The Exciting Life (10 page)

Tansy
came back with the drinks and sat before Iris. As she put the
glasses down on the table, her hands shook.

‘
You look lovely,’ she said. ‘This fella you’re with looking
after you?’

‘
He’s a diamond. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not whiter than
white, his old man’s a villain, but you’d never think it. He’s been
to public school and everything.’

‘
You always did seem different to the other girls,’ Tansy
lamented. ‘More classy. What’s this fashion show business all
about?’

Over two
gin and tonics, Iris sat and told Tansy everything. Why she wanted
revenge on Annie and Kenneth, and what she hoped to achieve. Tansy
sat listening avidly, even forgetting to finish her drink because
she was so enthralled.

‘
Why don’t you go and see Ralf Silver?’ she
suggested.

‘
Who’s he?’

‘
He worked for me a for a while, about a year or so ago. He
went to St Martins and everything, but he couldn’t get a job, so I
took him on, designing ladies underwear. Then he met some rich
older bloke who whisked him off to Paris. Last I heard of him, he
was back in England designing clothes for Chaucers.’

‘
Chaucers? They make clothes for old women.’

‘
It was the only job Ralf could get. I think he’d love to show
off his other designs.’

‘
Alright. Well give me his details and I’ll go and see
him.’

‘
He’s a prickly character, I warn you. But I don’t think it’s
anything you can’t handle.’

Iris was
never one to procrastinate, and so when she left Tansy, she went to
the head office of Chaucers, round the back of Oxford Street.
Chaucers were a high street shop that sold a lot of tweed and
corduroy for older women, and not the sort of thing Iris had in
mind for her fashion show. But Tansy seemed positive that their
clothes weren’t indicative of what Ralf designed for himself and
she was willing to take a chance.

Stepping
into the dark reception area, she wondered if it would be easier to
get to see someone here than it had been at Tanner Beresford. The
girl behind the reception desk was dressed in a Chaucer’s signature
tweed two-piece and a silk shirt with pearls. Her brown hair set
just-so and she looked as though she’d stepped straight out of
finishing school. Iris guessed she would either be a complete
push-over or else it would be like penetrating a steel
wall.

‘
Can I help you?’ the receptionist asked in a snooty
voice.

‘
Yes, can I see Mr Silver please?’

‘
Can I ask what it’s about?’

‘
I’m from Tanner Beresford, the charity. Mr Silver is a patron
of ours.’

‘
Oh, I see. Take the stairs to the first floor. Mr Silver’s
room is at the end of the corridor.’

Like taking candy from a baby
Iris
smiled to herself as she headed for the concrete stairs at the back
of the lobby. At the top, she walked along the narrow corridor
until she passed an open door and spotted a small, dark-haired man
sitting hunched over a drawing board. She gave a polite knock and
he looked up. He reminded Iris of a little pixie, with his close
cropped hair and elfin features.

‘
Hello?’ he asked in a light, breathy, camp voice.

‘
Are you Ralf?’

‘
Yes.’

She
walked into the room and noticed another drawing board opposite him
– indicating that he shared the room with someone. But it was not
occupied for now, so at least they had some privacy.

‘
My name’s Iris Lindholm. Tansy Topham gave me your
name.’

‘
Tansy,’ he gasped, standing up. Iris almost giggled to see he
was even shorter than her - no more than five foot three she would
guess. ‘How is she?’

‘
Same as ever. Is it alright to talk?’

‘
Course it is Iris. Pull up a pew.’

As he
spoke more, Iris detected a Welsh accent. But he seemed to be doing
all he could to hide it. It seemed everyone was ashamed of where
they came from – except Kenneth Holland.

Iris
fetched the chair that was by the other drawing board, and placed
it close to Ralf. She sat upon it, and looked at the sketch on his
board of a lady in a very conservative-looking dress.

‘
Tansy tells me this isn’t the usual thing you
design.’

‘
Well it’s how I make my living. Why do you ask?’

‘
I’m holding a fashion show at my boyfriend’s nightclub. It’s
in aid of charity, so I can’t pay the designer who supplies the
clothes. But it would give them free publicity.’

‘
And you want me?!’ Ralf gasped, dramatically clutching his
chest.

‘
What sort of things do you design?’

He
didn’t reply, but instead got up and practically ran to the end of
the room. He opened one of the fitted cupboards, and Iris saw that
it was a wardrobe and from it, Ralf fetched a dress. As he brought
it over to her, she saw it was quite something. It was made from
dark red corduroy - halter-necked with a pinched waist and a full
skirt. The style and the fabric it was made from didn’t match, but
somehow it worked and made it more interesting.

‘
I ran it up one lunchtime from some spare material,’ he
enthused. ‘What do you think? Is it the sort of thing you’re
looking for?’

‘
It’s wonderful,’ she said, fingering the needle thin corduroy.
‘Is it typical of the sort of things you make?’

‘
I like to use heavy fabrics and jewels. I love
jewels.’

‘
Alright,’ Iris said. ‘Why don’t we meet properly and you can
show me more of your work? This dress is perfect.’

‘
Of course they can’t know about any of this, here,’ Ralf said.
‘I’d get in terrible trouble for moonlighting.’

‘
I’m the sole of discretion,’ Iris smiled. ‘Secrets are my
speciality.’

Chapter Seven

Late May
1959

Annie
wasn’t sure why she objected to this fashion show. It was a chance
for her to impress her brother, and show the world that Bruno’s
wasn’t just some sleazy dive. But what sat badly with her was that
Iris had cooked the whole thing up with Kenneth. And instead of
using it as a chance for Annie to showcase her shoes, they had
asked the supremely irritating Ralf Silver to design the clothes;
and the models were providing their own shoes! Annie wasn’t sure
about Iris, but she knew Kenneth like the back of her hand and
guessed he was enjoying every minute of rubbing her face in
it.

