The Tailor's Girl (10 page)

At least her father anticipated his return. ‘What do you expect him to do?’

‘I don’t care. He can go amuse himself in a pub again or at the cinema but this is family business and does not include him . . . even if he is a marriage wrecker.’

Edie refused to react to the sting of her father’s words. ‘I shall need money to buy food for our guests tonight.’

‘Buy for five, not six,’ he warned and walked away from her. ‘Take the money from my drawer.’

_______________

Edie escaped into the High Street, her mind scattering with worry for Tom. She didn’t believe her father would send him off with the deliberate intent of becoming disoriented and lost. But she could sense the depth of her father’s disappointment and despair. The thought of losing Edie to a stranger might prompt him to act irrationally. Nothing in his life had gone to plan, and now here she was denying him the one brightness that might bring him happiness in his remaining years.

Edie felt the familiar prick of duty but it was instantly challenged by the memory of last night’s kiss. Tom’s recklessness and physical display of his emotion was seductive beyond all her previous fantasies. She’d caught herself smiling this morning as she’d brushed her hair.
Marry me, Edie!
he’d implored.

And he’d meant it. Of this she was certain. The curiosity, though, was that she had woken with no doubt in her mind, either – she wanted to say yes. It was laying her open to pain, beginning with her new role as an outcast amongst her community if she did marry a non-Jew. Denying her father of watching his only child marry properly in the faith beneath the gaze of the rabbi would bring shame to their house, plus it would tear apart the two families who had been friends for all of her life. Was she ready to cause such despair?

Yes. She loved Tom. And no amount of soul-searching could change that fact.

Love at first sight. Tom had changed everything and Edie now refused to settle for anything less than this incredible new feeling. Suddenly she didn’t even want to lose sight of Tom, not for a moment. But there was also the notion that if her father’s warnings came to pass and Tom offered her no financial security in her future, she didn’t care because it was enough that Tom was
in
her future. Just the thought of being able to embrace him each day, kiss him, hear his gentle voice, catch that lovely smile . . . Edie sighed silently as she walked past familiar stores: the cobbler, the tobacconist, the greengrocer. Even though she’d known him only for a few days she’d caught herself studying the minutiae of Tom; liking the angle created by his lowest knuckle on his thumb when he held a mug of tea, listening for that soft way he cleared his throat, observing the neat manner in which he manipulated his spoon while eating his breakfast porridge, or how he worked his knife to butter his toast. And when he was contemplative she noticed that he silently drummed a tune on the table, a wall or his thigh with the middle finger of his right hand. She’d wondered repeatedly at which tune might be in his mind. She wanted to know everything about him but she wanted to know nothing about his past, for there, of course, lurked others . . . perhaps a romantic connection. A man of his looks and charm would hardly be unnoticed by women. No, Edie didn’t want to know a single moment of what had gone before in Tom’s life since he’d taken her hand and she’d led him onto the bus.

And since the kiss she’d been thinking about his hands in an entirely different way, imagining them on her, reaching for her, squeezing her close, holding her tight, touching her —

If her father asked her that question of this morning again – about whether she was sure – she’d say she was . . . one hundred per cent sure. Edie wanted Tom.

And she made a decision then and there, queuing to get into the butcher, with the familiar raw smell leaking out of the carcasses of animals that hung behind the shop counter. If Tom asked her again to marry him, she would say yes, but she had to be certain he hadn’t been carried away in the passion of the moment last night. She would wait for the question to come and it would need to be sincerely asked.

‘Don’t let me down, Tom,’ she murmured and then cast out silently,
Come home safely
.

She finally stepped into the butcher’s shop, scuffing through the sawdust, and was standing at the marble counter within a couple of minutes.

‘Cold enough for you, Edie?’ Eli was an old friend of the family.

She grinned her answer. ‘Hello, Eli. Is that joint of beef tender?’ She pointed behind him.

‘Yes, my girl,’ he said, reaching over the counter and pinching her cheek, as he had done since she was a child. ‘Just like you. I’ve just butchered that leg. It’s beautiful meat.’

