Lizzie's Secret (25 page)

‘That hardly matters,' Mabel said airily. ‘I don't want my hats to last forever; it would be so boring.'

Lizzie handed Mabel the hat and she tried it on in front of the mirrors. As soon as she put it on, Lizzie knew it was right. It had looked well on Beth but it was perfect for Mabel. She must have had her in mind when she was making it.

‘How much is it?'

Lizzie hesitated. She could make something for Beth in a slightly different way and knew her friend wouldn't mind.

‘If you're interested in buying other hats I will give you that one,' Lizzie said. ‘I couldn't sell it because it may fray after you've worn it a couple of times…'

‘Really? You will give it to me?' Mabel gave a cry of delight and hugged Lizzie impulsively. ‘You are a darling. Of course I'll buy all my hats from you – they are a lot less than Sebastian charges for them. Now, there are two more in the window I want to try – and I love that yellow straw with the big wavy brim; it's so different. I want to try that red cone-shaped hat – and the black pillbox and that white felt with all the tulle… and then you can show me some of your designs. I want something exclusively for me…'

Lizzie brought her all the hats she'd asked for and there was soon a large pile of them on the counter, all of which Mabel declared she wanted to buy. When Lizzie showed her some of the designs she was working on, she went into raptures over two styles: the buccaneer felts, which were easy for Lizzie to shape and trim, and a new one which she was just trying to work out in her mind.

‘I should like that one in brown, black and red,' Mabel said, ‘and this one is gorgeous in the colours you've shown… that sort of pinkish mauve with a soft brim over the face and that veiling.'

‘I've just started to think about that one,' Lizzie told her. ‘I can do have the felts ready in two days – but the other may take longer.'

‘Will you make it for me by the end of next week? That's when we leave for America, you see, just after Wendy's wedding. My husband has a new appointment and we shall be away for months…'

‘I shall do my best,' Lizzie promised, ‘but if the style doesn't quite work I'll have a similar one in that colour ready for you.'

Mabel paid for the hats with a cheque. Lizzie hadn't been asked to take a cheque before but because she knew Mabel she accepted it.

After she'd gone, Lizzie returned to the workshop and showed Ed the large order she'd just taken and the cheque. He nodded, but looked concerned as he worked on cutting the order he was preparing.

‘Something wrong?'

‘She came on her own without an appointment, you say?'

‘I know what you're thinking, Ed. Customers for the bespoke hats are supposed to telephone first – but I think she's a law unto herself. She wouldn't think it necessary to make an appointment.'

‘Well, she should. You mustn't encourage customers to call out of the blue, Lizzie. You'll get behind with your work when we're busy and you know what Oliver will have to say about that – and be careful about taking cheques, because sometimes they bounce… Our boss wouldn't be too happy then, Lizzie.'

Lizzie could imagine it, but it was done now and she didn't think they could afford to simply send customers away if they didn't have an appointment. If they wanted the bespoke service to be a success, they had to do whatever the ladies wanted…

She was pleased as she thought of Mabel's excitement over the witch's hat. It had really suited her and she could wear that sort of quirky hat. Of course, she had promised it to Beth, but she would just have to make her something else – something in the same colours but more practical.

Sighing, Lizzie thought how much she missed her friend now that she was away in Cambridge. She had other friends but Beth had been more like family. She would make the hat for her at home and tell her about it in her next letter…

*

Beth came to see Lizzie at the weekend. She'd got an unexpected leave and had taken the chance to come home for a few days. Lizzie knew nothing about it until she answered her door at half past eight that night.

‘Beth… you're home.'

‘Yes, they gave me leave out of the blue, so I jumped on the train and came home for three days.'

‘Why? You haven't done something awful and been given the push?'

‘No, of course not,' Beth denied but Lizzie saw the faint flush in her cheeks. ‘We're taking some preliminary tests next week and so they gave us a few days off to do some revision.'

‘So you came home instead?'

‘I can revise wherever I like,' Beth said. ‘Are you going to invite me in or leave me to freeze out here?'

