The Shoestring Club (20 page)

He whistles. ‘It’s a lot of work for one day, pet, but if I pull in some help it should be just about feasible.’

‘Bird?’ I ask. ‘What about you? Do you like the design?’

She smiles. ‘I think it’s very clever indeed, Boolie. Such a smart cookie.’ She pats my hand. ‘You have my blessing.’

‘Pandora?’ I look at my sister. It’s impossible to read her blank face. It’s Pandora I’m worried about; the plan is pretty radical.

Pandora leans forward, planting her elbows on the table. ‘Perspex boxes?’ She considers this and then sits up straight again. ‘Pure genius. I should have thought of it myself. Go for it, sis.’

Bird claps her hands together. ‘That’s settled then. Now tell us about these elephants you’re planning to make for the entrance, darling, and then let’s get home. How about a takeaway for tea to celebrate the new plan?’ It’s Bird’s night to cook and she’s always looking for ways to get off the hook.

Iris claps her hands together. ‘Yeah! Can we have curry, Bird?’

Bird smiles. ‘In honour of what Boolie tells me are Asian elephants, generally found in India, then yes, my darling, we most certainly can.’

That evening, after dinner, I print out Hester’s photographs in the living room. I’m just clicking into our Farenze dress blog to check for messages or comments, when Bird walks through the door.

‘There you are, darling,’ she says. ‘Pandora just told us about your styling idea. You’re full of clever thoughts these days.’

‘I wouldn’t get too carried away, it may never come to anything, and I have the shop revamp to work on first, remember?’

She pulls up a chair beside mine. ‘I’m very proud of you, Boolie. You’ve really applied yourself this week. Even Pandora’s impressed. I’m so glad the two of you are working so well together. It means a lot to me and to your father.’

I’m filled with a warm feeling. It’s not often I make Bird and Dad happy. And I guess the frozen lake of emotion between Pandora and me does seem to be gradually thawing.

Then Bird’s eyes rest on the screen.

‘The Shoestring Club,’ she reads out loud. ‘What’s that? Something to do with the shop?’

Blood pumps into my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I’d left the blog up on the screen. Before I get a chance to click out of the page, Bird’s eyes have scanned the rest of the text, and are resting on the photograph of the chiffon dress, on one of the Shoestring mannequins.

‘That dress looks very familiar. Isn’t it the Farenze Pandora has on hold in the office for one of our customers?’ She stares at me. ‘Julia, what’s going on? Out with it. Tell me you’re not doing something stupid, darling. Something illegal.’

I laugh. ‘No, of course not. I was going to tell you, it’s just been so busy and . . .’ I tail off, fishing frantically for a good excuse, but coming up with exactly nothing.

‘Continue,’ Bird says.

I guess I’ll just have to tell her the truth, much as it pains me. ‘I bought a share in the Faith Farenze dress,’ I say, my voice quivering a little with nerves. ‘The one from the shop.’

‘A share? What are you talking about?’

‘Me and Arietty, the girl who has the dress on hold, can’t afford to buy it on our own so we came up with a plan. We’ve each put in three hundred euro, and now we’re looking for two more girls . . .’ Bird is staring at me. As soon as I see the expression on her face, I stop instantly.

‘Where did you get the three hundred euro?’ she asks, her eyes narrowing. I stare at the computer screen, wishing the blog would disappear in front of my eyes. In fact . . . I put a hand out to switch off the computer, but Bird stops me by swatting it away.

‘Answer me, Julia.’

‘My bike,’ I say in a tiny voice. ‘I used the money I got for my bike.’

‘You blatantly lied to me, and to your father? Is that correct?’

My cheeks flare up again. ‘I’m so sorry. But I have to wear the dress, Bird. Just once. And then I’ll sell my share instantly, I promise. And give you all back your money.’

She rubs her hands over her eyes and sighs deeply. ‘Don’t you see, Julia? It’s not about the money. It’s about trust. And why do you need this ruddy dress so much?’

‘For Ed and Lainey’s wedding. I have to look amazing. I won’t stay long, honestly. I just want to show everyone that I don’t care, that I’m over him. It’s important.’ I pause. ‘But it’s unlikely to happen now. Our blog’s been up for days, and no one has contacted us or left a message. We’ve put ads up on Gumtree and ebay and Buy and Sell; no one’s interested in sharing the dress with us. It’s a stupid idea.’

Bird’s face softens. ‘Actually I think it’s rather inspired. But I do wish you hadn’t lied to all of us.’ She stops for a moment, looks at the blog. ‘What’s that?’ She points at the bottom of the screen.

A message has just popped up.

She reads it out loud. ‘Please send more details of the dress – size, length, cost etc. May be interested. Alex.’ She looks at me. ‘You might just be in business.’

‘If we can find another taker in three days,’ I point out glumly. ‘Pandora has given Arietty until Monday to pay the full amount, otherwise the dress goes back into stock.’ I stare at her. ‘Hang on, does this mean you’re not going to tell Pandora about the money?’

A smile plays over Bird’s lips. ‘I have a suggestion. Has Pandora shown any interest in the dress?’

‘I caught her trying it on once, yes. But she’s just as broke as I am. Plus she said she had nothing to wear it to.’

‘To wear it to, or to wear it
for
?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘As you keep so kindly pointing out to everyone who will listen, your sister rarely goes out. And she’s unlikely to meet anyone under sixty through the choir.’

I smile. ‘A creaky old sexagenarian might be right up her street.’

‘Less of the creaky, thank you. No, she needs to meet someone her own age. Someone who will accept her for who she is. You’ve never had any problem meeting men, darling.’

‘The wrong kind of men,’ I splutter. ‘Look at Ed, he ran off with my best friend.’

