The Shoestring Club (18 page)

‘Fine. It was all just a misunderstanding really. I know you’re all concerned about me, but you have no reason to be, honest. I’m going on a healthy-living kick for a while. No going out and no drinking.’

‘You? Healthy living?’ Pandora makes a little noise, halfway between a snort and a chuckle. I look at her and she’s smiling away to herself.

‘What’s so funny? I ask her.

‘Nothing,’ she says.

‘Good for you, Boolie,’ Dad says quickly, ignoring Pandora. ‘We’re all proud of you, pet. And we’re all here to support you, aren’t we?’ He looks at Pandora pointedly.

‘Of course,’ she says. ‘And if means no more three a.m. wake-up calls and mercy dashes, I’m all for healthy living.’

‘Pandora!’ Bird isn’t amused. ‘Let’s not dwell on the past. Your sister is doing her best to change.’

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ Pandora smiles at me encouragingly. ‘It’s great, Jules, honestly. I don’t mean to be off. I’m just tired. Busy day. Oh and by the way, while you guys were seeing Sheila, that beautiful-looking girl came in with the deposit for the Farenze. Unusual name – Arietty Pilgrim. Sorry, Jules, I know you were mad about that dress. But you’re going to have to let it go.’

I try not to look too delighted. Arietty timed part one of our plan to perfection.

‘There’ll be other dresses. At least it’s going to a good home.’

Pandora looks at me suspiciously. ‘You’re taking it very well.’

I shrug. ‘It’s only a frock.’

‘Very sensible, Boolie,’ Dad says. ‘And by the way, who owns the mountain bike in the hall I nearly fell over earlier? And where’s
your
bike?’

‘I sold it,’ I say simply. ‘That’s my new one.’

Dad frowns. ‘It looks a bit battered. Are you sure it’s road worthy? And why did you sell your old one?’

‘I owed a friend some money and I wanted to pay back all my debts, start afresh,’ I say. ‘Now my only outstanding loans are to you guys.’

He smiles at me. ‘You really have turned a corner, haven’t you, pet? I’m proud of you, sorting out your finances like that.’

‘Hang on a sec,’ Pandora says. Unlike Dad, she doesn’t look happy. ‘Why didn’t you pay me back first? Or Bird, or Dad?’

‘You’re family,’ I say.

‘So we don’t count, is that it?’ Pandora sits back in her seat and gives a disgusted huff.

‘Pandora, who’s minding Iris tonight while you and Bird are off warbling with the Proddy choir?’ I ask. ‘Dad’s at his book club. Which leaves who exactly?’

I look Pandora square in the eye. ‘You just presumed I’d do it, didn’t you? Now, I could charge you for all the hours of childminding, but I’m not going to do that. Because I love Iris and because we’re
family
.’ I smile smugly.

She scowls back at me. She knows I’ve won.

‘How would you like to go cycling, Iris?’ We’re sitting in front of the telly but
Come Dine with Me
has just come on and it’s just not the same without a glass of wine in my hand. I need something to take my mind off the ‘Just one glass, who’s going to know’ thoughts that are creeping into my brain.

‘Cool! Thanks, Auntie Jules. Right now you mean?’

I give it one more try. ‘Just Jules, remember? And yes, right now. Go and get your helmet.’

‘But you don’t always wear one, Auntie Jules.’

OK, I give up. Auntie Jules it is. ‘I’m a grown up. And until you’re eighteen you helmet up, understand?’

She nods. ‘Fine, I’ll wear it.’

‘Good girl.’

She finds her helmet, plonks it on her head and then we go outside to fetch her bike from the shed.

‘Wait for me here, Iris, OK?’ I say, leaving her at the top of the path as I go back inside the house to grab my own bike. I’ve just closed the front door behind me when I see Iris whizzing down the paving stones on her small pink bike, over the pavement and towards the road.

I scream, ‘Iris!’, drop my bike on the ground and sprint down the path towards her.

Thankfully I see someone has already grabbed her handlebars and dragged her to a stop. I reach her and realize with a start that it’s Jamie. I look at him for a split second before turning my attention to Iris.

‘You all right, Iris?’ I say, my heart still pounding in my chest. ‘I told you to wait. You could have got knocked down. You gave me such a fright.’

