The Dressmakers of London

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Izzie nearly stumbled as Lottie and Amelia danced up to Alexandra and her in the lane and swept up their hands to tug them along.

“If all of you don’t hurry up, we’ll be late!” called Amelia over her shoulder.

“All right, all right,” said Izzie with a laugh.

“I don’t know why there’s such a rush,” grumbled Nancy behind them, but even she couldn’t completely hide her excitement.

The moment they’d arrived at RAF Horsham St Faith, they’d learned that the Assembly Hall dances were the highlight of everyone’s month. Apparently every WAAF and RAF man from all over north Norfolk who could manage permission to leave base would pour in and, fueled by a band and pints, would dance and flirt the night away. It was a bit of fun, a break from the business of war.

“Do you think there will be officers there?” asked Grace, who was walking with Nancy.

“I’m counting on it,” Lottie sang out as she looped her arm through Amelia’s and the pair of them fell back into line with the others.

“I’m hoping for one of those Americans Alexandra and Izzie spotted,” said Amelia with a laugh.

“Wouldn’t that be a treat?” said Molly dreamily.

Alexandra nudged Izzie. “Do you think we should demand a finder’s fee?”

Izzie smiled a little but didn’t say anything.

“You aren’t nervous about seeing the staff sergeant again, are you?” asked Alexandra in a low voice.

“I’m thinking about Sylvia’s letter.”

Her sister’s latest letter had been a strange blend of apology and explanation, and it had disturbed Izzie. The things her sister wrote about, she couldn’t remember. Not a bus ride to her grandparents’ house, not meeting them in the drawing room. And try as she might, she couldn’t recall Mum telling them about debt or that their life would be different from that day forward.

And yet, while once she might have dismissed the letter outright, there was something in Sylvia’s words that made her pause. A balance. An acknowledgment of the good of Mum that Izzie could always cite and the bad that she never would say out loud because it sounded too much like a betrayal.

But it was the lines at the end of the letter that had really taken Izzie’s breath away. The business might not survive the war if things didn’t change. It was, she realized now, what had caused the low, hollow dread in Izzie’s stomach for months before Mum’s death. It was all there, from the appointment book that looked more open than ever before to the orders for one dress and one skirt from customers who only two years before might have ordered two dresses, two skirts, two blouses, and a coat in one fell swoop.

But perhaps the most startling realization had been that what Sylvia wrote sounded plausible because she hadn’t pointed to any one disastrous decision. Mrs. Shelton’s was in a slow decline that you could almost miss if you weren’t looking.

“Izzie, can you stop worrying about the shop for a couple of hours and enjoy yourself at a dance?” asked Alexandra gently. “I promise there is nothing you can do from the Assembly Hall.”

“You’re right,” Izzie said.

“Besides,” said Alexandra, giving her a nudge, “what could be more fun than walking into a dance with a partner already singled out?”

“Alexandra…”

“Don’t Alexandra me. I saw how you looked at that American staff sergeant,” her friend teased.

“How did she look at him?” asked Grace.

“Like he was the sun and she was a sunflower,” said Alexandra.

Izzie laughed and gently whacked her friend on the arm. “Tosh.”

“True,” Alexandra pushed.

It was true that a certain tall, handsome American staff sergeant whom she’d stumbled into had flitted into her thoughts from time to time over the past four days. There was something about his easy, casual smile that made her want to turn to it, and it didn’t hurt that he had the full, rich voice of a film star. Not that she would ever give her balloon girls the satisfaction of knowing that. She would never hear the end of it.

“He probably won’t even be here this evening,” she said.

“I hope he is and that he has six good-looking friends with him,” said Lottie with relish.

“That’s the spirit,” said Alexandra as the Assembly Hall came into view. The white-painted front glowed in the moonlight, and even from a distance Izzie could make out a steady stream of patrons moving between the dance hall and the pub next door to it. Although the windows and doors were covered in accordance with the blackout rules that were especially crucial in an area that was such a target for air raids, music pulsed from the building, beckoning them closer.

