The Reluctant Sinner (13 page)

‘Clara will have kittens!’ she said, laughing gleefully.

‘My dear Grace, you must live your own life. Mrs Portman has had hers for goodness’ sake.’

‘Oh, Giles, you do say the right things at the right time.’

‘As a matter of fact I don’t. There are times when, believe me, diplomacy is not a word I would use. Let me know if I can be of help. Hugh would be proud of you.’

‘Now you are being diplomatic! You know as well as I do, Hugh would be furious with me. He would say I was going into trade, as I’m sure his mother will too. If I’m honest, there were times when he was far too much like his mother for comfort!’

Giles’ laughter echoed. ‘I do know what you mean. Hugh and I were close as kids and I told him he was a pompous twit one day. It came to blows.’

‘I didn’t know that! He never told me.’

‘Of course not, because I beat the hell out of him!’

When Grace rode home, she was still smiling at the thought of Hugh and Giles, as boys, thumping each other.

That evening, Daisy told Vera, her mother, the good news. But Vera only looked concerned.

‘What if it ever gets out you worked for Flo Cummings, what then?’

Daisy was furious with her. ‘You just can’t forget can you, Mum! I’m trying to forget those days. If it comes out so what? The women I deal with won’t give a hoot. All they want is to wear my clothes. I haven’t got some dreadful disease you know! They won’t pick anything up from me!’

‘Oh, Daisy, what a terrible thing to say!’ Vera was appalled.

Daisy glared at her. ‘I thought you’d be pleased for me.’

‘I am, of course I am. How could you think otherwise?’

‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it, that’s all I can say.’ And she rushed upstairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Vera sat in the chair by the hearth. It wasn’t that she was unhappy about Daisy’s news, good heavens the girl deserved a break after the sacrifices she had made, but these things had a habit of crawling out of the woodwork and biting you when you least expected it. She just hoped it wouldn’t happen to her daughter.

It was six weeks later that
Gilbert.
Gowns à
la
Mode
opened in East Street, a busy thoroughfare in the town centre. Resplendent in the wide bay window were two mannequins, one wearing an exquisite evening dress with heavy beading on the bodice and a day gown of the finest silver-grey material, with its long draped skirt and fitted bodice. It was in the latest fashion and was being much admired by passers-by and prospective clients, invited to the opening.

True to her word, Grace Portman had found the premises, had them decorated, bought more sewing machines, material and all that had been on Daisy’s list. Then she’d rallied round her friends and those of her mother, and sent personal invitations to the wives of prominent businessmen in the town, to ensure that the day the new shop opened there were plenty of clients – and the local press.

Glasses of sherry were being served as the women who had gathered were inspecting the garments which had been made during the interim period, and were now hanging on dress rails inside the reception area of the shop. Daisy and her faithful band of workers had sewed for long hours to prepare for the opening. Grace Portman, wearing one of her gowns made by Daisy, had cut the ribbon across the door, declaring the establishment open. The cameras flashed and the orders poured in.

Daisy insisted that Grace deal with the press. She didn’t want to give an interview and, as she explained to her partner, it would be better for her to remain in the background, under the circumstances. When they were established, it would be different. Grace thought she was very prudent and agreed.

Grace Portman discovered she had a flair for sales and she worked the room, selecting gowns she thought would particularly suit each individual. With her well-modulated voice and demeanour, her opinion and obvious taste, she was an important contribution and the ladies shopped enthusiastically.

Giles Bentley arrived, carrying two bouquets of flowers and was greeted warmly by Grace, who introduced him to Daisy.

‘Congratulations,’ he said and handed the flowers to them. ‘I thought this appropriate for the occasion.’

‘Oh, thanks so much, Mr Bentley,’ beamed Daisy.

‘Giles, please and you are more than welcome. How did it go?’ he asked.

‘Better than we could ever have hoped,’ Grace told him. ‘We have sold many items and have orders for many more.’

‘Well done both of you. I’m delighted for you.’ He had a sherry and took his leave. ‘I’ll be in touch, Grace. So nice to meet you, Daisy.’

Daisy nudged her friend. ‘Where have you been hiding him, might I ask?’

Grace blushed. ‘I haven’t, he’s an old friend of the family, that’s all.’

Towards the end of the day, when it was time to close, they all got together to discuss the many orders in the book.

‘I didn’t refuse anyone,’ said Daisy, ‘but we are going to be really pushed to fill the orders, and there is a waiting list.’

‘What do you suggest?’ asked Grace.

