The Dressmaker of Dachau. Mary Chamberlain

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СКАЧАТЬ know where you work,’ he said. ‘I will drop you a line.’

      He clicked his heels, lifted his hat and turned. She watched as he walked back down Piccadilly. She’d tell her parents she was working late.

      *

      Martinis, Pink Ladies, Mint Juleps. Ada grew to be at ease in the Café Royal, and the Savoy, Smith’s and the Ritz. She bought rayon in the market at trade price and made herself some dresses after work at Mrs B.’s. Cut on the bias, the cheap synthetic fabrics emerged like butterflies from a chrysalis and hugged Ada into evening elegance. Long gloves and a cocktail hat. Ada graced the chicest establishments with confidence.

      ‘Swept you off your feet, he has,’ Mrs B. would say each Friday as Ada left work to meet Stanislaus. Mrs B. didn’t like gentlemen calling at her shop in case it gave her a bad name, but she saw that Stanislaus dressed well and had class, even if it was foreign class. ‘So be careful.’

      Ada twisted rings from silver paper and paraded her left hand in front of the mirror when no one was looking. She saw herself as Stanislaus’s wife, Ada von Lieben. Count and Countess von Lieben. ‘I hope his intentions are honourable,’ Mrs B.’d said. ‘Because I’ve never known a gentleman smitten so fast.’

      Ada just laughed.

      *

      ‘Who is he then?’ her mother said. ‘If he was a decent fellow, he’d want to meet your father and me.’

      ‘I’m late, Mum,’ Ada said. Her mother blocked the hallway, stood in the middle of the passage. She wore Dad’s old socks rolled down to her ankles, and her shabby apron was stained in front.

      ‘Bad enough you come home in no fit state on a Friday night, but now you’ve taken up going out in the middle of the week, whatever next?’

      ‘Why shouldn’t I go out of an evening?’

      ‘You’ll get a name,’ her mother said. ‘That’s why. He’d better not try anything on. No man wants second-hand goods.’

      Her mouth set in a scornful line. She nodded as if she knew the world and all its sinful ways.

      You know nothing, Ada thought.

      ‘For goodness sake,’ Ada said. ‘He’s not like that.’

      ‘Then why don’t you bring him home? Let your father and I be the judge of that.’

      He’d never have set foot inside a two-up two-down terrace that rattled when the trains went by, with a scullery tagged on the back and an outside privy. He wouldn’t understand that she had to sleep in the same bed with her sisters, while her brothers lay on mattresses on the floor, the other side of the dividing curtain Dad had rigged up. He wouldn’t know what to do with all those kids running about. Her mother kept the house clean enough but sooty grouts clung to the nets and coated the furniture and sometimes in the summer the bugs were so bad they had to sit outside in the street.

      Ada couldn’t picture him here, not ever.

      ‘I have to go,’ Ada said. ‘Mrs B. will dock my wages.’

      Her mother snorted. ‘If you’d come in at a respectable time,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t be in this state now.’

      Ada pushed past her, out into the street.

      ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ her mother yelled for all the neighbours to hear.

      *

      She had to run to the bus stop, caught the number 12 by the skin of her teeth. She’d had no time for breakfast and her head ached. Mrs B. would wonder what had happened. Ada had never been late for work before, never taken time off. She rushed along Piccadilly. The June day was already hot. It would be another scorcher. Mrs B. should get a fan, cool the shop down so they weren’t all picking pins with sticky fingers.

      ‘Tell her, Ada,’ one of the other girls said. Poisonous little cow called Avril, common as a brown penny. ‘We’re all sweating like pigs.’

      ‘Pigs sweat,’ Ada had said. ‘Gentlemen perspire. Ladies glow.’

      ‘Get you,’ Avril said, sticking her finger under her nose.

      Avril could be as catty as she liked. Ada didn’t care. Jealous, most likely. Never trust a woman, her mother used to say. Well, her mother was right on that one. Ada had never found a woman she could call her best friend.

      The clock at Fortnum’s began to strike the quarter hour and Ada started to run, but a figure walked out, blocking her way.

      ‘Thought you were never coming.’ Stanislaus straddled the pavement in front of her, arms stretched wide like an angel. ‘I was about to leave.’

      She let out a cry, a puppy whine of surprise. He’d come to meet her, before work. She knew she was blushing, heat prickling her cheeks. She fanned her hand across her face, thankful for the cool air. ‘I’m late for work,’ she said. ‘I can’t chat.’

      ‘I thought you could take the day off,’ he said. ‘Pretend you’re sick or something.’

      ‘I’d lose my job if she ever found out.’

      ‘Get another,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. Stanislaus had never had to work, couldn’t understand how hard she’d struggled to get where she was. Ada Vaughan, from Lambeth, working with a modiste, in Mayfair. ‘How will she find out?’

      He stepped forward and, cupping her chin in his hand, brushed his lips against hers. His touch was delicate as a feather, his fingers warm and dry round her face. She leant towards him, couldn’t help it, as if he was a magnet and she his dainty filings.

      ‘It’s a lovely day, Ada. Too nice to be cooped up inside. You need to live a little. That’s what I always say.’ She smelled cologne on his cheeks, tart, like lingering lemon. ‘You’re late already. Why bother going in now?’

      Mrs B. was a stickler. Ten minutes and she’d dock half a day’s wages. Ada couldn’t afford to lose that much money. There was a picnic basket on the pavement beside Stanislaus. He’d got it all planned.

      ‘Where had you in mind?’

      ‘Richmond Park,’ he said. ‘Make a day of it.’

      The whole day. Just the two of them.

      ‘What would I say to her?’ Ada said.

      ‘Wisdom teeth,’ Stanislaus said. ‘That’s always a good one. That’s why there are so many dentists in Vienna.’

      ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

      ‘It’s a toff’s complaint.’

      She’d have to remember that. Toffs had wisdom teeth. Somebodies had wisdom teeth.

      ‘Well,’ she hesitated. She’d lost half a day’s wages already. ‘All right then.’ Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

      ‘That’s my Ada.’ He picked up СКАЧАТЬ