‘Sorry, Auntie Jules,’ she replies. ‘I forgot to use the brakes.’ She looks so shaken I soften.

‘Next time wait for me, OK? Promise me?’

‘I promise,’ she says solemnly.

I turn back to Jamie. ‘Thanks. That could have been nasty.’ My cheeks flare up instantly, remembering my garbled message and the fact that he’d never returned my call.

‘Any time,’ he says. He looks a little distant, his eyes not fully focusing on mine.

And then I can’t stand it any longer, I have to know, so I blurt out, ‘I rang you, left a message. Why didn’t you ring back?’

He blows the air out of his mouth. ‘It’s complicated, Jules. I don’t want to go into it right now.’ He gives a little nod in Iris’s direction. ‘Things are a bit up in the air at the moment . . .’ he tails off.

‘Can we go cycling now, Auntie Jules?’ Iris is getting impatient. ‘Please? It’s already a bit dark.’

She’s right, the light is fading fast. We shouldn’t really be out at all without lights. We’ll have to stay in the cul de sac, under the street lamps.

‘I have to go, Jamie,’ I say.

‘I’ll ring you,’ he says.

‘Where have I heard that one before?’ I ask him. ‘Don’t bother.’ Then I turn towards Iris. ‘Stay here, Iris. With your brakes on this time, OK? I need to fetch my bike. Don’t move an inch.’ And with that I turn away from Jamie and march back up the path, towards the house. I can feel his eyes on my back but I don’t turn around. By the time I do, he’s disappeared.

‘Are you all right, Auntie Jules?’ Iris asks when I walk back, wheeling my bike. ‘You look sad? Are you still cross with me?’

‘No, pet, I’m fine. Let’s have a quick cycle and then I’ll make you some hot chocolate and we can watch some telly.’

‘With marshmallows?’ she asks eagerly.

‘With marshmallows.’

She beams at me. ‘You’re the best auntie in the whole wide world.’

I smile back at her. At least someone appreciates me.

‘Excuse me, I’d like a second opinion on this outfit.’ I look up slowly from my copy of
Wallpaper
magazine the following afternoon. Pandora nearly had a knicker attack when she caught me reading at the till earlier until I explained that I was looking for inspiration for the Shoestring refit, which is partly true. But I’m mainly flicking through the stylish interior pages ’cause I’m feeling a bit glandy and in no mood for tidying the rails or dealing with customers.

The white-haired woman standing in front of me is appallingly dressed in a white shirt that cuts her generous hips at just the wrong place, black trousers that are skimming her ankles, grey socks and brown lace-up shoes. Do we really sell clothes like that? We must do.

I step away from the desk and take a better look.

Shaking my head I say ‘It’s not great, I’m afraid. Completely wrong for your body shape. It makes you look frumpy and you have a great waist. You should show it off more, nip the shirt in with a belt. But the trousers, no, they really do nothing for you.’

‘I meant this outfit.’ The woman holds up the hanger she was clutching. She looks at me, her eyebrows raised.

Oops. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur.

But she looks more amused than annoyed. Her brown eyes are dancing beneath her slightly bushy eyebrows.

‘Do I really look that awful?’ She stares down at her clothes, her gaze stopping at her shoes. She wiggles a foot. ‘These old things are hardly fashionable I know, but they’re very comfortable. And I’ve had these trousers for years, I suppose they are due for retirement. But at my age, it’s difficult to know what to wear.’ She looks at me again. ‘You seem an honest kind of girl, what should I be wearing, so I don’t look so appalling? Would this suit me?’

She nods at the two piece she’s holding up, a shapeless, flowery blue and white shirt with a very full matching skirt.

I shake my head. ‘Absolutely not. The print looks like a duvet cover and the skirt’s going to balloon over your hips.’

She sighs. ‘Ah yes, my hips. Always my downfall.’

‘You just have to be clever, dress for your figure,’ I say. ‘Why don’t I pick out something that might suit you better? Is there anything in particular you need an outfit for?’

She smiles. ‘Yes, actually. My wedding anniversary. Forty years with the same wonderful man.’

I whistle. ‘Impressive. Now are we thinking vibrant and sexy, or classic and demure?’

