A Pocketful of Holes and Dreams (30 page)

Some days later, I had a brainwave. I’d make the well a feature of the store by building it up through the basement to ground-floor level. When I did my calculations, I realized that the well would end up pretty much dead centre of the shop at street level, making it a truly remarkable centrepiece.

I built it brick by brick. It took two weeks to complete, and I’m so glad that I did it. Even to this day, visitors to Liverpool still make their way to Bold Street to see my great find.

When I was a child, my mother often told me stories about Bold Street and of how the posh ladies of the day would shop there, dressed in all their finery. They would arrive at their favourite stores in horse-drawn carriages or chauffeur-driven motor cars. The street was renowned for its millinery, quality tailoring and high-class furniture stores. There were also lots of tea rooms, where the ladies would sip tea from bone-china cups and gossip.

Inspired by my mother’s stories, I based the image of my new emporium on the olden days, and went in search of anything that would fit that image. I found Edwardian and Victorian fittings and artefacts in old schools and churches that were under demolition, and I positioned each treasure with the same love and tender care as it would have originally been installed a hundred years before.

On the first floor, I re-created a Victorian tea room that would accommodate thirty-six customers. It took a lot of time and patience to scour the country for all the right silverware. I even had black and white Victorian uniforms specially made for the waitresses. Striving for perfection and authenticity, I put my heart and soul into it.

It took eight months in all to complete the restoration work on the new Jeff’s of Bold Street store. Miraculously, I also managed to finish it on budget. We then moved out of our small shop four doors away, and on 10 September 2001, Gina and I, along with our daughters, Katie and Faye, June, Karen and fifteen staff, were ready to open the doors to our new venture. Needless to say, Gina and I both had our fingers firmly crossed!

27. Someone to Watch over Me

The store was an overnight success, and it became busier and busier as word spread. Customers travelled from miles around to experience the new Jeff’s of Bold Street. We had an exquisite bridal gowns department, and the very best in special-occasions wear, with its own VIP lounge and personal-dresser service. This was a very exclusive area, for which I created a gold-card membership which afforded members personalized assistance as well as complimentary champagne on ice. Celebrities and some of the most important people in the country became customers. We also had a smart casual-wear department, and sold shoes, handbags and accessories for every occasion. Altogether, we had three floors covering all the latest fashions.

A commissionaire dressed in traditional uniform greeted customers at the entrance. In no time at all, we became known as the Harrods of Liverpool, and the shop tills were ringing to the tune of £40,000 a week. Soon afterwards, I finally ended my long career on the markets.

After the store had been open a few weeks, something happened that seemed to defy all logic. The commissionaire brought into my office a dark-haired, well-dressed man carrying a briefcase who told me that he wanted me to pay him £700 a month to protect me from shoplifters and ruffians. I gave him short shrift and told him I didn’t want or need his protection, but a week later he came back, this time carrying a large black bin bag. He deposited the contents on my desk – close on £1,000 worth of lady’s fashions, all with our price tags on them! ‘You see, Mr Pearce,’ he said courteously. ‘I think you really do need our security.’

I was angry and accused him of running a shoplifting gang, but he denied this and said that his men had simply retrieved the garments from well-known thieves they’d had under surveillance. I didn’t believe him, but I was also worried about the effect it would have on my business if the thefts continued. I asked him to give me some time to think it over, and he handed me his business card.

That evening, Gina suggested that we go for a drink before heading home. We were just walking into a bar in the city centre when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a surprised voice crying out, ‘Jeff! Jeff Pearce!’ Turning to see who it was, I recognized Alan, an old school pal I hadn’t seen for thirty-odd years. We chatted, and he decided to come inside and have a drink with us. As we were talking, I mentioned my visitor and said I was being blackmailed. I then showed him the business card the man had left with me.

Alan didn’t say anything, he just took out his mobile phone and dialled a number. Then, without altering his affable demeanour, I heard him say, ‘Hey. Don’t go near Jeff’s of Bold Street any more. He’s mine. I look after him. If I hear of you bothering him again, I’ll blow your legs off. End of.’

