The Decision by Penny Vincenzi

both with her praise and in giving credit where it was due. Eliza had never got over the sheer heady thrill of hearing Lindy tell Clare Rendlesham – the petrifying Lady Rendlesham of Vogue ’s ‘Young Idea’ – that the idea of sending a cloud of multi-coloured silk scarves together with a simple black shift dress had come from ‘my assistant Eliza’.
    ‘You all right, darling?’ asked Lindy when she got to the office. ‘You look a bit wan.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ said Eliza, ‘absolutely fine, thank you.’
    ‘Good. I want these coats taken over to Audrey Slaughter. I don’t know if they’re young enough for her, but it’s worth a try. And on the way back, you might pop into Ruban’s and buy a few yards of ribbon: white, pale blue and lemon. I’ve got an idea for an advertising shot; kind of weaving them into a model’s hair. Nice for our wedding promotion.’
    ‘It sounds lovely,’ said Eliza. She loved going into Ruban de Paris, just off Hanover Square, with its rows and racks of ribbons and buttons.
    Audrey Slaughter, an inspired young editor, had just launched Honey , the first-ever magazine for that new social curiosity, the teenager, and moreover was persuading the big stores to open up Honey Boutiques within their fashion departments, stocking the kind of trendy, young clothes that teenagers would want to buy, rather than near-replicas of what their mothers wore. She liked the coats but said she really couldn’t use them, that they were a bit too grown up and certainly too expensive, that no teenager would ever buy them.
    ‘Pity though, they have a really nice line. I haven’t seen anything quite so sharp anywhere.’
    Eliza reported this to Lindy, who sighed.
    ‘It’s a problem for us. Of course Vogue and Queen sometimes do young fashion, but for the most part our young clothes are ruled out of court as being too expensive. It’s such a shame.’
    ‘The customers buy them though,’ said Eliza. ‘Surely that’s what matters?’
    ‘We-ell, not as often as I’d like. We just don’t have many young customers, really. And the perception of Woolfe’s is still very much for the mothers rather than the daughters. And I can’t get as much publicity as I need to change that view.’
    ‘Couldn’t you get some younger clothes made up, that were just a bit cheaper?’ said Eliza. And then, ‘Sorry, sacrilege I know, Woolfe’s isn’t about cheap, of course.’
    ‘Well – maybe not complete sacrilege,’ said Lindy after a long silence. ‘Not even sacrilege at all, actually. In fact you might’ve given me an idea, Eliza. I need to think it through a bit, but meanwhile let’s have those ribbons. And I can try this idea out on your hair.’
    ‘Please do,’ said Eliza and sat feeling almost unbearably excited as Lindy wove yellow ribbons into her hair. She had given Lindy an idea! If only the rest of your life could be as good as work.
    ‘Oh, God. Here we go. Turbulence ahead. Now they’ll all be sick. Oh, the glamorous life of the air stewardess. Scarlett, it’s your turn to collect.’
    Scarlett didn’t mind. She loved her job so much that even collecting and emptying sick bags was bearable. She still adored it, even now she’d been doing it for two years.
    Her training, the six weeks in digs near the airport, seemed like a dream from another age. She’d been so nervous, felt so inadequate; now she was self-confident and easy in any situation the job threw at her.
    She had made one particularly good friend on the course, a girl called Diana Forbes, who had gone to a private school, had a brother at Cambridge, and spoke with an impeccable accent; she had teased Scarlett out of the social anxieties she had confided to her late one night over one too many gin and tonics.
    ‘Scarlett, honestly! All that class stuff is completely out of date. I’m surprised at you.’
    Scarlett didn’t say that it might be out of date if you were like Diana and right there at the top to start