Free Beads, Boys and Bangles by Sophia Bennett

think the process would be: design dress, make dress, sell dress. Which doesn’t necessarily take much time at all. But when it comes to a new high-street collection, it gets more complicated. Crow’s bit is OK: design dress. But then the Miss Teen people have to make pattern for dress, choose fabric for dress, get sample of dress, check fit of dress in several different sizes, get new sample of dress, order production of dress, advertise dress, put dress on their website, and a whole bunch of other stuff that explains why their headquarters looks as if it’s designed to run an airline, or a small country, ratherthan some shops selling cute stuff for teenagers. This is why they need ‘lead times’.
    But Amanda hasn’t finished yet. She’s still looking at the designs and sucking her teeth.
    ‘Also, they’re not as commercial as I was expecting. They’re just too . . .’
    ‘Busy?’ suggests Kazuko.
    ‘Complex?’ adds one of the boys.
    ‘Undoable?’ sighs another.
    ‘They’ve got zips,’ I point out, feeling a bit lost. ‘And buttons.’
    ‘Lloyd means we can’t do them,’ Amanda says. ‘Not in vast quantities. Not at the right price points.’
    I nod wisely again. We business managers understand all about price points. Actually, I really do. I’d forgotten, but Crow’s designs have to retail for very specific amounts. So much for a tee-shirt. So much for a dress. So much for a skirt. And that’s what the shop sells them for. They have to be made for a fraction of that. Which can’t be done if they’re covered in sequins, lace and feathers.
    Everyone just sits around the table, looking at each other, sighing.
    Crow squeezes my hand again. She looks dazed and deflated – even the butterflies in her hair seem to be drooping slightly – and for once she doesn’t seem to have any bright ideas to fix the problem.
    Now doesn’t seem the ideal time to bring up the wholechild labour issue.
    ‘And by the way,’ Amanda adds, through the sighing, ‘we’ve also got to deal with this child labour issue.’
    Oh help.
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes, really.’ She’s starting to look less like a favourite aunt and more like my headmistress. ‘We’re already getting lots of questions about our ethical policy. And most of the people mention No Kidding, or that Sunday Times piece, or Edie’s website, or all three. They actually believe these rumours about children being used to sew.’
    ‘I see,’ I say. ‘It’s really difficult. I mean, I know you’ve got people who go and visit the factories to check and everything, but—’
    Amanda cuts me off.
    ‘We have. And they do a good job. Can you get your friend to say so publicly and put an end to this nonsense? Our clothes are made by adult workers who are paid a proper wage.’
    I gulp. Amanda doesn’t usually sound like this. Where are the amazings and wonderfuls and gorgeouses? Where did ‘nonsense’ come from?
    ‘We’ll see what we can do,’ I whisper.
    For the first time in ages, she smiles again. ‘Thanks. I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. And I’m sure Crow can rethink the sketches and come up with something a bit simpler and more workable in a week or so. Can’t you, Crow?’
    ‘Yes,’ we say. ‘No,’ we think.
    This is SO not amazing and wonderful.
    Five minutes later, we’re standing back outside Miss Teen on Oxford Street and I can’t believe it all just happened.
    ‘Are you OK?’ I ask Crow.
    She shrugs and frowns and hesitates for a moment, before shrugging a bit more.
    I know what she means.

‘ P rice points? Let me get this straight. PRICE POINTS?’
    ‘Yes,’ I say nervously. ‘You see, if they can’t sell them for the right amount of money, people won’t . . .’
    ‘Children are being used as SLAVES. Working SIXTEEN-HOUR DAYS. In filthy back rooms. No breaks. No play. No school. And you’re worried about PRICE POINTS?’
    ‘Not me. Amanda.’
    Edie isn’t taking this as well as I hoped. I thought I’d phone her