Chapter Forty-Nine
A mile away an altogether different sort of meeting was taking place. Giles Buckley had been looking forward to this appointment all morning. He had the feeling this could be the start of an exciting collaboration. The VA had a well-deserved reputation of excellence and innovation; now he wanted to add to that list. Today he was going to try to enter a deal with the Hiverton Estate for exclusive use of some of the patterns and fabrics that Clem had discovered in Scotland.
As the three Hiverton sisters walked into the room he almost wanted to applaud. As he stood, he drank in their outfits. He had known Clementine since she was a teenager, running around the corridors in her wild outfits, holding a pencil case and sketchpad. Then she graduated to the conservation archives and within months was working on some of the fiddliest restorations. Now looking at her, he was impressed by the change, something appeared to have calmed down, she seemed more centred or focussed. What was really catching his eye though, was what she was wearing. It was a simple pinched-waist tunic dress with a long-sleeve white shirt underneath. The shirt was a plain cotton fabric in contrast to the fabric of the tunic. As far as Giles could tell this was another item made in the dark blue wool damask. A fabric so rare that it was no longer manufactured; Clem may have the last remaining bolts of fabric in the world. And she was making clothes from it. He smiled inwardly, that was the curator in him, bumping up against the creative in her. He wanted to lock it away and preserve it; she wanted to use it. And she used it spectacularly.
Standing next to her, Paddy was wearing one of the outfits she wore in the exhibition, a full-length slim-fitting trousers cut from the same wool damask. Clem had paired this with a long-tailed waistcoat, again made in wool damask but lined with a shocking flash of orange satin damask, the shine of the fabric a perfect counterbalance. To top it off, her white blouse had large puffy sleeves, the only volume in the entire outfit and balanced beautifully on Holly McDonald’s tall, slim frame. And finally, Nicoletta walked in wearing a plain trouser suit that probably came from a department store. Here was the one who would drive the deal, and in fact he saw that she was already assessing the look in his eyes as he marvelled at Clem’s and Holly’s outfits.
Introducing himself, the girls all smiled and shook hands.
‘But please call me Paddy,’ said Holly and this here is Nick. But carry on calling Clem, Clementine, that makes me laugh.’ Paddy smiled. ‘You must be one of the few people in the world that Clemmie will tolerate that from. You must be a very special person.’ As she put him at ease in his own office, he realised that she probably could charm the birds down off the trees, had she the mind to. Brains, talent and charm. He’d better make sure that by the end of the meeting he hadn’t signed the museum over to them.
As they settled down, Clem only accepted water on behalf of herself and Paddy.
‘It’s not like I can throw these clothes in the washing machine, is it?’ she laughed as Giles winced, and in the end everyone had water.
Nick cleared her throat. ‘Well, if I’m to be denied coffee let’s get on with this, shall we?’
‘I can get you a coffee if you would prefer?’ asked Giles alarmed at the awkwardness.
‘God no, Clemmie has spoken and when the experts speak, I pay attention. Besides, she’d kill me if I spilt anything.’
Giles still felt uncomfortable and slightly wrongfooted and then wondered if that was another negotiating ploy. He didn’t know much about Clementine’s younger sister, but he could see that despite her quiet appearance, her business skills appeared well honed. As the discussion progressed, he discovered they were razor sharp.
They were here to discuss the leasing rights of the fabric and Nick was covering every single scenario. At each point she would either zip through something or discuss it at length. He had no idea which aspects of the deal were the more important to her.
‘Regarding the length of this contract—’
‘We would be looking at a ten-year lease in the first place,’ said Giles.
‘Three.’
‘Seven?’
‘Option on both sides to renegotiate after five?’
‘Agreed.’
‘Okay.’
And so it went on as they discussed the licensing of the patterns to be used as tea towels and notebooks and curtains and bedspreads.
Towards the end of the afternoon, Paddy interrupted everyone, explaining that she had a launch to attend. It wasn’t work but she wanted to support a friend.
‘I have a change of clothes, Clemmie, but I wonder if I could stay in this? The event finishes at eight and I’ll be skipping the afterparty?’
Clem frowned. She knew Paddy was incredibly careful but parties were always unknown quantities. With a shrug, she decided to say yes. She’d need to discover how to clean this garment anyway. If it was going to be worn, it would have to be cleaned.
‘No worries. What event is it?’
‘Claude Lefevre’s. It’s the new collection at Cartier’s; they are holding it at the London Design Museum.’
