Velvet (4 page)

Wondering if she, too, might find herself a rich patron, Velvet took to looking on the sides of the boxes to check the names of customers, hoping to find someone titled or wealthy-sounding. In this way she found a Madame Natasha Savoya and, after asking around to make sure she wasn’t already ‘owned’, was told by Maisie that Madame was a new customer whom no one knew much about. ‘I had one of her boxes last week,’ Maisie said. ‘Rather you than me with all
her
flummery.’

Velvet, intrigued, opened the newly arrived laundry box and gasped at the delicious assortment of pastel silks and satins it contained: a strawberry pink blouse, a silk bed jacket with embroidered yoke, a shawl as fine as a spider’s web, a creamy blue nightdress, a long pleated linen skirt and a cashmere morning gown appliquéd with moss roses.

‘Look at these!’ she cried, pulling everything out. ‘What lovely things.’

‘Lovely they may be,’ Maisie said, looking over her shoulder, ‘but they’ll prove the very devil to launder.’

Nevertheless, Velvet set to. In all, the box took near two days to get through and she needed to learn several new skills, for the hem of the nightdress was unravelling and it was missing some pearl buttons, one of the appliquéd roses was coming adrift from its backing, and there were various other small and careful repairs required, as well as all the garments’ washing, drying and pressing. Taking advice from Mrs Sloane and the other girls along the way, Velvet completed everything carefully and, on finishing, sprinkled the garments with lavender and layered them in tissue paper before putting them back in the box.

Some days later, a message arrived saying that the distinguished customer was very pleased with what had been achieved, so Velvet laid claim to Madame Natasha Savoya’s personal laundry from then on. She wasn’t sure how to pronounce this name, nor even what nationality she was, though Lizzie said she must be Russian, for someone in the royal family had a Russian cousin named Natasha.

As the days and weeks passed, Velvet felt she grew to know Madame pretty well. She knew which colours were her favourites (lilacs, blues and greys), could guess if she’d had a quiet week at home or been to a party, and whether or not her outings had been of a formal nature. She even knew when Madame attended a funeral, for a black grosgrain gown with underskirts of black netting came in to be sponged and pressed. Madame’s garments were often fragile or difficult but Velvet, stroking a length of soft green cashmere or touching her cheek to a silvery gossamer shawl, found great satisfaction in lavishing care on them. They made a pleasant change from the shapeless smocks, drab linens and cheap wool garments which had been her everyday wear for years.

December arrived with the promise of the new year. Some people said that the new century hadn’t really begun last year, but would properly start on 1st January 1901. Velvet liked this idea. Last year her life had changed direction; next year it might change again. It was another chance for something tremendous and exciting to happen.

It grew much colder, so that initially everyone at Ruffold’s was happy to be working inside in the warm, but it took no more than half an hour or so in the close, steamy atmosphere for them to be gasping for fresh air again.

All the girls were to be given Christmas Day and Boxing Day off work and, having nowhere else to go, Velvet had been invited to have dinner at Lizzie’s house. She was happy to be going, although spent some time anxiously wondering if she would be expected to bring presents for Lizzie’s mother and three sisters as well as for Lizzie herself, for – their two days off being unpaid holiday – she would be very short of money that week. After much deliberation, therefore, she decided to buy a box of sugared plums that all the family could share.

Some of the girls on Personal Laundry had received Christmas boxes from their ladies and gentlemen; four sixpences were discovered in a silk bag, a silver crown in amongst the creases of a shirt. One fortunate laundress received the almost unbelievable sum of ten shillings and, because many of the girls had never seen a ten-shilling note before, it was passed around and remarked on by all. A few gifts arrived, too: a silk scarf, a box of shiny bonbons from the proprietor of a small Christmas-cracker factory and a Bible. Money was what the girls hoped for, however, and money was mostly what they got, although some customers didn’t deem it necessary to give anything at all.

