Anne Douglas (8 page)

‘I’m keen,’ Shona agreed, and as her pencil seemed to take on new fluency, she began to write of how she’d always liked plants and trees when she’d lived in the Dean Village, and of how she’d then learned to love flowers in the gardens of Edina Lodge. Though she had no experience of working in a florist’s, she was very willing to learn and hoped very much that she would be considered for the post with Maybel’s.

‘There!’ she cried, laying down her pencil. ‘Think it’s all right, Miss Ruddick?’

‘I do, it’s very good. Perhaps you might add that references will be provided? From Miss Bryce, of course, and maybe one of your teachers?’

‘Oh, yes, the headmaster gives references if we need them.’

Some of her euphoria fading, Shona gazed at Miss Ruddick. ‘I’m very grateful for your help,’ she said quietly. ‘But it might all be too late, eh? There might be no job to apply for.’

‘We must look on the bright side,’ Miss Ruddick answered briskly. ‘I don’t think myself that they will have appointed anybody yet. But now I’ll get you pen and ink and another sheet of paper – I’m afraid you must write your application out all over again.’

The deed was done, the application carefully written in Shona’s best handwriting and left for Miss Bryce to study tomorrow and then do what she thought best.

‘Probably she’ll telephone the shop and check that there is still a vacancy,’ Miss Ruddick told Shona at the door of the office. ‘If there is, she’ll say something to recommend you and send off your application.’

‘You think she’ll do that?’

‘I’m sure she will. It’s part of her job to see that leavers are settled into work.’ Miss Ruddick gave Shona’s shoulder an encouraging pat. ‘Off you go now – you must have missed most of the recreation period already.’

‘How shall I know if Miss Bryce does what you say?’

‘She’ll tell you, of course. Next thing you know, you might be getting an interview.’

An interview? Shona, searching for Cassie, was delighted at the idea, but then was firm with herself. No thinking about that until it happened. And even if it did, an interview was just that, not a job offer.

‘You’ll get an interview,’ Cassie said with the cheerfulness of one whose job had already been secured. ‘Why shouldn’t you?’

‘Because there won’t just be me wanting to work for Maybel’s.’

‘Still, you had Miss Ruddick to help you apply. She’d be good. Awfully bright, they say.’

‘She’s much nicer than I thought, Cassie. And I was just thinking, when I looked at her, that she’s got a very kind face.’

‘Must’ve been very helpful, for you to say that,’ Cassie laughed. ‘When she first came all you wanted was Miss MacLaren back again!’

‘She was helpful,’ Shona agreed seriously. ‘And I was grateful. Now I’ve got to wait to see if Miss Bryce is helpful, too.’

And she was. As Miss Ruddick had said she might, Miss Bryce rang the shop, discovered that the job was not yet taken, recommended Shona and posted off her application. Three days later, a letter arrived from Maybel’s Flowers, signed by Mrs May, the proprietor, inviting Shona to come for interview on the following Tuesday at 2 p.m.

‘Told you!’ cried Cassie.

All young persons leaving Edina Lodge to begin work were able to choose some clothes from the stores to replace their orphanage uniforms. Suits, or sports jackets and trousers for the boys; costumes in tweed or serge for the girls. Nothing exciting, the girls would complain, nothing fashionable! Still, with no families to provide anything else, they couldn’t grumble, and most of them were going into service just as the boys were going into the army or navy, and would find themselves in other kinds of uniforms anyway.

Shona’s costume, of a rather loose jacket and a longer skirt than she would have liked, was made in dark blue tweed. With it she wore a white blouse with a neat collar and pearl buttons, and a dark blue beret, and on the day of her interview thought she didn’t look too bad. Quite smart, in fact, though rather pale; she was so very nervous.

‘I know it’s no use telling you not to worry,’ said Miss Ruddick, accompanying her to Maybel’s as the time approached two o’clock, ‘but just try to relax and do your best. I’ve every confidence you will.’

‘Thing is, there’ll be plenty of others in for this job,’ Shona pointed out. ‘Maybe more suited than me.’

‘You will be as good as anyone, I’m sure.’

‘But I’ve got to be better.’

‘Better, then.’ Miss Ruddick placed an encouraging hand on Shona’s arm. ‘Remember that. But here we are – here’s the shop. And we’re just ten minutes early. Perfect.’

