“Shall we carry on?” asked Samantha after a particularly long kiss.
“Or do you want to sit here kissing all day?”

“Oh... that is a difficult choice, but upon reflection, please carry on. I want to see what more surprises you have for me,” replied a very happy Phoebe.

Once back on the road, a very determined Samantha took control of the car. She had a definite purpose in her attitude now that the weight of telling Phoebe about herself had been lifted.

Phoebe sat back and let Samantha drive. She clearly knew where she was going. Once they reached the small business park in Ford, she stopped outside one of the many identical units on the site. A sign on the wall said ‘Schwartz Brothers, Props and Theatrical Costumiers’.

Phoebe wondered what the connection was between the Schwartz Brothers and Samantha. Mason to the best of her knowledge was not a Jewish name. From her limited knowledge, anyone called Schwartz usually was or had some Jewish connection but, as they got out of the car she reminded herself that she must not jump to conclusions and go only by the facts.

She needed not have worried. As soon as Samantha opened the door, she saw a picture of a man who could only be a Hasidic Jew. The Black hat, coat and ringlets really gave the game away.

Samantha saw Phoebe’s eyes that were almost staring at the picture.

She chuckled.
“This is all part of the disguise. The name is totally fictitious as is the picture. Well, it was taken over forty years ago in Hebron and he was an old man then. At least that is what my Grandmother told me when she told me about her little secret stash of goodies.”

Phoebe waited for the next part of the story.

“Gran was a top fashion model in the late 1950’s and the first half of the 1960’s. She was too curvy for the changing fashions when the likes of Twiggy came onto the scene so she retired. In the time, she’d been at the top, she’d amassed a huge collection of clothes and other items. Much of the fashion is typical of the ‘Haute Couture’ of the time. The rest is from top ready to wear labels. That is where I get the clothes I wear from… Or well, t least the designs. I’m too big for the clothes that Gran modelled. She would be a size 8 or 10 by today’s standards. I browse the collection to decide on some new clothes for the coming season and I give the originals to a lovely lady called Jackie. She should be here soon. She takes the clothes I select and makes me new and slightly updated versions of those items.”

“How does that affect me?”

“Well my dear Phoebe, if you are going to be seen in my company then you need to look the part don’t you. No more lawyer drab I’m afraid.”

Phoebe started to understand.

“But… what about your Father. Hadn’t I better look like a lawyer if… if I am right that you want me to get him off your back once and for all?”

Samantha went a bit red in the face.

“That first night, I kissed you because I wanted to. There was something about you that told me that you must not let this girl go. It was only later and after your visit to me that I started to wonder about you and my father but I knew that I’d have to come totally clean about who I was and how I got here first. If you hadn’t run a mile once I’d told you, then I was going to bring it up. The numpty who followed us today made that cunning plan totally redundant. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner about me and so far, you have not run a mile. There is a railway station about a mile away by the way if you do want to bail out...”

Phoebe stood silent for nearly a minute. She looked at Samantha and her heart was pounding away at sixty to the dozen.

“I’m going nowhere. This has been one hell of a rollercoaster ride so far and I want it to continue. I expect that one day I’ll probably crash and burn but my past experiences of relationships, is that none of them have gotten anywhere near where we are today.”

Phoebe leaned over and kissed Samantha. It went on for quite a while and was only interrupted by the arrival of another woman.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said quietly.

Samantha laughed.
“Hi Jackie.”

“Good morning Miss Samantha.”

“Jackie, this is Phoebe. Phoebe, meet Jackie, the wizard seamstress if this part of the world.”

“Pleased to meet you Jackie.”

Jackie gave Phoebe the once over from top to bottom and back to top again.

“This is going to be fun,” she said in a distinct Liverpudlian accent.

Phoebe suddenly felt naked. Jackie had obviously mentally undressed her in an instant.

“Phoebe here is by training a lawyer and a barrister so needs plain clothes but I want her looking the part when she is with me,” said Samantha.

Jackie looked at Samantha. Then at Phoebe and back at Samantha. Then she raised an eyebrow.

“I get it,” said Jackie.

Then she addressed Phoebe.

“Samantha here has never told anyone about this place before today. You must be really special to her if she has brought you here. I don’t want Sam to regret doing so understand?”

“Samantha is very special to me and I know when to keep my mouth shut. I already know that there are people who would love to know about this place. Samantha is…”

She smiled and looked at Samantha

“is or will be when she gives me a retainer a client of mine. That means anything she says or tells me is privileged.”

Then Phoebe smiled.

“Besides, I want to look my best when I introduce Samantha to my BFF’s next week.”

Jackie’s face dropped.

“I can work miracles when the mood takes me but they don’t happen overnight.”

Samantha laughed.

“Don’t worry Jackie, we’ll get something nice for Phoebe off the shelf for next week. But her wardrobe is by her own admission, mostly black and grey. That needs to change if we are going to be seen in Public together.”

“Good!” said Jackie.
“As long as we are clear about what I can and can’t do.”