After the balloon girls had all piled through the front door, past the blackout curtain, and paid their admission, they walked into the dance hall to a sea of couples swaying to “The Way You Look Tonight.”

“Look!” Lottie pointed to the small stage at the far end of the dance floor upon which stood a WAAF in uniform in front of a microphone. “They have a singer!”

“Where should we sit?” asked Nancy, looking around.

“Sit? We’re not going to sit tonight,” said Amelia.

“You’re going to be too busy dancing,” said Lottie with a laugh as she stuck her arm out into the crowd and stopped a man with a flying officer’s single stripe on his uniform.

“What are you doing?” asked Nancy, panicking.

“Hello there,” said Lottie cheerfully to the man while Amelia gave Nancy a little shove in his direction. “Would you like to dance with my friend Nancy?”

Izzie leaned in to ask Alexandra, “Do you think we should save her?”

“Lottie, I really don’t think—” But Nancy broke off when she looked up at the soldier who had caught her around the waist to stop her from falling. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hello there. Would you care to dance?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” Nancy said, her voice breathless above the band.

“I think she’s fine,” said Alexandra with a laugh.

“Lucky her,” said Molly.

“Good work,” said Alexandra as Lottie rejoined them looking more than a little smug. “Or quick work. I can’t decide which.”

“Necessary work. I like Nancy, I really do, but she needs to loosen up a little,” said Lottie.

“It looks as though she’s loosening up just fine,” said Izzie, watching Nancy and her soldier press a little closer than was entirely necessary to dance the quickstep.

“Right,” said Amelia. “It’s decided then.”

“What is?” asked Grace.

“Tonight, everyone finds a soldier or a sailor or a flier to fall a little bit in love with,” said Amelia.

When all of them began to protest except for Lottie, Amelia said, “I didn’t say you had to marry the man, but tonight we’re all dancing and having a good time.”

Alexandra glanced at Izzie. “What do you think?”

Izzie looked around her at the exuberant outpouring of joy captured within those four walls. This was about more than just blowing off a little steam. Next month, some of the men and women dancing and laughing here would be gone, and no one could be certain who that would be.

Tonight was about tonight. Nothing more.

“All right,” she said. “Where do we start?”

“I’d be willing to hazard a guess that the usual rules of society balls don’t apply,” said Alexandra. “Lottie, I think this is your area of expertise.”

“All right, debutante.” Lottie straightened her shoulders and tossed her platinum curls back as she cast a determined eye over the dance floor. “Find a man you like the look of across the room and catch his eye. Then look away and look back again with a little smile.”

There was a beat, and then Amelia asked, “That’s it?”

Lottie shrugged. “It always works for me. Sometimes, if I really like the look of him, I’ll give him a little wave so I don’t leave him guessing.”

“It cannot be that easy,” Alexandra whispered to Izzie.

Izzie and the other balloon girls watched as Lottie scanned the crowd. After a moment she stopped and locked eyes with a flier leaning against a column, cigarette in hand. She looked away, looked back, smiled, looked away again, and then glanced back to give the man a little wiggle of her fingers. The man straightened, put his cigarette out, and made his way over.

They all watched in amazement as he stopped in front of Lottie.

“Hello,” he said, offering her his hand. “Would you care for a dance?”

“I would, thank you,” Lottie said, resting her hand in his. As the man led her to the dance floor, Lottie looked over her shoulder at all of them and grinned in triumph.

“She’s incredible,” said Grace in wonder.

“It’s like watching Fred Astaire do the waltz,” said Alexandra.

“I want to try it,” said Amelia and Molly at the same time.

Alexandra dipped her head. “I don’t think you need to try anything, Izzie. Look who just walked in.”

Izzie turned around and spotted Staff Sergeant Jack Perry near the door with three other men. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket as he scanned the room. She held her breath until his eyes fell on her. There was a beat, and then that sunshine smile lit up his face.

He gestured to his friends and then made a beeline straight for her.

When he stopped in front of her, he said, “Aircraft Woman Second Class Shelton, I hoped you’d be here.”

A laugh bubbled to her lips. “It sounds so formal when you say it like that.”

“What should I call you?” he asked.