‘I’ll take it, please.’

He nodded, picked up the joint, slapping it into his palm and smoothing the layer of fat on top. ‘Should feed six. Don’t cook it too long, Edie.’

He began wrapping it in large white sheets of paper, then pulled a pencil from behind his ear and totted up something on a small notepad. He twisted it around so she could see the amount and then put a finger to his lips and winked.

Eli was too good to her. She dipped into her purse for the few shillings he was charging her. ‘Are you sure?’ she murmured as she handed over the coins and ration coupons.

He nodded. ‘Of course I’m sure. Your father has done my family many good turns. And meat is at a ridiculous price at the moment.’

She shrugged back and grinned. ‘Thanks, Eli.’

‘My best to Abe.’

She put the beef into her basket and decided she could afford some eggs. She’d noted Tom liked to drink milk, so she considered an extra pint, and perhaps an extra loaf of bread. Then she remembered tea-leaves. That would all tally up to another sixpence. She darted into the bakery and the grocery shop, making conversation with the women alongside her about the weather, what she was cooking tonight, her father’s health . . . the usual topics, while adroitly steering their attention away from her personal life. Out of respect for Shabbat, which demanded no toil be done from sundown, Edie calculated when she must get her beef into the oven before the hour arrived when her father would no longer want her working in the kitchen. Edie mentally ticked off the meal – it would go far if she added some additional vegetables. The potato casserole could cook alongside the beef.

By the time Edie arrived home, put her food away and prepared the meat, it was nearing one p.m., and still there was no sign of Tom. She duly made her father a simple lunch and a pot of tea, which she carried down on a tray into the shop.

‘Ah, you’re back, my love.’

She nodded and pecked him hello. ‘I thought you’d take it down here as you’re busy.’

‘Thank you, child. Are you feeling brighter?’

She nodded, giving him a sad smile. ‘I’m not looking forward to this evening.’

He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘We shall stick together, us Valentines.’

‘Promise?’ she replied, slightly archly.

He nodded. ‘I couldn’t bear for you to be unhappy when I knew only happiness with your mother.’ Her spirits rose. ‘Two new suit orders today,’ he continued.

‘You see? We’re going to be fine.’ She looked genuinely happy at the news.

‘If I was a younger man I might entertain that idea of Savile Row.’

‘Abba, you have no intention of opening your shop on Savile Row. I think you’re just too comfortable here.’

Abe sighed. ‘We do all right, don’t we, Edie?’

‘Of course we do. There are so many people in a worse situation than us.’

‘You sound so like your mother.’

She grinned. It was one of his favourite sayings. ‘Do you want me to hem Mr Goldstein’s trousers this afternoon?’

‘Yes, thank you, dear. Will you watch the shop while I drink my tea?’

She shooed him to the back and sat at the counter watching the world go by from the shadows of the shop, looking out of its large front window, getting on with her hemming, but really with an eye on the passers-by, hoping to glimpse Tom. She disappeared to check on her food and to iron a tablecloth, taking pleasure in using the damask in his honour – even if he wasn’t welcome to share the meal with them – before returning to her spot near the window to gaze out and hope to see him arriving home.

There was no sign of Tom by nearly quarter to four and Edie had kept a lid on her panic by ensuring every long minute of the day was as occupied as the previous one. She’d even cleared out a drawer of old cotton reels . . . anything to remain distracted.

She heard the bell on the door jangle but knew it was simply her father seeing Mr Tomlin on his way. Abe reappeared where she was working, brushing lint off two new suits in readiness to show customers on Monday.

‘Well, my child, it is time for Shabbat. I have closed the shop.’

‘You go on up, Abba. I’ll be a minute or so more.’

‘The sun is nearly set, Edie.’

‘I know.’ Normally she might have left it at that but today had heralded a new beginning in Edie’s life, in her attitude. They both knew it. ‘I want to unlock the side door before I come,’ she said. She put the brush away and busied herself as though it was a perfectly feasible notion.

Her father did not turn and leave but regarded her. ‘Edie, maybe this is for the best . . .’ he began.