Velvet didn’t receive anything until Christmas Eve, when she opened a newly arrived box from Madame Savoya and discovered a white sealed envelope with
Velvet
written on it in blue ink. Thrilled, she put it on the middle of the table, where it sat until dinner time, the focus of much speculation amongst the others.

‘It’s got to be a banknote!’ Maisie said as dinner time came and Velvet held it aloft.

‘It couldn’t be another ten shillings, surely!’ said the girl who had received that amount, whilst someone else warned Velvet that it could be just a Bible tract or a Christmas card, so she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

Velvet pulled the seal from the back of the envelope, then looked in and shook her head, disappointed. ‘It’s not money,’ she said, pulling something out.

‘Just a card!’ someone cried, and there was a collective groan of disappointment.

‘No, something else,’ Velvet said. ‘It’s . . . two tickets!’

In honour of the Season, one of London’s

Leading Clairvoyants,

Madame Natasha Savoya,

will be hosting an Evening of Mediumship

on 26th December 1900 at 7 o’clock

in Prince’s Hall, London, W.

Discover what the New Century

has in store for you.

‘Oh!’ Velvet gasped. ‘My lady, she’s one of those . . .
mediums
!’

‘They talk to dead people!’ someone said.

‘Or they say they do,’ someone else returned.

‘Prince’s Hall,’ Maisie said. ‘That’s shocking posh. Will you go?’

‘Certainly,’ said Velvet, just a little dismayed that the envelope hadn’t contained money. She felt a rush of apprehension. ‘But
mediumship
. What sort of thing do you think will happen?’

‘It will be table-rapping and so on,’ said one of the others. ‘My aunt went to a séance and the table leaped into the air.’

‘People will materialise out of smoke,’ said another girl.

‘Ethereal spirits will lay their ghostly hands on you,’ said Maisie in an eerie voice, and someone gave a terrified shriek which, the girls being rather over-excited because of the festive season, made everyone collapse in giggles.

A shiver ran down Velvet’s back. Her mother and father were both dead and though she wouldn’t mind hearing from her lovely ma, she had not the slightest wish to have contact with her father. Suppose he turned up and railed at her for not saving his life? Suppose other people heard and she was accused of his murder? She was pleased and excited to be given Madame’s invitation, but a little nervous about what might come from it . . .

Velvet and Lizzie left work as usual that evening, and by then Lizzie had been told about the tickets and offered the spare one. She accepted immediately.

‘I’ve always wanted to go to one of those!’ she said as they walked across the laundry yard. ‘My aunt went once and my dead uncle came through and spoke to her about all sorts of things: how he wanted the garden planted and what she should name her new dog. He said that she had a new friend whom she shouldn’t trust.’ Lizzie frowned. ‘She had an admirer at the time, you see, and because of what my uncle said, she finished with him.’

‘Really?’ Velvet said. She had next to no knowledge of psychic mediums and no way of determining how accurate or truthful they were. When she thought of them at all she presumed they were just another form of magic – and she associated magic with her father and therefore some deviousness. Perhaps spiritualism was different, though, because it was said that even Queen Victoria and the royal family practised table-turning, and certainly the papers were full of the aristocracy attending the sessions of this or that famous London medium.

Outside Ruffold’s, a figure was standing, a small box in his hand. Velvet recognised Charlie and sighed a little.

‘Kitty!’

‘Velvet,’ she coolly corrected him. She’d imagined that Charlie would have turned up at Ruffold’s before now, and had been just the tiniest bit put out that he hadn’t. He couldn’t have missed her that much, then, despite his declaration of love.

‘Yes, I meant Velvet. I came to wish you happy Christmas and to give you this.’ He pushed a small box into her hands. It was wrapped in plain white paper and had her name – her new name – written in sturdy block capitals on the top.

‘Thank you, Charlie. How kind.’ He grinned and proffered his cheek, so she couldn’t do much else but brush it with her own. ‘And a merry Christmas to you,’ she said.

A small group of Ruffold’s girls passed them. All turned to look at Charlie, sizing him up, arching their eyebrows and casting enquiring looks as to whether he was there for Velvet or Lizzie. Velvet waited until they’d gone by, then thanked Charlie again and turned to leave.

