A New Dream, Maggie Ford [books to read romance txt] 📗

was no reasoning with Stephanie, even though she did her best to make her sister see how desperate many others were for a job of any kind, willing to do whatever was offered, even to cleaning drains, sweeping streets, clearing toilets.

‘They must be desperate to do things like that!’ Stephanie had huffed unsympathetically. ‘I’m worth more than being expected to ruin my hands over a sink like some kitchen maid. I need to care for them and keep them smooth for when I get something really decent and genteel.’ She’d lifted a hand to study it, delicately turning it this way and that. ‘I expect my leaving will have its compensations, giving an opening for one of the desperate down-and-outs you spoke of,’ she’d added airily.

There’s no pleasing that girl, Julia had thought, but had kept it to herself. There was no point in causing yet another argument.

Pushing aside the memory, Julia went and gave her little sister a cuddle. ‘Don’t worry about her, Ginny. She’s feeling a little bitter at not finding any work to suit her while you and James are obviously doing so well.’

‘Then she should learn not to be so picky about the sort of work she is given!’ Ginny said, sounding quite adult these days. She brightened. ‘Anyway, James should be home soon. I’ll come and help you to get tea ready for when he comes in. I’m so very proud of my brother. Thank heaven at least two of us are bringing in money.’

The words were innocently said and probably aimed at her other sister, but Julia experienced a sudden stab of guilty conscience. She said nothing though. Virginia wasn’t the vindictive kind and she was sure the comment was not intended as a criticism of her.

At the end of July Stephanie finally found herself a job she considered suitable – behind the cosmetic counter of Selfridges in Oxford Street. There was no end to her triumph. Maintaining that a pretty face, elegant appearance and return of her former confidence would go a long way towards helping her to secure the position, she’d dipped into her meagre savings, which Julia felt would have been better put towards her family’s upkeep, for a fawn-coloured summer dress and hat for the interview, suede, Louis heel court shoes with clutch bag to match, and had her short hair Marcel waved.

To her delight she had been taken on, as a lowly assistant to start with, but with good money and the promise of promotion. She’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into the position, her only problem being the long hours of work.

‘I’ve hardly had any time for myself,’ she sighed, coming home to collapse into a chair after only two weeks. ‘I never knew working could be so hard. And I feel so dowdy against others. My old dresses are out of fashion but there’s so little left to buy more after contributing towards this family’s upkeep.’

‘Your upkeep too, remember?’ Julia said and saw her sister pout. Stephanie had always put herself first. This had not mattered when the family had been well off. But now she had already got round their mother, pleading to borrow back a little of the money she’d contributed and being given it. Julia was exasperated with her mother for being so indulgent.

She’d now bought a couple of more fashionable dresses – admittedly, not as expensive as the previous outfit – and within two weeks had added a pair of glittery evening shoes, stockings and make-up. Victoria strongly disapproved of this last purchase but said nothing.

Fortunately James and Virginia were both giving up most of their wages, for Julia decided that while she herself was still at home it was best not to air her opinions to Stephanie. With her mother doing little but dwell in the past, hers was the role of cooking, shopping, washing, cleaning and running about for them all; some little compensation, she hoped, for not bringing in a wage.

Still on her mind was how to start making that horde of material work for her. Her remaining idea from all the discarded ones was taking shape – a long shot, needing careful planning and determination, along with a good deal of cheek, to make it work.

The dingy shop downstairs had held her attention for some time. She would pass it these days at a slower pace and over the past few weeks had made a point of getting to know the owner better. Surprisingly she’d found Simon Layzell a more likeable, intelligent young man than she had initially expected, despite his always looking slightly unkempt.

One Saturday morning, with the August sun shining straight into her face as she turned out of the alley, she saw him standing outside his shop door, his back to her, gazing towards the busy Bethnal Green Road. He didn’t seem to be looking out for trade or expecting a delivery. His shoulders were slumped and there was a lonely air about him, as if he had no real interest in anything going on around him.

The click of her heels made him turn and as he saw her, a broad smile instantly transformed his glum expression.

‘Hullo!’ he exclaimed and then, noticing her ample bag, added heartily, ‘Early-morning shopping then?’

‘Our weekly shop,’ she replied, and then, noticing a drawn look behind his sociable smile, added, ‘How are you?’ She saw the smile fade, saw him hesitate and the smile return – a little too bright to be genuine, she thought.

‘Fine,’ he said quickly, then again, ‘Fine.’

‘Good,’ she said. That smile of his hadn’t quite reached those blue-grey eyes, which held a guarded expression.

‘I’m glad,’ she added and started to walk on. But he held out a hand towards her, compelling her to pause. She gave him a questioning look.

‘I’m sorry,’ he began. ‘The truth is, I do need to speak to you, urgently. I’ve been trying to summon up the courage for over a week now, ever since I realized I might not be carrying on this