Turning to me, he said quite calmly, ‘Jeff, you’ll have no more trouble from him, my old mate.’ Then he handed me his own business card. When Gina looked at it later, we realized that he was in the security business too!

The timely meeting with Alan was uncanny. Was it coincidence? Fate? The supernatural? Call it what you will. That night, I lay in bed thinking about it and was reminded of another incident some weeks earlier during the refurbishing of the store. Bernie Snagg, my old friend from the ice-rink days, now a skilled carpenter, had just spent the best part of a week laying 1,500 square feet of wide pine boards on the ground-floor sales area. I’d reclaimed this beautiful old wood from a demolition job in North Wales. Bernie was just finishing off, when he found he was two lengths short. This was annoying; there was no way I’d be able to find a similar width of wood. However, without knowing why, I went up to the top floor, just to see if I could find anything to suit. To my great astonishment, I immediately found two lengths. And when Bernie placed them into position they fitted perfectly!

‘I don’t believe it,’ he cried. ‘It’s spooky working with you.’

Perhaps the next incident will explain these mysterious happenings. Shortly after my chance meeting with Alan at the city bar, I was working the sales floors, running up and down the stairs, serving as many customers as I possibly could, when one of the tea-room staff beckoned to me. Asking what she wanted, she informed me that the lady and gentleman sipping tea at the gallery table had invited me to join them. I was often invited to join customers, so I made my way over and introduced myself. While the gentleman poured me a cup of tea, the lady gazed at me intently, and then spoke. ‘I have been blessed with a gift, you know. I have watched you walking around the store for some time now. Did you know that you have a guardian angel following you everywhere you go? A petite fair-haired lady?’

Quietly, she waited for my reaction, but I simply smiled, thanked her for her kind words, then stood up and headed for the privacy of my office, where I sat at my desk reflecting on what the lady had said. I had always believed my mother was looking over me from above, but I never imagined she would be literally shadowing me! There is rarely a day goes by when I don’t think of her. But I wasn’t prepared to discuss my private thoughts and feelings about her, even with the gifted lady. I already knew I’d had the most remarkable mother. I now knew for certain she had kept her promise to watch over me.

Incredible though it may seem, Jeff’s of Bold Street became the most talked-about store in the fashion business in just twelve months. So much so that we were invited to attend
Drapers
Annual Awards, the Oscars of the fashion industry.

It was held on the night of 14 November 2002, and the champagne flowed as we sat at a table at the rear of the Dinosaur Room in the Natural History Museum in London. We had been shortlisted as a finalist in the Independent Womenswear Retailer of the Year category, one of the hardest categories of all, there being literally thousands of very good womenswear retailers from across the UK and the Irish Republic to choose from. Our relatively small business in Liverpool was up against some very tough opposition.

Katie and Faye were there to support us, along with some close friends. I was too nervous to enjoy it though. My mind kept on wandering back to my childhood and the beginning of my career. By contrast, now, here I was sitting in the same room alongside all the top names in the fashion business, household names like Philip Green, the billionaire who controlled most of the big names on the high street, such as Topshop and BHS; George Davies, the mastermind behind Next and George at Asda; and Stuart Rose, the managing director of Marks & Spencer, to mention just a few.

The awards ceremony was hosted by Trinny and Susannah, the TV fashion-guru presenters, and it covered seventeen different categories. The Independent Womenswear Retailer category was a prestigious award, given towards the end of the evening. And sitting there waiting for the announcement was nerve-wracking.

Finally, it was ‘our’ turn, and as they called out the nominees, I held Gina’s hand tight. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the stage except for mine. I just couldn’t look and simply stared at the table instead. As the envelope was opened a silence fell; not a sound could be heard.

‘And the winner is …’ There was a long pause. ‘Jeff’s of Bold Street!’

