The Tailor's Girl (28 page)

‘What do you mean?’ he said, shifting to meet her gaze, hating that he was the cause of the soft injury in it. And still she was being the generous one.

‘There are moments when you’re physically present, but your mind is absent.’

‘Pen —’

‘I know . . . I know. I promised myself I wouldn’t take you to task and yet here I am, treacherously jealous monster that I’ve become, doing just that. And I don’t even know what I’m jealous of.’

‘Ghosts. Nothing more,’ he uttered but heard the lie echoing through his mind to the tip-tap of heels on a stone pathway.

‘I hate myself for sounding pathetic and needy,’ she continued and he suddenly wished he could stop this merry-go-round that he was now clinging to as it began to spin faster. The smiling horses were blurring into one sickening motion of speed but going nowhere, except round and round in circles.

Red handkerchief, clicking heels, sewing machine oil, a well-made suit, roses, garden shed, leather satchel . . . a heart. Always a heart.

‘It’s just, I love you so much, Alex. So much that sometimes I can’t breathe for the happiness that you’re safe. But I don’t want to trap you in my love. I don’t want it to be just my love that binds us. I worry that you’re going along with this whole wedding thing because you don’t have any other better offers.’

‘That’s not true . . . nor is it fair.’

‘No,’ she said, blushing slightly at his admonishment. ‘It’s probably not fair at all to expect you to love your bride.’ Her searching gaze found him again and nailed him where he sat.

Alex cleared his throat. ‘Listen, Pen. My life of late has been strange, to say the least. It’s impossible to explain to you how awkward I feel at times.’

‘Awkward with me?’

‘No, not with you . . . but with life itself, and that does include you. But listen to me now,’ he said, taking her hand and kissing it. ‘It’s the confusion that makes me appear odd and it doesn’t reflect how I want to feel. I can’t think of a more suitable wife . . .’ As alarm flared in her eyes, he squeezed her hand. ‘Or someone I would more want to spent my life with. I don’t know how to love just now. I have flashes of memory, but not images, just feelings. Anything tangible is still out of reach.’

‘Aren’t the doctors offering any advice?’

‘Nothing that helps.’

‘A specialist, then?’

‘Look, I may see Cavendish again. He’s the doctor who assisted me at Savile Row. But, Pen, do you really want me to learn any more?’

She laid her head on his shoulder and he obliged by putting his arm around her, which he knew she needed. ‘Lex, I love you, but I want your happiness first before your ring. I don’t need you to look after me or provide for me. I just need you to adore me.’

Alex was disgusted that he found it so easy to beguile her. ‘I think this mood will pass. We shall be married and be hideously happy.’ He needed to believe it.

She turned to gaze at him. ‘I hope you mean that.’

‘You make me feel safe, you make me want family, you make me want to be the Alex Wynter my father expects me to be. Above all, you make me proud.’

She smiled. ‘Proud?’

‘Proud for the women of this country . . . you’re an amazing role model. This family needs you . . . I need you, Pen. Is that enough?’

Pen looked up at him with soft eyes and kissed him long and gently. ‘For now,’ she murmured.

Edie and Madeleine had taken a bus and found themselves huddled in the breeze on a bench in Green Park, hoping to see ‘an old man’.

‘Apparently he feeds the birds,’ Edie remarked.

‘We’ve been here for nearly two hours. I doubt he’s coming.’

‘We could have missed him . . .’

‘He could be dead.’

Edie threw Madeleine a sharp glance. ‘It could just be too blowy today. It’s not exactly pleasant.’ She looked up. ‘Rainclouds gathering too.’

‘Right!’ Madeleine stood. ‘Well, no luck here and my thighs are numb, so I need to walk.’

‘Savile Row?’ Edie suggested.

‘Let’s go. Are you going to be gloomy again?’

‘No. But maybe I’ll come again sometime. I don’t care about Sarah any more. I don’t even care about the sketches. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘I am proud to hear it.’

‘Thanks. Let’s go ogle some handsome, wealthy gents.’

‘Many of whom have eligible spinster daughters,’ Madeleine said, tapping her nose.

They walked briskly against the wind, past a barber’s shop.

