Act of Will (45 page)

‘Doctor Lesley here,’ he said, answering immediately, sounding wide awake.

‘Hello, Uncle Mike. It’s Christie.’

‘Yes, I know. Good morning, dear.’

‘I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but I thought you might know which hotel Mummy and Daddy are staying at. We had a bit of an upset last night and—’

‘Yes, your father told me all about it a short while ago.’

‘
Oh
. So you must know which hotel they’re at then.’

‘Yes, they were staying at Brown’s, Christie. But your father called me about half an hour ago, and they were just checking out to drive back to Yorkshire. You won’t reach them now.’

‘Oh damn,’ she exclaimed, ‘and I was hoping to see
them this morning, to explain…’ Her disappointment choked her, and she left her sentence dangling.

Mike said, ‘Perhaps it’s just as well they’ve left, Christie dear. I think you’ll be far better off talking to your mother later. In a few weeks, when she has calmed down.’

‘A few weeks!’ Christina cried, her voice rising shrilly. ‘Oh no, I don’t think so, Uncle Mike. I have to talk to her in the next
day
or two. She was so distressed last night and terribly hurt. Didn’t Daddy explain everything to you?’

‘Yes, he did, Christie.’

‘So you know that I’ve given up my painting, that I’ve become a designer?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you don’t approve either?’

‘It’s your life, Christina, and you must live it as you see fit… and I’m sure you have your reasons for doing what you’ve done, good reasons.’

‘Oh Uncle Mike, I do, I do. And I must make Mummy understand them. You see, I couldn’t let her go on supporting me, I really couldn’t. I have to take care of myself from now on. The fact that she was still working, slaving at the Infirmary to give me financial help, was just intolerable to me. I have a real talent for fashion designing, and I saw a chance to make a success out of it, to make money. Not only money for me, but money for my mother. I do want to repay my great debt to her.’

‘Oh Christie…’ There was a silence at the other end of the telephone and Mike sighed heavily. He said softly, ‘Your mother didn’t do what she did looking for a reward, Christie. Her reward is her pride in you.’

‘That may be enough for Mummy, but it certainly isn’t enough for me, not by a long shot. I want her to have so much more—I want her to have the best of everything
money can buy actually, and I won’t rest until she has it!’

‘No, I don’t suppose you will,’ he said with dawning comprehension. ‘There’s too much of Audra in you. But I wonder if
she
will ever understand that you are repeating the pattern.’

‘What do you mean?’ Christina asked, tightening her grip on the receiver. ‘I’m not following you… what pattern are you talking about, Uncle Mike?’

Mike Lesley did not answer this in a direct way. Instead he said, ‘Years ago your father came to talk to me about your mother, he was worried about her health you see, worried about the way she was working, pushing herself to the limit. It was the spring of 1939, I remember the year very well, because war broke out that September. Anyway, your father said that what your mother was doing to ensure that you had a glittering future was abnormal. Laurette said she didn’t think that abnormal was quite the right word. And then she told your father and me that we were witnessing an act of will. Yes, an act of will so extraordinary, so powerfully motivated and so selfless it was awesome to witness.’

Tears sprang into Christina’s eyes and she blinked, brushed them away with her fingertips. She said, ‘And it was exactly that, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, my dear. And now you are committing your own act of will, and your mother won’t be able to stop you, just as your father was never able to stop her.’

‘But why do you say she won’t understand, Uncle Mike?’

‘Because she’ll never accept the fact that you’ve given up your art in order to pay your debt to her. She would find that absolutely preposterous. And if you tell her that this is the reason why you have gone into business, her
answer will be very simple, Christie. She’ll insist you go back to painting pictures because she doesn’t want the best that money can buy.’

Christina was silent. ‘Yes,’ she said after a short pause, ‘perhaps you’re right. But I have to do what I believe I have to do.’

It was his turn to be silent.

Waiting, Christina heard him sigh deeply at the other end of the phone.

‘So be it,’ he said at last. ‘And God bless you, Christie.’

‘I want to go big, and I really mean
big
,’ Christina said. ‘And I want to do it at once.
Now
!’

