Brilliance (11 page)

The long train journey she had planned to Lyon would have to wait. The ticket was more than she could afford at the present time. She was sure the Lumières would be the first to offer help if she arrived almost without funds on their doorstep, but she had no intention of being a burden to anyone. She must get some employment here in this town and save every sou until she was more secure financially to make the journey.

Without wasting any more time, she left the park and found a newsagent’s shop where she bought a local newspaper. Taking it back to the park bench she sat down again and read all the situations available. Most of them were for domestic servants, but there was a vacancy for a saleswoman in a milliner’s shop, an opening for a well-read person in a local private subscription library, an assistant in an ironmonger’s and a temporary teacher in a school for young children. She tore off the page and tucked it into her purse. Then she set off first for the milliner’s shop only to find that the post had already been filled. At the library the woman who interviewed her seemed satisfied by her reading background, but raised cool eyebrows when Lisette admitted to having no references.

‘Then I regret that without any such information I cannot find you suitable, Mademoiselle Decourt. You see, we have very expensive antique volumes on the premises and have to be most careful about whom we employ.’

Lisette flushed angrily that any doubt should be cast on her honesty and she swept out of the library. Her next call was at the school. There she would have been accepted, it being an emergency since a teacher had been taken ill, but again as she had no references she was politely shown the door. Finally she tried the ironmonger’s, thinking that perhaps he would be less pernickety, but there she was told that a male assistant was required.

She realized soberly that she had little chance of gaining good employment anywhere without references and decided as a desperate measure that she must write them herself. After buying two kinds of good quality writing paper, she went to the post office. There she used a different pen and paper for each reference and, disguising her handwriting, wrote two separate letters commending herself as honest, reliable and efficient. On the envelopes she wrote ‘To whom it may concern’ and sealed them. Now she would look for somewhere to stay and buy another newspaper in the morning.

Retrieving her valises from the railway station, she set off down the meaner streets until she came to a lodging house and took a room, which was papered horribly with yellow and brown daisies. Nowhere she had stayed in before had been as bad as this place, and from the sounds in the neighbouring rooms she was not at all sure that it was a respectable house after all. Her last thought before she slept was of Daniel, who would have been dismayed by her present straits. It made her realize how protective he had been. Momentarily her breasts seemed to ache for his caress, but she folded an arm across them in a dismissal of yearning.

There were two quite suitable vacancies advertised in the morning newspaper and she decided to apply first for the one that appealed to her most. It was for a saleswoman in the large emporium located in the main street. On her way to the bank the previous day she had paused to look at the top quality goods displayed in the windows.

She went there immediately. Although the emporium had only just opened its doors she was not the first to be there for the vacancy. Three other young women were ahead of her, seated side by side in a waiting room. She took a fourth chair and soon afterward two older women seated themselves. Nobody spoke, but Lisette became aware of the cold looks directed at her fashionable clothes, which she had decided to wear again, hoping it would raise her status in an employer’s eyes. She thought to herself that these women had no idea that if she did not get employment soon she faced destitution.

Then the interviews began to take place behind an office door with opaque glass panels. Two applicants left immediately afterwards, but a third returned to her chair to await a final decision. Then it was Lisette’s turn.

She came face to face with Madame Fabignon, the owner’s wife, a thin-faced woman with gimlet eyes and a mouth that seemed permanently pursed in disapproval.

‘What sales experience have you had, Mademoiselle Decourt?’

Lisette was fully prepared for the question. ‘I have sold porcelain and china,’ she answered truthfully, thinking back to the help she had given at a stall of donated, mostly expensive knick-knacks at a charity sale that Joanna’s mother had organized annually in her rose garden. ‘Also,’ she added, thinking of another stall at that annual function, ‘I had a spell of selling small antiques.’

Madame Fabignon had taken notice of this young woman’s expensive attire and wondered if she was morally all that she should be. Shop girls were not able to afford such clothes. Yet in the young woman’s favour were her educated speech, her poise and the spotlessness of her white gloves. There was also an elegant air about her. She preferred to believe she was from a family which had fallen on hard times.

