and fulfil her dream of becoming an assistant in the salon and then a vendeuse before she had to serve too many more years of drudgery in the sewing room.
She could picture herself dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, her hair swept into an elegant chignon, advising Delavigne’s top clients on the latest fashions. She would have her own desk with a little gilt chair, and a team of assistants who would call her Mademoiselle Meynardier and jump to her every command.
The supervisor flicked on the electric lights, illuminating the room where several of the girls were starting to put away their things for the day, stowing their scissors and pincushions and thimbles in their bags and hanging up their white coats on the row of pegs beside the door. Unlike Claire, most of them had homes in the city to go to and they were in a hurry to get back to their families and their evening meals.
Mademoiselle Vannier paused as she passed behind Claire’s chair, reaching out a hand for the skirt. She held it up to the harsh glare of the bare bulbs overhead so that she could inspect the garment closely. Her lips, which were already pleated with deep lines – the inevitable consequence of her age and her twenty-a-day cigarette habit – concertinaed into even deeper creases as she pursed her mouth in concentration. Finally, she gave an abrupt nod and handed the skirt back to Claire. ‘Press it and hang it up, then you may pack up your things too.’
Mademoiselle Vannier had always made it clear that those who enjoyed the privilege of being accommodated in the apartment upstairs at the couture house were at her beck and call until she decided that their work was over for the day, even if sometimes that meant working late into the evenings on important commissions. Claire was annoyed at being made, as usual, to stay later than the other seamstresses and, in the haste born of her irritation, she caught the soft skin on the inside of her wrist against the edge of the hot iron. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out at the searing pain of the burn. Any fuss would only attract the attention of Mademoiselle Vannier again and then her departure would be delayed by yet another scolding for not taking proper care over her work.
She hung the skirt on the clothes rail for the night, smoothing the softly stippled texture of the tweed over its russet silk lining and admiring the way the contrasting braid flattered the waistline. It was a beautifully classic design, typical of Delavigne’s work, and her own tiny, neat stitches were as good as invisible, befitting the elegance of the garment. The matching jacket was being finished off by the tailor and the new suit would soon be ready for delivery to its owner.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs and the door opening made Claire turn to see who it was, thinking it must be one of the other dressmakers who had forgotten something and come back to fetch it.
But the figure standing in the doorway wasn’t one of the seamstresses. It was another girl, whose dark curls surrounded a face grown so thin and pale that it took Claire a few moments to recognise who it was.
Mademoiselle Vannier spoke first. ‘Mireille!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve returned!’ She took a step towards the figure in the doorway, but then stopped and regained her usual formal demeanour. ‘So you decided to come back, did you? Very well, we shall be pleased to have another pair of hands. Your room upstairs is empty. Claire can help you make up your bed. And has Esther also returned with you?’
Mireille shook her head, pressing one hand against the door frame as if she needed the support. And then she spoke, her voice rough with sorrow. ‘Esther is dead.’
She swayed slightly and the harsh light in the sewing room made the dark circles beneath her eyes look like tender bruises.
There was a shocked silence as Claire and the supervisor absorbed Mireille’s words, and then Mademoiselle Vannier pulled herself together again.
‘Alright, Mireille. You are tired after your journey. This is not the time to talk. Go upstairs now with Claire. Get a night’s sleep and tomorrow you can take your place on the team once more.’ Her tone softened slightly as she added, ‘It is good to have you back.’
Only then did Claire, who had been frozen by the unexpected,