While Matilda busied herself in the back room with the numbers for his suit, Shay and Vera had a moment alone together. She had tried her hardest not to laugh at him as the saleswoman took his measurements, all in all, he took the situation rather well, but his “Yes, dear.”, forced her to turn her head, withholding a much needed chuckle. When the urge to laugh passed, Vera cleared her throat, and glanced over at Shay, watching as he strode over to her, thumbs in his suspenders. It was when he spoke the next words did her smile disappear from her lips. She stared at her hands folded on the countertop, searching for the right words to say.
“You could say that I am, but not without working hard for it.” Vera countered, finally meeting his gaze, there was something somber in her eyes, one that made her think of her days back in Liverpool. Perhaps that is where she obtained a taste for the finer things in life, but it was her mother that taught her the value of hard work. Without work, nothing is worth anything. “Perhaps if you had the opportunity to see my Aunt Eliza’s home, you would understand. There were thirteen bedrooms in the guest wing alone, all mine to play hide-and-seek in with Sam, and it did take him an awful long time to find me.” Her eyes wandered over Shay, a coyness tugging at the corners of her lips, she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Don’t mistake my ease in an atmosphere like this, it comes with appreciation. After all, my mother taught Sam and I, that we needed to work for what we wanted in life.” Sooner than she expected, Matilda returned to the register behind the counter.
“Now then Mr. and Mrs. Fairclough, your total comes to £20.82 for the suit.” She said, pressing the buttons to the register as the numbers appeared in the glass window. Vera avoided using either of their surnames in the guise she had arrayed, that way if anything foul were to befall them, no one would account for them, as she used an alias.
“Thank you, Matilda. We greatly appreciate your help, now I’m in need of a few new dresses for a luncheon, would you be so kind and point me in the direction of a place with such affable employees like yourself?”
“Ah yes, there’s a store down the block with lovely dresses for a young woman like yourself. It’s called, Lady Evelyn’s Stitchery, has a bright red door, can’t miss it, Mrs. Fairclough.”
“Splendid! Darling, be a good man and when you’ve finished paying, come meet me down the street, and be sure to move the car.” Vera stood on the tips of her toes, as Shay was much taller than her, and placed a delicate peck on his cheek, squeezed his hand tenderly, gave a short wave before disappearing out of Hobbs & Pollard Threads.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Fairclough. She’s a beautiful creature, reminds me of my youngest daughter, Adelia.” Matilda said, her lips pulled back over a set of yellowed, tea-stained teeth. Whether she was dense, or Vera had told her a tale about why they weren’t wearing their rings, the woman never questioned her.
Lady Evelyn’s Stitchery – Greenwich, London
Just as Matilda had promised, the door to the clothing store for Vera was painted a bright red, and in fact, it was just four storefronts away from Hobbs & Pollard. Unlike the men’s suit store, with its extravagance, and smothering luxury, Lady Evelyn’s possessed a humbler, quaint storefront, as the light emitted inside provoked a sleepy sensation with its yellowed hues, one that allowed a customer to browse in comfort, and in privacy without invasive bright lights. This time, behind the counter leaned a bored girl, around the age of seventeen. As soon as the bell above the door chimed, she pepped up, and smiled at Vera, as if she were the first customer that had walked in the store that day. Whether she was or not, Vera did not know.
“Hello miss! What can I do for you today?”
“Hello, I’m looking for a dress for a luncheon, and a dress proper to wear out for an evening on the town.” Vera said, removing her cloche from atop her head, and shirked her coat as well.
“There’s a coat rack along that wall if you wish to hang them there.” The girl came around the counter, and gestured with her hand. “Are you interested in a tea dress, perhaps? For your luncheon, that is.” She waited for Vera to respond as she made her way across the worn hardwood floors, hanging her coat and hat upon one hook.
“It depends on the colours you have available. I’d like something with a soft-hue to it, say a taupe, or perhaps something more along the lines of rose-coloured.” Vera replied.
“Over there in the far corner, on that rack, are the tea dresses we have available. If you can’t find something in your size, we can always have it custom-tailored. If you need our fitting room, just say the word, and I’ll fetch the key.” Vera then mused a quiet “thank you”, and carried on in privacy, as she ventured over to the suggested clothing rack. As she held each dress against her body, either it was extremely small, or horrendously four-times her size.
“My dear, what is your name?” Vera called out to the girl.
“Bertie, miss. Is there something wrong?”
Without feeling the need to shout across the room, Vera simply returned to the counter, an apparent look of dismay on her face, as her brows were raised, and her lips turned down into a frown. “I’m afraid that I don’t like either quality of these dresses. They’re too…gaudy. And either too small, or frighteningly large. I don’t suppose your tailor is in the backroom?”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry miss. That happens quite a lot to our customers, most of our clothing comes from the factory, and as you know, a size 3 could easily be a size 12, there is just no similarity. Allow me to fetch Leonard. He’ll be happy to help.” She offered a bright smile, and disappeared into the backroom, a door situated behind the counter. Leaving Vera alone to second guess coming to this shop to begin with, she felt discouraged, and would rather have gone to a seamstress she was familiar with in Southwark, right down the block from Mr. Harrison’s. Yet, she knew that her seamstress did not have high quality fabrics in comparison to those found in Greenwich. Drumming her fingers atop the wooden countertop, Vera glanced anxiously at the door, awaiting Shay’s arrival.
“Pardon me, miss. Bertie tells me that you were unable to find anything in your size, and that you wished to speak to me?” Leonard, was a squat old-man, in his early sixties perhaps, he had a sharply hooked nose that gave him a hawkish appearance, where a pair of beady black eyes squinted at her with scrutiny. His gaze alone put her on edge, and she began to worry if there would be a problem when Shay came to join her.
“Yes, as I told Bertie here, I need two dresses, one for a luncheon, and one to be worn out on the town. It appears that everything is either too small or too large. Perhaps it would be better to do a custom order instead?”
“I see. And what type of fabric would you be interested in using for the dress at the luncheon? I would recommend chiffon, and silk, with lace trimmings.”
“That sounds swell, I mentioned to Bertie that I was interested in colours of a soft hue, such as taupe, mauve, or even something rose-coloured.”
“Excellent, I’ll pick out some fabric swatches for you to choose from, in the meantime, I doubt Bertie told you to take a look at our evening dresses rack, but it’s located in the front of the store by the window when you first walk in. If nothing fits you, but you like the design, we can surely have it altered appropriately.” While he seemed friendly to Vera, she couldn’t help but note the superior confident tone he spoke with, she regarded his tone with deep disgust.
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