Annie's Promise (11 page)

Georgie dragged out a chair, threw his lunch-box on the table, slumped into the chair. ‘It’s not the same thing at all, Annie, that was a stupid mistake, this is business. It’s a good order, you can see that – you’re the one who’s been going on about it, pet. About needing it now and we might net nothing from the tour. At least we know we’ve got this.’

Annie rolled the words around in her mind. Stupid mistake, yes it had been, and hers too, but this would be as much of a mistake and she couldn’t let it happen. Tom leant back against the draining board, looking at the clock.

‘How did you get off work?’ she asked, drying the tray, putting it way. She sat down again and tested the hot scones with the tip of her finger.

‘They can dock me pay, this is important.’ His face was drawn, his eyes anxious.

A headache was beginning to pound down one side of her head and neck. Georgie was pushing his bait tin round and round.

‘Look both of you,’ Annie said, still calm, still quiet. ‘I’ve taken months to build up the traders. They’ve always been loyal, always paid, we’re their sole suppliers. If we withdraw their stock they’ll have nothing to sell, they could go broke, our name’ll go down the Swanee. Manners will have us in the palm of his hand. If something goes wrong we’re finished, we’ll have nowhere to go, we’ll have ditched everyone else. We must say no – we must wait. I don’t want to any more than you but it’s just too dangerous.’ She turned the scones over, there was flour on her fingers and the smell of baking filled the kitchen.

Georgie rubbed his hand over his eyes, his movements quick, irritable. ‘Don’t be daft, Annie, what could go wrong? We’ll have a contract for God’s sake, we’ll be covered.’

‘Isaacs had a contract too. They rejected the order, said it was of insufficient quality.’

‘Ours won’t be,’ Tom chipped in.

‘ “Said” being the operative word. There was nothing wrong with the stock, it’s all just part of the game.’

‘It’s not like you not to gamble, not to go for the big one. It won’t happen anyway, I’ve checked him out, he’s bona fide,’ Georgie said, his voice louder now. Annie swung round on him.

‘It’s more than a gamble, it’s letting down the small men, it’s exposing us and we can’t do it. Manners can just go and bully some other idiots. Anyway, he’s probably bluffing.’

Georgie pushed the tin round, faster and faster. ‘Manners doesn’t bully, and he doesn’t bully idiots, or am I one, is that what you’re trying to say?’

Annie flushed, shaking her head, wanting to pound the table. ‘Of course I’m not, I’m just – ’

‘We need this,’ Georgie broke in, his voice cold. ‘We hooked in – I hooked in. So I’m saying we’re going for it, we’ve got to.’ His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. ‘I’m telling you, Annie, we’re going for it, it’s too important to bugger up. We’ll just have to risk losing the traders, it won’t matter when we’re in the shops, we won’t need them. It’s not
dangerous, it’s foolproof, we’ll have a contract. The stall holders are businessmen, they’ll understand. Who did they dump to take you on? What d’you think, Tom?’

Tom was looking from one to the other. ‘I don’t know that I like the idea of the traders copping it. Annie’s got a point, Georgie.’

He was looking at Annie now.

She felt the scones again. There were currants in six of them, which would Sarah prefer? But the anger was boiling up.

‘As a matter of fact, Georgie, they didn’t dump anyone to take us on, the old man died and we won the orders on merit, on my workmanship.’

‘How’s the old stock?’ Tom broke in. ‘Can we take that out to replace the exclusives so we don’t let them down?’

Annie shook her head, waiting until she was calmer. ‘I’ve thought of that but there’s not nearly enough though there are the new season’s designs. I was just wondering if we could pick one, make those up, take them out cold, no samples, do a straight exchange but I’d need to set the homeworkers on. We’d need to pay them over the odds to work round the clock so I could get them to the stalls before Manners’ deadline.’

Georgie nodded, easing his back. ‘Fine, get some of those out but we can’t afford homeworkers, we’re already down for enough of a loan, we can’t afford to extend it. If you get a few out to them it’ll be enough. If they’re loyal like you say they’ll wear it. We’ll get some more to them by the end of the week. If they make a fuss, kiss them goodbye, they’re not worth the hassle.’

