Chapter 24
Annie at the door:
Navy blue wool princess coat
Navy blue cardigan
White vest top
Layered pearl necklaces in multi-shades
Pink, blue and black pleated midi-skirt
Black, heeled boots
Ed had left for school, the twins were both at nursery, Lauren was at home making social media posts according to exact instruction, the internet was still blowing up about vintage Schiaparelli dresses coming up for sale in London soon…
and Annie was once again standing quietly, hesitantly, in front of the blue-grey door where this story had all begun.
She tugged a little at the lapels of her coat, smoothed a hand over her hair and admitted to herself that she was feeling nervous.
Florence was grieving the death of her mother and preparing for the sale of a beloved family home.
She’d wanted to donate the items anonymously and probably had not wanted to be involved in any kind of digging up of the past. And now, here was Annie on her doorstep, telling her that the digging up of the past would have to be done.
Because the dress had been made public. Florence couldn’t turn back now.
Everyone wanted to know if that dress was real and where exactly it had come from.
Annie put her hand up to the doorbell and wondered exactly what to say and how to say it…
she would have to hope that her words would turn out right.
She pushed on the bell, not too short, so that Florence wouldn’t hear if she was tucked somewhere at the back of the house, not too long.
She waited and listened for any sign that Florence was in the house.
There was the sound of footsteps now, coming down the corridor.
Then a series of unlocking and unchaining noises and finally the blue-grey door was opened.
Florence looked startled to see her on the threshold.
‘Oh… hello, Annie. I didn’t expect to see you…
Aren’t you busy putting on a huge fashion show?
’ There was always something a little too brusque about Florence.
She was all closed and buttoned up. She never seemed very pleased to see you and she certainly didn’t give the impression that she wanted to make a new friend.
She was in her familiar dark, complicated clothes, her neat, silvered bob looking smoothly washed, brushed and sharply cut.
‘Very busy, Florence… busy as the proverbial bee,’ Annie told her cheerfully.
There was a pause between the two as Florence waited for Annie to explain why she was on her doorstep at 9.30 a.m. ‘Florence, would it be OK if I came in? I wanted to talk to you privately, if that’s OK. I won’t take up too much of your time.’
‘You look very serious…’
‘Do I? Oh… it’s not that bad!’ Annie smiled and tried to act a bit more relaxed. ‘I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it.’
‘Oh… hmmm…’
Something of a frown seemed to cross Florence’s face, so now Annie was wondering if maybe Florence knew, or suspected, what she was here to talk about.
Florence turned from the door and began to walk down the hallway.
She didn’t exactly invite Annie to follow her, but Annie did anyway, closing the front door gently behind her.
Florence turned right with Annie following into what had once been a beautiful sitting room but had grown faded over the years.
The chintz curtains looked worn and the fabric was threadbare and torn in places.
The thick pink carpet had a matted look to it and the furniture was saggy and tired.
There was no denying the beauty of the paintings though.
They had not faded over the years. Big, bold landscapes, portraits and abstracts full of bright sunshine colours and deep, cobalt blues.
‘Those are so beautiful,’ she told Florence.
‘Not painted by my father,’ Florence explained, ‘but chosen by my mother. She loved everything to be bright and bold and vivid.’
‘The minimal home I’m imagining you live in is going to look quite different with all these hanging on the walls.’
‘Oh no,’ Florence shook her head. ‘I couldn’t live with these. They would be screaming at me. I have a friend who might like them.’
‘Oh, I see…’ Annie said, but she wasn’t sure if she did.
It just seemed harsh to give your mother’s things away because they didn’t match up to your stringent taste standards.
Hadn’t she just agreed to house a lot of twenty-five-year-old Jaeger items because she couldn’t bear for her own mother to give them and all the memories they contained away?
‘Have a seat,’ Florence suggested. Annie sat in one of the large, flowery armchairs, but Florence didn’t take a seat.