She would not permit him to say it. ‘I’m sure he will be home shortly. He knows we observe Shabbat,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘And I’ll leave it to you to tell him he is unwelcome at tonight’s dinner table.’

His gaze softened but she knew he was hiding his true feelings. This time it was relief, even some satisfaction, as though his warnings had been borne out. ‘Tom has been gone all day, child. Perhaps he has taken this opportunity to move on painlessly.’

She kept her voice even, though her belly felt as if it was filled with snakes twisting and sliding over each other at the notion that Tom had left her without farewell. ‘No. Tom’s not a coward, Abba. He would wish to say goodbye and thank us if he was leaving.’

Edie knew her father wanted to say that Tom could be lost, but she saw him resist it.

‘Besides,’ she said, ‘if we leave it unlocked, then Ben can let himself in.’ She smiled innocently. ‘Go, Abba, change for Shabbat. I’ll be up in a minute.’

He left and Edie took a few moments to quell the fluttering fear that wanted to take full flight. As she moved to the door to turn the Closed sign around, she stared out into the twilight as people hurried home before the sun set fully and she asked any of the angels that had kept Tom alive through the war to now bring him back to her.

‘I promise I’ll say yes. I cannot ask him to convert his faith but you know he’s a good man. Instead I promise to be a loving wife who never breaks faith with my husband. Just bring Tom back to me,’ she said softly, realising she was praying, not just casting out a hope.

There was a knock at the door and she was startled. Hope flared. She smiled sadly as she opened the door. ‘Evening, Ben.’ She kissed his cold cheek, feeling hideously awkward. Her feelings of dread and guilt, coupled with fear for Tom and fear for what was going to happen later this evening, only intensified when Ben showed no expression but his usual good-natured grin.

‘I was worried I’d be late,’ he said, giving her a hug.

‘Right on time as usual,’ she assured. ‘Ben?’

‘I know,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘We’ll talk after synagogue.’

She nodded. ‘Go on up. Abba is waiting.’ She turned away, aware that they were both avoiding the inevitable. ‘I’m just locking up,’ she fibbed. ‘I’ll be up in a moment.’

Ben disappeared. It seemed ludicrous that he was still pretending as though everything was as it had been a few days ago. His mother had admitted that only this morning he was discussing the wedding contract with the rabbi.

Edie felt a skewer of regret for him while giving another wistful glance into the gloomy November night. It felt cold enough to snow. Tom was not prepared for the harsher elements, although she admitted to herself once again that he had emerged from war where others had succumbed to its traumas. Tom was a survivor, a small voice assured her in her mind.

She sighed and joined the men upstairs for a brief prayer and a sip of wine, and then her father and Ben kissed her farewell as they headed to the synagogue for Friday prayers with the rest of the men of Golders Green. In the interim, she listened for the telltale sound of Tom’s return that never came while she laid the table with their best crockery and crystal, which somehow kept him with her.

Edie and Ben sat opposite one another in the sitting room while Abe remained in the dining room, awaiting the arrival of Dena and Samuel.

She had no idea how to begin the most difficult conversation of her life. The clock ticked ominously, reminding her of the awkward silence stretching between them. Gas lamps added no cheeriness to this scene and when the flame of the fire suddenly guttered, she felt obliged to start the horrible conversation, as clearly Ben wasn’t going to. She’d expected him to be in a foul mood. Instead he appeared in control of his emotions and it dawned on her then that perhaps at the synagogue her father had suggested he take a conciliatory approach, as Abba no doubt believed there was now every likelihood Tom was not going to return. It made sense suddenly because she knew Ben had a temper, although it was also true that his childish propensity for anger had matured into an adult’s ability to disguise it, channel it differently. She began politely. ‘How was synagogue?’

‘It was a good service,’ he replied, giving her a small smile, and she realised Ben was not going to make it any easier for her.

Edie felt her patience give and shifted to a more direct approach. ‘I can’t marry you, Ben,’ she said, her tone flat.

He shrugged. ‘I gather you’re nervous.’

His condescension made it easier. ‘That’s not it.’