‘We need outworkers. Those women – like my mother – who can make the collars and sleeves, things like that which can then be sewn in by the girls working here.’

‘You’ll have to arrange that, Daisy,’ said Grace. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘I know a couple,’ said Agnes, then the other two girls came up with names of women who were good enough and would be pleased with the extra money, but who were unable to work full-time. And it was arranged that the girls got in touch with them and ask them to come for an interview with Daisy.

‘When the press print the pictures of the opening tomorrow, we’re likely to have even more clients visiting us,’ Grace remarked, ‘but never mind, if they realize they have to go on a waiting list, it’ll make them even more eager!’ She chortled with delight.

‘Oh, Grace,’ she said when they were at last alone. ‘How can I ever thank you?’

‘Oh, come along, Daisy, we’ve helped each other. It’s given me an interest which I really needed after Hugh passed away. I’d have gone mad otherwise.’

‘I think we need to get a receptionist,’ Daisy suggested. ‘I can’t keep leaving my work to take care of the clients.’

‘I’ll do it!’

Daisy looked at Grace in horror. ‘You can’t possibly do it, not a lady of your breeding. It wouldn’t be right!’

‘What rubbish! My father is a GP in the town, he’s not the lord of the manor or anything like it.’

‘Maybe so, but
you
are the lady of the Manor House in Brockenhurst. What on earth would your mother-in-law say?’

‘She’d probably have a fit!’ And Grace burst out laughing. ‘It would be worth doing it for that alone.’

‘Mrs Portman, you are a wicked women!’

In the edition of the local paper the following day, there was a whole page spread, with pictures of the opening of the new gown shop in East Street. There was a lovely one of Grace, cutting the ribbon with the name of the shop in full view, and the written interview with her where she expounded the talent of Daisy Gilbert, her partner – and her workforce. There were no pictures of Daisy, but the women in the background eyeing the display were obviously from the upper echelons of society and the reporter had interviewed several of them. It was a great advertisement, read by many and received by a few with different reactions.

Madam Evans, whose business was failing rapidly, was jealous. Harry the barman was delighted. Flo Cummings looked at the pictures with mixed emotions and Ken Woods was delighted that he now knew where Gloria, as he thought of her, had moved to. When he’d discovered that her workroom in Bernard Street was no longer occupied, he’d been livid.

But there was no one who was more angry at this public display than Clara Portman.

At the dinner table she shook the offending paper at her husband, Charles. ‘Have you read this?’ she demanded.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I have.’

‘How could she take part in such a vulgar display? Bandying the family name about like that!’

He gazed across the table at his wife and said, ‘I think it’s a splendid idea myself. Grace needs an interest to help get her over the loss of Hugh.’

‘But she’s gone into trade!’ Clara was outraged.

Charles glared at her. ‘You seem to forget, my dear, that your family fortune was made originally in the slave trade!’ Throwing down his napkin, he left the table and his wife, whose face was puce with anger.

Vera had looked at the picture with motherly pride, but also with some trepidation. The women in the picture were obviously wealthy and she was afraid that Daisy’s past might come out into the open. Her daughter had already been through so much, she couldn’t help but fret that sometime in the future, just as Daisy had achieved her dream, it could all collapse about her. If it did, she doubted if Daisy would ever recover. But she kept such thoughts to herself.

Flo Cummings made a visit to the shop the next morning, pausing to look at the models in the window. There was no doubt about the talent of the girl. She opened the door.

‘Good morning,’ said Grace. ‘Can I be of assistance?’

Flo was taken aback to be greeted by such a well-bred person and recognized her as the woman in the picture, Daisy’s partner.

‘I want to place an order for a couple of gowns,’ said Flo.

‘I’m so sorry, but at the moment we are unable to take any more work, but I can put your name on the waiting list if you wish?’

This floored Flo, as she’d expected to be measured up on the spot, choose her material and arrange her first fitting. ‘That won’t do at all,’ she retorted. ‘I’m an old client of Daisy’s. I’m sure if you call her, she’ll accommodate me.’

Sensing that there was no other way to deal with the woman, Grace asked Daisy to step out of the workroom for a moment.

‘Hello Flo,’ said Daisy, ‘what can I do for you?’

‘I’m told there’s a waiting list, but as I’m an old customer I’m sure you can make an exception.’

‘I truly wish I could, Flo,’ smiled Daisy, ‘but I’ve already filled my book. There is no way at all I can fit you in. We’re up to our necks in the workroom. I’m really sorry.’