I leapt to my feet with excitement, lifting Gina with me and embracing her tightly. Beckoning to Katie and Faye, the four of us walked to the stage, applause ringing out around us. It seemed like such a long way as we snaked our way through the forest of tables.

On the stage, a two-foot-tall, maroon-velvet statue shaped like a mannequin was placed in my hands, and we all received a congratulatory kiss on either cheek from Trinny and Susannah. As we stood there, with the press taking photos, I realized that this was the moment I had been dreaming of for most of my life. To receive recognition from my peers for being the best womenswear retailer in the whole of the United Kingdom and Ireland was something special – particularly in the presence of my family.

Back at our table, our friends were more than pleased for us and continued the celebrations with more champagne. An announcement was then made of a further two Gold Awards still to come, the first being Fashion Retail Personality of the Year. Six of the very top names were shortlisted, and Philip Green was announced as the winner.

Finally, Eric Musgrave, the editor-in-chief of
The Draper
(formerly
The Drapers Record
) announced the most prestigious award of the evening. It was the highlight of the whole event – the Gold Award for the Independent Retailer of the Year. The nominations had been selected from all the winners of the independent retailer categories and were regarded as being the best of the best. As the award was being explained, Gina noticed that I was staring at the gold statuette standing alone on the stage. I was lost in a world of my own.

‘Stop it, Jeff,’ she interrupted my thoughts.

‘Stop what?’ I asked, dragging my eyes away from the stage.

‘Stop building your hopes up. We’re far too small to win a gold award. They’re for the big boys,’ she said. Then, placing my statuette in front of me, she added, ‘We came here to win this, and we’ve won it.’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’m just excited. Can’t you see? I
am
happy we’re taking this home with us!’ I picked it up to admire it. But Gina was right: she knew me well enough to know what I was thinking. I wanted that gold award more than anyone else in the room. My desire was greater and came from the heart. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the announcement from the stage.

‘And the winner is … Jeff’s of Bold Street!’

In disbelief, I nearly dropped to the floor. The expressions on everyone’s face made me realize that it was true. We had won the fashion industry’s highest accolade!

As the audience stood and applauded, the girls told me to go up on my own. It didn’t feel right, however; this momentous occasion had to be shared with the ones that I loved. I insisted that they came with me.

Making our way to the stage for the second time was proving even more difficult, as we were now receiving a standing ovation. The continuous backslapping from fellow guests and the shaking of hands made me feel like a film star on the way to collect an Oscar.

If this was a dream, it was the best one I had ever had. Can you wish for something so much that it becomes true? Or was it a genuine acknowledgement of my hard work and determination? Being applauded by the top people in the fashion industry meant more to me that night than all the financial rewards I’d received in my whole business career.

Before I stepped down from the stage, I walked over to the microphone, raised the gold award high above my head and said, ‘I owe this to two remarkable women: my mother for teaching me how to survive in the rag trade, and my wife for putting up with me for so long in this fascinating business that I love so much.’ I couldn’t have said another word, I was so overcome.

In the taxi back to the hotel, Katie and Faye summed up the evening beautifully. ‘Dad, it was the same as you receiving your cap and gown. You were recognized by the fashion business for your outstanding contribution. We are so proud of you.’ Their words made me feel incredibly special. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening.

The following day a photograph of all the winners appeared on the front cover of the top fashion industry glossy magazine. I was positioned at the front holding my gold award, with Gina, Katie and Faye surrounding me. Inside, the article stated, ‘Jeff Pearce is a paragon of independent retailing.’ We didn’t understand the word ‘paragon’, so Gina looked it up and said, ‘It means you are a flawless diamond weighing at least 100 carats.’

It was only after receiving this wonderful recognition that I felt able to face the demons that had tormented me every day of my life. When I admitted to the world that I couldn’t read or write, I was flooded with an enormous sense of relief, as if a massive burden had been lifted from me. I no longer felt that I had to constantly prove myself. Despite being severely dyslexic, finally, I felt equal to the person standing next to me.