They halted at the door to Maybel’s, open on that fine summer afternoon, though a striped awning shielded the windows from the sun. Miss Ruddick dropped her hand. ‘I’ll just take you in and introduce you before I leave you, Shona. Then I’ll look round a bit and come back later.’

Strung up as though on wires, Shona could only nod, before following Miss Ruddick into the interior of the flower shop. Where, immediately, strangely, she felt calmed. It was all just as she remembered. Cool, shady, filled with plants and massed containers of flowers, the air moist and scented like no other air in George Street – how it took her back! Back over the years to the time when she’d left her mother and sneaked a look at the lovely shop and been so charmed. Of course, she’d had no right then to be there, whereas now she was expected. But only for an interview, which might or might not go well. Breathing fast, she stood very still, only her eyes moving everywhere.

As soon as she spotted Shona and Miss Ruddick, a young woman with light brown hair wearing a green blouse and skirt stepped forward to ask if she could help, while at the back of the shop a blonde girl, also wearing green, was looking only at Shona. Wondering if she was a candidate, no doubt. But where were all the other people hoping for the job?

Miss Ruddick was introducing herself, saying she was from Edina Lodge, then presenting Shona. ‘This is Shona Murray; she’s come for the interview at two o’clock.’

‘Oh, yes, with Mrs May.’ The brown-haired girl gave Shona a smile. Her face was square and freckled, her eyes brown and friendly. ‘Would you like to come this way? Mrs May is in her office.’

‘I’ll leave you, then,’ Miss Ruddick whispered. ‘Good luck.’

Nodding briefly and holding herself very straight, Shona followed her guide through the front shop, passing the girl at the back, to enter a large office where a slender woman rose from behind a desk.

‘Miss Murray for interview, Mrs May,’ said the young woman, at which Shona’s eyes widened. ‘Miss Murray’? She’d never been called ‘Miss Murray’ in her life before.

‘Thank you, Brigid.’

As Brigid withdrew, Mrs May sat down and motioned to Shona to take a chair opposite her desk. ‘So, you’re from Edina Lodge, Miss Murray?’

Her smile was pleasant, though not particularly warm, Shona thought. Mrs May’s face was too narrow, her mouth too small. Her eyes, like her hair, were almost dark enough to be called black, and her brows, too, were black, though so thin they might have been only pencilled lines. Perhaps they were, for it was obvious that Mrs May, though not young, liked to use make-up, and was one of the few women Shona had met who wore not only bright lipstick but rouge as well.

Still, she was very smart in a grey dress and jacket. So smart, indeed, that Shona had to fight hard not to lose confidence, for she couldn’t see herself appealing at all to anyone like Mrs May. This was not the time to give up, though. Remembering the lovely shop she’d just been through, she found the courage again to be calm.

‘Yes, I’m from the orphanage,’ she replied. ‘They took me in there after my mother died four years ago. My father was killed in the war.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Mrs May’s voice had softened; so had her dark gaze. ‘But I think the orphanage has done well for you. My husband and I, who run Maybel’s, were quite impressed by your application.’

Good news? Good start, anyway. Not sure what to say, Shona gave a polite smile, as Mrs May went on: ‘Although this post is just for a junior assistant, Miss Murray, it’s very important that we get the right person. The successful candidate will be expected to want to train in all aspects of floristry, and Maybel’s has a first-class reputation.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Shona said earnestly.

Mrs May raised her thin eyebrows and smiled. ‘It’s good that you know something about us. I’d like to tell you more. My husband and I founded the business some years ago. We now employ three assistants and a delivery man with a van. We do flowers for weddings, banquets, private parties, all sorts of occasions, as well as serving the public, who might come in to buy a little bouquet. So – as you can see – anyone who joins us will have to work hard, but will also have a wonderful profession.’ Leaning forward, Mrs May fixed Shona with a long, searching gaze. ‘Tell me, is that what you really want?’

‘Yes,’ Shona replied. ‘It’s just what I want.’

‘There isn’t time to go into all the details of what we do, but you’ll realize, of course, that we have to know about what we sell. Everything about flowers and plants, how they grow, when they’re ready, how to care for them, what goes with what, how to put together displays and bouquets, making everything look special. And that’s still what you’d like to do?’

‘Just what I want to do.’

‘Well, then, let’s have another look at your application.’