‘Come in,' Lizzie said. ‘Have you eaten? I can get you some toast and marmalade, but I haven't any eggs or bacon – or cheese either…'

‘What do you live on, fresh air?'

‘I ate it all earlier,' Lizzie explained as she led the way upstairs. ‘I usually shop on Saturday and just buy bread for toast on my way home. Sometimes I eat with Madge and Ed – and I've been to lunch at Aunt Miriam's a few times at the weekends…'

‘Aunt Miriam now is it?' Beth teased and then suddenly turned and hugged her. ‘I've missed you so much, Lizzie…'

‘What's wrong, Beth. I know something is, so tell me…'

‘Mark came to see me in Cambridge – he's on the Atlantic run now,' Beth said in a choking voice. ‘I've been reading about the attacks on that shipping… I don't think I could bear it if anything happened to him, Lizzie. I love him so much.'

‘You hardly know him, Beth – and he's… well, his people are different from ours.'

‘You can't help who you fall in love with,' Beth said and flung herself down in a chair. ‘I thought I loved Tony – but I didn't know what love was. I was so naïve…'

‘And now you're not?' Lizzie saw the faint flush in her friend's cheeks and fear clutched at her. Beth was different and she had an awful feeling she knew what had caused the difference. ‘So are you going to marry him or what?'

‘As soon as we can arrange it. Mark would have married me on his leave by special licence, but I'm not old enough…'

‘Well, you knew what your parents would say, don't you? If they wouldn't let you marry Tony until you were twenty…'

‘I can't bear it,' Beth said and there was a sob in her voice. ‘It seems like ages since he left and it's only been two weeks.'

‘It's more than a month since Harry got a twenty-four-hour pass…'

‘A month – but Mark may be away for years,' Beth said and her mouth trembled. ‘I can't bear it, Lizzie. I know he'll forget all about me…' She flung herself down in a chair. ‘What am I going to do?'

‘You'll be able to write to him and he will write to you – but if he's away for months, well, you might have changed your mind by then…'

‘No, I shan't. It was different with Tony. I didn't know anything then – Mark is so much more… oh, I don't know. He has more to say about things; he knows about history and politics and art – everything. We just sit and talk for ages, and he treats me as if I were bone china. When he kisses me I melt…'

‘Beth, I'm so sorry. Really, I am, but everyone is in the same boat now. All the young men are signing up to one of the forces – and most of them will serve overseas. Mark will be safer in one of those huge ships.'

‘Ships can sink,' Beth said gloomily. ‘It's all right for you, you're married to Harry.'

‘If Mark loves you he'll keep in touch somehow – and you will marry one day.'

‘That's what he says. He says he'll buy me a ring but we have to keep it to ourselves for a while. He will speak to Dad on his next leave and then we'll get married…'

‘What are you upset for then?'

‘You know my father,' Beth's gloom increased. ‘He'll make me wait for years…'

Lizzie nodded, feeling sympathy for her. ‘I know you feel unsure now, Beth, but if you love each other it will work out. Look, I made this hat for you instead of the witch's hat…' She produced a beautiful straw boater in fine green straw trimmed with black lace and an exotic flower.

Beth pounced on it with glee, trying it on in front of the mirror and exclaiming, ‘I like it more. It really suits me. Did you sell the other one?'

‘Well, sort of. Mabel Hennessy – well, Carmichael now. She wanted it and she bought several others. I know I said it was yours, but I thought you wouldn't mind?'

‘No, of course not. I'd rather have this, because I can wear it more often…' Beth turned and hugged her. ‘Mum said to ask you to lunch on Sunday. She misses seeing you now that you're so busy.'

‘Tell her I'd love to,' Lizzie said. ‘And now I'm going to make us both a lovely hot cup of cocoa…'

Lizzie was just tidying the showroom when Sebastian Winters entered that morning. He was carrying a single pink rose, which he placed on the counter.