Bruno’s
looked completely different with all of the tables removed and
replaced by the rows of chairs that Annie had brought in from the
old ballroom of The Fortune. A ‘catwalk’ ran down the middle, along
which the models would walk. Annie’s office had been transformed
into a dressing room for the night, and right now it was covered in
dresses and accessories, and models were bumping into each other
and screeching while Ralf dressed them. Close to the bar, a small
PA system had been set up, where Al Dunne - Eddie’s latest signing
- would be singing as the models walked along. Eddie thought it
would be a great way to get some free publicity and Annie was happy
to help him.

Annie
was behind the bar, helping Sylvio check they had enough bottles of
cheap beer and vodka to keep everyone going for the night, when the
door opened and Iris walked in, expensive handbag swinging from the
crook of her arm. Patrick trailed along behind her, looking rather
henpecked.

‘
How’s it all going?’ she asked.

‘
Very well thanks Iris,’ Annie said. ‘Although I’m guessing
Ralf might say something different.’

‘
Where is he?’

‘
Back office. It’s been turned into a dressing
room.’

Iris
flounced off, but Patrick remained behind, leaning on the bar and
smiling at Annie.

‘
You look knackered,’ he said.

‘
I am. Your girlfriend has arranged this bloody fashion show,
but I’m the one who’s been roped into doing all the hard
work.’

‘
It’s all good publicity for the club,’ Patrick said, reaching
out and grasping her hand. Annie quickly pulled it away. She didn’t
like it when he touched her. It reminded her how attractive she
still found him, and how his touch was like an electric shock
running through her body. And that he was Iris’s
boyfriend.

‘
Maybe so,’ she replied, blushing and turning her attention to
putting a bottle of Smirnoff into an optic. ‘But I’ve got to rush
home and get changed and come back and make sure everything is all
in place before the guests arrive.’

‘
And you’ll cope perfectly,’ Patrick said. ‘Now, where are the
models? They might need some help dressing.’

He
walked off and Annie gave a deep breath. She still didn’t know what
it was Patrick did to her – she was happy with Eddie. But when he
was around, she felt nervous and on edge and he affected her so
much she couldn’t wait to be away from him. And yet when he wasn’t
there, she yearned to see him.

Once
everything was in place, she took her chance to leave and walked
the short distance to Regent Street, making the most of the early
evening sunshine. Sometimes Annie felt like running away from
everything. She never seemed to get a moment’s peace. It was either
something going on at Bruno’s or else trying to establish
Holland’s. Veronica Owen’s film premiere was the following week and
Annie felt nervous at the thought of the world’s press seeing a
pair of her shoes. Eddie thought it was good business sense to make
five extra pairs in exactly the same style, in case anyone saw them
and wanted a pair too. Annie on the other hand was convinced
everyone was going to hate them. Then what would she do? Her whole
future rested upon people wanting to buy her shoes.

One
thing she was proud of was her flat at the top of the old Fortune
building. The bottom floor was now made up of three hotel rooms
knocked into one, which made a huge reception room. Another one was
a dining room, and another two were knocked into one room to make a
massive kitchen. Annie was fascinated by kitchens. As a child she
used to like going down to the kitchen in Elliott House and helping
Mrs Cray cook dinner for them all. She made sure her new kitchen
had all the mod cons she’d had when she was married to Mario – a
refrigerator and a washer and spin dryer. Upstairs in the flat were
five large bedrooms, two bathrooms and another room she’d converted
to a dressing room. It gave her comfort to know that it belonged to
her and no one could take it away from her. At least if she had
somewhere nice to live, it made her feel as though she wasn’t on
her uppers.

Walking into the front door she was greeted with Ella
Fitzgerald singing
Manhattan
on the gramophone, and Eddie standing at the
drinks cabinet in the corner, mixing them both a cocktail. He
looked so dapper and handsome in his tuxedo and Annie felt proud
that he was her boyfriend.

‘
What would I do without you?’ she smiled, sinking down onto
one of the cream, leather sofas.

‘
How are things?’ he asked, bringing her over a vodka martini
with three green olives in.

‘
Chaotic,’ she sighed. ‘That woman makes my skin crawl, just by
being in the same room.’

Eddie
laughed and sat beside her, passing her the drink, which she took
and drank down practically in one gulp.

‘
Well I do have a bit of good news for you that I hope will
cheer you up.’

‘
Go on.’

He
looked down at his lap, smiling sheepishly.

‘
Did I ever tell you that I used to go out with Fiona
Miller?’

‘
Fiona Miller the actress?’

‘
Yep.’

‘
Who’s marrying the Duke of Loxborough?’

‘
The very one.’

‘
What about her?’

He
picked up his own drink and drank it down quickly. Annie started to
feel nervous. Was he going to finish with her? What had she done to
upset him?

‘
Well we kept in touch over the years and I had lunch with her
today.’

‘
Why didn’t you tell me?!’ she cried.

He
looked at her and gave a hapless smile, reaching out and stroking
her face.

‘
What are you looking like that for Sweetheart?’ he said. ‘I
had lunch with her today because I wanted to find out who was
supplying her shoes for the wedding. It turns out she hasn’t made
her mind up, so I offered my beautiful girlfriend’s
services.’

‘
She wants me to make her wedding shoes?’ Annie
gasped.

‘
Yes,’ he smiled.

‘
Thank you!’ she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
‘Thank you so much.’

Annie
was so excited. Fiona Miller, the starlet from Bermondsey’s wedding
to the handsome and mega-rich Duke of Loxborough was going to be
one of the events of the year, and already people were speculating
about the dress. If she could design a pair of spectacular shoes,
then this would give her the sort of exposure she could only dream
of.