Leticia had been taught this invaluable insight along with the rest of her trade by her godfather, Leo. Hed been a West End theatrical costume designer. And like Leticia, he was entirely self-created. He smoked thin, black Russian cigarettes, probably had his nose done back in the sixties and wore his beautiful silver hair loose around his shoulders. His uniform was what he called an Audreya black cashmere polo neck, black tailored trousers and soft, leather slippers he had specially made.
He laughed often and firmly refused to countenance any form of self-pity or pessimism.
He came from a different worldnot just a theatrical one but from another age entirelyan age that had no qualms about artifice; that had no desire to appear natural, and understood that a little sleight of hand was nothing to be ashamed of. Hed been a dresser to Marlene Dietrich when she used to pin her scalp back under her wig; had sewn sweat guards into Julie Andrewss gowns in My Fair Lady and even adjusted the sleeves on Vivian Leighs costumes so that no one could see her hands shaking after a bad night.
Leticia slipped off her jacket, hung it up on a hook behind the door and looked round with satisfaction. Leo was retired now but he adored the shop. The slipper bath had been his idea. (It shuddered violently if you turned on the taps but it looked exquisite.) He was the only other person who really appreciated her collection of lace or the rare quality of the bolts of beautiful fabric.
If it hadnt been for him, she might still be languishing in Hampstead Garden Suburb. He gave her a subscription to Vogue when she was eight. When she was ten, he presented Leticia with a little work table all her own in his studio. There she sat, making sketches, watching carefully as the greatest stage divas of the day were transformed from frightened, self-obsessed neurotics into creatures worthy of universal adoration. In her teens, he took her to the theatre, bought her her first cocktail in Kettners, showed her how to pluck her eyebrows and move in a way that commanded attention. He taught her the difference between presence, which includes everyone in its warm glow, and attitude, which keeps the whole world at bay.
There was nothing Leo couldnt render magical. Nothing he couldnt fix.
She opened her appointment book and examined the names. A romance novelist, a duchess and a rich American woman from Savannah. She didnt like more than three appointments a day and nothing before 11 a.m. Early morning wasnt sexy; once you were out of bed and dressed, the weight of the day pressed too hard on everyones conscience.
Her phone buzzed. She flicked it open. It was Leo.
Angel, how are we this morning? he purred, his voice tempered by thousands of cigarettes.
Brilliant. Are you coming in today? Please say youre coming! Ive got an order for a silk kimono I cant make drape properly for love nor money. The woman has a bust like a mountain range. I promise to buy you a long, boozy lunch if you can fix it.
Would love to but I cant. Feeling a bit rough this morning. Truth is I was up late last night playing strip poker with Juan. You remember Juan, dont you?
That male nurse from Brazil? She riffled through the morning post. Another postcard from her parents in Israel. More brown envelopes. How boring. She tossed them unopened into the bin. Didnt you decide he was too young for you? Does he even speak English?
Dont be catty, darling. His English has come on a treat. Besides, she could hear him lighting a fresh cigarette, we dont waste our time on conversation.
Please! I dont want to know all your secrets!
You know them all anyway
She smiled. I have one.
Really? What or rather who is it?
Now whos being catty? His names Hughie and hes delicious!
How old?
Oh, I dont knowearly twenties?
She heard him exhale. You need a real man, Leticia. Not some boy
This from you! She closed the appointment book firmly. Real men dont exist. Or havent you noticed? Besides, hes only a fling.
They have feelings, you know
I doubt it. All men want is sex. Especially young men.
And what about you? What do you want?
Her fingers ran over a particularly exquisite and costly bolt of French blue silk organdie. Who cares what I want? Its what I can have that matters.
Emily Ann
She winced. You know I hate that name; its so impossibly ugly!
Emily he repeated firmly, Im concerned. These flings are getting to be a habit with you.
And why not? We live in a disposable world. Theres no point in investing yourself too heavily.
Youre too young to be so cynical.
Oh, please! She sighed. Lets not do serious today! I cant; Im not in the mood. I just want to have some fun. And Hughies fun.
Hes also real.
