Anne Douglas (23 page)

‘No’ soon enough. I’m afraid I need some money now.’

‘Oh.’ Rosemary flushed. ‘Stupid of me. I know you’re not quite ready to work yet. But it won’t be long. I mean, I’ve already had some work and it went so well – I really enjoyed it – and Mrs Driver has other clients in mind for me. It will be the same for you, Lindy.’

‘Even if I do get some work, it will still be part time. And even with photographic work added in I’ll need something more.’ Lindy tried to smile. ‘I’m no’ complaining. I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever comes along.’

‘Just a wee bit disappointed?’ Jemima suggested.

‘Because it’s part time, no’ full time? I suppose I am, but I’m just hoping I’ll get plenty of work one day.’

‘You will!’ cried Rosemary. ‘Anyone with your looks will have no trouble at all!’

Lindy smiled and shrugged. ‘All the models I’ve met have my looks, Rosemary. You, too. That’s the problem. How to be singled out for work when everyone’s the same.’

‘All beautiful?’ Jemima glanced at her mother, who had got up to put on the kettle. ‘Never had to worry about being beautiful myself.’

To cries from Rosemary, Lindy and her mother, all assuring her that she was very attractive, Jemima laughed and rose. ‘OK, OK, I’m very attractive, but sit down, Ma, I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘I don’t know why she’s always running herself down,’ Mrs Kerry whispered. ‘Thinks she should have a young man, I suppose.’

‘They were talking at the agency today about looks,’ Lindy remarked. ‘How important they are to models. Maybe too important, d’you think?’

‘I’m afraid looks are important to everyone,’ Rosemary replied. ‘I’ve seen that all my life. From dancing school to debutantes’ balls, if you weren’t pretty you were a wallflower. There’s not much anyone can do about it.’

‘I never thought about it before,’ Lindy said thoughtfully. ‘But maybe it is wrong to think too much about looks.’

‘Heavens!’ laughed Rosemary. ‘If you’re going to think on those lines, Lindy, you’re in the wrong profession!’

‘What’s so funny?’ asked Jemima, returning with a tray of tea and biscuits, but Lindy only asked for more information about her interview.

‘Well, as soon as they heard you were a trainee model they knew you’d be a good candidate,’ Jemima told her. ‘So all you’ve got to do is look wonderful, which you always do, and turn up at three o’clock on Friday – all right?’

‘Look wonderful for packing hampers?’ asked Lindy, laughing. ‘Well, I’ll do my best. Wish me luck, everybody, on Friday!’

Their thoughts would be with her, they promised, but honestly, Jemima stressed, Lindy had no need to worry.

‘You can never be sure of anything, Jemima,’ was all Lindy replied.

‘That’s very true,’ sighed Mrs Kerry, and the others fell silent.

Whether she’d expected it or not, luck was with Lindy at her interview for Christmas work at Logie’s when the assistant manager offered her three days a week with wages of a pound. Wonderful! From that she could pay Myra for her board and have a bit for her own expenses, the only problem being that if she did manage to be selected for modelling work before she left Logie’s the dates might clash.

‘We must just hope for the best,’ Mrs Driver told her. ‘It’s a problem all models face because they are, as you know, mainly part time, but we’ll have to see how it goes. Certainly it’s good to have another source of income. You’ve done the right thing, especially getting into Logie’s – such a superior store.’

This was true, for, like Jenner’s and Forsyth’s, also in Princes Street, Logie’s was famous for its excellent merchandise, selling the best in clothes, linens, china and glass, carpets, soft furnishings, even provisions in its high-class food hall. Of course, for Lindy, its added attraction was its fashion shows, which had first given Jemima the idea of model work for her and for Rosemary. She couldn’t help hoping that if a show were arranged again soon she might get the chance to take part. All in all, things were looking up!

Although fully expecting that she would be spending her time packing hampers, she was pleased to be given work instead in the Christmas shop, where she would be selling cards, decorations, crackers, artificial trees and everything needed for a festive season for the privileged few. Just the place to upset Rod, was Lindy’s thought when she arrived for her first day, but she put it to the back of her mind, along with all her other thoughts of Rod, preferring to hope that one day all children would be able to enjoy Christmas, rich or poor.

