Her Lover (70 page)

Primped and perfumed and highly pleased with hintself, Volkmaar bowed then went on his hip-rolling way, leaving his chief sales assistant to bring up the matter of the account. This Mademoiselle Chloé, a platinum blonde with a fearsome chin, did with consummate discretion. Ariane coloured, murmured that she had not given the matter a thought, adding that her bank was very likely closed by now.

'Oh yes, Madame, banks shut at five,' said the sales assistant in a tone of sententious gloom shot through with the imperceptible hint of a rebuke.

'It really is too annoying, but what can I do?' said the customer guiltily, while Chloé looked away questioningly towards the podgy
purveyor of high fashion, who blinked to signal acquiescence, for the client in question was of the naive-but-honest variety.

'No rush, Madame,' said Chloé. Tomorrow morning will do fine,' she crooned, as if she were talking to a baby. 'We open at nine. Good-day, Madame. No, please allow me, I'll close it behind you.'

When she got out into the street, Ariane stared at the ground and ran through her purchases in her mind. First, the two evening dresses, the white crêpe, very simple, and the gold lamé, the 'Juno' model, Volkmaar had called it, rather grand, awfully elegant. And the two rustic linen suits, one white with the spencer and the blue one with the roomy cardigan-style jacket, mother-of-pearl buttons, three-quarter sleeves and fob pockets. The cardigan was a darling, she had quite fallen in love with it. (She smiled at the darling cardigan.) And the light-grey flannel two-piece was divine too, very classic, boxy, flap pockets and tailored collar. She'd feel good in it. The 'Cambridge', it had been called by the moronic creature who had modelled it and, incidentally, worn it rather well.

'Yes, my lord, I shall wear the "Cambridge" and shall be pleasing in your sight.'

She halted, with the sudden feeling that the neckline on the gold lamé was cut too low. The red-haired girl who had worn it had shown a good three-quarters of her bosom, and one breast had all but jumped out when she did that quick turn. Slowly she walked on, pensive, head down. When she reached the lake she stopped again, riven by two other blunders which were far worse. Just two fittings was madness! No dress was ever right at the second fitting!

'It was also crazy to agree to wait until the twenty-fifth, the day Sol gets back, to have everything delivered. There are bound to be things that aren't right, and there won't be enough time for the alterations. Even supposing I take them back before twelve on the Saturday, they'll only have the afternoon to put right whatever's gone horribly wrong, and that's assuming they are open on Saturday afternoons, in any case they'll do it in a rush and they'll send me back a horribly botched job and I won't have anything to wear when he arrives, well nothing except for my old rags. And all because Piglet and Chloé were such bullies. But there you are, vulgar people always intimidate me. And the way they kept talking all the time got me all
mixed up, in the end I was saying yes to everything just to get it over with and leave and not have to listen to any more dear-ladying. Basically I'm a coward, that's it, not equipped for life. No, but just a minute, you've got to do something about it, you've got to go back and see Piglet. No backing down, put up a fight. That's it, fight for his sake, so he thinks I look elegant. O my love, I've suffered agonies, I had no idea what was going on. Why did he take so long before wiring? Yes, fight! But first let's work out what I'll say to Piglet, stating my reasons. Draw up a battle-plan, write a summary so you're not left high and dry, there's a cafe, you can write it there, yes, come along.'

But once inside, her courage failed her, for the men looked up from their cards and stared. She turned round, pushed the revolving door too hard. It caught her in the small of the back and propelled her on to the pavement, where she saw, heading towards her, a friend she had known since before she was married. So that she wouldn't have to say hello, she took refuge in a stationer's, where, to justify her presence, she purchased a fountain-pen. A small cat sidled up to her. She tickled it in the approved manner, forehead first, under the chin next, then asked how old it was, what sort of character it had and its name, which, disappointingly, was Tiddles. Feeling that she had fallen among friends, she exchanged stories about cats with the proprietress, strongly recommended raw liver, an indispensable source of vitamins, said goodbye to Tiddles, and left with a smile on her face.

