Soubrette Chapter 5 Nick was happy playing the system,unemployed and unemployable but it had to end some time.

Janice brought the car to a rest outside Packney House. ‘I had an ulterior motive for driving you home,’ she said, switching the engine off, ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

‘I suppose not,’ I said, unfastening my seat belt. Life had been so much easier the week before when I hadn’t had to worry about other‘s motives.

‘We’re often asked for a French maid to clean house.’ Janice began unbuckling her seat belt, while she spoke, ‘and our girls aren’t that good at housework, even if they were available during the day.’

‘Times are as you know getting harder, and I’m looking for alternative income.’ Janice took my hand.

‘That’s very interesting,’ I said, somewhat baffled, ‘but what does that have to do with driving me home?’

‘As a fulltime employee you will be available during the day,’ Janice said, ‘and from what I’ve seen you certainly have the temperament, as well as the looks for the work. All I really need to know is how well you keep your own house.’

Miss Meanswell wasn’t lying then, was my first thought, there was a cleaning job at Soubrette. She might have mentioned the company dress code though.

I gave my answer careful consideration, ‘you will probably find my flat a little weird.’

‘I’ll have to teach you how to get out of cars in a short skirt,’ Janice said, as we boarded the lift. Imagining the sight I must have presented to passers-by, I could do nothing but blush.

‘I’m surprised you can afford to live here,’ Janice ventured, to cover my silence. ‘My friend’s gran lives here, and she says the flats are huge.’

‘I was bequeathed mine by an aunt,’ I replied.

‘That’s an amazing legacy.’

‘My cousins didn’t think so,’ I answered quietly, trying not to relive the bitter arguments.

‘I’m surprised you didn’t sell,’ Janice said, ‘it must be worth a fortune.’

‘I think that’s why Great Aunt Fen chose me. She knew her children would sell it.’ Although my aunt had passed four years before, I still grieved for her. ‘By the time I moved in, the place was stripped of everything my cousins thought of value.’

We met Mr. Blum in the corridor, and he was effusive in his welcome. ‘My word, Verity,’ he laughed, ‘every night you bring home a different beautiful girl.’ When I introduced Janice as my employer, he made a very courteous apology, and asked me to visit later.

Janice gasped when I showed her into my living room. ‘It’s just like a film set,’ she said, looking around her, ‘”Downton Abbey” can’t beat this.’

‘I think Aunt Fen would have liked it,’ I said, quietly, ‘of some these things were hers.’

‘Is it all like this?’ Janice asked, still trying to take everything in.

‘The kitchen was refitted during the eighties, and I’m still working on the bathroom, but I think you’ll like my sewing room.’ I didn’t often get the opportunity to be tour guide in my own museum, and I loved showing off my world.

Janice touched a hand to the dress tacked on my dummy, and asked if I was making it for myself.

‘It’s a sun dress, to wear on the balcony,’ I explained, ‘I make most of my own clothes.’

‘I wish I’d had an aunt like her. Was this hers too?’ Janice pointed to the old Singer sitting on its treadle stand by the window.

‘Aunt Fen was a couture seamstress, and she used it,’ I said, adding, ‘she taught me everything.’

‘Would you sit at it, for a photograph?’ Janice asked, pulling her mobile from a pocket. ‘For our website.’

Before I sat Janice fussed around with my uniform, telling me not to worry when I expressed concern about the state of my makeup.

‘Well, I don’t think I have to worry about your housekeeping skills,’ she smiled. I was just about to ask her more about the cleaning work, when the phone rang in the living room. Janice shooed me away with the gesture, and I rushed to answer it.

‘Verity, have you eaten yet?’ Kristy’s voice sang from the big Bakelite receiver.

‘How do you know I’m Verity tonight?’ I asked, wondering if she could already detect a change in my voice when dressed.

‘Verity is an art deco girl, in an art deco world’ Kirsty said, ‘and she answers the phone by saying the number.’

‘And are you an art deco millionaire?’ She laughed, and I was glad she got the reference. ‘I’m showing one of my bosses around my flat at present, I haven’t had a bite to eat yet.’

‘I have to drop mum off at evening classes, but I can bring a takeaway round in half an hour if you like. ’

‘That sounds great,’ I said, ‘now I have to make sure my boss isn’t in my knicker-drawer.’

Janice was still standing beside the window in my sewing room, talking on her mobile. While I was on the threshold, I heard her say, ‘a very suitable girl.’ Not wanting to eavesdrop any further, I stepped back into the corridor while she was talking. However, as I moved into the room again, her phone rang, and I overheard a brief conversation.

‘Digby you got the picture... my new maid... isn’t she just... we’ll talk about her later.’

Janice had me pose for more photographs in the living room, artfully staged to include period features. I was intrigued by the website (I hadn’t bothered to check if there was one), and how I would appear on it. Simple vanity perhaps, but the conditions of my employment at Soubrette seemed to change hourly.

‘I think that’s enough to be going on with,’ Janice said, sliding her mobile into a pocket. ‘You’ve been marvellous Verity, and you handled Isabel very well, even though it must have cost you dearly.’

