Hadn’t they heard of the ‘New Look’ in the fashion magazines? Christian Dior was the talk of the trade. Netta had scoured the fashion magazines when she first began to hear of this bombshell exploding in Paris. Christian Dior’s look was rocking fashion houses all over the world. He was doing the unthinkable, lowering skirts, shaping women into tiny waists and full bosoms, using yards and yards of tulle and taffeta to plump out skirts into bells.

‘I think his designs are disgusting, emphasising curves in such a suggestive manner… a waste of materials, such decadent ideas,’ condemned Miss Venables. ‘Our father would turn in his grave to see such a betrayal of wartime spirit. It won’t catch on. Our ladies have more sense!’ Netta said nothing about seeing the latest newsreel pictures and how his ideas were taking fashion by storm in London. She wanted to be the first girl on the High Street to sport such advanced fashion and stayed up all weekend to run up a printed cotton dress with a tight bodice and full skirt which hovered just above her ankles. If only she was a real designer she could grab these ideas and translate them into the most wonderful ball gowns and wedding dresses too. Make everyday women glamorous and feminine again. She wrote to Brigg Farm to tell them all about her new position and turned up for work on the brightest of mornings, knowing that her visit home was only two weeks away.

‘Take that off at once, Jeanette Hunter. You look ridiculous. Don’t make such a spectacle of yourself. Whatever next!’ Her new outfit was banished to the workroom and it was on with the uniform once more. But she was going to wear it for Gus when she stepped off the train.

*

Neither Peg nor Angus could see the point of her dressmaking idea. ‘It’s all a bit of an airy-fairy scheme. Why don’t you stay in this dress shop and be done with it?’ argued Peg.

‘But anyone can run a dress shop. I want to make clothes out of my head. The world has gone wild with the New Look and Royal wedding fever, or hasn’t it reached these parts yet?’

Peg shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s all one tae me, lassie. You should ken, there’s mair to marriage than dressing up, Princess or no!’

‘Oh, Peg, don’t be a wet blanket!’

‘Better a wet blanket than living with ma head stuffed in the clouds. It’ll take more than a bit of confetti and ribbon to make yer fortune. It changes nothing.’

‘Nothing… what?’ asked Netta, not catching her meaning.

‘Gus stays here with us where he’s settled. You’re in no position to take on a kiddie with all they daft schemes of yours.’