‘Where were you employed?’

‘In Paris.’

‘Were the establishments as large as this one?’

‘No, but quite exclusive.’

The woman seemed to digest this information quite favourably. ‘You are quite far away from Paris now. Why did you leave?’

‘Both my parents are dead. I had nothing to keep me there.’

Madame Fabignon decided that she had been right about this girl’s background. A well bred family, but no money. She held out her narrow hand, snapping her fingers impatiently. ‘Give me your references.’

Lisette handed them over and watched anxiously, almost holding her breath, as they were read through, but all seemed to be well. There was an approving nod.

‘I find you suitable, Mademoiselle Decourt, and you may start work here tomorrow. As you will know, it is quite customary with an emporium of this size that all female employees of single status are safely accommodated. Here you will live with all the other young saleswomen in the premises adjacent to this building. It is under the supervision of Mademoiselle Valverde, who is both housekeeper and guardian. Shall you take kindly to discipline?’

‘Yes, madame. I can understand that some rules are necessary.’

‘Mine are very strict and breaking them can mean instant dismissal. There is a nightly curfew of eight thirty with the concession of nine o’clock on Saturdays. On Sunday the emporium is closed, which gives you the day to spend as you wish after attendance at church. You will have a respectable roof over your head and three meals a day – breakfast, a light lunch of rolls and cheese or soup, and always a hot dinner in the early evening. Alcohol and cigarettes are forbidden, also dalliance with the male staff, who have their own quarters. Have I made myself clear?’

‘Yes, madame.’

‘Good. You will move in with your belongings today.’

Lisette, who was feeling jubilant at not having to pay for accommodation elsewhere, was taken aback when in the next moment she was told the pittance that her wages would be for a twelve-hour working day. Yet when she left the office her spirits had lifted again, for Madame Fabignon had spoken of an eventual rise in wages and the chance of promotion if she proved herself to be a hardworking and conscientious employee. Until then, Lisette decided, if she were truly miserly, even small coins would mount up as time went by.

A
n hour later Lisette, a valise in each hand, was admitted by a young maidservant into the house where she was to stay. Immediately a large, full-bosomed woman came into the hall from a study and her cold eyes sharpened under heavy, dark brows as she looked the newcomer up and down.

‘Mademoiselle Decourt?’ she said before Lisette had a chance to speak. ‘You are from Paris, I’ve been told. I’ll warn you now that I don’t tolerate any big city laxness of behaviour here. In the shop you’ll work hard at whichever counter is allotted to you and in my domain you’ll obey without question all the rules of the house, which you can read for yourself on the wall of your room. Do you have your own black dress for work?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Then you shall have two on loan for the six weeks of your trial period. After that, if you are taken on to the permanent staff, two dresses will be specially made for you in the dressmaking department.’ She glanced down at Lisette’s two valises. ‘When you have unpacked come downstairs to me again.’ Then she snapped her fingers imperiously at the maidservant. ‘Marie! Take Mademoiselle Decourt up to the wardrobe room. Then to the third floor where there’s a spare bed in the north-facing room.’

Lisette, heaving her valises up the stairs in the wake of the girl, thought that Mademoiselle Valverde seemed to be even more of a martinet than Madame Fabignon, but that did not bother her. She could manage to live within the rules, however restrictive they might be, until she had enough money saved to suit her purpose.

The wardrobe room on the second floor was full of black dresses on hangers that were suspended from rods. She set down her luggage and looked around dubiously.

‘They don’t smell musty, but are they clean?’ she asked.

Marie was quick to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry! Every garment goes to the laundry before it’s put ready to wear again. There’s a selection of separate white collars and cuffs that you can choose from, but these have to be starched and spotless at all times. You have the use of the laundry for washing and ironing.’