She smiles tightly. ‘The less said about that boy the better. I want you to bring Pandora out, introduce her to some people her own age. There must be some decent young men out there, they can’t all be losers, surely?’

I smile wryly. ‘You’d be surprised, Bird.’

She laughs, then says, ‘If you find Pandora someone to wear the dress for, I’ll keep your little secret to myself. And I’ll pay for Pandora’s share in the Farenze.’

My mouth falls open. I stare at her. She’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling.

‘Are you serious, Bird?’

‘But of course, darling. I never joke about love. Or money. Especially money.’

I’m pacing my room, willing Pandora to go out. It’s been a really full-on week and now that it’s finally Friday night all I feel like doing is collapsing in front of the telly with a drink. I spotted an open bottle of white in the fridge earlier and I’m gagging for a sip. I know I’m not supposed to be drinking at all, but one glass to celebrate the end of the week is hardly a big deal.

Dad’s out with Bird at a choir social. Pandora’s supposed to be going too, leaving Iris with me, but for some reason my sister seems to be lingering in the kitchen like a bad smell. I look at my watch; it’s nearly nine, Iris is already in bed, so what the hell is Pandora doing exactly? The social will be almost over by now.

I walk down the stairs and fling open the kitchen door. Pandora looks up at me from the kitchen table. She’s dressed to go out, as dressed up as she normally gets anyway. She’s still in her black work trousers, but has exchanged her neat white shirt for a surprisingly low-cut black top with flamenco ruffles on the ends of the short sleeves. There’s a slash of crimson on her lips and she’s even pinned the sides of her hair up with sparkly red clips.

‘What do you think?’ she says.

‘Of your outfit?’

‘No, this one.’ She points down at a page of the magazine. A model is wearing raspberry-pink, chunky-knit woollen tights in an Aran pattern with a matching pink leotard and pink hair. Very OTT, but the tights are fab.

I scrunch up my face. ‘Not sure you’d get away with the leotard. You might give the old lads in the choir heart attacks.’

‘I’m talking about the tights. And not for me, for the shop. They’re by a young Irish designer called Maeve Fabien. Reasonably priced too considering they’re hand-knitted.’

‘You’re taking in new stock?’

‘I’m thinking about it. There are gaps in our own stock – T-shirt basics, tights, corsetry, accessories. If we’re going to offer a full styling service it makes sense. Means we could support up and coming designers too.’ She frowns a little. ‘But maybe it’s too ambitious? Do you think we should play it safe, stick to what we know, or experiment a bit?’

I sit down at the table and study Pandora’s face. She seems serious. ‘You’re really looking for my opinion?’ I can’t help but smile.

She puts one elbow on the table and rests her head in her hand. ‘Why is that so amusing?’

‘Because you think I’m a fuckwit.’

She sighs. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘OK then, a waste of space.’

She’s quiet for a second. Then she says, ‘Fine, I admit that sometimes your lack of appliance drives me crazy.’

I grin. ‘Appliance? You mean like a washing machine?’

‘You know exactly what I mean, stop being smart. You don’t apply yourself. You bounce from one job to the next, and then get fed up or bored, and go travelling.’

‘I’m here now,’ I point out. ‘And in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been working my ass off in your stupid shop. You wouldn’t want to be thin-skinned in this house.’

‘Yes, I agree, you’ve had a good week, but it’s all so up in the air with you. Next week you might decide to jack it all in and go and be, oh I don’t know, an elephant keeper, like that friend of yours Iris keeps banging on about. Did Iris give you the elephant picture she drew for her by the way?’

‘Yes.’ Oops, where did I put it?

Taking in my face she says, ‘You haven’t gone and lost it, have you?’

Iris drew this amazing picture for Arietty to say thank you – Beatrix, Enid, Nina and Kai, all playing in the waterpool, Iris herself standing behind them with a big banana grin on her face, holding Arietty’s hand. She worked on it every day in her after-school club. On the back she wrote:

She made me promise to pass it on to Arietty. Then it comes to me: it’s in the living room, on the desk beside the computer. Phew.

‘Of course not,’ I say indignantly.

‘Good. And thanks for taking Iris to the zoo,’ she adds, her face softening a little. ‘She had a ball.’

‘Anytime. And I know you’re not all that keen on her having a dog but—’

‘Not this again. Jules, no! Understand? N-O spells no. Absolutely not. I have enough problems without a puppy chewing up the place and weeing on everything.’

‘What about a cat? We could visit the Animal Shelter—’

‘Drop it, Jules. No animals, full stop.’ She sits back in her chair and scrunches up her shoulders, groaning a little. ‘God, I’m so tired.’

‘I thought you were supposed to be going out.’

‘Don’t think I’ll bother now. Might just go to bed.’

‘You’ll never meet anyone that way.’

She frowns. ‘Meet anyone? What are you on about? Who says I want to meet someone? I’m quite happy on my own, thanks very much. What’s up with you tonight? First you try and foist a stray dog on me, now a man. It’s the hen thing, isn’t it? That’s what’s got you all angsty.’

I stare at her. ‘What hen thing?’

‘Don’t act the innocent, Lainey’s hen. It’s tonight isn’t it?’

I go pale and her face colours a little. ‘Shit, Jules, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘How do
you
know about it?’

‘Lainey’s big mouth aunt’s in the choir. Marie. She’s been boasting about it for weeks.’

‘But Marie’s in her fifties. Why would she be going?’

‘They’re having some sort of posh dinner tonight in Dublin for all the Anderson aunts and old family friends, then Lainey and her sisters are heading off to some spa in Wicklow for the weekend. I’m really sorry, Jules. I know it must be hard on you.’

Pandora looks at me, and I hate seeing the pity in her eyes.

I feel a bit teary, but I’m trying to keep it together. ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘We’re not exactly friends any more.’