Not that Christmas was always celebrated in Scotland, anyway, with many families preferring to keep their festivities to Hogmanay when they saw in the New Year. Certainly Myra and most of the tenants at number nineteen did not provide Christmas cheer, there being no money to spare for it, but Lindy had always admired the lovely baubles she’d seen on shop Christmas trees, the tinsel and stars, as well as the balloons and paper lanterns that opened out in such a fascinating way. Finding herself surrounded by such things at Logie’s she was in her element, and soon impressed the senior assistant running the shop with her keenness and interest.

‘Your shop experience has been worthwhile, Miss Gillan,’ Miss Burnett told her one morning. ‘You’ve no trouble with the cash register and your way of dealing with customers is just what we like to see. Maybe you’d like to consider permanent retail work?’

‘Well, I’m really hoping to succeed as a model,’ Lindy answered, flushing with pleasure. ‘But maybe if it doesn’t work out, retail would be something for me.’

‘Well, see how you go, my dear. It’s a good rule always to keep your options open.’

Although she agreed, Lindy knew that she’d really meant what she’d said about modelling and, as her time at Mrs Driver’s class drew to an end, found herself longing to make a start, to see how she managed when faced with the real catwalk and real audiences watching her, with work in front of the camera providing another test she was anxious to complete.

Everything, of course, depended on Mrs Driver – on when she would pronounce them ready for professional work and find them clients who might engage them. Girls from her other classes were already fulfilling engagements – Rosemary, for instance, now had a second job in Glasgow – and those who’d come after Lindy’s group were still practising their walking. They were all at different stages – but when would it be their turn to work? asked Lindy, Jennifer, Kitty and the others. No one liked to question Mrs Driver.

The day came, however, halfway through December, when Mrs Driver announced that they were all now ready for professional work and she would be submitting their portfolios to various clients, including photographers.

‘It’s not the best of times for you,’ she told them, ‘because all the Christmas shows and so on are organized already, but be prepared for work in the New Year. There are various things in the pipeline, I can tell you that.’

More time would have to pass, then, and though they were dying to begin work, what could they do? Having reconciled themselves to waiting to see what came up in the pipeline, three of them were thrown into instant excitement when, out of the blue, Mrs Driver told them to report to John Johnson’s, a large department store on Edinburgh’s North Bridge, for interview the following day. Not much notice, but Miss Revie, the head of Ladies’ Fashion, was desperate to replace three models for the store’s spring collection show in only two days’ time. Apparently they’d all gone down with flu – could Mrs Driver, who’d already sent a couple of her girls to the show, send three more?

Of course she could! And the three she had selected were Jennifer, Kitty and Lindy. Though hard luck on those left, it was lucky for Lindy that she was not due to work at Logie’s on the following day. Lucky, indeed, that she could try for her first real job. But that night, she hardly slept.

‘My, you’re in a state,’ Myra remarked, observing Lindy hurrying to get herself ready to go to Johnson’s early on the day of the show. ‘Running around like a headless chicken, I’d say.’

‘I’m just checking to make sure I have everything I need,’ Lindy told her, putting aside Gingerboy who was, as usual when she was going out, trying to get under her feet. ‘There’s my bag with my hair stuff, my make-up, my flat shoes – I’m wearing my heels – no, I’ll take my heels and wear the flats till I get there – now, what else?’

‘Umbrella!’ cried Myra. ‘I’m just getting mine, seeing as I’m away now to open the shop.’

In her raincoat, her umbrella in her hand, she stood looking at Lindy, now in her own raincoat and pulling on a brimmed hat. ‘Come a long way, haven’t you?’ she murmured. ‘Since you used to work in the shop?’

‘I don’t know yet how far I’ve come,’ Lindy answered, checking her appearance in the mirror by the door. ‘I’ll have to see if I pass this interview.’

‘Seems to me you’d be just as well off at Logie’s,’ Myra remarked with a sniff. ‘A nice place to work and no worry about being wanted by all these other folk, eh? A regular job is best, Lindy, take my word for it.’

‘Maybe, but I’ve got to rush. See you tonight, eh?’

‘Good luck, then. Hope all goes well.’

‘Oh, thanks, Aunt Myra!’ Lindy cried, giving her stepmother a hug before finally flying out of number nineteen to catch her tram. As she climbed aboard, clutching her bag, her model bag, her shoe bag with her heels and her umbrella, it gave her a nice feeling to think that Aunt Myra had wished her luck. How much was she going to need it?