‘My father liked to come to this salon for a haircut and shave when he was much younger. I think the son has taken over now,’ Edie said, staring into the window. The sign told her the shop was closed and she had no reason to go in there anyway. ‘Perhaps Tom looked into this window that day,’ she said, touching the glass.

Madeleine pulled on her arm. ‘Come on. Don’t get soppy or you’ll see clues everywhere where they aren’t. Take me to Savile Row.’

Edie confidently guided her friend down Piccadilly towards St James’s Church. The pair turned into Sackville Street, hanging on to their hats as the gusty weather wanted to snatch them away, while the tall grey stone buildings created a wind tunnel that made them shriek from the cold blast.

They hurried and skipped into Vigo Street, where London turned quieter, and it led them into Burlington Gardens, where the wind didn’t burn so viciously. ‘This way.’ Edie pointed across the road and they cut right. ‘This is Savile Row,’ she said with a note of triumph and the sounds of traffic and people in a hurry instantly disappeared.

Madeleine gave a low whistle as she stared at the imposing, handsome building with a brick frontage that was at least three windows wide. Round arched windows and doorways sported elaborate brick trimmings, and the main door was set back into an arched recess with plain stone imposts.

‘This is Gieves & Hawkes, gentlemen’s outfitters. Three storeys and a basement. I’ve been in and out of this tailoring salon so many times I’ve lost count. Abba was a favoured supplier of its master tailor.’

‘Why?’

Edie smiled. ‘Abba had what the tailoring people called the Rock of Eye.’ At Madeleine’s frown, she explained. ‘That’s a phrase used for someone who is skilled enough to ignore the rules.’

‘Rules?’

Edie took Madeleine’s arm and began walking again. ‘Most tailors or seamstresses cut to patterns based on a set of meticulously taken measurements. Patterns and tailoring is mostly about mathematics to get the cut perfect on the client. Abba could cut by instinct. He had patterns but the truth is he never needed them. It’s a gift. It’s called the Rock of Eye.’

‘You have that! I know you only measured me because you felt obliged. Admit it, you sized me up and could cut that first dress from nothing more than a sketch.’

‘I suppose,’ Edie said, strolling on.

‘I knew it! Eden, I’ve never known anyone in my career to have that talent. You are every inch your father’s daughter.’

Eden nodded. ‘“The tailor’s girl” is how they knew me as a little child around here,’ she admitted. Then she smiled, pointing. ‘Here’s Anderson & Sheppard, another of Abba’s admirers. And there’s its head tailor – a lovely gentleman called Percival Fitch.’

Fitch had stepped outside to check the colour of some cloth in the thin grey daylight. ‘Good grief. That isn’t you, Edie Valentine, is it?’

‘It is! How are you, Mr Fitch?’

‘Come here.’ She was surprised by the genuine hug she received. ‘It’s been far too long. Oh, look at that ring; Abe always said you’d marry Benjamin Levi. Congratulations.’

Edie blinked; she didn’t want to go into the truth with Mr Fitch and it really didn’t matter now.

‘I heard about Abe,’ Fitch continued. ‘I’m terribly sorry for your loss.’

‘Thank you.’ There was so much more she could say but she swiftly moved on. ‘Mr Fitch, this is my closest friend, Miss Madeleine Delacroix.’

‘
Enchanté, Mademoiselle
,’ he said, smiling gently.

‘
Merci, Monsieur Fitch
.’

Fitch grinned. ‘Eden, did I hear that you’ve set up a bridal salon?’

She nodded.

‘Well, well. Everyone on the Row will be proud of our little tailor’s girl.’

Edie gave Madeleine a sideways grin. ‘Thank you. And how is business for you, Mr Fitch?’

‘Oh, much the same. Our loyal clientele keeps the workflow steady.’

Edie turned to her friend. ‘Mr Fitch always said a gentleman comes here to have a suit made but also to get away from nagging women and all other noise. Discretion is currency on the Row.’

Fitch demurred, looking embarrassed. ‘We like to keep it peaceful. No excitement if we can help it.’

‘Isn’t that dull?’ Madeleine wondered.

He knew he was being teased because he smiled genuinely. ‘Dull is how we like it. Not so long ago one of our most valued clients got knocked down in Savile Row by a taxi. Caused such a stir, it took days for the talk to settle down.’ He shook his head and tutted.