Flo’s eyes narrowed. ‘I remember once I helped you out in the past when you needed a helping hand, so can’t you do the same for me?’

Daisy stared hard into the other woman’s eyes. ‘I’ll never forget what you have done for me, Flo – in every way – but if I get a
cancellation I’ll give you a call. You’ll have to forgive me but I’ve so much work I can’t stay for a chat, I’m sure you’ll understand. Business comes first.’

Grace stood by and watched the interchange with great interest. So this was Flo Cummings, the owner of the Solent Club. The woman who had been the means of leading Daisy down the slippery slope. Using the girl’s desperate situation to suit her own ends. During their chats when setting up the business plans, Daisy had confided in her every sordid detail of her life as one of Flo’s girls. This woman was wicked to have taken such an advantage of one so innocent.

Looking at her Grace asked politely, ‘What would you like to do; now you know the situation?’

‘I’ll leave it!’ snapped Flo and stormed out.

Daisy appeared when she heard the shop door close. ‘Thank goodness she’s gone.’

‘I thought you handled her very well,’ said Grace with a grin.

‘She’ll get fed up with waiting and I’ll never have enough time to fit her in … unless the business is slack,’ she smiled. ‘If that happens I’ll take anyone’s money.’

‘She’s a hard woman,’ Grace said, quietly.

‘I used to think she was my friend,’ Daisy admitted, ‘but I was wrong. I was worth a lot of money to her, once upon a time.’

‘Those days are gone, Daisy, and are best forgotten.’

‘I managed to bury them pretty deeply, but they are never truly gone, alas,’ said Daisy as she returned to her work.

One other person had read the local paper, but had not realized that one of the partners in this new venture was someone familiar, until he went into the Solent Club for a drink that evening.

‘Hello, Steven,’ said Harry. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages.’

Steven ordered a pint of beer and said, ‘I promised myself I’d never come in here ever again.’ He gazed around, saw the girls sitting at the far end of the bar and asked, ‘Is Gloria about?’

‘No, lad. She left some time ago.’

‘Really, why?’

‘She opened up a little workshop; our Gloria is a brilliant seamstress it seems and now she’s just opened her own business. Here, it was in the paper.’ And he picked up the edition with the opening of the shop and handed it to the young man.

‘I saw this on the ship,’ said Steven. ‘But it says that a Daisy Gilbert is the part-owner.’

‘That’s our Gloria’s real name,’ said Harry. ‘She’s doing really well so I’m told.’

Steven sat and drank his beer, thankful not to find his Gloria sitting waiting for a punter. It had been his one dread. He’d vowed not to return and had kept away for many a month, but not being able to get her out of his mind, had wandered back to the bar this evening.

Picking up the paper, he made a note of the address of the establishment. He sat drinking his beer, thinking back to the night he had spent with the young girl who had trusted him enough to let him be her first lover. He thought himself that and not a punter. That would have demeaned their evening. There was no way he ever could think of her as a common prostitute, she was much more than that to him. She was a beautiful girl, an innocent in the ways of men and he had felt privileged to have been the first one – and now he longed to see her again.

Daisy was alone in the shop at the end of the following day. The staff and Grace had left, but she had stayed behind to prepare some work for the morrow. The outside bell rang, which startled her. Who on earth could it be? Leaving the workshop she walked into the reception and was astonished to see Steven Noaks standing outside. With her heart thumping, she unlocked the door.

‘Steven. What a surprise! Please come in.’ She locked the door behind him.

‘I saw the light on and hoped you’d still be here.’ He looked around at the exquisite gowns displayed with open admiration. ‘My goodness, are these your designs?’

She flushed with pride. ‘Yes, they are. How on earth did you find me?’

‘Harry showed me the spread in the paper. I’d actually read it on board. My steward brought it in with the daily papers after we docked. Of course I didn’t realize that Daisy Gilbert and Gloria were one and the same person.’

‘No, I imagine not. How are you, Steven?’ She gazed at him with affection.

‘More to the point, how are you?’ He took her hands in his and added, ‘I’ve thought about you so often.’

‘And I’ve thought about you too,’ she confessed.

He caressed her cheek. ‘It’s so good to see you here and not at the Solent Club.’

‘Those days are behind me, Steven. I’m carving out a new life for myself, thanks to my partner, Grace Portman.’

‘Come and have dinner with me … Daisy. I’ll have to get used to that name.’