Startled, Jane stared at her, removed a couple of pins from her mouth and waved them at Christina. ‘I do wish you wouldn’t make your important announcements when I have these between my teeth. I almost swallowed them.’

‘Oh sorry.’

Jane grinned. ‘Okay, so you want to go big, I’m all ears, tell me more, Crowther.’

‘I fully intend to in a minute,’ Christina replied, walking across the studio to the corner where Jane was working on a costume for Dulcie.

It was a scorching hot July afternoon, and in an effort to beat the heat Jane had tied her pink cotton shirt under her bust to reveal a bare midriff, exchanged her skirt for a pair of white cotton shorts, discarded her shoes and stockings, and swept her long, wheat-coloured hair on top of her head.

Christina could not help thinking how pretty her friend looked, despite the somewhat messy hairdo, makeup that had streaked and lipstick that had been chewed off. Her admiration and deep affection for Jane Sedgewick welled up in her. How lucky she was to have her friendship.

‘How about a glass of lemonade?’ Christina asked, putting the tray she was carrying down on the table,
unscrewing the cap of the bottle. ‘You must be parched, Jane, it’s sweltering in here.’

‘I know, I think we have to buy another fan. And thanks, I will have some of that stuff.’ Jane stepped away from the dressmaker’s dummy, eyed the Tudor-style theatrical costume she was working on, then swung around, sat down on a stool nearby and took the glass of lemonade from Christina. ‘So go on,’ she said, ‘tell me about your plans. Knowing you, I bet you’ve got them all worked out.’

‘Sort of,’ Christina admitted and perched on the end of the table. ‘We’ve been in business for ten months and we’ve done extremely well. But we could sell twice as many clothes if we could produce them. I think we should expand, go big, as I just said.’

‘How?’

‘Hire more cutters and seamstresses, as well as office staff, and take showrooms in the West End.’

‘That’ll cost money. Even if you keep my five thousand pounds in the business, that won’t be enough, Christie.’

‘I know. I need about fifty thousand actually.’

Jane whistled. ‘As much as that!
Gosh
! But yes, I think you’re right.’

‘I know I am,’ Christina asserted. ‘I’ve worked it all out on paper. Aside from the salaries, we’d have to carry plenty of stock—fabrics, other supplies, and then of course there would be the rent of the showroom. I’ve looked at several in the last week and they’re expensive, especially those in Mayfair, which is where I feel we should be.’

‘You do mean
big
when you say big, don’t you?’

‘Yes, and
fancy
. About the fifty thousand, Jane, I think we could borrow it from the bank, even though neither of us has any collateral, if your mother would be our
guarantor, you know, guarantee the loan, or the overdraft, if that’s what it’s going to be.’

Jane shook her head, frowned hard, and bit her lip. ‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea—going to the bank, I mean. I’d rather borrow the money from Mummy, and I think she’d give us at least half. I know Aunt Elspeth would cough up the rest, because she once asked me if you needed money for the business. It was when I was telling her that I’d invested Granny Manville’s five thousand, and she made some remark about coming to her if you ever needed additional capital. So I know she’d go for it, and she is a great fan of you and your clothes.’

‘Jane, that would be wonderful if they would do it… do you honestly think they’d take a gamble on me?’

‘Yes, I do. Besides, backing you is hardly a gamble, we all know that.’

‘I’d prefer to make it a loan, repayable with interest, of course, if that’d be all right with them. We don’t need too many partners, do we?’

‘No, you’re right there. Not that Mummy or Aunt Elspeth would interfere, but still, I agree with you, I prefer they lend us the money.’ Jane jumped off the stool.

‘Let’s go down to the office and phone Mummy now,’ she cried, full of tremendous enthusiasm for Christina’s latest scheme. ‘I know she’s at home learning her lines, and once we’ve spoken to her I’ll call Aunt Elspeth in Monte Carlo. Oh this
is
exciting, Christie, and I know they’ll jump at it. You’ll see… by next week we’ll really be rolling. Rolling in a
big
way, just like you want, heading for the
big
time.’

Jane skipped and danced across the studio, did a Highland Fling when she reached the doorway, and then
tripped down the stairs singing, ‘We’re heading for the big time, the big time, the big time, we’re heading for the big time, tra-la, tra-la, tra-la.’