Both women laughed. ‘I hope your client is recovered, Mr Fitch?’ Edie offered.

‘Oh, I’m relieved to say he wasn’t injured beyond being dazed momentarily. We hadn’t seen him for years but we still had a pre-war suit of his that I could give him, as his own navy one was torn. I heard later from another client – a doctor – that he pulled up surprisingly well and was on his way home that evening.’

‘Well, that does sound like an unusual day.’ Edie was reminded of Tom’s navy suit, a daring colour she always loved him in.

‘Indeed. Especially as he was a returned officer who —’

‘Excuse me, Mr Fitch.’ A young man appeared, hovering behind him. ‘Your two o’clock appointment will be arriving half an hour earlier. Is that all right with you?’

Fitch frowned, took out his fob and tutted again. ‘I suppose it must be. Sorry, ladies. Duty calls,’ Fitch said.

‘Not at all.’

‘Mademoiselle Delacroix.’ He gave a gallant nod to Madeleine before giving Edie’s arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘Good luck, Edie. I’ll watch your progress with fond interest.’

The women made their way up Conduit Street, towards Regent Street and a bus to take them closer to home.

‘He could have asked us in to warm up,’ Madeleine complained.

‘Anderson & Sheppard is not a woman’s place, Mads. Savile Row isn’t either, but I’m glad you’ve seen it.’

‘You don’t have to tell a French person about discretion. It’s second nature to us because everyone’s having affairs!’ Madeleine said in a dry tone.

‘The tailoring shops of Savile Row are the old guard, but ultimately changes will come as younger blood arrives. Ready-to-wear is on our doorstep, Mads, which is why if I can get a few brides into the salon, I can start thinking about my first collection beyond bespoke. Buying ready-made clothes is the future.’

_______________

The family had gathered once more in the drawing room at Larksfell; Fern was noticeably absent, and Alex suspected she wasn’t yet ready to face the entire Wynter clan again when clearly something formal was afoot.

Afternoon tea had been served and Elsie had just finished cutting a sugar-dusted jam sponge into slices.

‘Will that be all, Ma’am?’

‘Thank you, Elsie,’ Cecily said.

Bramson remained at the far end of the room, away from the warmth of the fire but never so far that he couldn’t be the eyes and ears of the household that Cecily Wynter depended on . . . and always had.

‘So, Mother, what brings us back together so quickly and demands I rush up from London?’ Rupert said, adding a spoonful of sugar to his tea.

‘On such a cold Monday afternoon, no less,’ Dougie added.

‘Yes, really, Mother,’ Charlotte bleated. ‘Julian and I were hoping to spend a few days together.’

‘I’m sorry, darlings, but we have some rather startling news to share.’

Her words were accompanied by groans.

‘Oh no,’ Charlotte said. ‘No more bad news, please.’

‘It’s good news, actually,’ Alex cut in, taking over the conversation as he shot a look of assurance to Pen, who was sitting as quietly as Bramson stood.

‘Are you paying us a new dividend or something, Lex? Spit it out,’ Rupert urged.

Alex grinned. ‘No, old chap. We asked everyone here today to announce that I shall be getting married next spring.’

Cups were clattered onto saucers, mouths opened and gasps were heard before all the Wynters began speaking at once.

‘You’re so recently back! How can you be announcing an engagement?’ Charlotte squealed.

‘Hurrah for that! It takes the heat off me!’ Rupert jested.

Dougie, after his initial groan, said, ‘You can’t be serious!’

‘Darlings, please,’ their mother appealed. ‘I’ll get one of my headaches.’

‘Who’s the lucky girl, brother?’ Rupert winked at Pen.

‘Well, you see, everyone . . . you all know her rather well.’

‘Good heavens!’ Dougie exclaimed. ‘Pen, can you shed any light on this? I’m afraid Alex is being deliberately obtuse.’

Alex noticed that Pen didn’t quail beneath the Wynter stares that suddenly regarded her.

‘I can, as a matter of fact, Dougie. I happen to know the very happy girl extremely well,’ she said, helplessly smug. ‘It’s me.’

Later, after the initial shock had worn off and the questions had adjusted to offers of congratulations, Rupert departed and Dougie was not far behind.

Alex accompanied his middle brother to the door. ‘No problems with her being distantly related?’