“Most people just call me Izzie.”

“Well, Izzie, I’d be honored if you would call me Jack,” he said.

“Who are your friends, Jack?” she asked, feeling bolder than she had in ages.

“Sergeants Ben Martin, Harry Pitcher, Albert Proctor, and Jeff Browning of the USAAF at your service,” he said.

After Izzie made quick introductions of Alexandra, Grace, Molly, and Amelia, Jack leaned over to her. “I’d be delighted if you would say yes to a dance with me.”

Without another word, she put her right hand in his. He placed his free hand on the small of her back and led her into the flow of dancers, lifting her right hand in his as they began to fox-trot.

“You had me worried,” he said as they settled into the dance.

She looked up quickly. “Worried?”

“I was certain that I would walk in and you’d be dancing with some flight lieutenant or another,” he said.

She laughed at that. “I don’t think any flight lieutenant would ever condescend to dance with me.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding offended on her behalf.

“First of all, he would outrank me by leaps and bounds.”

“All the more reason to impress you with his rank.”

“And secondly, that would require a flight lieutenant to have ever given me the time of day.”

“I can’t imagine a man who wouldn’t pay attention to you if he saw you,” he said.

She blushed. “Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he insisted. “You’re lovely.”

Goodness. She wished for a moment that she could freeze time and pull Lottie aside to ask what on earth she was supposed to do when a man spoke to her like this.

“Where in America did you say you’re from?” she blurted out.

“A town called Newton in Iowa,” he said. “You said you’re from London?”

She nodded. “A neighborhood called Maida Vale.”

“And what’s in Maida Vale?” he asked.

“My mother’s dressmaker’s shop,” she said. “That is, it was my mother’s. She died in November.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his gentle words wrapping around her like a hug.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Who is running the shop while you’re here?” he asked.

“My sister, Sylvia,” she said. “I was posting a letter to her when I ran into you.”

“Then I’ll have to thank your sister one day, because without that letter, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“That might be the only thing to thank my sister for,” she said.

He frowned. “You two don’t get along?”

She paused, wondering at the most gracious way to explain things to him. But when she saw his open, earnest expression, she simply said, “We didn’t talk for a number of years, but when my mother died, we both inherited the business.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about that,” he commented.

“No, I’m not,” she said honestly. “I worked right by Mum’s side until the day she died. Sylvia left home as soon as she married. It’s not fair.”

The song ended, and she expected him to step back, to put some distance between the two of them. However, he held on to her as he said, “It’s funny, but something similar happened in my family.”

“Really?” she asked.

The band started back up again, and he led her into the next dance.

“My family has sold farm equipment for the past thirty years. My older brother, Louis, never showed any interest in the store. He went off to Iowa City for college and played football until his knee gave out. He was talking about going to law school out east after graduation. Louis always had the book smarts.

“When Dad died, I’d been working for the business officially for a couple years, but really I’d been selling on the shop floor since I was fourteen. I was pretty mad when I found out that Dad hadn’t changed his will, and he still had the business going to both of us.”

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I was certain that Louis would sell his half to me and go off to Connecticut for his law degree. Instead, he stayed in Newton. Turns out that the first night he was back for Dad’s funeral, he met Muriel.”

“Muriel?” she asked.

“My now sister-in-law,” said Jack with a smile. “He fell head over heels in love with her at first sight, and from that day on, law school out east was off the table.”

“But didn’t that bother you?” she asked.

“That Louis found the love of his life? No. That he blew up all my plans in the process? Sure. I did plenty to work up a head of steam while thinking about how I’d put in all of the work and he was going to just swoop in.

“Then Louis came to me with an idea. He told me he wanted me to hire him, just like I would any other employee, to run the business side of things. I told him I didn’t need someone to do all of that, that I could handle it, but he finally talked me into it by promising me that it would free me up to do the actual business of making all of the money he would be minding.

“For the first six months, we fought like cats and dogs, but it turns out Louis was right.” He laughed and gave a shake of his head as though he couldn’t quite believe it. “I had more time to talk to customers and to sell. Louis and Muriel got married, and after they had their first son, the business had its most profitable year.”

