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

Ceasing her gyrations, Julia threw herself into her sister Ginny’s arms while Simon looked on, amused; it wasn’t like her to show so much excitement, she was usually so calm and collected.

Julia ignored his amusement. ‘Isn’t it just wonderful?’ She was almost crying with joy and relief that the anxious months of waiting and worrying were over. ‘After all we’ve been through – now look at us.’

‘You’ve done marvellously,’ Ginny whispered so that their mother, standing nearby, wouldn’t hear and maybe make some bitter comment.

Bitterness seemed to have become ingrained in her over the years. It had sketched itself on her features, the corners of her lips drooping as she stared around the lounge with its comfortable three-piece suite, its art deco drapes, pictures and ornaments.

There was no cause today for her to be bitter; her family were all here around her. As well as Stephanie, Ginny and Julia, James was there with his young lady, Caroline. She was a demure young girl who smiled a lot but said little. The couple were set to become engaged in May when he turned twenty-one.

They were all smiling except her mother, who was surveying the room as if trying to make up her mind just how to disapprove.

‘I hope you never forget what we have all been through.’ She echoed Julia’s words as if from a distance. ‘The suffering I had to bear, losing your dear father. I only hope he’s looking down and praying you never get above yourselves with all this high life.’

Julia didn’t respond. She’d long got over worrying about her mother’s discontented outlook on life. The woman would never change. Refusing to move with the times, she still wore the long skirts and high-necked, dark blouses worn ten years ago. Her only concession to fashion was the ubiquitous cloche hat, but even there her choice was sombre and dull, reflecting her whole attitude.

She had seldom left her old flat, scorning visits to the cinema or theatre, refusing even to go for a walk on fine days, despite all Julia’s persuasions. It was four years since her husband’s death but still she had not even gone shopping, saying she wasn’t ready to face the world; instead her groceries had been delivered. Lack of fresh air showed on her face, which was pale as chalk, the skin paper-thin, and life spent in the confines of a tiny flat was making her shoulders more rounded than they should be.

Her new three-bedroom flat was in Maddox Mews, off Maddox Street, just across from Julia’s spacious apartment. She would have more room to move about here and maybe this would help her counter some of her premature ageing.

But all she said when asked how she liked it was, ‘It’s a bit rambling after what I had to become used to when we lost our lovely house.’

No word of thanks, and Julia had given up, saying perhaps a little too sharply and unkindly, ‘Well, Mummy, if that’s the case you can always stick to one room and leave the others to Ginny and James.’

‘Virginia and James are hardly ever at home,’ had come the plaintive reply. ‘I shall feel lost in this big place all on my own.’

It was quite useless. Julia knew that Simon had splashed out much-needed money to get her mother this flat. She’d felt annoyed at her and embarrassed for him, but finally left Victoria to her own devices. The woman was totally unaware that she was slowly alienating herself from her entire family.

The next few months were too busy for Julia to worry much about her mother. James proved a stalwart, often bringing home Caroline, with whom his mother seemed taken, which was a relief. Julia was thus free to get on with her own life.

It wasn’t an easy start. All the work she and Simon put into building up their new premises, planning and overseeing the fine decor, ensuring that everything was top quality, ate into their reserves at an alarming rate. Nevertheless, Simon seemed to be happy with things as they were going.

‘I can’t wait to see it all finished,’ Julia said after yet another tiring day. ‘I just hope we haven’t been too extravagant. We’re beginning to owe the bank far too much for my liking.’

Despite their success she still carried the memory of her father’s downfall. What if it all fell apart for them as it had for him?

‘Don’t worry,’ Simon told her. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

Probably he did. She contented herself with that thought, but as the day of opening drew near with all its attendant anxieties, she felt as if the very elements were against them. February brought eighteen days no less of non-stop rain, deluge after deluge, with reports in the newspapers of terrible flooding in most of London’s suburbs.

Simon’s confidence was undiminished. ‘It’s going to be the sunniest day ever when we open,’ he announced. ‘It can only be fine after all this rain.’

But still Julia worried. She planned a grand opening in the form of a small fashion show, for which she intended to hire two models. This, her first real venture, made her heart race, her stomach queasy, and caused her sleepless nights. It was a nightmare getting together beautiful day dresses, stunning evening gowns, exciting party clothes, silk evening pyjamas, even pretty swimsuits with caps to match, all in bright oranges, shimmering blues, translucent greens and jazzy prints.

As for Simon, the days of selling cheap theatrical trinkets and bits and bobs were gone. He now concentrated on accessories to go with her creations; high-quality costume jewellery that was a far cry from what he’d begun with.

They went to great expense to advertise it all and though many of the invited buyers did attend, and the show was a complete success with plenty sold, February decided to vent the last of its foul fury on the day. The bad weather inevitably kept down the numbers and there were fewer customers than they’d