Lisette picked out two dresses in her size and then the three sets of collars and cuffs that she was allowed. She had chosen those trimmed with lace. Marie carried these garments and accessories up to the next floor, for the newcomer could not carry everything.

‘This is where you’ll sleep,’ she said, going ahead into a room located under the eaves.

Lisette followed. There were five beds, each with a chest of drawers beside it. Everything was very neat and tidy, a pair of slippers by the foot of each bed, under which there was the gleam of an individual chamber pot. A cheval glass stood in a corner, giving Lisette a full-length reflection of herself as she passed it, and pegs along one wall were hung with clothes. Two were spare and Lisette guessed those would be hers.

‘This is your bed,’ Marie said, dumping what she was carrying on the bed nearest the door, but farthest from the window. ‘Over there on the wall is the list of rules.’ She nodded in its direction. ‘You’d better read them, because Mademoiselle Valverde will question you.’ Then she left the room and went pattering down the stairs.

After Lisette had unpacked she read the list on the wall. Some rules dealt with personal hygiene, others with tidiness, promptness for meals and similar matters. There was also the dire threat of instant dismissal if any employee brought a man on to the premises.

She found her own way downstairs. As the maid had predicted, Mademoiselle Valverde questioned her about the rules, and she was able to answer correctly. Afterwards she was led through a pair of communicating double doors that opened into the emporium.

‘You’ll come to work this way every morning with your fellow saleswomen,’ Mademoiselle Valverde said over her shoulder as she strode ahead. ‘I’ve had a word with Madame Fabignon and you are to be at the shawl and cape counter. When a customer shows a preference for one or another of the items, Madame Fabignon wants you to drape it around yourself and walk up and down to display it to full effect. But never, never pressure a sale and, provided there is no damage, always exchange merchandise willingly. In the case of any doubt or trouble always remain polite, but call the floorwalker, Monsieur Giraud, who will take over the matter.’

A young salesman, named Pierre, was in charge of the shawl counter. As soon as Mademoiselle Valverde had left he expressed his relief that Lisette had arrived. ‘I had to take over this counter a couple of days ago after somebody was sacked on the spot for theft, but my place is on gentlemen’s ties and cravats. I’ll show you where everything is and then leave you to it. Ah, here’s a customer coming now. I’ll not desert you yet.’ Then he bowed to the well-dressed, middle-aged woman approaching the counter. ‘How may I be of assistance, madame?’

‘I need a shawl. Silk, I think. Blue tones or maybe red. Perhaps a pretty shade of green,’ the customer said indecisively as she sat down on one of the chairs provided.

Lisette watched as Pierre took shawl after shawl from the shelves, opening each with a flourish of colour until the counter was almost covered by them, but still the dithering customer seemed unable to make up her mind. When one of the shawls, which had been rejected, slipped to the floor Lisette retrieved it and swirled it over one shoulder in a flurry of silken fringe. Immediately the customer showed interest.

‘Now that shawl is more stylish than any other I’ve been shown!’

Immediately Lisette left the counter and walked slowly up and down for the woman’s benefit. A sale was made. After Pierre had packed the shawl and arranged for it to be delivered he turned to Lisette, standing with his hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face.

‘Whatever prompted you to do that?’ he asked.

‘I was following instructions from Madame Fabignon.’

‘But nobody has ever done that before! Carry on with the good work. You should clear the shelves of shawls within a week!’

They laughed together. By a pillar Madame Fabignon, who had observed the whole incident, congratulated herself as she moved away. Any accessory or garment would look its best on that elegant young woman. It promised to be a wise appointment that she had made.

Lisette soon came to know the four fellow saleswomen who shared the bedroom. They were all in their early twenties and, apart from an occasional squabble now and again, were remarkably tolerant of each other in such cramped conditions. Mademoiselle Valverde was their common enemy, for without exception they all hated her and this bound them together.

‘She listens at keyholes,’ Claudine, the oldest of the girls, warned Lisette.

‘Yes! And she inspects our room on her own, poking into everything,’ another, who was named Blanche, declared indignantly.