What am I now, some corrupting influence? No lecturesnot today.
Im only saying that youve got to be careful.
Stop, Leo, she warned.
He ignored her. You pretend to be tough but we both know youre not.
I have to go.
Darling, I love you and I dont want to see you hurt.
What? By Hughie? she laughed. See, thats the whole point! He cant hurt me! And I cant hurt him. We have rules, Leo. Its strictly sexnothing more.
Ive got news for you, sunshine. Rules or no rules, youre not in control of your heart. No one is.
Listen, Ill call you later. I have heaps to do and if youre not coming round Ill have to try to sort out this kimono monstrosity by myself. Speak later? And no more hot Brazilians, understand?
She clicked the phone shut, pressed her hand over her eyes.
He was being so difficult.
And suddenly, it was back again; the dull ache, pressing hard.
It was an ache now, but for at least a year it had been a searing, slicing pain across her whole chest, like someone performing open-heart surgery without an anaesthetic. She couldnt eat, couldnt sleep
Damn him! Why did he have to be soso judgemental?
She took a deep breath.
It didnt matter. It was all over now. She was on her feet again, better than ever.
In her workshop, Leticia put the kettle on and lit a cigarette. There was time between the duchess and the novelist to have Hughie come round. And leaning her back against the counter, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.
Hughie was so tall, so young, so classically handsome. And so easy to control! There were no power struggles, no coy dating rituals or manipulations. She rang, he came, they fucked. And then they fucked some more.
It was a simple relationship and, in a way, beautiful. There was something different about Hughie: a freshness. No deep thoughts or dark moods interfered with his performance. Of course, he had a lot to learn; a diamond in the rough. But that was exciting. And the best part was, he was insane about her. It was only a fling, but in every relationship there was the one who adored and the one who was adored. Shed done the adoring and preferred by far when it was the other way round.
The kettle boiled. Spooning the loose leaves of Earl Grey tea carefully into a Tiffany blue pot, she poured in the hot water. The aroma of bergamot filled the room.
The kettle boiled. Spooning the loose leaves of Earl Grey tea carefully into a Tiffany blue pot, she poured in the hot water. The aroma of bergamot filled the room.
She stared out of the window into the small garden at the back.
Leo was wrong. No one could hurt her again; she wouldnt let them.
Giving the tea a quick stir, she poured herself a cup. These were the hours she liked best; the day glimmered before her like a golden promise, untouched by disappointment or frustration. And sitting down at the table, she placed her teacup on a small bench well away from her work, unfolded a tissue-paper parcel full of silk and deftly threaded her needle.
The morning sun warmed her back, outside birds sang. Leticia sipped her tea.
Few things were more fragile than antique lace or the human heart.
Then she heard something.
Persistent, irritating.
Coming from the bathroom.
A dripping sound.
The kind of sound, in fact, that signalled the urgent need for a plumber.
Tea for Table Five
The waitress at Jacks Café, Rose, paused by the window, watching as Hughie Armstrong Venables-Smythe sauntered away down the street through the crowds of people.
Order up! shouted Bert from the kitchen behind her.
I said, order up! he called again.
Rose turned and delivered the two fried eggs, sausage, beans and tomato to the man at table seven before clearing away Hughies breakfast remains. Then she took £4.95 from her own pocket of tips and put it into the till.
Rose! Tea for table five! Bert shouted. What the hells got into you today?
Nothing, she said, pouring out the tea. Nothing at all.
She took it over to Sam the plumber, a regular at table five. In his late thirties, Sam had a mop of dark unruly hair, now flecked with grey, wild pale green eyes and a sardonic smile. Hed inherited his fathers floundering plumbing and heating business earlier that year; along with the same ready laugh and long, loping gait. He was poring over a catalogue of plastic U-bend pipes.
Thanks. He took a sip, frowning with concentration.
God, Sam, dont you ever take a break?
What for? he shrugged. Its my business now; no ones going to make it a success but me.
But U-bends at breakfast? She shook her head. Your dad was always more relaxed.
Yeah, well, if my old man had put as much time into the business as he did into going to the pub, he might still be with us. His voice was sharp.