Instead, she went over to a bookcase and located a carved wooden box, which she opened up.
Then she approached Annie holding what looked like two folded letters in her hand.
‘I’m guessing you want to talk to me about the Schiaparelli dresses. Am I right?’
Annie nodded but didn’t say anything about the publicity yet.
‘I have discovered some background information as I’ve been sorting through the house.
But I don’t have the full story yet.’ She handed the letters to Annie, who unfolded both pages and could see that both were from the Fondacion Dubois-Lafayette in Paris and sent many years apart.
They were addressed to Florence’s mother, Emily Perkins, and had been sent directly to the house.
Both referred to ‘items’ from ‘a private collection’ that had been designated for the Gallery but had not arrived there.
The gallery said that it had ‘reason to believe that these items are in your possession’.
The Gallery urged Mrs Perkins to contact them and in the second letter there was talk of legal action if she refused to make contact or offer any explanation as to how the items came to be in her possession.
‘And do you think this is reference to the Schiaparelli pieces?’ Annie asked Florence. ‘There isn’t anything else in the house that this could refer to?’
Florence’s lips seemed to draw into a line at these words. ‘Are you suggesting that my mother went around purloining all kinds of items without permission?’ she asked frostily.
‘No… no, of course not. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded,’ Annie was quick to reply.
‘My mother was artistic, creative, she could be vague and a little careless of the details, but I’m certain she was honest. She was always scrupulous about filing her accounts, her taxes, returning borrowed items to friends, from valuable books to pieces of Tupperware.
That doesn’t sound like the behaviour of someone who would steal things she knew to be valuable. ’
‘No… of course it doesn’t… I just meant, how to be sure it refers to the clothes. Not a misunderstanding over something else?’
‘Well, this Fondacion in Paris has a huge costume and textile section with all kinds of historical couture items. I looked it up; it even has some Schiaparelli items on the website. A wonderful pink cape with a fabulous gold embroidered sun… the same design as the sun on the black evening jacket.’ A thought seemed to occur to Florence.
‘On the website, it gives the name of the benefactor. Do you think I should try to find out more about them? Try to contact them… maybe they would know something? I mean, it is extraordinary to think that these wonderful things, which could have been on display in museums across the world, have been hanging in my mother’s wardrobe for years…
maybe even decades. And I don’t know the first thing about how they came into her possession.
It’s just so very strange, Annie… a genuine mystery.
I expected to come across all kinds of things as I emptied this house.
I expected to come across all kinds of feelings and memories and difficulties and I worried so much about all the decisions I will have to make…
what to keep, what to sell… donate… throw away, absolutely none of it is easy… ’
‘No.’ Annie agreed gently.
‘But I didn’t expect anything like this. For a story, a mystery, perhaps some unknown dimension of my mother I didn’t even know about to be discovered.’
‘She lived for ninety-four years – that’s a long and interesting life. There might be quite a lot of things you find out about her and your father while you’re packing up. A house can hold a lot of secrets,’ Annie added – especially one so large and packed full, she thought.
‘So, the Schiaparelli pieces and the other lovely vintage items… I suppose I thought I could drop them off with you anonymously, see them go to good homes and keep it all completely hush hush from my mother’s side. I completely underestimated how valuable and famous they were.’
‘Well, you’re right there,’ Annie agreed. ‘There was no way we were going to sneak these dresses up onto stage and just quietly sell them off to a museum or a very wealthy collector. They are world-famous… which is why what’s happened is a bit of a problem…’
Yes, it was time for Annie to admit that there was a problem.
The photo had been posted online, the fashion world had paid attention and now, Florence was rapidly going to have to solve the mystery of how her mother came to own a world-famous dress before the entire fashion show went down in a flaming ball of reputation-damaging scandal.
Even thinking those words was giving Annie a sickly jittery feeling.
‘The truth is, Florence,’ Annie decided it would be best to just get this over with, ‘an image of the lobster dress has been shared on social media, in connection with the show, and—’
‘It’s all blown up,’ Florence said, understanding straight away.