‘Your voice is trembling.’

‘I feel uncomfortable having to confront you with this awkward situation.’

‘Well, I want to marry you, Edie. You know that.’

‘I do. But that doesn’t change how I feel.’

‘And how do you feel?’

She wasn’t ready for such a question or his composure. Anger would have been far easier to confront. Edie hesitated as she reached for an appropriate response. ‘Well, I feel . . . unhappy.’

‘Unhappy?’ His tone was measured.

He was using his lawyer’s negotiating skills.

‘Unhappy that I risk hurting you with this decision, but very determined. I cannot marry you, no matter how much Aunt Dena threatens.’

‘I see. But you can’t give me a reason why?’

‘I don’t love you . . . not the way a wife should.’

‘How do you know how a wife should love, my darling? How do you know that how you love me isn’t perfect?’

‘Please don’t, Ben. Don’t twist my words. Save that for your courtroom. I do not feel a romantic love for you.’

He shook his head, his gaze slightly mocking. ‘Compared to what?’

‘To the love my parents felt.’

‘Your mother died at your birth, Edie. You have no concept of their relationship.’

Edie swallowed her resentment at his patronising manner and decided she could no longer shield him from the truth. It was fair that he knew, no matter what the repercussions were. ‘All right, then. If you must hear this, I don’t love you in the way that I love someone else. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

He laughed. ‘Well, that’s certainly intriguing,’ he said in a cryptic tone and gave her another condescending glance. Obviously Abba had warned him privately about Tom’s impact on her. She could hear familiar voices outside.

‘Your parents are here.’ She sighed.

‘Shall we join them?’

‘Ben?’ He turned back. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but Edie knew she now had to be clear even if it did wound. ‘Nothing they say, or you say, can convince me to change my mind. I do not love you as I should.’

‘Well, I shall and always will love you. Shall we?’ He gestured to the door and Edie felt powerless against his devotion . . . no, his obsession.

_______________

As they all held hands for the blessing that her father was preparing to give over the small feast she’d laid out, Edie heard distant footsteps and her heart leapt. A small sound – a sob – escaped, which she disguised as a cough. She craned to hear, eyes closed for the telltale sound of their side door that creaked when it opened.

‘So be it,’ they said together in Hebrew, although Edie was one beat behind because she paused on hearing a familiar groan of floorboards from downstairs.

‘That will be Tom,’ she murmured, relief making her want to weep. Her heart was pounding so hard that she had to stand for fear of her guests noticing.

‘Our houseguest,’ Abe said, not looking at Edie. ‘He won’t be staying for dinner.’

She turned from the table and suddenly he was there – tall and broad, cheeks shining and pinched from the cold, teeth gleaming within a broad smile. In fact, his powerful presence felt overwhelming in the door frame in that instant and she sensed her whole body react to it with a rush of warmth, a choke in her throat, her pulse quickening further still. She wasn’t sure her voice would be steady – her hands certainly were not and she was glad one was laid firmly on the back of the chair.

‘Hello, Edie,’ he gushed, and the chill came in with him and seemed to settle around her guests.

‘Tom, welcome back,’ Abe said politely. ‘Come meet the Levi family.’

‘Thank you, Abe. It took some effort but I found my way. The suit was delivered on time this morning, Sir.’

Abe cleared his throat. ‘We have some family matters to discuss, Tom, so I thought you might drop by the pub for a counter meal. These are our oldest family friends. This is Benjamin Levi, Edie’s —’ He looked desperately uncomfortable.

‘I’m Edie’s fiancé, or at least, I think I am,’ Ben said, trying to make it sound sardonic but it came out forced. Edie felt sickened. ‘My parents . . . Samuel and Dena.’

Tom grinned disarmingly, offering to shake hands, and Edie turned away, embarrassed. ‘Hello, Ben. I’ve heard plenty about you,’ Tom said.

‘All good, I hope?’ Ben replied predictably, Edie thought, and then winced as he laughed at his own jest; Ben sounded suddenly nervous. Tom was having an effect on him too, it seemed. ‘And I’ve been hearing plenty about you too, Tom. Edie couldn’t stop talking about you at our house last night.’

