Anne Douglas (19 page)

‘Costs a fortune!’

‘You’re right. Mrs Driver must be doing well, then. Unless Mr Driver paid. How sad, though, that they had to split up.’

‘We don’t know if it’s true, but I should think it is. Maybe Mrs Driver is married to her job.’ Rosemary smiled as she left her seat. ‘She certainly gives you that impression. But here’s our stop, Lindy. The agency’s just round the corner from here.’

In a rather grand part of town, thought Lindy, taking in the width of the streets in the Victorian West End and the size of the houses, but as she and Rosemary made their way towards Mrs Driver’s, Rosemary said that she only had the ground floor of one of the conversions, not a whole house.

‘I know someone who has a whole house here,’ Rosemary went on, ‘and it’s huge – big enough for a hotel, which is not what everybody wants. So some of the houses have been divided into flats, or offices, doctors’ surgeries and so on. All Mrs Driver has is a couple of rooms – one for her office and one for her classes.’ She touched Lindy’s arm. ‘For people like you and me.’

‘Like you, maybe. We don’t know about me yet.’

‘Confidence, confidence!’ cried Rosemary, halting at the handsome front door of the house they were seeking. ‘Take heart, Lindy, here we are. I’ll just ring the bell.’

It seemed for ever before the bell was answered and the door opened by a tall, slender young woman dressed in a black tunic and skirt, with blonde hair scraped back in a silk scarf and a paper in her hand.

‘Oh, hello, Rosemary!’ she cried in a high, fluting voice. She glanced at her paper. ‘And is this Miss Gillan, then? Please come this way.’

‘Lindy, this is Miss Forbes, Mrs Driver’s assistant,’ Rosemary said easily. ‘She puts us through our paces.’

‘My dear, you scarcely need it. Now, Miss Gillan, if you could just take a seat in the hall, Mrs Driver won’t be a moment. Rosemary, would you like to go ahead into the practice room? I’ll be with you shortly.’

I’m to be interviewed on my own, thought Lindy, perched on a chair outside a mahogany door, one of several in the vast, polished hallway of the West End house. Well, of course, she’d expected nothing else. Still, she felt vulnerable. Exposed. For the first time in her life she was to be scrutinized, criticized, maybe found wanting, and had only herself to rely on. Confidence! she repeated to herself. Put your shoulders back. Go in there as though you mean to succeed.

‘I’ll just take you in,’ Miss Forbes whispered, tapping on the mahogany door. ‘Mrs Driver will be ready to see you now.’

‘Fine,’ answered Lindy hoarsely, feeling her false courage running away from her like sand through her fingers.

‘Come in!’ called a strong Edinburgh voice.

‘Miss Gillan to see you, Mrs Driver,’ said Miss Forbes, putting her head round the door.

‘Show her in, please, Stella.’

Shoulders back! Confidence!

As Miss Forbes stood back, holding the door for her, Lindy, walking tall, advanced into Mrs Driver’s office and heard the door close behind her. Such finality. How would she be feeling when the door was opened again?

The woman who rose from her desk in the large, well-appointed office was, Lindy guessed, in her forties. She was tall, not particularly thin, but held herself well, and in her dark jacket and matching dress looked elegantly at ease. Her hair was pale blonde, beautifully cut, her face rather plain, her eyes brown, but a much darker brown than Rod’s and quite without their warmth. Already Lindy could feel their appraising power taking in every detail of her appearance. If only she’d had something better to wear than her twinset and tweed skirt! But Rosemary had said Mrs Driver would not be expecting Lindy to wear expensive clothes. No, she’d be looking for something quite different.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Gillan,’ Mrs Driver began. ‘I have your letter here, saying that you wish to become a mannequin with my agency. You heard about it from Miss Dalrymple?’

‘That’s right, Mrs Driver,’ Lindy answered, wondering if she would be asked to sit down. There was a chair facing the desk, but Mrs Driver was making no move to invite her to take it.

‘You won’t mind if I ask a couple of questions before we go any further? They are essential.’

‘Oh, no, Mrs Driver.’

‘Well, then, let me look at you.’

Moving swiftly, Mrs Driver came to Lindy and, taking her arm, turned her round, studying her, it seemed, from every angle.

‘Height’s what?’ she murmured. ‘Five feet nine? Am I right? Yes, I can tell because I’m the same. How about your measurements?’

‘Thirty-four, twenty-three, thirty-four,’ Lindy answered readily, thanking Rosemary’s foresight in reminding her to measure herself the previous evening.