Annie stood up, banging the table, shouting at her husband. ‘But why the hell should they
wear
it? Manners is being totally unreasonable, the whole thing stinks, and it’s we who will be damaged too, not just the traders. What’s the matter with you, Georgie. Look, I’m telling you, watch my lips – without them we’re just too vulnerable, we’ll not just lose today’s order but future ones. We need to supply them
properly, we need to put money out or maybe you’re going to sit up throughout the night sewing?’ She gripped his arm.

Georgie shook free and now he was shouting too, his lips drawn tight. ‘No, I’m not because I’ll be down the bloody pit earning the money that’s kept this afloat until someone like Manners came along and I’d like to remind you that I was the one who went out and got that, without a load of money being wasted on trains, taxis and bloody coffees. So no, I won’t be sewing, I’ll be down there with that bloody cutter screeching and the conveyor clattering until I can’t speak, let alone think, that’s where I’ll be.’

He slammed back into his chair and there was silence until Annie said, ‘I’ll ring the traders at home tonight, explain, promise delivery of the new season’s stock by the end of tomorrow, or at least enough to keep them going.’ Because what else could she say? She knew from his face that the edge had finally gone, that it was the thought of more time in the pit that was pushing him and it should be pushing her – what the hell was she thinking of? This man had had enough.

She and Gracie worked throughout the night even though Annie thought her head would explode with pain and in the morning she set on Brenda, telling Georgie she would hock the walnut table to pay for her if necessary and so he said nothing.

In the afternoon she drove round, collecting back the Manners exclusives, restocking as far as she could, but there were not enough, not nearly enough and that evening she told Tom and Georgie that they were no longer the sole suppliers of most of the traders, in fact they had been dropped by half of them. She kept her voice neutral and didn’t tell them of the comments that had been made to her, the disgust which had been voiced, because she agreed with every word. That night she didn’t sleep and there was space in the bed between them because she couldn’t bear the thought of him touching her. In the morning the rage was still there and she wanted
to shake him for putting them in this position, for going down the pit in the first place.

Tom phoned to say that Manners wanted to change the delivery date from 1st July to 1st June and Annie clenched the receiver and said that she’d only begin work when she had a contract, until then nothing was going to happen. ‘Nothing, do you hear?’ she shouted.

On Wednesday the written order arrived and it was only now that Annie asked for delivery of the machines and the cloth and their terraced house shook as the lorries pulled up at Wassingham Textiles and off loaded. She called to the neighbours. ‘Sorry about the noise.’

‘That’s all right, Annie, d’you need a hand, lass?’ Mrs Warren called from across the street.

‘If I do, you’ll be the first I call on, Pat, bless you.’

The children took the machines round on their carts after school and Annie set up the rotary cutter in the dining-room. She cut out all evening and delivered to Brenda, Meg and Irene before breakfast. If they had to supply this man, then they’d do it perfectly.

She cut out and sewed the stock for the remaining market traders and the small shops throughout the day, and so did Gracie and they checked them as carefully as Manners’ stock because they also deserved perfection.

She sewed for her own stall.

‘But you won’t be going in now,’ Georgie said on Thursday evening. ‘There’s no need.’

‘There’s every need,’ she replied.

‘That’s crazy,’ he said, pulling off his boots, warming himself by the range.

‘I need to be seen there, I need to recover the situation as much as I can.’

‘It’s not necessary any more, you’ll get too tired. You won’t be able to do the job you need to do.’

‘We’re all too tired and we’re all doing the jobs we need to do, you more than anyone.’ Annie left him in the kitchen, not wanting to discuss the markets, not wanting to think of
the hours he was down there, for her. But for himself too, God damn it.

She sat at the sewing machine, working, her head bent low, nodding as Sarah and Davy brought in the completes from Brenda and Meg.

‘Rob’s gone for Irene’s,’ Sarah said and Annie nodded.

‘There’re some scones in the tin – and thank you, you’ve been wonderful.’

‘Shall we sew some roses on, Mam? You look so tired.’ Sarah’s hand was on her shoulder and for a moment Annie leant her head against her daughter’s and felt warm arms round her neck.

‘You’ve done enough, my love, now go and have a scone.’

‘Dad can sew them then, I’ll send him in,’ Sarah was following Davy from the room.

‘No, your da’s tired, I’ll do it. He can pop you into bed through and I’ll come up later.’