A little flicker of hope flamed up in her chest. Perhaps she and Sylvia could find a similar sort of peace. Perhaps they could find a way to work together, to save the business—

A brick wall of an obstacle rose in front of her. Louis had wanted to come back to his old life in Iowa. Sylvia would never condescend to do that.

“Who’s minding your shop while you’re both off fighting?” she asked.

“That old football injury kept my brother out of service, no matter how hard he argues with the draft board. He does everything else he can, selling war bonds and things like that, but I know it’s killing him to be left behind.

“Now, I don’t know your sister from Adam, but I do know that sometimes people can surprise you.”

She sighed. “I’m glad things worked out between you and Louis, Jack, but Sylvia isn’t like that. She only stepped in because I was conscripted and there was no one else to do it.”

He inclined his head. “Let me ask you this. When you asked your sister for help, did she kick up a fuss?”

“No,” she said slowly. It had been the opposite. Sylvia had said yes without hesitation or protest, and even though Izzie thought her efforts were misguided, Sylvia had written to her consistently over the past few months. Izzie had to begrudgingly admit it sounded as though her sister had thrown herself back into the business.

“Well, that must count for something,” said Jack.

“Maybe.” She hesitated. “She offered to sell her share of the shop to me as soon as I can find the money.”

“Will you say yes?” he asked.

“I already have.”

“Then there’s no problem, really. You’ll own it soon enough, I’m sure.”

“Thank you.” But something made her pause. Being away from the shop and reading about Sylvia setting to rights all of the things that were wrong at Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions made Izzie feel strangely… distant. Certain aspects of the business terrified her, there was no denying it, but before Mum had died, she’d been champing at the bit to prove that she could run the shop. However, the thought of returning after the war and picking up where she’d left off seemed daunting. Sylvia had made so many changes and with such confidence, would Izzie even know where to begin when it came to bookkeeping or managing unpleasant customers?

As though reading the doubt creeping into her thoughts, Jack said, “How about we not talk anymore? Why don’t we just dance?”

Izzie swallowed down her hesitation and let him pull her a little closer. “Yes. Let’s.”

A half hour after the band played its last song, Izzie, Alexandra, Lottie, Amelia, Molly, and Grace all spilled through the door of the barracks, buoyed by beer and jubilation.

“You should have seen the expression on Harry’s face when you kissed him on the cheek, Grace,” said Amelia, buckling over with laughter.

“It’s a wonder the man didn’t float away,” said Alexandra.

“He’s sweet,” said Grace with a dreamy smile.

“Do you know who else is sweet?” asked Lottie, rounding on Izzie with a grin. “Staff Sergeant Jack Perry.”

“Oh, look at her blush!” said Amelia, pointing at Izzie as she collapsed onto her bed.

“I’m not blushing,” said Izzie.

“You are,” said Molly.

“She’s right,” said Alexandra.

“Did you kiss the staff sergeant?” Lottie demanded.

“I did not,” she said primly, although by the end of the evening she’d been tying herself up in knots wanting to. But Jack had been a gentleman through and through, walking with her as he and his friends escorted them back to the gate of their base.

“He asked if he could write to me,” she said.

There was a loud chorus of “Ooo!” and then the girls fell over themselves giggling.

“Hey, where’s Nancy?” asked Amelia looking around.

“She’s probably still necking with that flying officer Lottie shoved at her,” said Molly.

“Necking?” cried Amelia.

“I saw them around the corner of the pub as we left,” said Molly.

“And you didn’t say anything?” asked Amelia, incredulous.

“Of course she didn’t,” said Lottie. “That would have ruined things for Nancy.”

“But imagine the expression on her face if she knew we’d caught her,” said Amelia with a grin.

As Amelia and Lottie bickered good-naturedly back and forth, Alexandra leaned over to Izzie and asked in a low tone, “If the dreamy Staff Sergeant Jack Perry is good to his word and sends you a letter, will you write back?”

“If I like his letter, I think I will,” she said, even though she knew that she would be waiting for the post every day until he did.