‘Yes… we’ve been asked for more information, for interviews. Famous museums want to talk to us about a pre-sale purchase. So, it’s a lot to deal with.’
‘And what have you said?’
‘Barely anything, Florence, that’s why I was at your door first thing. I need to ask you what I do now. Maybe we need to consider together what’s best.’
Annie couldn’t help being impressed with how calm and fearless Florence appeared, as she listened intently, with one hand on her hip.
‘Florence, you look like a woman who has an important job, you must have managed a crisis or two.’
‘Well, that’s a whole other issue,’ Florence said as she finally took a seat. ‘I’m a judge,’ she said finally. ‘Retired.’
‘Oh! I didn’t expect that,’ Annie admitted, managing to sound a little less surprised than she felt. ‘Explains all the black outfits though,’ she risked with a smile.
Florence caught her eye and smiled back. ‘You’d think I’d want a change out of the office.’
‘Maybe you love colourful underwear.’
At this, Florence looked momentarily taken aback, but then she gave a burst of laughter. ‘Very funny,’ she said.
‘And are the big sunglasses for disguise purposes?’
‘Something like that,’ Florence said.
While Annie wondered about two artistic parents producing a daughter who had become a judge, she asked, ‘So this is why everything needs to be done anonymously and keep you and your mother well out of the limelight. And certainly, free from any kind of ownership doubts.’
‘Yes and, ideally, I need to establish how these items got to my mother, so they can be sold with an entirely clean conscience.’
‘Yes,’ Annie agreed.
‘How long have we got till the show now?’
‘I don’t even know if I want to think about that. I just have no idea how we’re going to get ready in time and that’s not a lie… your Honour,’ Annie joked.
Again, she was treated to another burst of Florence’s laughter. ‘A judge…’ Annie mused. ‘For serious crimes?’
Florence gave just the slightest nod to confirm and added, ‘Retired now though,’ to remind Annie.
‘No wonder you’re a private person. I mean, do you have security… a bodyguard? Do people ever want to…?’
Florence shook her head. ‘No, no, it’s not Sicily. I think there’s a code of honour among criminals that the judge is only doing their job. But, yes, my circle of friends is small and I live in a top-floor flat with a video entry phone. That’s enough security for my liking.’
‘It’s funny you live in a flat, when your parents were such obvious gardeners,’ Annie said and this was based on her observation of the front garden alone. Behind the house, she expected there was a wonderful town garden with a café table, parasol and profusion of flowers.
‘I have a lot of pot plants,’ Florence told her. ‘And a lovely terrace. So, back to the problem of the dresses and their origins… how long do I have? How long can you hold the fashion pack at bay?’
‘This is a big ask, Florence, the fashion pack is very determined. You’ve not really got more than a day or so to at least give me something to work with… something I can tell them. At the moment, we are saying nothing, just “coming soon” and “all will be revealed”.’
‘Right.’ Florence leaned back in her chair and frowned. ‘I will start with the Fondacion that had contacted my mother… and track down the donor of the other items. If that gets me nowhere, I will be in touch and we can brainstorm other ideas.’
‘Let me take your number, if that’s OK,’ Annie suggested.
‘So I don’t have to turn up at your door like a fashion stalker.
’ Annie’s phone had been pinging steadily throughout their conversation and as she got it out to take Florence’s number, she couldn’t help just taking a scroll through her notifications.
Svetlana’s gold VIP passes were going down a storm.
Paula was pointing out that with 500 extra guests, more chairs, more speakers were needed. Plus, she added frantically:
And btw who is doing the music? Have we def booked DJ? And what about lights? We talked about needing lights, has that been actioned?
Message from Anoush saying she was thrilled to be flying in for this.
Message from Owen… thank God! He was alive and finally in touch!
Mum, I have no money left… like zero. What’s happened? Have I been robbed?