Dancing the Charleston Read online

  ‘I’m sure you have good reason to do so, madam, but it’s against the rules. Obviously you’re a perfect lady and have no sinister intentions, but we get all sorts trying to gain access with big bags and cases, even trunks. Then, when they think the staff are distracted, they appropriate sundry items and stow them in their luggage.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that I’m a thief?’ Aunty asked.

  ‘Of course I’m not, madam. I’m simply explaining why we have this rule about luggage.’ The doorman was still smiling, but his voice was firm.

  He took a step forward, barring her way. He was very tall, at least six foot, and very wide too. Aunty was a foot shorter, very slight, and she’d started to stoop because she sat bent over her sewing ten hours a day. But now she drew herself up as straight as she could and raised her chin.

  ‘I’ll have you know that I have an appointment with the buyer of the children’s outfitters. He is keen to see the garment samples currently packed in my suitcase,’ Aunty fibbed. ‘Now please get out of my way.’ She sounded as imperious as Lady Somerset herself, but to no avail.

  ‘I don’t care if you have an appointment with Sir Woodman Burbidge, our esteemed managing director, himself. Rules are rules. You cannot take that suitcase inside,’ said the doorman.

  ‘What about my carpet bag?’ I asked.

  He looked it up and down. ‘I would say that just about qualifies as a handbag, if a large one. Of course, we would never part a lady from her handbag, miss.’

  ‘Then it’s easy, Aunty! Let’s unpack all the clothes from the suitcase and put them in my bag. I’m sure we can squeeze them in somehow,’ I said eagerly.

  ‘But they’ll get horribly creased! I’ve packed them in tissue paper.’ She turned to the doorman. ‘If I show you the items, perhaps you will understand and make an exception.’

  ‘I can make no exceptions, madam. I thought I’d made that clear,’ he said implacably.

  So, at the entrance to the most famous and exclusive department store in the country, we had to crouch down over the suitcase and transfer every little frock and shirt and romper suit to the carpet bag, while the dogs barked excitedly and the doorman stood over us, arms folded, shaking his head. However, at last he summoned a pageboy to remove the suitcase, seized the gold handle of the door, and opened it wide for us.

  We were in!

  Most astonishing of all were the ladies.

  8

  It was like stepping into a fairy palace. There were glittering glass display cases, marble columns, chandeliers with lights like glass flowers shining over us, and a rich red carpet beneath our feet. It was so spectacular I wouldn’t have been surprised if pairs of hands had come to offer us fruit and wine, as they did in ‘Beauty and the Beast’. But there were no beasts here, only beauties – slim young ladies standing discreetly to attention, while fashionable customers in velvet cloaks and fur stoles drifted languidly, pointing and beckoning.

  Aunty and I wandered from department to department, dazed. We almost forgot why we were there. We found ourselves surrounded by silverware, then handbags, and then astonishing jewellery with shining stones, white and red and green and deep blue.

  ‘Are they real jewels, Aunty?’ I whispered.

  ‘I think they must be,’ she whispered back.

  Even the food departments were like treasure troves, with tall palm trees and shiny tiled floors. There was a vast fish display, with a little fountain refreshing the gleaming scales, and fruit piled into pyramids, each apple polished to perfection, and hothouse peaches and grapes blooming on silver salvers. There were cakes of every kind and shape – tiny fancies decorated with sugared roses and delicate whirls of cream, fruit tarts and almond macaroons, sponge cakes and Swiss rolls, and gateaux and layer cakes, with their flavours listed: orange, chocolate, pineapple, strawberry, coffee, walnut and maraschino.

  ‘What’s maraschino, Aunty?’ I asked.

  ‘I think it might be cherry,’ she said.

  The confectionery department was even more dazzling. There were glass bottles of boiled sweets – tangerine balls, acid drops, barley-sugar nibs, butterscotch cubes – but I was familiar with these from the jars in Mr Berner’s shop. I concentrated on the chocolate displays. I gazed at a shelf of chocolate animals – glossy brown cats and dogs, and even three little bears: Father Bear, Mother Bear and Baby Bear. I ached to own those bears – but how could I ever eat them? And how terrible it would be in the summer, when their ears and snouts started melting and their legs buckled in the heat!

  I moved on to the chocolate selections instead.

  There were splendid big boxes with pictures painted on the lids, chocolates nestling in neat rows inside. Their rich smell filled the room and I could almost taste them on my tongue. It was a long time since I’d had my porridge.

  ‘Could we buy a box of chocolates, Aunty?’ I begged. ‘With my money?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It wouldn’t be a waste, because we’d have a lovely box for hankies or ribbons when we’d eaten all the chocolates,’ I said earnestly.

  ‘Mona, look at the prices,’ Aunty whispered in my ear.

  I looked. The sweetmeat cabinet was ten whole shillings! The princess chocolate assortment, in a box edged with lace and tied with a blue ribbon, was a whole pound! The biggest Japanese lacquer box painted with storks cost two guineas!

  I felt dizzy.

  A gentleman in a white apron and a neat moustache was looking at us sympathetically. ‘Perhaps the little girl might like to sample a chocolate?’ he suggested.

  ‘That’s very kind, but I’m afraid we won’t be buying a box,’ said Aunty.

  ‘That doesn’t matter. Why don’t you try one, dear?’ he said, nodding at me.

  I looked at Aunty pleadingly.

  ‘Very well,’ she said.

  ‘Choose which one you want then,’ he said, smiling.

  It was almost impossible. I went along the vast glass cabinet twice, trying to decide. All the flavours were labelled: Raspberry Cream, Chocolate Peppermint, Hazelnut Whirl, Orange Royale, Seville Dessert, Mocha Walnut …

  ‘Hurry up!’ Aunty hissed.

  ‘Let her take her time,’ said the lovely man with the moustache.

  I chose the Raspberry Cream. It was dimpled like a real raspberry, and when I bit into it, the cream inside was deep red. I stood still, eyes closed, savouring it.

  ‘Say thank you, Mona!’

  I opened my eyes and gazed gratefully at the man. ‘Thank you ever so, ever so much,’ I said. ‘I’ve never eaten anything so wonderful in my entire life.’

  Then Aunty whisked me away, though I wanted to go on gazing at the beautiful chocolates, learning each flavour.

  ‘He’ll think you’re angling for more! It was so kind of him to give you a sample. I hope he won’t get into trouble,’ she said, getting out her hankie.

  I shied away from it.

  ‘But you’ve got chocolate round your mouth!’

  ‘I’ll lick it off. I don’t want to waste a single drop.’

  ‘Well, lick quickly and don’t let anyone see. Come on then, Mona! Let’s find the children’s department.’

  A woman behind the bread counter heard what she’d said and leaned forward. ‘It’s on the first floor, madam. You’ll find the staircase past the next department,’ she said.

  We found the staircase – but it was another electric one, moving upwards all by itself!

  ‘Oh my Lord!’ said Aunty. ‘The whole of London’s been electrified! What a nightmare! I’m not sure I can face it again.’

  Another doorman smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, madam, we have proper staircases at the other end,’ he said, and he even came with us to make sure we didn’t get lost.

  It was the grandest staircase I’d ever seen, much more splendid than the one in Somerset Manor. The steps were wide and spacious, and soared upwards in a graceful curve, with a carved banister to hold onto. Aunty and I walked up together. Aunty was