Johnson’s, though not as grand as the Princes Street department stores, was still extremely popular, offering a wide range of quality goods, including fashion. Every year it gave two shows – one for autumn clothes directly after its summer sales, and one in December for spring styles, when an entrance fee was charged, proceeds going to a Christmas charity. Both of these were very important to Mrs Driver, who always managed to get some of her models included, and had already told Lindy’s group that she would be suggesting them for the autumn show. The three, who now had the chance to appear earlier than that, might have been congratulating themselves when they met together at the entrance to the store – if they hadn’t been so nervous.

‘Oh, I’m so worried,’ sighed Jennifer. ‘This is the big test, eh? I mean, our first one?’

‘I wouldn’t feel so bad if I didn’t have a spot coming out on my chin,’ groaned Kitty. ‘It feels like a football. I can’t think of anything else.’

‘I can only think of my butterflies,’ said Lindy, feeling loaded down with her different bags, her raincoat and her umbrella. ‘And I know I look like a drowned rat, but come on, we’d better find this Miss Revie.’

‘You go first, then,’ said Jennifer. ‘You’re the strong one, Lindsay.’

‘Me?’ Lindy pushed open the store’s revolving door. ‘What a laugh!’

Miss Revie, they were informed, was waiting for them in the dress department, the scene of the fashion show to come, but the first thing they saw on entering was a catwalk set to one side, out of the way of the few customers looking round.

‘Yes, it’s all ready for you!’ cried a tall, thin woman approaching them, with suspiciously bright red hair. She wore a black dress and an emerald jacket, both beautifully cut, black patent shoes with straps and buttons, and dangling earrings that caught the light. ‘You’re from Mrs Driver’s? Thank God for that. I’m Beatrice Revie, head of department for Ladies’ Fashions. Now who is who here?’

As they introduced themselves, her eyes, dark as Mrs Driver’s, took in their looks, from faces trying to show confidence to shoes that were damp, and even the bags, umbrella and coats they were clutching in their damp arms.

Then she smiled. ‘So far so good, ladies. I can tell you’re the right height for me and have the right looks. But you’re all new to modelling, Mrs Driver tells me, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you all to walk for me on my temporary catwalk. Like to come this way, so that you can leave your things?’

Leading them into a narrow room off the dress department, she informed them that this was where the models would be changing on the day of the show. As they could see, it was lined with rails of the clothes they would be wearing – suits, coats, day dresses, evening dresses, tea gowns, nightwear, as well as the fashionable pyjamas for leisurewear, together with hats and accessories.

‘Of course, it won’t be like this on the day,’ she said, laughing. ‘More like a football match. But everyone will know what they’re wearing and when they should be appearing – that I can promise you. Now, hang up your coats, comb your hair and I’ll take the first one to the catwalk. Miss Yarman, I think that will be you. Miss Gillan, Miss Abbot – would you wait here?’

‘I’m going first?’ asked Kitty, opening her eyes wide. ‘That’s a change. I’m usually last.’

‘I always like to do things differently,’ said Miss Revie.

I’ll be in the middle again, thought Lindy. Just as long as I get through it.

‘You know there are customers out there, watching,’ Jennifer whispered. ‘I shan’t like that.’

‘If you get selected for the show there’ll be more people watching you than the folk out there,’ Lindy answered, her eyes straying to the racks of waiting clothes she would have loved to examine.

‘Somehow that’s different,’ said Jennifer.

Only a short time later Kitty was back, smiling, and Miss Revie was calling, ‘Miss Gillan!’

So Miss Revie doesn’t do things that differently, thought Lindy, in the middle again, as she had thought. Not that she minded, though she couldn’t help wanting to get this key test over with as soon as possible.

Yet, when she was out there, poised on the temporary catwalk in the dress department, watched by only a couple of interested customers and Miss Revie at the side, her nerves suddenly left her. It was as though all that she had learned had come together for this moment, giving her the confidence she’d always sought to present herself in the best possible way as she began gliding down the walkway, her head held high, her shoulders forward, her hips swinging. And she was remembering to smile – maybe at the two anonymous watchers – as she approached her corner and paused, turned, paused again and, with a final smile, made her return to where Miss Revie was waiting.