'On reflection, there's not much point writing it all out, all I need do is tell myself what I'm going to tell Piglet, sort of dress rehearsal. Basically, the main thing is to insist on three fittings, all close together. Friday the seventeenth, Tuesday the twenty-first, Thursday the twenty-third, no Wednesday the twenty-second, so as to leave a good margin in case of slip-ups. Ask calmly, act as if you're convinced you'll get your way. Yes, because everything depends on your inner attitudes. Don't say "I would like", say "I want", and say it firmly and categorically. "Monsieur, I want three fittings, and everything must be finished by the morning of Friday the twenty-fourth." Tell lies, never mind, it's self-defence. Yes, tell him unexpected developments, circumstances beyond my control, absolutely must leave on
the evening of Friday the twenty-fourth, that is a day earlier than planned. Consequently, I must have everything absolutely but absolutely ready for the Friday morning without fail. Got to be firm with him. Look him straight in his piggy little eyes. And don't let him arrange to deliver it at Cologny, say you'll call in and collect everything yourself on the Friday morning. Friday morning I arrive, supposedly to collect the dresses and suits by car or taxi, and while I'm in the shop tell them straight, as if it had just occurred to me, that come to think of it I'd like to try everything on once more. That's it: be brave. They won't dare say no. That'll make a fourth fitting on the sly. If, when I try the things on, I find other faults that need to be put right, I ask for the alterations to be done for Friday afternoon, by six at the latest. If there's anything that's still wrong, tell more lies, no option, say I've put off going until Saturday evening, whereupon more alterations and dresses perfect, finished by Saturday at twelve or two. The advantage of spinning a yarn about going away on Friday evening is that it leaves me a margin of twenty-four hours to get everything spot on. Lying's wrong, of course. But, beloved, I He for you. To sum up, be firm, don't weaken for any reason. I'm negotiating from a position of strength, since I haven't paid them anything on account. If Piglet won't play ball, say I'm cancelling the order, in which case grab a plane for Paris and try those de-luxe
haute couture
boutiques where they do off-the-peg lines, after all I do have a figure like a model's, so I'm not the least at Piglet's mercy. Oh, just one other thing: change the neckline on the gold lamé.'

Outside the canopied entrance to the dress shop, her courage failed her and she didn't dare go inside. It was no good denying it, she was afraid of people who were in trade, common people who did not like you and passed judgement. No, she did not have the courage to face the whole gang of them with their hypocritical, smirking faces — Volkmaar who thought it refined to say dear lady, the heavily made-up sales girls who criticized you silently, Chloé who thought herself so smart with her signet-ring on her little finger, and the rest of the vulgar tribe of models who behaved like man-eating, sensual princesses and had mothers who most likely were concierges. Better to phone. Feel braver when they can't see you.

In the phone-box, she scribbled the gist of what she wanted to say on the back of her husband's latest letter, postmarked Jerusalem but still unopened, like all the others. Damn, you'd better open them or, if you can't bring yourself to do that, wire him at the address on the back of the envelope and say: 'Thanks fascinating letters stop Read and reread them' etc. Concentrate, you can think about that tonight. After propping the envelope in front of her against the back of the phone-box, she dialled the number, sneezed, and made a face when she heard Chloé's voice.

'Oh hello, this is . . . (Awkward saying she was Madame Adrien Deume.) I was in the shop a little while ago. I'm ringing to say that . . . (She bent down to pick up the envelope which her sneeze had blown away, but failed.) On second thoughts, I'll pop in. (Out of the question to say that she was phoning from across the road.) I'll be with you in a quarter of an hour.'

She rang off quickly so she wouldn't hear the reply, and wandered through the narrow streets. When thirteen minutes were up, she turned on her heel, having made up her mind to be firm. Courage. In this life, success came to those who paid no attention to other people's opinions and rode roughshod over anything that stood in their way. Yes, be forthright, she told herself as the gold-braided porter pushed the door for her. But once inside the perfumed, mellowly lit salon, she was struck by the full enormity of both the things she was asking. So that they would not be held against her, and also to keep Volkmaar sweet, she began by saying that she would like another suit. He bowed before a customer who was clearly made of money.

'But before I decide anything about the extra suit,' she said, a warm flush creeping across her face, 'I'd like a small alteration to the gold-lamé dress. Yes, on reflection I think I'd rather not keep the plunging neckline. I'd prefer to have it come higher on the neck.'

'Round the neck,' said Volkmaar gloomily. 'Very well, dear lady, we shall make it round-necked. And what sort of material are we thinking of for our suit?'

