi helped with the machine-sewing and some of the hand-sewing after Gini or Simone had marked out the designs. They worked swiftly in the cool of the evening, delighted to be part of Gini’s venture and rejoiced to see the mesh containers fill with the completed garments. Once ironed, they were hung onto the dress-racks, waiting to be transported to the shop as soon as it was ready.

  Gini had decided to simply use her own name as the shop name and the clothes’ logo. She sighed with contentment as the first labels were hand-sewn into the garments that she had designed and followed through to their final stage.

  It wasn’t all work, though. When work was finished, Gini, Louise and Simone joined the groups of young people who met in the various clubs and cafés around the island and quickly formed their own friendships.

  The night air was alive. Sounds of music spilled out onto the streets and the many pavement cafés. The close proximity of the sea and the heady scent of mimosa that flourished freely in the island’s hot climate, added its own enchantment to the atmosphere. Moonlit strolls along the sea-shore were a welcome diversion from the work-filled days.

  Gini invariably ended most evenings with Hugo and Louise with Dominic, another of the surfing friends. Simone preferred to remain freelance. Gini smiled at her friend’s, “Why limit yourself to one, when there’s all these gorgeous hunks around?”

  Why, indeed? Yet, Hugo was becoming more and more special to her. They strolled along the warm-sandy beaches or along the stone sea-walls; they let the music of the sea wrap its symphony of magic around them; they kissed gently under its spell. But they never talked of the future, apart from the dreams of Gini’s shop. It was better that way, Gini kept assuring herself. She didn’t want commitment. She didn’t want hear fabled tales of love. Not when they turned out to be mere fantasies in the bright light of day.

  The sun chased away the idyllic aura of the nights. Their days were completely dominated by the progress of their preparations for the planned opening of the dress shop. Everything was going so well.

  “What about accessories?” Christi asked Gini one day, as the baskets and racks of garments multiplied steadily.

  “Solange Roux, a friend who lives near Saintes, is seeing to that side of it for me. She has seen my drawings and knows exactly what I’m after. We worked together on a project at college. She’s going to buy the materials and make them up locally. She had already set up a small factory and she was glad of the commission. She’s already employing three girls, so this will help them get on their feet. She specialises in ethnic crafts, such as bags of all shapes, sizes and materials; scarves and belts. She is in contact with another ex-student who does hand-crafted brooches, necklaces, hair-ornaments and so on. And I’ve been in touch with a married couple in St. Pierre who work in wood and shell-crafts. They’ve agreed to supply ornaments, picture frames, boxes etc. on a commission basis. They will use their own trade name and it will spread their area of sales, so they’re keen to do it.”

  “You don’t dilly-dally, do you?” Christi said in admiration. “I have to keep pinching myself to make sure it’s really happening.”

  Gini laughed. “So do I. I keep thinking I’ll waken up and find that it’s all been a dream.”

  It wasn’t a dream.

  The opening day was set and the days seemed to hurtle towards it. Christi had run-off loads of posters on the computer, which Hugo and friends pasted throughout the island; and press-notices for the island newspaper were commissioned.

  Two days before the opening, Jacques helped them to transport all the stock to the shop, where the clothes were displayed on racks and other items on shelves or stands.

  Gini was thrilled to see the small imitation thatched-roof coverings over some of the racks, a suggestion from Hugo, already in place.

  “Oh! He’s done them! But, how did he get them in here? They weren’t here last night.”

  Jacques followed her glance and smiled conspiratorially.

  “He wanted to surprise you. I lent him my key. I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not. It’s a lovely surprise. What a difference they make! They make the rough-wooden stands seem more complete, don’t they?”

  Chattering excitedly, they hung garments on the racks; pinned some dresses to the wall to display the hand-painted, appliquéd or embroidered designs, with appropriate scarves, jewellery and bags arranged nearby. She also arranged a few items in the large front window. Once the shop was opened, two or three racks of assorted clothes would stand outside, to attract attention. The wide doorway, with a curtain of bamboo that could be looped to one side if she wished, made an attractive entrance and she hoped it would encourage prospective customers to step inside to see more.

  It took the two days to finalise the displays and by early evening Gini declared that everything that could be done, had been done. She looked around in satisfaction.

  “Come on, folk. We’ve done enough. Let’s lock up, get something to eat and enjoy ourselves. The boys will be along soon.”

  They spent the evening celebrating the end of all the hard work of preparation. Gini was full of nervous excitement. Her dream of her own shop was about to become a reality. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  The sun was already hot when Gini awoke. Filled with anticipation, she showered and dressed, choosing a simple cream fitted dress as a contrast to the colourful garments in the shop. She fastened back her hair and put on a minimum amount of light make-up. A croissant and a cup of coffee was all she could manage to eat for breakfast.