Edie felt suddenly hot with shame.

‘Well, that’s encouraging,’ Tom said.

Edie prayed her voice remained casual and steady. ‘Tom, do you want to freshen up?’ She hated that her father had already publicly dismissed him.

‘Not yet, Edie,’ he said and she turned back frowning, her breath suddenly trapped in her lungs.

Abe fixed him with one of his disapproving stares. ‘You should, son. You smell like a brewery.’

‘Yes, forgive me for that. However, I haven’t drunk anything stronger than a pot of tea at a small railway café, Abe, but I have been to the pub, it’s true, and today walking around these neighbourhoods has given me time to think.’

Everyone waited expectantly and watched as Tom dug into his inside breast pocket and shocked them by pulling out a roll of money. ‘I know this is not the appropriate moment, Abe, but I’d like to save us all a lot of time and trouble and buy the bolts of cloth from you.’

They all stared in dull shock at the money Tom had placed on the sideboard. It looked grimy and well used. The Levis shared a confused look with each other and then back at their host, while Edie noted Ben’s gaze had not moved from Tom.

Ben spoke first. ‘Good heavens! That looks to be several pounds,’ he said, in a forced levity.

‘Several indeed,’ Tom replied, glancing once at Edie. ‘Seven, to be precise.’

She blanched, thunderstruck. ‘How did you come by this money?’ It was clear to her that Tom was not deterred by having an audience; in fact, he looked glad to be having this conversation publicly.

He dug into another pocket and pulled out a half sovereign. ‘Remember this, Edie?’ She nodded, pale with shock. Tom shrugged. ‘I wagered it. I won it back, plus thirteen times its value.’

‘Wagered?’ Abe said, the most stunned of Tom’s audience. ‘On what?’

‘On Pretty Penny.’

Their guests gasped again in surprise.

‘Have you been to the races today?’ Abe asked, sounding so shocked that Edie stepped closer to him and laid a calming hand on his arm.

‘No, Sir. I gave my only coin to someone I met a couple of days ago. He wasn’t keen to take it, but I insisted because I was determined to repay your hospitality. Now I can do that and can offer you a premium for your cloth if you’ll accept it.’

‘You’re buying Abe Valentine’s cloth?’ Ben queried, bemused. ‘What, all that fabric stored out the back, gathering dust?’

Tom nodded.

‘What’s the catch?’

‘No catch, Ben,’ Tom replied, his tone cool, almost with a hint of warning.

Abe opened his palms in dismay. ‘But, Tom, you don’t know the first thing about that cloth, or about tailoring.’

‘This has nothing to do with tailoring, Abe. This is about commercial enterprise. We agreed, didn’t we, that you needed to shift that cloth?’ He glanced at Edie. ‘Didn’t we?’

She bit her lip, wondering where Tom was leading her with this conversation and whether it was wise to have it now, in this company. She breathed out, trusting him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The three of us agreed that the cloth was useless sitting in a storeroom.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Abe, let me buy it and sell it on at no risk or embarrassment to you.’

‘But, Tom, my father has spoken to the buyer from Savile Row. Why would you —’

She watched Tom lock stares with Abe before a small, wry grin appeared in his expression. ‘Your father hasn’t taken coffee with the fellow from Savile Row yet.’

Edie turned to her father. ‘You did, though, didn’t you, Abba? Gieves & Hawkes. You said —’

‘I haven’t yet, child,’ her father replied smoothly.

Edie felt her heart sink. Abba had been toying with Tom.

‘What’s going on here, Abe?’ Dena asked but won a glare from her husband.

Tom proceeded as if he and Abe were the only ones in the room. ‘So let’s not even ask you to do that, Abe,’ he continued. ‘You’re a proud man. You’re a great tailor and you don’t need to give the impression that you need Savile Row to take the cloth off your hands.’

Edie turned to her father. ‘Is that troubling you?’

‘I would appear like a peddler,’ he admitted. ‘Desperate.’