She gives a hearty laugh. ‘Vibrant and sexy sounds perfect.’

In the end I spend forty minutes dressing Mrs Bloomfield. By the time I’ve finished she’s asked me to call her Hester.

‘You really do have a gift for this, Julia,’ Hester says at the till as I start ringing up what she’s decided to take. ‘I hate to think what my husband will say when he sees the credit card bill.’ Her eyes twinkle. ‘I haven’t had as much fun shopping in years. But you will write down the outfits you’ve suggested, won’t you, dear? I’ll only go and muddle them up otherwise and wear the purple jacket and trousers together or something.’

I’d found a wonderfully rich purple velvet jacket and trousers for her, which worn together make Hester look like a plum, but separately look fantastic.

‘I think we can do one better than that.’ I rummage in the large drawer under the till until I locate the digital camera Pandora uses to take snaps of new stock for the Shoestring website.

‘Bingo.’ I pull it out. ‘If you have a few minutes, I’ll take a pic of the dummy in each of the outfits, Hester. Then I’ll email you the pics and you’ll have a record of them at home. How about that?’

‘I have a few minutes all right but . . .’ Hester hesitates. ‘We don’t have a printer at home I’m afraid. But I suppose I could look at them on the screen.’

‘There’s only a black and white one in the office, but we do have a colour one at home,’ I say. ‘How about I print them out for you this evening and you can collect them tomorrow. How does that sound?’

Hester smiles at me. ‘Perfect. You really are a little gem, Julia. I’m going to recommend you to all the girls in my bridge club. Thank you so much for all your assistance. I feel like a new woman.’

I smile back at her. ‘It’s a pleasure.’

While I get to work on arranging the clothes for the photographs, I realize suddenly that it’s true. Making Hester look and feel great was fun. First up, I dress the dummy in the purple trousers, teamed with a cream silk shirt, and a long, purple silk scarf shot through with a swirling green leaf pattern.

‘Outfit number one,’ I tell Hester, taking a photograph and checking it on the screen of the digital camera before moving on.

Outfit two is a khaki shirt dress, nipped in at the waist with a rather stunning thick, brown leather belt to emphasize Hester’s surprisingly neat middle. Three is a very flattering, black scoop-necked Prada top to be worn under the purple jacket, with smart black straight-legged trousers, teamed with black suede wedges to add length to her legs. And four is a simple yet elegant red Issa dress – her wedding anniversary outfit – to be worn with kitten-heeled cream Chanel shoes with a tiny, red tie-bow decoration, a bargain at only a hundred euro (in any other shop they’d be five times that).

Afterwards, I carefully wrap Hester’s ‘new’ clothes in pink Shoestring tissue paper.

‘Need some help?’ Pandora appears at my shoulder. ‘Are these all for the same customer?’

‘Yes.’ I pop the tissue parcel containing the purple suit in a brown paper bag with Shoestring hand-stamped on it in raspberry ink (one of my more menial tasks). ‘Hester went on a much-deserved splurge. Ruby wedding anniversary no less. And she’s going to look fabulous.’

Hester smiles at me, and then at Pandora. ‘I haven’t bought clothes for such a long time – could never find anything to suit me. But Julia was so helpful. She even offered to go through my wardrobe at home, weed out things that have been lurking there for years and show me what goes with what, give me a complete makeover. Said I could drop any of the better pieces in here, might even make some money from them. Such a clever girl. I’d never have thought of that.’

‘Did she?’ Pandora looks at me. ‘Jules, you really are full of surprises these days.’

We finish packing Hester’s three Shoestring bags and I see her out.

‘Don’t forget to collect your photos tomorrow,’ I say as Hester toddles happily out of the door, arms weighed down by her new clothes.

‘I won’t. See you then.’

As soon as Hester’s gone Pandora plays with the till and brings up the total of the last sale.

She whistles under her breath. ‘Just under five hundred euro. Julia Schuster, I may have underestimated you. When you’re on the ball, you’re hot.’ She smiles. ‘A few more customers like this a week, and we’re laughing. And I like the way you’re thinking. Personal styling for Shoestring clients, you may have something there.’ She thinks for a second. ‘But having you off-site might prove difficult staffing-wise. In-store styling sessions might work though. Are you really willing to give it a go?’