She watched as they shut the door. No, she didn’t want Georgie in with her. She stretched her arms, rolled her shoulders, eased her neck then sorted through Brenda’s, they were almost perfect, just seven rejects. She’d re-do them later. But Meg’s smelt of cigarettes and there were ash marks on twenty-four of them. Dear God, as though things weren’t difficult enough.

Annie threw her coat on, walked through the kitchen smiling at them, closing the door gently behind her.

Georgie took the scone that Sarah offered him, breathing in the scent that Annie had left behind, knowing that her anger would leave her when Manners paid up, knowing that they could hook back the traders when they had more time. He’d just go and talk to them as he’d talked to Manners – it’d be easy and then she’d see that all they’d been doing was prioritise. She just hadn’t grasped how to kick-start a business. He tasted the scone and pulled a face – he didn’t like currants.

Annie walked round to Sindon Terrace, walked past the
pigeons cooing in the loft. Frank had said that Geoff kept pigeons but they never won races, they were overfed.

Meg opened the door, her face surprised. ‘It’s nine o’clock, Annie, I’m just making Geoff’s supper.’

Annie nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sorry but, Meg, I’ve a bit of a problem. You see, I can’t have you smoking when you’re sewing. It’s a fire hazard and when we move into the new premises it will be forbidden. But it’s not just that, it makes the clothes smell and there are ash marks on two dozen of them.’

She was speaking quietly, not wanting the neighbours to hear, feeling her embarrassment making her blunt. ‘I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I should have told you, you weren’t to know.’

Meg’s face flushed. ‘Keeps me weight down you see, smoking does. But I won’t, not while I’m sewing.’

The next night there were no ash marks but there was still the smell of smoke and Annie had to walk to Sindon Terrace again. This time Meg told her that she hadn’t smoked at all, though her husband had, and he wouldn’t stop. Annie nodded, pressed the woman’s arm, said, ‘Not to worry, I’ll just air them then.’ There were tears in Meg’s eyes.

She called in on Tom. ‘Why did you suggest Meg?’

‘Because her old man’s a bugger. She needs the money, the sense of doing something for herself but if there’s a problem we’ll drop her, this is too important.’

Annie shook her head. ‘There’s been too much dropping and no, there’s no problem, this is why we started this business, remember? I think she’ll do very nicely, Tom.’

Each evening she aired Meg’s garments and told Georgie that it was common practice to hang things up when they’d just come in.

The next morning she called in at the estate agents as Georgie had asked, checking that the rent was the same. Then she called in at the planning office on her way to the stalls, checking on their requirements, noting them down, referring them to Tom so that plans could be drawn up and
presented as soon as possible. Once they were in premises there would be so much less rushing around and besides Meg could work in peace.

She worked eighteen hours a day, and so did Gracie. Tom redesigned the autumn collection and Annie ran up samples. The stationery was ordered, collapsible cardboard boxes for the presentations were costed. She checked and rechecked the homeworkers’ garments and had to have one of the sewing machines repaired which held them up, but by the day of the Convent Open Day they were still on schedule with six weeks to go. At the eleventh hour she realised that she had forgotten to buy a hat and asked Pat Warren if she could borrow hers. It was pink, with flowers, and Sarah laughed.

‘Well, I think you look lovely, Auntie Annie,’ Davy said, ‘Like a spring garden.’

‘You’re a smooth talker, Davy Ryan, just like your dad.’

Annie smiled as Davy flushed. ‘You are, you know, just like your dad.’ She made a note to speak to Tom about Davy, he must include him more, Rob took too much of his time.

They were driving up and out of Wassingham, Sarah and Davy in the back, Tom, Gracie, and Rob following. Betsy wouldn’t come, she had too much cooking and washing and ironing to do, she had said, but give the lass my love, and Don and Maud of course.

‘Bet just didn’t want to come,’ she said quietly to Georgie.

‘Did any of us?’ he replied and Annie didn’t answer, just felt the tension coil around them. She watched the countryside as they travelled the road she felt she could now navigate blindfold.

They arrived in good time and as Georgie drove in through the school gates Annie looked at the sloping gardens she had not seen since she had left the school so long ago. The rhododendrons were still there.

‘They grow wild in the foothills of the Himalayas,’ she said over her shoulder to the children. ‘Your dad’s seen them, haven’t you, Georgie?’