A New Dream - Maggie Ford (interesting novels to read TXT) 📗

to breathe too deeply she let herself be shown through the flat, her heart lifting again. There were three bedrooms, a living room, good-sized kitchen and a partially enclosed balcony similar to the one she’d seen below. A cupboard housed a lavatory, which was dirty and smelled dreadful, but her optimism had grown – it could easily be cleaned up. It would mean no more running downstairs to the yard, no more having to use chamber pots.

Like the lavatory the flat too was filthy; the previous occupants appeared to have been unsavoury to say the least. Little wonder the landlord hadn’t found anyone to rent it from him. In its present state, with peeling wallpaper, grubby windows and limp, stained curtains, it would have turned any likely tenant off, especially with the rental that was being quoted.

Julia decided she would play on the fact that it would take a great deal of time and effort to get it clean and airy and sweet-smelling again. Containing her excitement she gave a grimace of disgust as she turned to Mr Bennett, who was looking somewhat abashed; he had obviously been as unprepared as she was for the state of the place.

‘I didn’t expect to find such appalling conditions,’ she said haughtily. ‘I am so disillusioned. Who on this earth would want to take on this place? No, Mr Bennett, I’m sorry. I had such high expectations, but regretfully…’

She broke off, worried she might have gone too far, that he’d shrug and say she could take it or leave it. Had she already shot herself in the foot?

He gazed at her for what seemed minutes on end, while her heart sank. Then he said, ‘May I suggest we return to my office where I might telephone my client and see what can be done.’

Two hours later, Julia alighted from a taxi and hurried into Simon’s shop to tell him her news. Her excitement had abated and now her heart was fluttering with misgivings. All she had been able to think about in the taxi was, how would he receive the news that she had taken it upon herself to view premises for their business without first consulting him? After all, he was the one holding the purse strings, and finding the money for the down payment would eat into what profit there was.

As the proprietor of his shop, he would expect to make decisions of this sort or at least share with her in the making of them. But if she’d stopped to consult him they might have lost the place since no money had yet been handed over. Now she needed him to go back there with her immediately in case someone else snapped it up in the meantime. Filled with anxiety she went into the shop.

Simon was with a customer as Julia, closing her still damp umbrella, entered the shop. The man was examining a pile of huge, showy tiaras and bead necklaces of assorted lengths and colours – some of the original stock that Simon had insisted on keeping back during the restyling of the shop last year.

The man was saying, ‘It’s not a great production but in hopes we live to fill the house. This is just what I need – gaudy stuff, something to make the audience sit up and take notice.’

As Julia perched herself on a stool a little to one side, he half turned to glance at her before going back to his prospective purchases.

‘OK then, these I’ll take. Those bits over there I will also take, and the feathers too.’

Having seen her come in, Simon nodded at her with a smile then said to the man, ‘What about costumes? We’ve a good stock of fine material, good-quality fabrics, silks, and…’

‘I should want good quality?’ The man gave a deep laugh and spread his hands questioningly. ‘For my performances I need cheap ’n’ cheerful, big patterns, colour – lots of colour to make the audience sit up and…’

‘Take notice!’ Simon chuckled, his customer laughing too before he sobered a little.

‘You got nothing like that no more?’

‘Only what you see.’ Simon too had sobered but still smiled. ‘We made a few changes last year, I hope for the better. We hope to…’

The man cut in with another laugh. ‘Then take my advice, you’re in the wrong area. You want to sell high class? Go to the West End. Here you sell what show people around here are looking for. But this stuff,’ he sifted the necklaces through chubby fingers, ‘here it’ll always sell. Take my word.’

‘It’s odd you should mention the West End,’ Julia cut in, making him turn, his broad face interested. ‘A shop like ours could do well there,’ she added.

Here was the way out she’d been looking for, a way of telling Simon her news without it sounding as if she was taking over. But before she could say anything more, Simon put in, ‘This is my business partner, Miss Longfield. We manage the shop together.’

‘I am a customer of your… partner.’ The man smiled broadly at her. ‘Maurice Isaacs, an old customer, but for some months I have been in the north, busy with a small theatre I am in partnership with up there. So now I am surprised to come back and find this shop changed. That is your doing?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ Julia replied. ‘We teamed up last summer.’

Mr Isaacs gave a little bow. ‘A very attractive young woman, I see. In the West End, with your looks, you would do very well with your modern ideas and your fine materials. Here we go in for the cheaper stuff. It suits the customers, you know, they pay at the door to be entertained, to laugh, have a good time, and bugger the state of the costumes so long as they leave happy.’

He paused to look from her to Simon. ‘You said the West End? You don’t make enough money here? It’s a cheap place, but cheap brings in money.