Christina followed more sedately, laughing at her friend’s exuberance, and keeping her fingers crossed, praying that Jane was right.

***

She was.

Dulcie Manville and her sister Elspeth D’Langer provided the extra working capital Christina Crowther needed to expand her
haute couture
business and move to the West End.

Elspeth flew from France four days after receiving Jane’s phone call. She and her sister and the girls had several meetings with Dulcie’s solicitors. It was during these meetings that Dulcie and Elspeth decided that Christina needed more cushioning in case of unforeseen emergencies. And so they increased their loan to one hundred thousand pounds, by putting up fifty thousand each.

This was the amount Christina finally deposited in her business account at the bank before the month of July was out, after the necessary papers had been drawn and duly signed by everyone.

In a sense the hard part started
after
this.

Christina found she had to split herself in two.

By day she was the businesswoman. She interviewed office staff; she saw seamstresses, cutters, needlewomen who did only hand sewing and embroidered work, and hand pressers, and as always she hired only the very best in every area. Lucie James, whom she had promoted to head of the workrooms, had good advice and suggestions to make. Lucie had a great many friends in the French community in London, and it was she who introduced
Giselle Roux to Christina, suggested she be taken on as head
vendeuse
in charge of the showroom. Giselle, like Lucie, was married to an Englishman, and had lived in London since 1952. An elegant and sophisticated woman in her thirties, she had been a
vendeuse
at the Pierre Balmain salon in Paris, and was experienced and responsible. Christina left the hiring of the other sales women to Giselle, trusting her judgement completely. And when she wasn’t interviewing and hiring staff, Christina was looking at possible showrooms, tramping through buildings throughout the West End of London, and growing more and more discouraged.

Just when she had given up hope of ever finding the right building she stumbled on a small but elegant town house in Bruton Street in Mayfair.

The estate agent showed her around the house on a muggy, drizzly Saturday morning late in August, but despite the weather, Christina saw at once how airy the rooms were, especially on the upper floors.

She rented it immediately, knowing it was ideal, that she would never better this place. The house was in good condition, needed little work.

There was plenty of space, on six floors, for offices, workrooms, and a studio for herself, plus two large reception rooms which opened off a central hall and would be perfect for the showrooms.

These were on the second floor of the house, had high ceilings, fireplaces, tall French windows opening onto little balconies, and their dimensions were spacious. As she walked between the two, light-filled rooms, Christina visualized how charming and elegant they would look, decorated entirely in her favourite soft shades of grey and white, with thick carpeting and shimmering crystal chandeliers dropping from the ceilings.

By night she shed the role of businesswoman, became the creative artist.

Long after everyone had left ‘the factory’ in the King’s Road, Christina worked on her designs for her first collection under the
Christina
label. It was a summer collection and she planned to present it to the public and the press at the beginning of 1956. She had only five months to create the sixty-five outfits she wanted to show, and so she knew she had her work cut out for her. This was her first collection proper, since in the past ten months of being in business she had simply shown clients sketches and fabrics, and then made the garments to measure for them.

Designing an entire line of clothes with a distinctive underlying theme was tremendously challenging to Christina; it was the excitement, the sheer exhilaration of such a huge creative effort that fed her natural energy, kept her going at an extraordinary pace. For apart from designing the outfits themselves, she had to design or select the accessories to go with them. To her, each dress or suit or coat was not finished until it had been properly accessorized down to the last detail. She saw it as an entity.

Although Christina was thrilled that she was now being launched in the way she wanted and was deriving a great deal of artistic satisfaction from her work, one thing marred her happiness. This was her estrangement from her mother and father.

After their terrible upset in May, she had telephoned them constantly, been up to Yorkshire to see them and she had written regularly. She still phoned every Sunday, and wrote once a week. Her father had warmed up a little, but her mother was still remote and cold, so distant that Christina had decided to take Mike Lesley’s advice.
In consequence, she did not divulge her real reason for giving up her life as an artist—her overwhelming desire, her genuine need, to give her mother a life of total comfort and ease as a way of repaying her debt to her.