Old Roy, Sams dad, had lived in the same block of council flats as Rose; shed known both of them for years. Hed been a larger-than-life character, equally popular with men and women; a man whose cheeky good humour seemed to exempt him from the normal rules of life. Over the years he and Sam, both stubborn characters, had spent a lot of time at loggerheads. Sam was ambitious and Old Roy was usually hungover. But now that he was gone, Rose detected an edginess to Sam; a cloud of uncharacteristic seriousness coloured his personality. Lately he only had time for one thing: his career.
Sorry, Sam, Im not thinking today. She pushed a cloth absent-mindedly around the tabletop, knocking the sugar over. Oh, damn!
He glanced up; clear eyes surrounded by a thick fringe of lashes. Off in your dream world again?
What are you talking about?
Well, he put his mug down, he kissed you, didnt he, Red?
Sam was nothing if not observant.
So what if he did? She was blushing again. Turning, she pretended to be deeply engrossed in removing a coffee stain from another table. And dont call me Red. Im too old for nicknames. Im nearly twenty-two, not some child.
Yeah. Sure.
Without looking round, she knew he was laughing.
You like him, Sam teased.
Oh, I dont know, Rose tried to sound blasé and sophisticated. Unfortunately, she was too excited to keep up the pretence for long. But I think he likes me. Hes coming back tomorrow!
Did he pay his bill?
Well, he wouldve, only we dont take Amex.
Sam rolled his eyes. Every time he comes in, you end up out of pocket.
Hes just short of cash, thats all. A lot of people dont get paid till the end of the month. She knotted her hair back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. (Now that he was gone, she could put it up again.) I think he looks like Prince William.
Why dont you meet a nice normal guy?
And where would I find the time for that? she asked, irritated. Remember, I have a child to feed. Who wants to go out with a single mother?
Oh, bollocks, Rose! Youre only young! There will be plenty of guys. You know, real guyswith cash instead of promises.
Rose made a face at him.
Speaking of kids, how is Rory? he asked.
She sighed. He bit another kid in nursery yesterday.
Well, all of them go through tricky patches when they start school.
You dont understand. She gathered up all the ketchup dispensers and began refilling them. He bit the little boy whos allergic to nuts, wheat and milk; this kid hardly has anything to live for! And the day before that he headbutted the teacher. She had a lump on her forehead the size of an egg!
Well Shed obviously stretched his bachelor experience to the limit. I wouldnt worry about him. Now, he shifted the subject back to more familiar ground, what are we going to do with you?
Me? Rose wiped the shiny lids clean.
Yes, you. Youre a smart girl. Dont you think its time you did something more than waitressing?
She smiled wryly. Not all of us are business tycoons, Sam.
He arched an eyebrow. What does that mean? Listen, Ill make a going concern of this business if it kills me. If you think Im going to live and die like my dad in a council flat in Kilburn, youre wrong.
Hey! She swatted him with her tea towel. Whats wrong with that, Id like to know?
Whats wrong with what?
They turned.
It was Ricki, Roses cousin. Ricki worked as a landscape gardener for a company in Islington. With her cropped hair, tanned muscular frame and uniform of heavy work boots, a fitted T-shirt and jeans slung low across her hipbones, showing off her firm, flat belly, she looked handsome rather than pretty. Every day she stopped in on her way to work for a takeaway coffee and toast. Hands thrust deep into her pockets she strolled over, grinning slyly at Sam.
Hes not banging on about conquering the world with his plunger again, is he? She gave his shoulder a squeeze. How many times do we have to tell you? Its OK that youre insane and power crazy. We support you.
Thanks. I feel a lot better.
Hows it going anyway? She slid in across from him, picked up the catalogue. Wow Fascinating. You know, you ought to get out more.
I know, I know, he admitted, running his long fingers through his shaggy curls. But if I can get the business to turn a profit this year, then pretty soon Ill be able to expand, take on a few more guys. I mean, my old man left it in a real state. Everything was about flying by the seat of your pants with him. You want to know what his filing system was? A cardboard box shoved under the kitchen sink.