‘I can save you that heartache, Abe. Here’s the cash,’ Tom gestured again at the grubby pile. ‘More than you had anticipated and I will take only what we agree is fair, which is perhaps one third of what you have stockpiled. Right now it’s earning nothing.’

‘Well, I’m sure Abe has plans for that cloth,’ Ben began. ‘I mean, if money is required, I’d be happy to ask my —’

‘Don’t, Ben,’ Edie warned, desperate for this scene not to become any more intense. She saw the flame ignite in Tom’s expression, and it burned brightly in his eyes as he shifted his attention to the man she was promised to.

‘Firstly, Ben, you’re missing the point. But it’s best you don’t involve yourself, for I don’t have to ask my family for money.’ Ben opened his mouth in expected indignation but Tom continued. ‘I have my own money right here.’

Ben stood, his chair scraping back. ‘Now, listen here, Tom, or whatever your name is. I have every right to be involved in my fiancée’s future. As a lawyer, it’s my duty to advise Abe on anything he might want to involve himself in commercially.’

‘Really? And what about Edie?’

‘Tom,’ Edie said, but it was too late. Her suitors had locked horns and nothing could prevent the inevitable tussle.

‘What
about
Edie?’ Ben challenged.

‘Her future, for starters.’

‘Edie’s future is with me, as my wife. She may deny that right now, but I’m sure my parents and I can convince her —’

‘Is that it?’ Tom said.

‘It?’

‘Is that all Edie has to look forward to? Being your wife, I mean?’

Ben looked back at him, aghast. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Too subtle for you?’ Tom mocked and Edie felt the pain of the parry of words as the man she loved drew first blood from the man her father loved. ‘You’re entitled to follow your heart, your dreams. How about Edie?’

Dena clearly couldn’t keep her silence a moment longer. ‘Abe, who is this stranger who —’

‘What dreams?’ Ben interjected, as he looked at Edie, then at Abe, who was suspiciously silent. ‘I know she is a splendid dressmaker.’

‘Have you asked Edie what she looks forward to doing with her life, other than being your wife, mother to your children, keeper of your house? You don’t excite her now, how do you plan to keep her interest for years to come?’

Ben blinked and Edie felt a wave of sorrow. She cut Tom a look, pleading for him to stop. She saw his expression soften.

‘Will someone stop this man?’ Dena demanded.

‘Be quiet, mother,’ Ben murmured.

‘Enough!’ Abe struggled to stand but shook off Edie’s helping hand. ‘Tom, I think you have breathed a new and fiery wind into our home that might bring about change that will burn everyone it touches.’

Edie watched Tom take a slow breath. ‘I’m gathering you wish me to take my fire elsewhere, Abe,’ he offered.

Abe nodded. ‘Let it burn in your own belly, son. It will cause pain here.’

‘Pain for whom, Abe? For Ben, who wants to marry your daughter? For his family that feels entitled to her because it was agreed before she was even born? For you, who wants Ben as a son-in-law because that’s what your wife wanted? Or for Edie, who isn’t getting a say in any aspect of her life?’

The old man raised a finger of caution.

Ben’s composure deserted him and he began to splutter his objections. ‘Who are you to come into this house and speak so directly as if you don’t owe a great debt to the Valentine family?’

Tom looked away from Ben as though he barely mattered and fixed his attention on Abe. ‘I owe a debt and am well aware of it, Mr Levi. Which is why I plan to pay it back tenfold. Abe, please, as a business venture, allow me to buy your cloth and then I will leave your household.’

Edie gasped inwardly. No, surely he wouldn’t leave her?

Abe finally sighed. ‘All right, Tom. Maybe it will set you up, get you started in life again.’

‘It will,’ he replied. ‘I will not hand the money across your Shabbat table. But you know it is here. Can we shake on the deal?’

‘I do not deal on Shabbat. But you have my word that we have agreed on our exchange,’ Abe said. ‘You can collect the cloth whenever you are in a position to. In the meantime, I wish you to take one of those pounds and go find yourself a hotel in London, pay for some time to organise your thoughts, feed yourself and make a plan.’