She looked longingly at him, remembering how he had held her in his arms, had been her first and only real lover. And here he was, holding her hands, gazing into her eyes with the same expression as when he took her to bed that very first night at the Solent Club.

‘I’d like that very much,’ she said quietly.

He took her to a select restaurant in the High Street and when they’d ordered he asked, ‘How much longer did you stay at the club after I left?’

She felt her skin grow cold. ‘Far too long. My father died but I stayed on to earn enough money to start my business in one room with one assistant, then Grace came along … well you’ve seen the shop.’

‘Oh, Daisy, I can’t bear the thought of you being there after I sailed.’

‘Please don’t think about it, Steven. It’s all in the past. The only thing I want to remember was our night together. That was very special and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.’

He tried to blot out the visions of other men and the intimacy they had shared with this lovely girl, who, it seemed to him, gazing at her now, still had such an innocent air about her, but in his heart he knew differently and he couldn’t bear it.

‘Tell me about you,’ she urged, anxious to change the subject.

He told her of the trips to New York, the passengers leaving England to start a new life in America before the ship was commissioned to carry troops. They discussed the war, wondering how much longer it would continue, the tremendous loss of lives, skirting around the way they had met and the life they both knew she had lived.

Eventually Daisy said she had to leave. ‘My mother will wonder where I am,’ she explained.

‘How is she coping after the loss of her husband?’ he asked.

‘She has her good and bad days, we both do, but Dad’s no longer in pain, which is a good thing.’

At the door of her house they paused. Steven was desperate to see her again, but was fighting a battle within himself. He was finding it impossible to blank out the images of the men Daisy had taken to bed and he knew if he wasn’t careful it could come between them. He needed time to sort himself out.

‘It was great to see you again, Daisy, and I’m so thrilled that you are doing well. I wish you every success.’ He drew her into his arms and kissed her longingly. Then he walked away without a backward glance.

Daisy watched him, confused and hurt. During their evening, she’d felt the affection in his voice, his look, his touch. But the
sudden departure after the passion of his kiss was like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face. She couldn’t understand it. Putting the key in the door, she entered the house.

‘That you, Daisy?’ Vera called from the scullery.

‘Yes, Mum. Sorry I’m late.’

Vera emerged wiping her hands on a glass cloth. ‘I was getting worried about you,’ she said.

‘I worked late,’ said Daisy. ‘I needed to prepare the work for tomorrow, then I went out for a meal with a friend. Did you finish those collars and cuffs I gave you?’ Her mother with her sewing skills was now one of Daisy’s outworkers which gave her a small wage and independence.

‘They’re on the side table.’

Daisy inspected the work. ‘This is excellent,’ she said smiling at her mother. ‘Perhaps I should get another sewing machine in the workroom and move you in full-time!’

‘If you were short of staff I’d do it for you willingly, you know that,’ said Vera, ‘but at the moment, I’m happy as things are. I still have free time to see my friends.’

Knowing that such meetings with other widows and housewives were helping Vera recover from her loss, Daisy was pleased to let things stay as they were. She and her mother were getting along well these days. Vera had seemed to come to terms with her past and no longer referred to it, which made things so much better.

At the Manor House in Brockenhurst, no such understanding existed between Grace Portman and her mother-in-law, who had descended on her that evening, uninvited. When the maid showed Clara into the living room, Grace stood up to greet her – ready for battle.

‘Good evening, Clara, and what have you come to complain about this evening?’

The hostility oozed out of every pore as Clara glowered across the room. ‘How very rude of you, Grace. Have you forgotten your manners?’

‘Have you forgotten that your interference into my life is unacceptable?’

‘You, Grace, seemed to have forgotten that you are the widow of my son who died a hero and who would be turning in his
grave knowing that you, a Portman, are working in a common gown shop!’

‘You seem to forget that this same gown shop is a business in which I have shares. Hugh was never against making money as I recall and believe me, our clients are far from common. Some of them have graced your table many times in the past! And let’s face it, Clara – you would
never
deem to mix with the
hoi
polloi.
’

There was no answer to this as Clara Portman was well aware that some of her associates and friends had indeed become clients of her daughter-in-law’s gown shop and were full of praise for the work involved, which only infuriated Clara even more.

‘It’s unseemly, that’s all. What really worries me, Grace, is that spending so much time in Southampton, the running of the estate will suffer.’

‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Grace turned away, furious with the woman, then turning back, she tried to speak calmly. ‘The estate is in good hands. The farms are doing well and are in profit after I made a few changes, the Manor House is in good repair, the grounds are well cared for and your family name is unsullied! These are all under my careful jurisdiction. You have nothing to worry about, so please leave me alone to get on with my life in any way I please.’

‘Well if you are going to be so unpleasant I’ll leave.’

‘What a good idea. I’ll see you to do the door myself!’ And she ushered the woman out of the house.

Returning to the living room, Grace poured herself a stiff brandy. ‘Interfering old bitch!’ she murmured as she sipped her drink. ‘Why the hell can’t she leave me alone?’

Working at the gown shop had given her a new lease to her life and what’s more she really enjoyed it. In many ways it made up for the fact she had no children; she nourished the business as she would have done a child, looking after the financial welfare side of things, buying materials at the best prices, bargaining hard with the manufacturers. A skill she didn’t know she had. It was all very satisfactory.

At the weekends, she and Giles would ride out into the country and she enjoyed his company. With him, she could forget her worries, the responsibilities of overseeing the estate and sometimes Giles would advise her when she was in doubt about a decision.

He teased about this. ‘You really don’t need my input you know; you’re about the most capable woman I’ve ever met.’

Pulling a face she said, ‘Oh dear, that doesn’t sound very feminine.’

‘Believe me, Grace, it doesn’t take away an ounce of your femininity. Not one bit!’

She blushed at the compliment. ‘Come on, I’ll race you to the edge of the meadow!’ and they both kicked their horses into a gallop.

These outings, she realized, were important to her and she looked forward to them after a busy week at the shop. There was nothing more exhilarating than a good gallop with the wind blowing through your hair and a nice companion to race. It set her up nicely for a busy week ahead.

Harry the barman called into the shop one day to see Daisy, who introduced him to Grace. ‘Harry here used to look after me like a father when I worked at the Solent Club,’ she told her.

Grace took to Harry immediately. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Daisy. I’m delighted to meet you.’

Daisy showed him over the workroom and the work in progress. Pride shone from her eyes as she did so. ‘Come on, Harry, I’ll make you a cup of tea and we’ll go into the office and you can give me all the gossip.’

They sat down together. ‘How’s Flo?’ she asked.

‘Same as always, she was really pissed off when she couldn’t get her stuff made,’ he told her with great glee. ‘She came back to the club in high dudgeon, cursing you up hill and down dale!’

‘I wasn’t being difficult, Harry. I honestly
couldn’t
help her. I’m booked up for weeks in advance and I have a waiting list which I did offer to put her name on, which she declined. But I have to say it did give me great pleasure to turn her down. She stormed out of here in an awful temper.’

His gaze was full of admiration as he smiled at her. ‘Well, Daisy, girl, you have done really well for yourself and I’m right proud of you.’

‘Thanks, Harry. It was my dream to work for myself; it made the struggle worthwhile I suppose, although I wish I could have financed it in a different way.’

‘You did what you had to do, Daisy’ He sipped his tea. ‘Have you seen anything of Ken Woods?’

She frowned. ‘No, why do you ask?’

He shrugged. ‘He still has an unhealthy interest in you, asks me have I seen or heard from you on a regular basis.’

Daisy felt her back go cold, remembering how the man attacked her and her lucky escape. ‘Do I need to worry about him do you think?’

He looked pensive. ‘To be honest I’m not sure. I did have a talk to him, but he really is a nasty piece of work. Just keep your eyes peeled, that’s all.’

After Harry had left, Daisy returned to her sewing, but she couldn’t get the warning she’d been given out of her mind. She’d always secretly feared that Woods was unfinished business but as the weeks passed she’d forgotten about him … until now.

She’d heard no more from Steven, which was a great disappointment, but in her heart she knew it was because of her time spent at the Solent Club. No man would be able to face these facts and be able to forget she’d been a whore. And if she were to meet a man with whom she fell in love and wanted to marry, she’d have to be truthful about her past, which she realized would probably preclude her for ever from marrying and having a family of her own. This saddened her, but at least she had her work.

The success of Daisy Gilbert’s business had become an obsession with Ken Woods. He read the local paper every evening and saw the advertisements for the gown shop that appeared fairly regularly. He’d strolled by on several occasions, observing the comings and goings of the well-heeled clients, the fashions displayed in the window, the opening and closing times. He’d watched as Daisy locked up and left the premises on several evenings, usually with at least one of her assistants. Every time he saw her, he became even more frustrated that the one time he’d caught her alone, she’d made her escape … and he made his plans.