‘Please don’t go yet!’ he said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘I want to tell you something. That day you saw me, I was going for an interview.’

Velvet paused. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m a police cadet now,’ he said proudly. ‘I should make a proper policeman in three years’ time, and I want to train as a detective after that.’

Velvet smiled, though she shivered a little inside, for in her mind the word
policeman
was inevitably connected with the word
crime
, and the one that she held herself responsible for. ‘That’s wonderful, Charlie. I’m very pleased for you.’

‘My father says being a policeman is the most rewarding job a man can have,’ Lizzie put in.

Charlie smiled at her warmly, then turned back to Velvet and took her hand. ‘When I’m fully qualified, I’ll come and find you and ask you to marry me.’

‘Thank you, Charlie,’ Velvet said. ‘But I think you’ll find that my answer is just the same as it’s always been.’ She spoke kindly, however, because every girl liked having a follower and he had bought her a Christmas present. Being Charlie’s wife, though, whether he was a policeman or not, was most definitely not how she saw her future.

Velvet managed not to open Charlie’s present until Christmas morning. When she did, she was disappointed, which was extremely wicked and ungrateful of her, she knew, but she couldn’t help thinking that Charlie’s mother must have chosen the gift within – a pink and green flower corsage for an outer coat, made of felt and not at all fashionable. She’d been hoping that the box might contain a pretty hair decoration with which to keep back her curls, or even a little silver necklace to enhance the Sunday best dress that she intended to wear to Lizzie’s house that day. But she admonished herself. What was she thinking of? If it had been a costly piece of jewellery, then she would have had to return it. A girl couldn’t accept a gift like that from a male friend unless they were engaged, and it wouldn’t do to give Charlie ideas. He was a sweet boy and she liked him very much, but he wouldn’t make a husband for her. He was part of the past which she intended to leave behind.

At Lizzie’s house she was delighted to find that the family kept a good Christmas – the sort she’d never experienced before. In the doorway hung a kissing ball of ivy and mistletoe, and in the hall the Christmas tree was liberally decorated with candles, gold tinsel and ivy ribbons. She felt shy at first, but was welcomed so warmly into the family that before long she was joining in everything – even the raucous singing games around the piano – as if she’d known them all for years.

Mr Cameron, Lizzie’s pa, was a source of amazement to Velvet. Whereas
her
father had always seemed to be teetering on the edge of a display of bad temper, Lizzie’s was a happy-go-lucky chap who whipped off his jacket and waistcoat to show his daughters how to dance the hornpipe, and made paper hats for their pet dogs. When they sat down at the table and Lizzie’s ma discovered that she’d forgotten to put the stuffing into the breast of the roast goose, Velvet went cold, fearing a terrible row, but Mr Cameron roared with laughter and called his wife a flibbertigibbet, then kissed her and said he wouldn’t have her any other way.

After the goose came a flaming plum pudding containing small silver charms: a boot, a coin, a top hat, a dog, a lucky horseshoe and a ring. Velvet got the tiny horseshoe (she thought that Lizzie’s kindly mother had likely arranged it that way) and everyone made much of the fact that this was the best token to have and that the coming year was bound to be very lucky for her. After the meal there were charades with forfeits if you didn’t guess the answer in a certain number of minutes, then blind man’s buff and – as the afternoon grew more boisterous – a game with a Ouija board which Lizzie’s sisters played most enthusiastically, getting in touch with all sorts of ‘spirits’ but failing to get anything sensible out of them.
HSTRETYZZ
, one said in reply to a question about his name.
WERPRSIT
, said another when asked where he came from. At teatime everyone had a barley sugar stick from the Christmas tree, a slice of iced fruit cake and a bonbon. When Velvet pulled her cracker with Lizzie’s mother, she was delighted to discover within it a tiny pair of nail scissors, a paper hat and a joke (
My dog has no nose. How does it smell? Dreadful
) which sent everyone into near hysterics.