‘I saw this lovely thing and thought of you, Lizzie Larch – and then I decided to see what you have new in stock…'

‘Well, there are these…' Lizzie said, her cheeks heating a little at the exquisite compliment, and directed him to a display of large hats with extravagantly shaped brims, trimmed in various ways, either simply with an exotic flower or with masses of veiling, and one rather striking emerald hat with a long wide black ribbon draped round the brim that finished in tassels and would bounce when the wearer walked. She tried the emerald hat on and turned her head so that he could see the effect.

‘That one is fun,' he said and smiled with his eyes. ‘How much is it?'

‘I'm afraid it is three pounds… expensive, I know.'

‘Very expensive, but I love it: in fact, I should like to take the complete collection – all… five, six, no, eight – unless there's any more?'

‘No, I had ten similar hats; the wavy brim has turned out to be popular. I sold two the first day I put them out.'

‘I'm not surprised. I'll give you my cheque now – if you trust me?'

‘Yes, I think I can trust you to honour it,' Lizzie said and smiled.

She packed his hats carefully, took his cheque and thanked him for the custom.

‘Oliver should have some labels printed with your name on,' he said as he prepared to leave. ‘Lizzie Larch Hats… it sounds good and would make them even more exclusive.' Lizzie hesitated, because Uncle Bertie had promised he would see to it, but so far she hadn't heard anything more about it.

‘I'm not sure… where would I get something like that done?'

He took out one of his personal cards and wrote a name on the back, handing it to her. Lizzie placed it in her pocket. She would have to speak to her employer about keeping his word.

‘Thank you. I'll talk to Mr Oliver.'

‘Well, if he lets you down, you know where to come…' he said and grinned at her, then picked up his purchases and started towards the door; there he paused and glanced back at her, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Remember where I live, Lizzie – my door is always open to you.'

‘I think you are an incorrigible flirt, Mr Winters – and I'm Lizzie Oliver now.'

‘You'll always be Lizzie Larch to me.'

‘You're being foolish …' she said accusingly.

‘What I am is stubborn. I never give up on something I want.'

Lizzie saw the gleam in his eyes and decided not to answer. He was most definitely flirting and she ought not to flirt back. ‘Thank you for your order, Mr Winters.'

He nodded, looking thoughtful, then, ‘I may not get in myself for a while. If I send my manager along, will you make sure he sees all the new stuff?'

‘Are you going away?' Lizzie experienced an odd pang of regret, but she smothered it almost at once. She had no right to feel a sense of loss. Sebastian was a customer, nothing more.

‘Yes, I think I may be, for quite a long time.' Suddenly, his eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Will you miss me, Lizzie Larch?'

‘What about your shop?'

‘Oh, that will carry on, I hope.' He looked rueful. ‘Everyone has to make a few sacrifices. I dare say the shop will survive until it's over; if any of us does…'

Lizzie's heart caught at his words. She couldn't think of anything to say, because she felt shivery all over. The finality in Sebastian's words as he closed the door was frightening. She picked up the rose he'd brought her and sniffed it, wondering at the gorgeous perfume and why Sebastian had bought her such a thing.

She was about to go into the workroom when the shop door opened again and a young lad wearing a dark uniform entered. She realised he was delivering a telegram and her heart caught with fright as he held it out to her.

‘Telegram for Mrs Harry Oliver,' he said. ‘Does she work here?'

‘That's me…' Lizzie said, feeling breathless, almost too afraid to take it from him. ‘What is it?'

‘It's all right, missus,' he grinned cheerfully. ‘It's a greeting telegram not one of them others…'

‘Oh… that's all right then.' She took it and tore the envelope open, reading the brief message. Harry would be home that evening; he had six days' leave.

‘Any reply, missus?'

‘No, thank you. It's wonderful news; my husband is coming home on leave.' She saw his hopeful look and took sixpence from the purse in her pocket. ‘Here you are. Thank you for bringing me good news.'

Harry was coming home for a long leave and Lizzie was aware of mixed feelings. She wanted to see him, felt lonely when he was away for long periods, but what had happened on their honeymoon had somehow spoiled things for her and she knew that even though they were lovers again. things would never be quite the same.

Going through to the workroom, she saw that Uncle Bertie was standing at her workbench and looking very annoyed.