Chapters (60)
- The Wedding Dress Maker
- Also by Leah Fleming
- The Wedding Dress Maker
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- 1
- A Wednesday Afternoon in May 1949
- Early on Friday Morning
- September 1937
- May 1949, Friday
- September 1939
- May 1949, Friday
- Dressing Miss Forsyth, June 1942
- May 1949, Friday
- 2
- Rae, 1944
- Summer 1944
- May 1949, Friday
- August 1944
- May 1949, Friday
- Ten Days in March 1945
- On The Tenth Day, 1945
- May 1949, Friday at Noon
- Park Royal, Spring 1945
- May 1949, Saturday Morning
- 3
- Snapshots from The Royal, 1945
- May 1949, Saturday Morning
- Hogmanay, 1945
- A Secret Outing
- Saturday, Midday on Shap Fell, 1949
- 4
- February 1946
- Nothing To Write Home About, March 1946
- Homeward Bound, July 1946
- Saturday Afternoon in Kendal, 1949
- 5
- In the Winter of 1947
- The Texas Rangers, Autumn 1947
- Spring 1948
- Saturday Teatime in Kendal, 1949
- 6
- Dancing on the Green, Summer 1948
- Showdown
- Christmas 1948
- Window Shopping in Kendal, May 1949
- 7
- Into 1949
- Forks in the Path, March 1949
- Late Afternoon in Kendal, May 1949
- 8
- The Same Saturday Afternoon at Brigg Farm
- Staying On, June 1949
- 9
- Back to Griseley, June 1949
- On Carrick Sands, September 1949
- Acknowledgements
- Author the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
Netta dreaded that first meeting with Polly after the outbreak. She did not know what she was going to say to her. The girl came up the stairs in the cottage looking like crumpled linen, in an over-large smock with pins already lined up on her chest like medals. She’d brought her dolly bag containing a clean handkerchief and a silver thimble. Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed, hair scraped back in a dancer’s ponytail making her face look pale and pinched and her ears stick out. Netta ushered her into the workroom amongst the other silent girls, trying to put them at ease. Just watch what I do and ask whenever you see me doing something you don’t understand.
‘Yes, miss.’
‘Mrs Hunter will do, Polly. Tell me where you learned to do such lovely embroidery?’
‘My granny, Miss… er, Mrs Hunter. She taught me to do tatting, crochet work and lace. She was a ladies’ maid and did alterations, but then her fingers swelled up into sausages and she couldn’t hold a needle so she taught me. She died…’
‘And your mother, could she sew?’
‘No, miss, she just stayed in the back kitchen baking. Lily liked baking.’
‘And your father? What did he do?
‘Dunno, miss, can’t remember much about him.’ Polly bent her head, embarrassed by this grilling in front of the others.
‘I was so sorry to hear about Jack…’
‘It’s OK.’
‘How’s Lily?’
‘She’s OK now.’ And that was the sum of conversation that Netta could raise from Polly Liddell, but her concentration and interest were like blotting paper, soaking up all the sights and tasks. Netta recognised another who was losing her sorrows in her work.
She showed them some fashion magazines where the New Look was at last hitting bridal fashions and customers were clamouring for full or ballerina-length bell-shaped skirts, with tight-fitting waists in the Christian Dior padded style. Pathé News was a great inspiration too, showing the latest Paris collections. Shawl collars and off-the-shoulder dresses with boned bodices were much in demand, with beading and lace trimmings. Beryl wanted to make a straight skirt with a kick pleat at the back.
Netta started them off by making fancy bows, showing them how to line and stiffen the bow, to shape and design it for different lengths and effects. Polly was a stickler for detail and more interested in fancy embellishments than overall design. They were going to make a good team if Polly could relax into her sewing, but now was not the moment to pursue the matter.