‘Excellent.’ Mrs Driver gave a small smile. ‘That’s the first hurdle over. Come and sit down, Miss Gillan.’

When Lindy had seated herself, Mrs Driver fixed her with her dark brown gaze. ‘I have your letter and your photograph. I see that so far you have only worked in a grocer’s shop. What makes you think that modelling is for you?’

Lindy hesitated, unsure how candid she should be. In the end she said, simply, ‘I love clothes. I’ve always been interested in them, from a wee girl. I never thought about modelling till Miss Dalrymple suggested it, but then I thought it might be what I was looking for, because I’d be involved with clothes.’ Her eyes met Mrs Driver’s. ‘But I knew I’d have to be suitable.’

‘You thought you might not be?’

‘Well –’ Lindy lowered her gaze. ‘I’m a tenement girl. I’m no’ sure I’d fit in.’

‘Miss Gillan, your background has nothing to do with your suitability to work as a mannequin. People who want their clothes to be shown are looking for the right sort of girls to wear them. Those with not only the looks and height, but the style and flair to make customers want to buy what they see being modelled. Do you think you could learn to attract people to clothes in that way?’

‘I’d like to,’ Lindy said earnestly. ‘I’m sure I could learn what to do.’

‘It’s hard work, you know. Changing in and out of clothes all the time, always looking your best, never showing you’re tired.’ Mrs Driver shook her head. ‘It’s not the glamorous job people think it is, though it has its rewards, of course, and there other types of modelling some think make for an easier life.’

Mrs Driver hesitated. ‘Before we go any further, I think I should explain just what my agency does for those who sign up for it. I look after all their interests, finding them work, making them known, seeing they have what is needed – a portfolio, photographs and so on. What I can’t do is to promise to provide full-time work.’

‘I see,’ Lindy said blankly, not feeling that she did. Here was a problem Rosemary hadn’t mentioned.

‘The thing is, Miss Gillan,’ Mrs Driver went on, ‘you need to know something about the situation for modelling here in Scotland. It’s not the same as in London, where there are big fashion shows requiring lots of models. Here, most of the work comes from the big department stores and though there’s plenty of it, there’s still not enough to guarantee full-time work.’

‘So the girls have to be part time?’ Lindy asked, her heart sinking. There was no way she could manage on one part-time wage, and Mrs Fielding wouldn’t give her extra part-time work at Murchie’s.

‘I hadn’t realized that the modelling wouldn’t be full time,’ she said slowly. ‘Maybe I’ll have to think again.’

‘That would be a pity. What a lot of models do is have a part-time job in the background. Couldn’t you do that, Miss Gillan?’

‘Maybe I could,’ Lindy answered, her mind working overtime. Something other than the shop? ‘Yes. Maybe I could.’

‘As a model you’d earn about fifteen shillings a session, which is not high, but not bad for these times. And once you became known and got more work, you could do quite well. With photographic work, too.’

‘Photographic work?’

‘That’s mainly for advertising in magazines and so on, and catalogue modelling, where you’d be photographed in various outfits or with articles for sale, for what the Americans call mail order. Or even modelling the finished products for knitting or dress patterns. All very useful for bringing in work – and payment.’ Mrs Driver leaned forward a little. ‘Now, are you still interested, then? You think modelling could be for you? Because I should tell you that I’m willing to take you on to my books, certain formalities being completed.’

For a moment Lindy could not reply, then she said breathlessly, ‘Mrs Driver, I’m no’ just interested, I’m thrilled that you want me. Thank you. Thank you very much indeed.’

‘Well, let’s get down to the formalities. I’ll try to be brief.’

It seemed that there would be a contract to sign, and that Lindy must fully understand the financial position, what the commission would be and so on. Having carefully read all the terms at home, she would have to return to the agency to meet Mrs Driver’s legal adviser, who would check that she knew what she was doing and answer any other queries. As Miss Gillan was a minor, it was important that her parents were happy about her contract too, and it would be helpful if Miss Gillan could provide a written assurance on that.

‘Are they happy about you changing jobs, anyway?’ Mrs Driver asked, rising.

As she also quickly stood up, Lindy bit her lip. ‘I haven’t told them about it yet. I thought I’d wait – see how I got on.’

‘That’s not satisfactory, Miss Gillan. You must tell them about it immediately and make sure you have their approval. The last thing I want is parents being upset.’

‘I will tell them, Mrs Driver, and I’m sure they’ll be happy for me.’