As Shona lowered her eyes to her clasped hands, Mrs May read quickly through her so carefully written letter. ‘You say here that you learned to love the trees and plants of the Dean Valley, but also the flowers in the gardens of Edina Lodge – which was a well-known Edinburgh garden at one time, I believe. Can you tell me a little more about the flowers? Which ones did you like best, for instance?’

Flowers . . . Oh, Lordy, which ones? Which had she liked best? Suddenly, Shona had a moment of panic. Everything seemed to be going out of her head, yet she knew she must remember, must say something; otherwise it would seem she’d been making everything up in her letter, just to get the job. ‘Roses,’ she gasped. ‘The roses are beautiful.’

‘Roses. Yes. Anything else?’

What else? Why couldn’t she think? She knew the flowers, of course she did, she watched for them every year, blooming in their season . . .

‘There were so many,’ she stammered. ‘It’s – hard – to pick ones out –’

Mrs May said nothing. Just waited.

And then, like an answer to a prayer, an image came into Shona’s mind. An image of a tree, covered in white flowers that were not exactly flowers, more like leaves, yet not only leaves, either. Sitting up in her chair her strength returned to her, and she knew what she must say. ‘I think my real favourite in the garden does have flowers, but they’re leaves as well, growing on a tree. It’s called the Handkerchief Tree.’

A little spark seemed to flash in Mrs May’s dark eyes, and up rose her eyebrows again in a kind of wonder. ‘You know the Handkerchief Tree? That’s very unusual; I didn’t know they had one in that garden. Do you happen to know what those strange flowers are called?’

Yes, Shona knew. Mark had told her, on her very first day at Edina Lodge. She’d been eleven. Who’d have thought she’d need to know what he’d told her then all these years later? She almost smiled at the memory, but only said, quietly, ‘They’re called bracts. Leaves that bear flowers.’

And Mrs May for a moment or two seemed to have nothing to say. Then she nodded and rose, Shona with her, and looked at her watch. ‘I think I’ve just time to tell you about the name of the shop before I show you the workroom. In case you’ve been wondering, it is of course made up from our surname, “May”, plus the word “Bel”, which my husband thought would sound like beautiful.’ Mrs May gave a little laugh. ‘We hope it describes our services. Oh, I should mention: you haven’t asked, but we’re offering a wage of eighteen shillings a week, with lunches provided. All right, Miss Murray?’

‘Oh, yes, Mrs May.’

‘Well, now, we’d better make haste if I’m to show you the workroom. I have another candidate to see at a quarter to three. This way, please.’

Another candidate. Quarter to three. Oh, well, she’d always known she wouldn’t be the only applicant. Yet Shona, following Mrs May, was still feeling a slight kick of dismay. As there hadn’t been anyone else around, she’d rather hoped she might have been the only one in for the job. Now, here was definite news of at least one rival. Probably there were others, so what was the point of her seeing a workroom she might never work in? Once again, she had to dig deep for confidence. Who knew what would happen? She might be lucky, eh? Better look interested, then, she told herself, in seeing this workroom.

And it was worth seeing. A light, airy and spacious room with long windows, white walls and a tiled floor. There were fresh flowers standing in tall buckets, bunches of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling, baskets, jugs, metal containers and a wide trestle table covered with rolls of twine, pliers, scissors, wire – everything, Shona supposed, a florist might need. And where a florist was in fact sitting, for here was the blonde girl again, smiling as she trimmed leaves from long stemmed golden flowers.

‘This is Willa, one of our senior assistants,’ said Mrs May, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Willa, this is Miss Murray – Shona, perhaps I might say.’

‘Oh, yes, please!’ said Shona, feeling sudden hope of success at the use of her first name. But then, it might mean nothing at all. There was still this other candidate arriving, at a quarter to three . . .

‘My husband’s had to visit our supplier today,’ Mrs May was saying. ‘Usually he works here on our major displays, and has the most wonderful way with flowers. Willa, will you take Shona back to the front shop and, if the next candidate has arrived, show her into my office, please?’

As Willa leaped up, Mrs May shook Shona by the hand.

‘Thank you for coming, my dear. We’ll be in touch by letter within a few days.’

‘Thank you,’ said Shona. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

So, it was over, her interview. How had she done? She didn’t want to think about it, and didn’t want to see the rival either, but there she was: a pretty girl, dressed in a navy-blue outfit, being escorted away by Willa while Brigid attended to a lady customer, and Miss Ruddick was coming, smiling, through the door.