Clem laughed. That room would be crawling with international buyers and trendsetters. If people liked what Paddy was wearing, they would be sure to get in touch with Clem the following day. All clamouring to be the first to place an order.
‘You minx! Have fun and thank you, I love you.’ Once again, Paddy was working her socks off on behalf of the family.
‘Well done, Pads, see you later,’ said Nick as her twin left the room.
Giles cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. He knew he had struck a good deal on the gift items, but now he wanted to tackle actual dress and upholstery fabric. They had done a lucrative collaboration with a high street chain last year and he could see a lot of potential for further partnerships.
‘Can we discuss dressmaking fabric.’
‘No,’ said Clem.
‘Yes,’ said Nick.
Giles knew how lucrative the Liberty design was. He had his mind on a similar expansion into the commercial field. Nick also knew how valuable that would be. Clem, however, knew that it would devalue her design aesthetic if anyone could knock up a dress in the same fabric.
The arguments ebbed and flowed until various designs were agreed upon, with a couple of others ring-fenced by Clem, to be renegotiated in a few years’ time.
‘And finally, what about the wool damask?’
‘Now that is going to cost you,’ said Nick. ‘And honestly, we don’t even know if it’s up for discussion. Until we find a way to reproduce it commercially, we aren’t sure if it is even viable.’
‘Can we have first refusal?’
Nick thought about it. Giles Buckley had been fair and reasonable throughout the entire negotiations. He had argued hard for some rights, which Nick had conceded, but in the end she felt comfortable that both parties could walk away from the deal smiling, which as far as she was concerned was always the primary goal in business. She didn’t hold with some of the ruthless practices in the current market world.
‘Agreed.’
‘Now onto fees for the “Servants” exhibition.’
As had already been discussed, all of the historic items of dress were going to be left behind at the VA for a temporary exhibition. The details were yet to be arranged.
‘Actually, I think we should discuss our recent discoveries first,’ smiled Clem. ‘Our sister, Ari, also found some treasures. It seems that the Hiverton family stored the fabrics and the older clothes up in Scotland but the more recent gowns remained in Norfolk.’ Clem smiled as she watched Giles’ expression as she said the word ‘gowns’. ‘I think you are going to enjoy this, it’s a clip she and Rafe Jones sent me.’ Pressing play on her phone, she tilted it towards Giles to watch.
The video showed Ari waving into the camera. She was up in a large attic space surrounded by piles of long, flat white boxes. Ari would open a box and gently unwrap the tissue to reveal gown after gown.
‘How incredible is this?’ said Clem, pointing to the footage. ‘That one there is a Dior and I swear that’s a Balmain but there’s no label. In this box there’s a note from Jacques Fath saying to not stub a fag out on this one, this time.’
As the two of them excitedly pointed things out to each other, Nick interrupted.
‘I take it this is significant?’
‘Christ yes,’ said Giles and then apologised for his language.
‘In which case, let’s not discuss fees yet until you have had a chance to look at everything. You may wish to alter your collection in light of this? Or maybe hold two?’
Giles nodded appreciatively at her generosity. There was no point in him negotiating blind, and now he was itching to travel up to Norfolk. He was about to ask a favour when Nick forestalled him.
‘And no, I won’t be allowing the Guggenheim or the Met to bid for the exhibition rights until you have had a chance to have a look.’
As they stood up, everyone shook hands, smiling, and the two girls headed to the lift. Giles sat back and sighed. That had been an exceptional meeting. It had cost him, but he suspected that he was at the start of an excellent commercial arrangement with the House of Hiverton.
***
When the lift doors closed, Nick and Clem burst into laughter and hugged each other.
‘That was fabulous.’
‘Oh my God, I can’t believe I am going to be working with the VA!’
‘I tell you, Clem, you are about to surpass the income that Paddy brings into the family.’
‘With my catwalk collection?’ asked Clem in astonishment. That had seemed very unlikely in the early days.
‘No, on the licensing of gift items. I swear to God, I think you have just saved your castle with tea towels and souvenir teddies. Now, what say you go and crash Paddy’s party? I’ll go and join Aster and get some food in and see you both back at the house for supper.’
Texting Paddy to arrange an invite, the sisters headed out onto the early evening streets of London. The vibrancy of rush hour still thrilled Clem, but a surprisingly large part of her was looking forward to the drizzle, the midges and the vast wonderful stillness of Ruacoddy.