‘Very well. Next, you’ll need a portfolio with photographs and we’ll arrange for you to have those taken, the cost to be repaid when you’re earning. And perhaps I could say, about your professional name, that Lindsay would be more appropriate than Lindy – Miss Dalrymple’s name for you. You don’t mind about that?’

‘I don’t mind at all.’

‘Then I think that’s all for the present.’ Mrs Driver escorted Lindy to the door. ‘I’d like to say, my dear, that I think you’ll do very well. You have a lovely face, but there are many girls with lovely faces. What impressed me about you was your love of clothes and your positive attitude. Now, see my assistant about an appointment next week for your modelling class and we’ll soon have you part of Driver’s.’

‘Thank you,’ Lindy said again. ‘Thank you, Mrs Driver.’

She should have been walking on air – after all, she’d been accepted, she’d been taken on by Mrs Driver – but instead her head was aching and she felt quite numbed by the shock of her change of fortune. The contract in her hand seemed to belong to someone else – she couldn’t imagine reading it, knew she must, but it would be later. Later, when she’d told her father and Myra that she was leaving the shop and embarking on something quite new. Whatever would they say? She couldn’t imagine even telling them and put her hand to her brow, then heard Rosemary’s voice in the hall and saw her coming running towards her, Miss Forbes with her, and with immense effort put a smile on her face.

‘How did it go?’ Rosemary was calling. ‘Heavens, Lindy, you’re so pale! Are you all right?’

‘Fine.’ Lindy was still smiling. ‘It went well. Mrs Driver’s taking me on.’

‘I knew she would! Didn’t I say so?’ Rosemary hugged her. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased for you! Stella, isn’t that good news?’

‘Wonderful,’ Stella Forbes agreed. ‘Congratulations, Miss Gillan. I’ll just get my book for your appointments for the class and to see Mrs Driver again.’

‘Thank you,’ said Lindy, beginning to feel better until, going home in the tram, she thought of her parents again and of how it would be, telling them. And Rod – she must tell him, too. But he, she was sure, would be pleased. It was, after all, wonderful news she had to give him.

‘Well, I don’t know what to say!’ cried Myra, her green eyes outraged. ‘George, what do you think of your daughter, then? Going off behind our backs and finding herself another job. One she’s no’ sure will be full time, for a start, but something we’ll all be ashamed to mention, that’s for sure. A mannequin! As though folk don’t know what goes on with those girls, showing off clothes and I don’t know what else! We’ll no’ be able to hold up our heads again!’

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Lindy, pushing back her chair from the table where, after tea, she’d finally broken her news and found the reaction worse than she’d feared. ‘There’s no disgrace in being a mannequin, Aunt Myra! Mrs Driver, who runs the agency, is a very respectable lady and said I had to have your approval to take up modelling, so that shows she wants everything to be above board. All she does is find the girls work showing off the new clothes in the shops or doing modelling for catalogues and such. It’s wrong of you to talk as though it’s something shameful!’

‘So, why’d you no’ tell us about it before?’ Myra demanded. ‘Why all the secrecy?’

‘Aye, that’s what I don’t understand,’ George muttered, his eyes on his daughter, bewildered. ‘We’ve never had secrets before.’

‘Lindy just wanted to have it definite before she told you,’ Struan put in, giving his sister an unusually sympathetic glance. ‘What’s all the fuss about? Lindy’s done well to get herself a new job, even if it’s no’ guaranteed to be full time. You shouldn’t be upsetting her, Aunt Myra.’

‘Upsetting her?’ cried Myra. ‘She’s upsetting me! And what do you know about this fashion business, anyway? I’ll ask you to keep out of this, Struan!’

‘Where’d you hear about it, then?’ George asked Lindy. ‘How’d you get the idea?’

‘From Rosemary. She told me.’ Lindy fixed Myra with a truculent gaze. ‘Maybe you’d like to tell her what you think of my new job, Aunt Myra. She’s going to be a mannequin herself.’

There was a stunned silence. Myra’s mouth had dropped open, Struan was grinning and George looked mystified.

‘Miss Rosemary?’ Myra whispered. ‘Going to do that sort o’ work? I don’t believe it.’

‘It’s true. I told you it was quite respectable. Her mother’s agreed to it as well.’

‘Her mother?’

‘That’s right.’ Lindy stood with her arms folded, staring down at her stepmother, not caring to mention how long it had taken Rosemary to gain her mother’s approval. The fact was she had it and was all set to do the work Lindy would be doing, which meant there was no doubt that Myra’s opposition was now shaken.