“Jackie, if what Samantha has told me is true then I know that getting me sorted won’t happen overnight. There is a lot more that I need to work on apart from clothes isn’t there?”

Jackie just grunted.

“Why don’t you let Jackie run her tape measure over you while I go and look for a few things?” suggested Samantha.

“I still have not finished that last skirt for you so why don’t you give Phoebe the grand tour while I get it done then I’ll clear my bench so to speak?”

Samantha thought for a few seconds. Then she smiled and took Phoebe’s hand. Then she led her into the back of the unit.

As they stepped into the large warehouse part of the building, the light came on to reveal rack after rack after rack of clothes. Most were encased in plastic covers.

“There are almost a thousand items here. The covers are the same sort of cover that museums use for vintage garments.”

Phoebe stood there open mouthed.

“This place is huge.”

“The next-door unit is also mine. It has all the accessories and lots of period furniture.”

Phoebe’s ears picked up at the mention of furniture.

“Do you like that sort of thing?”

“Yeah. My Uncle Idris used to run what he called an ‘Antiques and Curio’s Emporium’ in Ebbw Vale. It was mostly junk but every so often someone would come in with a decent item to sell. That table by the door in your container is the sort of thing that he’d loved to have had.”

“Eh? That old thing?”

“From the brief look that I got of it, I think it is a late Victorian copy of an eighteenth century gateleg table. If it is by who I think it is, it might be worth five hundred quid. The same would go for a lot of the early sixties designer pieces. Anything from that era by Panton, Ghyczy or Conran and the like could fetch a small fortune these days.”

Samantha was obviously shocked by not only the knowledge that Phoebe had but equally by what she was saying.

“If it was all collected at the time by your Gran then you could well be sitting on a lot of Museum quality pieces,” added Phoebe.

“Fuck!” muttered Samantha under her breath.
“Sorry for that I don’t normally swear.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too soon. I’ll need to spend a good time looking at it all and doing some research.”

Samantha smiled.

“Are you sure that you are a Lawyer? Shouldn’t you have become a dealer?”

Phoebe laughed.

“I can’t sell a thing. I never had the knack when I worked with Uncle Idris. It was a complete disaster. I lost him a good bit of money before he banned me from front of shop. Dealing with the law is a very different kettle of fish.”

“When a new piece would come in, Idris would give it to me to clean and then research it. One day, we had a piece of pottery come in. He hated the bright green and blue colours. He soon changed his tune when I said that is was a very early piece of Moorcroft Pottery and not only was it early but it was rare. He asked with a totally straight face, ‘how much?’. That was Uncle Idris down to a tee. When I told him, that it was worth over five hundred, he fell in love with it. He’d paid a tenner for it in a job lot.”

Phoebe decided to bring the conversation back to clothes. She could see that Samantha wasn’t really into antiques and the like but clothes were her thing.

“Where do you think we should start looking as clothes?” she asked.

“Let’s try the fifth row down. I’ve not really looked there much.”

Hand in hand, they walked through the rows of clothes until they reached the spot that Samantha had mentioned.

“Dresses or Separates?” she asked.

“I think Separates what with winter approaching?”

Samantha smiled and started flicking through the items on show.

It didn’t take long before Phoebe had an armful of possible items.

“This is too much!” she complained.

“Well… you did say that you only had black and grey stuff. Clear some of that out and there will be room.”

“It is still too much. I was thinking of just a few items.”

Samantha laughed.

“A few items a month is about right for most women when they build their wardrobe isn’t it? Aren’t there some who get addicted to shopping? Isn’t it even worse with online shopping. The instant gratification from a purchase lasts only a short time and then the need or for some, the craving comes back. Just like a user of hard drugs isn’t it?”

Phoebe knew only too well that online shopping could be addictive. She’d represented a woman who had been totally hooked and went more than a hundred thousand pounds into debt. The more she spent, the more the credit card companies upped her credit limits. The problem was, she was unemployed and had no means in the way of assets or income to pay it all back. The credit card companies sued but the judge took the side of the woman thanks to Phoebe’s good work in the court when she’d put the boss of one credit card company on the spot when it came to using credit checks when it was obvious that the card user was literally sinking before their very eyes in debt.

“It is still a lot. I’m also out of work in case you had forgotten. Jackie does not come cheap. There is no way that I can afford more than one or two of these.”

Samantha wrapped her arms around Phoebe.

“Darling… Take these as a gift from me. No strings. I want you to look really good when you are out with me not someone who looks like that they are dressing to look invisible.”

It was that last word that hit Phoebe hard. She knew deep down that she’d dressed for years to blend in, be part of the furniture. She’d always envied her friend Sky who had legs as long as the Eiffel Tower and shapely and was drop dead gorgeous even when she’d just crawled out of bed. When they’d shared a flat in their early days as undergraduates Sky could make Phoebe and Lana seem drab even in a darkened room. That wasn’t a problem for Phoebe and Lana had soon wised up and had snared a really good-looking guy for a husband well before their finals. Phoebe just plodded on, her head seemingly always deep in a law book promising herself that she’d find someone once the next set of exams were over. Only, that never came… until now.