'First I have something else to ask you. Unforeseen circumstances oblige me to bring forward the date of my departure, and I now have to leave on the Friday evening. (Volkmaar assumed an impassive
expression.) I've just this moment heard. So I shall need everything I've ordered for the morning of Friday the twenty-fourth, noon at the latest, because I cannot possibly be expected to pack at the very last moment.'

'Ah?' was the only comment offered by Volkmaar, who was well accustomed to the time-worn gambit of the new date of departure.

'I realize it doesn't leave much time,' she said with a timid smile.

'Not much, Madame.'

'It was unavoidable, couldn't be helped.'

'Hardly any time at all,' said Volkmaar, sphinx-like and sadistic.

'I'd .. . (Say pay? Best not. Might offend him.) I'd be . . . happy to meet any extra charge you felt necessary to hurry things along.'

He pretended he had not heard, closed his eyes momentarily as though giving the matter his fullest attention, and began pacing round the shop while she looked on anxiously.

'It's a large undertaking, dear lady, but we shall manage it, even if we have to keep our workrooms open all night. Very well, everything will be
finished
for midday on Friday the twenty-fourth. As for the extra charge, perhaps you would have a word with Mademoiselle Chloé.'

She murmured that she was extremely grateful. Then, deliberately avoiding his eye and breathing with some difficulty, she recited: 'I'd like three fittings. The first on Friday of this week, and the other two on Tuesday and Wednesday of next week.'

While her breathing returned to normal, he assented with a bow, having made up his mind that this customer, whom he had marked down as easy meat, would be made to pay through the nose.

'And now Madame's suit,' he said. 'I have several pretty little numbers to show you. (He turned to a tragic, tubercular girl with huge eyelashes.) Josyane, bring down the Dormeuil that's just in, the Minnis twelve-thirteen and the shot cretonne by Gagnière.'

'There's really no need, I'm very taken with that flannel there on the table.'

'Excellent choice, dear lady. An exquisite cloth, and the charcoal grey is entrancing. And what style does Madame prefer? I could see Madame in a very short jacket, gathered at the waist, with a belt in the same material and high pockets. Or perhaps wide lapels and a
scooped neckline to emphasize the bust? Chloé, would you ask Bettine to model the Caprice and Patricia the Androcles?'

'There's really no need,' she said, anxious to be gone and stop being a dear lady. 'Make the suit exactly like the other which is also flannel.'

'Very well, dear lady. Would you note that down, Chloé? A second Cambridge in the charcoal-grey Holland. First complete fitting on the afternoon of Friday the seventeenth. Madame shall have top priority. All other orders will be put back. Good-day, dear lady.'

Free at last and happy to breathe air which was not heavy with perfume, she decided she had earned a reward in the shape of several cups of tea. But just as she reached the teashop she knew in a sudden flash of intuition that the lamé dress would be horrid with a high heck. The idea of wanting to restyle a high-fashion dress like that, a garment which had after all been very carefully designed, was quite absurd. That beast Volkmaar ought never to have agreed to it. The round neckline was a stupid idea. A round neck! Round your neck. Noose round your neck, hang you by the neck until you're dead, dead, dead! Volkmaar was a beast. She kicked a pebble which was doing no one any harm. Once she had the dresses, she'd send Volkmaar an anonymous letter saying he had breasts like a woman.

'This time I'll phone.'

In the phone-box, she dialled the number after first propping the sacred telegram in front of her, to give her strength. But when she heard Chloé's voice she hung up and beat a hasty retreat. She halted abruptly when she had got as far as the tearoom. God! the telegram! She ran back and dashed into the glass-sided phone-box. It was still there! 'My love,' she said to it.

Be firm, yes, she would go, five uncomfortable minutes and it would be over and done with. I've been thinking. Leave the lamé dress as seen, that is with the deep neckline. Or should she say that she was cancelling it because it would be far too hot in summer. Yes, cancel, that would make her appear less undecided, more feet-on-the-ground.

At midnight, unable to sleep, she switched the Ught on and once more picked up the mirror. Terrific hair, oh yes. Light-brown, but
with a wonderful golden sheen, like burnt hazel and gold. Fantastic nose too, marvellously attractive, though perhaps it was a teeny bit bigger than was usual. And the overall effect? She was beautiful. Even the swans had stared as she strolled by the lake after leaving Piglet's shop. But what was the good of being beautiful when he wasn't there?