Dougie shook his head. ‘Keep it in the family, I say, but to be honest, Lex, I thought you were just being brotherly escorting Pen to various events. We all did, I suspect. It’s not as though you are . . . er, well, overly affectionate.’ Alex visibly inhaled at the soft rebuke. His brother gave a small laugh. ‘You’re full of surprises, Lex. But this is the best yet. You are sure, aren’t you?’

‘Pen’s a great girl.’

‘That sounds incredibly romantic,’ Dougie replied, unable to disguise the sarcasm. ‘I don’t know why I’m shocked. I’ve always known Pen had a desperate crush on you, but I thought she’d grown up.’

‘She has. I suppose the crush has changed to love.’

‘Yes, but I’m not hearing love in
your
voice.’

‘Just be grateful you have it with Fern and don’t judge others. I’m doing my best, Dougie.’

Bramson blinked as Alex returned to the drawing room and he had no idea what the gesture meant. Alex hoped it was approval.

‘Well, I’m glad that’s over,’ he said, refreshing his cup with a fresh pour from the pot.

‘You must allow for the shock, Lex,’ Charlotte soothed. ‘It’s odd, I won’t lie to you both, but I think you’re extremely well matched and I hope you are very happy,’ she added, taking Pen’s hand.

‘Well said, Charlie,’ Cecily said. ‘The boys will come around. Rupert can now officially be called the Wynter playboy and Dougie is just a fraction jealous. You’re a catch, Pen dear. No two ways about it. Alex is a lucky fellow.’

‘So . . . your dress!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘Your gown will be the talk of the south.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ she admitted. ‘Only child, only daughter – it’s going to be a big one, Lex. I’m sorry, Aunt Cecily. I know you prefer more low-key affairs.’

‘Nonsense, darling. This is going to be the biggest day of your life and your mother is perfectly entitled to make it as loud as she chooses.’

‘Pen, I don’t think I could bear the full-on society wedding . . .’ Lex began.

‘You may have to,’ Pen said with apology. ‘I did give you an opportunity to marry me on Brighton Pier but you turned me down. So grit your teeth and bear it. I promise beyond the wedding I shall never put you through any more pomp . . . not even for the christening of our children, which I’ll be very glad to hold in the Wynter chapel.’

‘Not so fast,’ Charlie warned. ‘I want to know about your gown. White, of course.’

‘I thought ivory, actually,’ Pen said.

‘I saw in the weekend paper that House of Ainsworth has released a daring new range of designs for next spring,’ Cecily noted.

‘Oh, I saw those too. Very exciting,’ Charlie gushed. ‘You must go there.’

Pen shrugged. ‘I’m not planning to, actually. You know I’m Nicola Fincham’s number one for her wedding?’

Alex looked bored already and threw a look of plea to Bramson to rescue him. ‘I refuse to talk matrons-of-honour and bridesmaids’ fluffery.’

‘Fluffery? Is that a word, darling?’ his mother baited.

‘Er . . . Mr Alex, could I have a word with you, please?’ Bramson said, taking the hint. ‘Forgive me for interrupting.’

‘Of course,’ Alex replied gratefully, swallowing his tea. ‘Excuse me, Mother. I won’t be long.’

The women barely noticed him leave.

‘Go on,’ his sister said, eager to hear more.

‘Good heavens, Charlie,’ Cecily said. ‘I’ve never known you to take an ounce of interest in clothes, let alone bridal wear. Should we expect wedding bells from you and Julian soon?’

Charlie blushed and Pen gave a squeal. ‘Really?’

‘You and Alex stole my thunder,’ she admitted.

‘Oh, darling!’ Cecily said, reaching for her daughter. ‘How exciting. I’m thrilled for you.’

‘Julian’s in a bit of a rush, I have to say, so I’m quite pleased you two have got in the way. I can slow things down. I do want to say yes to him, and Father did like Julian, didn’t he?’

Her mother nodded. ‘Very much so. And I do too. I approve without reservation, so whenever you’re ready, you give that fine young man of yours an answer.’

‘Thanks. I was going to speak to Lex about it soon. Anyway, Pen, don’t think I’m cross because I’m relieved. But I am interested in your thoughts about the gown. Will you help me?’