Free Something Wholesale by Eric Newby Page B

together round the table which had been cleared for the elevenses or the afternoon tea break. At other times Mr Wilkins ignored her. He was aided in this twice daily by Miss Webb, ‘Webbo’ as he called her. She showed a remarkable aptitude for this creative work which belied her homely appearance.
    At such times the atmosphere was heavily charged withinnuendo that it became almost insupportable. But Mr Wilkins was so skilful in handling his inflammatory material that he always contrived to stop it from blowing up until the expiry of the twenty minutes which were allowed to us. The culmination was invariable. Mr Wilkins having brought his fantasy to an outrageous conclusion used to perform what he called ‘the nose trick’ with his tea; Miss Webb, by far the most mysterious occupant of the Stockroom would smile blandly; Lola would go into hysterics with her mouth full of cake and blow crumbs across the table with the despairing cry ‘Oh, Mr Wilkins, you are awful!’; and Miss Stallybrass’s voice would be raised in protest from the outer showroom where she took tea in solitary splendour. ‘Mr Wilkins, will you tell that bloody girl to put a sock in it!’
    Lane and Newby employed two sorts of model girl to show their productions. Professional, free-lance girls who were hired for a fortnight or so each season and of whom, thank God Bertha was an exceptional example, and those, of whom Lola was one, who either lacked the energy to make it a full-time occupation or else were the wrong shape. Besides showing the clothes when buyers appeared, these ‘permanents’ put on finished coats and suits and ‘passed them’ before they were sent out to the shops. Sometimes they found themselves being stuck full of pins when new prototypes were brought down from the workroom; for the remainder of the time they acted as showroom assistants with more or less enthusiasm.
    There was nothing forthcoming about the professionals. The majority were so completely introvert that it was impossible to have coherent speech with them at all. There were two, Rosie and Julie, who were so narcissistic that they used to sit for hours on end as they waited for some customer to arrive, gazing at themselves in the same mirror, scarcely exchanging a word. Once a day they used to measure one another’s behinds.
    ‘You’re a bit larger this morning, sweetie,’ Rosie would say spitefully, and they would both renounce their morning tea.
    Some of the more juvenile model girls who brought a whiff of artfully contrived innocence to the showing of a white ball dress (Who the hell was having a ball in the Autumn of 1945?) possessed mothers of awe-inspiring appearance who used to wait outside the premises for their daughters in order to chaperone them back to Ilford. Sometimes they used to penetrate into the front hall where they sniffed the air suspiciously, fearing some contamination for their off-spring. One look at Miss Gatling usually satisfied them and they would drone on to her about the wickedness of the world and the unsullied reputation of little Annabel, who by the age of seventeen had a thorough appreciation of the commercial value of lascivious virginity.
    Although she was employed to put the coats on and therefore had no need to undress at all, Lola spent an extraordinary amount of time stripped down to her underpants or else half inserted into one of her dresses – a writhing mass of arms and legs, like a female Laocoon. As a result she was always in a state of unreadiness for the simple chores with which Miss Stallybrass entrusted her.
    ‘Lola!’ Miss Stallybrass used to shout in her fruity voice and Lola used to pout and say ‘Bother!’ and toss her head, the most wilful girl in the whole of Lane and Newby’s.
    Some minutes would elapse before Lola was ready to appear in the showroom and when she did so she received a good scolding from Miss Stallybrass. So far as Miss Stallybrass was concerned it was only the shortage of labour,