Slowly, Phoebe had to admit that if she could look even half as good as Samantha was looking today she’d be happy with life.

“Ok…” mumbled Phoebe after seemed what was an eternity to her but was in reality little more than ten seconds.

Samantha led Phoebe and her armful of garments into the workroom where Jackie was waiting for them.

“I was just about to send out a search party…” she joked.

“Phoebe here needed a little persuasion. That’s what took so long.”

“Humph!” muttered Phoebe.

---

Jackie soon had all of Phoebe’s measurements noted down in her little black book.

“Now, materials and colours!” she exclaimed.

Phoebe was well out of her depth. She shuddered yet again when she remembered the awful dress that her mother had bought for her ‘prom’ at school. Hers was the first year that the school had put one of them on which was to her, a horrible US Import that should die a death and everyone involved should die as well.

The embarrassment of a total dress failure made her a total laughing stock amongst her peers. The dress was almost two sizes too small for her but her mother would have none of her complaints. All she’d say was ‘I paid good money for that and you are going to wear it come hell or high water’. That calamity was the last straw for Phoebe. She’d moved out of town and down to Cardiff for the summer. She’d only returned once more and that was to get the letter with her exam results.

Phoebe let Samantha and Jackie decide on what materials and what things needed to change in order to make them look more modern.

“No,” said Phoebe.

Jackie and Samantha looked at Phoebe.

“Leave them alone. I saw this woman the other week in Brighton and she was wearing clothes from the early fifties and she looked gorgeous. Everyone was looking at her.”

Samantha laughed.

“That must have been Doreen MacLaine. She’s one of the few truly retro people in town.”

After seeing this ‘Doreen MacLaine’ in the street, Phoebe had spent some time thinking about her future dress style.

“Look, the last thing anyone wants is for me to be a clone of Samantha isn’t it? Let me at least try to develop my own style eh?”

Samantha smiled so Phoebe continued.

“I know it won’t happen overnight but I need to do this myself… with your help naturally but I need to be me. The real me and not some half copy of someone else who is drop dead gorgeous all the time I might add!”

They all laughed at her compliment to Samantha.

“You have no idea how…”

“I do my darling. I know that it takes a lot of effort to get to look like you do and that I have a long way to go but now that I think about it, the more certain I am that this is the way I want to go.”

Jackie smiled.
“That makes my job a lot easier.”

---

An hour or so later, Samantha and Phoebe left the property in Ford and started the return journey to Brighton. As they passed Shoreham Airport, Phoebe said,

“Can you pull off at the top of Devils Dyke. There is something we need to talk about in private.”

Samantha looked a bit worried.

Phoebe squeezed Samantha’s hand as an act of reassurance.

A few minutes later, Samantha parked the car and the two of them got out and walked along one of the many paths that cross crossed the beauty spot.

“There is still the little problem of your father to deal with. If I am correct in my assumptions, he lives up at the big house at the end of the drive that goes past your home?”

“Yes, he does,” replied Samantha.

“And he was somewhat miffed that your gran left the property to you and is even more miffed at you not following him into the city and even worse, you have become a very good looking woman to boot.”

“You aren’t wrong about him. Where is all this leading?”

Phoebe managed a small smile.

“Patience my dear, patience.”

Samantha rolled her eyes.
“Don’t go all legal on me!”

Phoebe laughed.
“That is precisely the right thing to do at the moment… If I may continue?”

Samantha just grunted.

“The PI… lets call him that for sake of a title… from earlier today will be reporting back to your father that you have a female lawyer. That’s good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Because I want you to let me offer him a way of getting his hands on your home…”

“What! You can’t be serious.”

“Please darling, bear with me for a bit.”

Samantha shut up.

“What is your place worth? Six or Seven hundred?”

“Closer to seven fifty but why?”

“I want to make him an offer that is so high he can only refuse it, but it will give us an idea about how serious he is in wanting you out of there.”

“What sort of number are you talking about?”

“Three point five,” replied Phoebe very calmly but with total conviction.

Samantha laughed. Then she realised that Phoebe was perfectly serious.

“You are serious, aren’t you?”

“I am totally serious. He may well have a buyer lined up for the big house but can’t complete until he has your home to complete the set so to speak. What would that house fetch on the market?”

“The core dates back to Charles the First and was extended in the late eighteenth century and the current façade put up just over a hundred years ago. I suppose with twenty bedrooms, a large ballroom, and… well twenty million if you include the whole estate and my home.”

“Which he inherited… Apart from your home that is?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Then giving you three point five million would still allow him to walk away with a very tidy sum indeed.”

“But how am I going to explain you representing me?”

This time Phoebe grinned from ear to ear.

“I know exactly how this can be explained but I’ll tell you over dinner. I’ve not had anything to eat today so? How about it eh?”

[to be continued]