I was tempted to point out Isabel handled me, but thought better of it. ‘Thank you Janice, I’ve had a lot of fun today.’ Apart from the incessant fondling it was true.

‘Verity you’re a star,’ Janice hugged me, adding a kiss on the cheek and, ‘bring in your sewing kit tomorrow.’

In the minutes remaining before Kirsty arrived, I contemplated changing my clothes. It would have been easy to throw on another dress, and take off the borrowed shoes which were really starting to hurt. However, I was perversely proud of my working clothes, and wanted her to see me in them.

The knock at the door prompted a sudden panic. What if it were one of my neighbours or even worse, what if Kirsty laughed. I knew I looked preposterous, would it be so bad if she thought that too?

Putting my courage to the sticking place, I unlatched the door, and in my best faux French asked the slightly bemused Kirsty, ‘Bon soir Mademoiselle, ’ow may I ‘elp you?’

‘I’m here to visit the lady of the house,’ Kirsty said, without missing a beat, ‘is she in perchance?’

‘Mais oui Mademoiselle, pleez kerm zees way.’ I curtsied, and led her inside with mincing steps.

‘O. K. I get the accent,’ Kirsty laughed, ‘but why are you taking such small steps?’

After explaining my day’s training, I demonstrated how a maid should bend over, my piece the resistance.

‘Dear Deirdre, I met a wonderful, gentle, quiet man, but have found out she’s a raving lunatic. Kirsty wrote on an imaginary notepad. ‘Should I tell him that I love him, or feed her pizza until she’s a dress size bigger than me?’

‘Nobody can eat that much pizza,’ I quipped.

By the time the lid went back on the pizza box, I’d learned about her weekend with a friend from university, and a day in Miss Meanswell‘s crusade against the long-term unemployed. In my turn I told her about my first day at Soubrette, sketching over some of the things that happened with Isabel. There were things I wanted to talk about, but Kirsty demanded a guided tour like I’d given Janice.

Unlike Janice, Kirsty seemed far more interested in my bedroom than my sewing room. I might have been flattered had not her first question been, ‘can I see you clothes?’

Nick’s clothes were pressed into a spare 6 inches at the end of the closet. A few shirts, pair of jeans, some sweaters, and I the terrible suit I wore for interviews. Verity’s, by contrast, filled almost all of the remaining space.

‘Did you make all of these?’ Kirsty picked out an evening gown I made solely to try sewing against bias. ‘This is stunning.’

‘I made most of them,’ I confessed, ‘but a few I found in charity shops and car boot sales.’

‘You have got to take me shopping or make me a dress,’ Kirsty cried, holding my evening gown against her. ‘Have you been to the Rialto since its restoration?’

I had walked past the refurbished old cinema many times; it was a fine art deco building but had never been inside. ‘I keep meaning to,’ I said, ‘but the films don’t appeal to me.’

‘They’ve started a “Roaring Twenties Night” on Thursdays, we could go dressed in Twenties clothes,’ Kirsty said, ‘and I never thought I’d say this to a fella, we’re both the same size. It would be fantastic.’

‘Two girls at the cinema on a date?’ I almost laughed, ‘I haven’t been on many dates recently though, and never as Verity...’

Kirsty put an arm around me and said, ‘come on it’ll be fun, we can be art deco lesbians.’

‘That’s so Berlin,’ I laughed, ‘O. K.’

‘Why do you have a single bed?’ Kirsty asked, sitting on the coverlet

‘It was my bed when I stayed with Aunt Fen,’ I explained, ‘my cousins removed the double bed from this room before I moved back.’

‘It seems so lonely,’ Kirsty said, patting the bed beside her, ‘why don’t you tell me what upset you today. You obviously missed something out.’

I sat next to her, almost touching but not quite. Haltingly I related my experiences with Isabel, even her attempts to feel between my legs.

‘Isabel may have a point’, Kirsty wrapped an arm around my shoulder, ‘you’ll need to learn how to deal with people reacting to the slutty way you’re dressed.’

I must not have looked convinced because she carried on, ‘in some ways you acted like you were defending your masculinity, while Isabel was probably reacting to your innately feminine personality.’

‘My what?’ I protested.

‘It’s what attracted me to Nick in the first place, Kirsty said softly, ‘and I don’t mean that you are effeminate. Just quiet, gentle and caring.’

She pulled me closer, her cheek almost against mine. ’ women aren’t so hung up about displaying affection. Isabel was being true to her nature, and you weren’t.’

‘But what about touching me between my legs?’

‘Seeing how neatly you’re tucked in “down there”, Isabel was probably checking that you’re not actually a girl.’ Kirsty smiled broadly, ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question all evening.’

‘Oh sorry, I’m not used to short dresses,’ I said, tugging at the hem of my uniform.’

‘Hey stop it, how many times does a girl get to look up her boyfriend’s skirt?’ Kirsty asked, feigning outrage.

‘Boyfriend?’

‘The situation‘s vacant you know,’ she kissed me quite fiercely on the lips.

‘Just one question,’ she said, ‘why do you have an easel in your bedroom?’

I could have pointed out that the light was better, but I went with, ‘because I can’t afford a video camera.’

Kirsty pushed me back on the bed, and the next words she said were, ‘good girl.’