  “I’ll be glad when today’s over,” she confessed. “Everything has gone so well, I keep thinking something will go wrong.”

  “It won’t,” Christi declared staunchly. “You’ve organised everything to perfection. It’s going to be a wonderful day for you.”

  Gini had decided to open at nine-thirty. She was very nervous. What if nobody came? What if nobody bought a single thing? She would feel so foolish! She shouldn’t have let Hugo tell the local newspaper.

  She wiped her hands down the side of her dress. Had her watch stopped? Surely it had been nine-twenty-five ten minutes ago?

  She checked the racks of clothes. Had they made too many of some designs? Hopefully, by the end of t
he day there would be spaces there—and a full till. By the side of the till was a stack of dark blue plastic bags with ‘Gini ‘ written across in white letters.

  Everything was ready.

  She paced back and forth. Maybe if she opened a few minutes early, she might catch a few unwary passers-by on their way to book a sea-trip?

  She did a double take as she passed the window.

  Heavens! Was that a crowd outside? Well, a dozen or more, at least.

  A lump arose in her throat. People were queuing to be the first in her shop! It must be time!

  She swallowed hard, wiped her hands once more and stepped forward to open the door. She was in business!

  It was an exciting day. Her family couldn’t all be there at the same time but some of them were there throughout the day, toasting her success in glasses of champagne that her father had surprised her with.

  Her mother was full of maternal admiration and had encouraged many of her friends to make a visit. Gini tucked all of their comments into a corner of her mind to ponder over later when everything had calmed down. There wasn’t much there for their age-group yet and Gini realised that they too wanted modern, easy-care clothes for summer. There was no reason why they couldn’t be catered for, with styles a little less flamboyant.

  A local reporter was there to take photographs and to make sure his write-up was correct. Gini made sure her helpers shared the limelight, though Hugo managed to evade too much attention.

  “No-one wants to see my ugly mug,” he grinned. “It’s your day, Gini. Make the most of it.”

  A sudden hand upon her shoulder made her turn round.

  It was Vincent Depetrine.

  “Your invitation to the opening must have been delayed in the post,” he smiled, drawing her closer than she felt fitting. “I knew you wouldn’t want me to miss your big day.”

  Her reply to the negative was lost as the photographer called their attention.

  “Smile, please!”

  The light flashed and the moment captured.

  Gini shrugged herself free. “I doubt if I would have missed you, Vincent. What are you doing here?”

  “As I said, to share your big moment, of course. Congratulations. You seem to have thrown it together in double quick time. You must come to our opening next week. But don’t worry. I doubt if you’ll lose any of your customers to me. We are aiming for quite a different clientèle.”

  Gini smiled coldly. “I’m sure you are. But don’t rest on your laurels. I am already planning a collection for next season.”

  Vincent raised an eyebrow.

  “Thank you for warning me.”

  He raised his glass of champagne in mock salute.

  “Every success to the better of us! I might still have a job for you when all this lot has gone.”

  Gini was conscious of people taking an interest in their conversation.

  “Don’t hold your breath! Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

  She turned away, feeling a shadow had come over the day, but determined to shake it off.

  “Who was that?” Hugo asked, as he sauntered over to her.

  “Vincent Depetrine. You know, the one who wanted me to manage his boutique after stealing my ideas.”

  Hugo watched Vincent thread his way to the door, through the crowded shop.

  “Is he likely to find you to be too much competition?”

  Gini shrugged.

  “Not this year. But he’d better watch out in future years. I’m enjoying this … but I still intend to get into the high-class couture business.”

  Hugo grinned. “I know which of you I’ll lay my money on!”

  Gini appreciated his encouragement. Her mood lightened. Vincent had left and the till was ringing up a number of sales. Her shop was up and running and promised to be the success she had hoped for.

  Chapter 6

  During the next few days, Gini worked out a rota so that they all would have time in the shop, as well as producing the garments. In that way, they all had the chance to see the sort of people who came into the shop and to know what they were looking for. That would help them when they were planning new ideas that might attract more customers into their premises.

  “If they don’t come in, they won’t buy,” Gini pointed out. “But, once they are inside, if they like what they see, there is every chance they will buy something.”

  The shop attracted a steady stream of customers, many drawn to the spot by the write-up about the opening day in the local newspaper. Gini’s overall pleasure in the free publicity it gave her was marred by the accompanying photograph, which featured Vincent standing by her side with his arm resting on her shoulder.

  The headline of, ‘Fashion Couturier Welcomes ‘Off-the-Peg’ Rival’’, drew a gasp of indignation from her.

  “He has nothing to do with fashion,” she fumed, “apart from setting up his girl-friend. Trust him to steal the limelight!”

  She pushed him to the back of her mind and concentrated on boosting her own business by providing well-made summer clothes at a reasonable price. Most customers bought something, if only some of the local craft-work. Every little helped and kept the till-bell ringing.

  “I want to make more use of the layered look,” Gini shared at a planning meeting one evening. She quickly drew a few sketches. “I was thinking of Madame Ridureau during the night. You know, Simone ... she came in yesterday wanting something for a wedding she is going to in August and wondered if I could come up with something.”

  “Ah, yes. I remember. A rather large lady, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes … but look.”

  She quickly sketched a few flowing lines over the vague figure outline she had drawn.

  “I think she’d suit blue, maybe a dark royal, something that emphasise her shape … and look, see what a difference this makes.”

  She added a loose open-fronted three-quarter length coat.

  “Ye…es,” Simone agreed hesitantly. “But it’s not very eye-catching, is it? I mean, for a wedding, women want something out of the ordinary, don’t they?”

  “Ah, yes. And that’s what she’ll get. She said she wants silk and she’s willing to let me hand-paint a design onto it. I designed something similar as part of my Course Work. It’s in my portfolio but I couldn’t afford to buy the silk to have it made up for my Collection. I’ve longed for an opportunity to actually create the garment. Madame Ridureau will have a truly original outfit!”

  She drew a few swirls that ended in leaves, then took a longer line up towards the top of the open-fronted coat where a simple flower-head was added.

  “I’m going to draw a few ideas, nothing too startling. That wouldn’t suit her. Something like this … and on the dress itself, just a single flower, here.”

  Simone was nodding her approval.

  “Yes … and you’ll paint it on the finished garment?”

  “Yes. Louise, will you see to measuring her and making up the basic pattern? Here’s her phone number. Simone, come and look at this.”

  She opened a large package that had been delivered that morning. It contained ready-made swim-suits and bikinis in various bright colours, with rolls of complementing gauze and rayon fabrics.

  “How about making up some wrap-around skirts of varying lengths to match each swimsuit; and vest-tops or tie-fronts to make complete outfits?” She grinned. “You can let your imagination run wild. Make some scarves as well. I’ve ordered a batch of straw hats of various designs but no hat-bands. They can be stocked separately and mix and match them as the customer chooses.”

  A few days later, it was Gini’s turn to be in the shop. She had done the previous evening shift also, so she gathered up a few items that she knew were needed and left Simone and Louise busily engaged in their new tasks.

  As soon as she entered the shop, she knew that something was wrong.

  A rack of dresses had been moved slightly and one of the duck-boards was out of place. Puzzled, she lifted the duck-board. The sand und
erneath was smooth. Too smooth. If the board hadn’t been moved overnight, there would have been some disturbance in the sand, made when people walked over it.

  No-one had stood on this board since it had been replaced. It had to have been moved!

  And there wasn’t as much sand as there should have been. The layer was lower in the centre. But who would want to take away some sand? And why?

  She crouched down and scooped some of the sand out with her hands. Her searching fingers could detect only rubble as she searched deeper down. She rocked back on her heels. Nothing was there. Had she been mistaken? Was she being fanciful? She didn’t know.

  Maybe it was just that no-one had stood here in the corner at all—though that seemed highly unlikely! Maybe there had always been less sand in that particular spot? She couldn’t remember noticing—but then, she wouldn’t, would she? They had been so busy since they opened, she hadn’t had time for fanciful ideas. She pushed back the sand and smoothed it down, lifting the duck-board back into place.

  It was hardly anything she could report to anyone, anyway. All that she could say was that a few handfuls of sand were possibly missing. Hardly the crime of the year!

  The ‘ping!’ of the doorbell broke into her thoughts.

  It was her first customer of the day. She pulled the rack of dresses back into place and gave a welcoming smile to the young woman. It was all in her imagination, she was sure.

  She had a busy morning. It was late June and more holiday-makers were arriving on the island by the day. She knew they had to keep up with replacing the clothes that were sold and ideas danced through her head.

  Simpler versions of the dress she had planned for Madame Ridureau kept pushing their way forward … thin shoulder straps, the slightly flared bodice and skirt falling in unbroken length from the piped neckline, with an embroidered or painted design on the false open-fronted top layer. It was a figure-flattering style and would appeal to ladies with a more mature figure … summery and casual … and young enough, without being too young.