Even as Diane said, ‘Please do,’ Unity pulled her top over her head and wriggled neatly out of velvet jeans, unselfconscious in bra and pants as she slid the dress from the hanger, undid the side zip and pulled the fabric over her head. Diane zipped it up for her as Unity fluffed out her hair, then slipped into her heeled mules and went to the wall mirror.
Diane crossed her fingers. And then her ankles. She ought to be doing something more constructive, telling Unity that it could’ve been made for her, it flattered her, that her svelte figure and endless legs did wonders for the dress and she ought to have been a model. But Unity didn’t need Diane to say any of those things. The mirror had already said it.
‘Wow, it even gives me a bust,’ exclaimed Unity. ‘I love it.’
By the time Unity had looked at every garment, trying on a blouse and a skirt along the way, Diane was beginning to dare to get a good feeling.
‘I think we’ve earned a break.’ At last, Unity moved towards the kitchen area. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, I would,’ said Diane, frankly. ‘Strong with no sugar, please.’
Obligingly, Unity gave her the cup with the tea bag still floating in it, and they sat down at the table. Unity was drinking a pale brew, camomile or lemon or something equally healthy.
‘This is all autumn stuff and I’ll have no room on my racks for it,’ she said, waving her hand at the clothes spaced along the length of the rail.
Diane’s heart began a long, slow swallow-dive to the pit of her guts.
For an instant, hot tears pricked under her eyelids. She’d become sure that Unity would takesomething, even if were only the dress for her own wardrobe. She’d even planned to make a gift of it as a sweetener. Misery rushed in to swamp her and she dipped her face to her tea mug so that Unity wouldn’t see.
‘But it’s so good, and so well-made, so original, that I want to have it anyway, if we can come to terms.’
Miraculously, Diane’s eyes cleared and her head shot up. ‘What? All of it? Um, I mean, yes, let’s talk.’
‘Ideally I want at least one of everything in sizes 8 to 18 but I’ll settle for 10 to 16 if it’s too short notice. And if you can give me two of 10, 12 and 14 in the jacket, I’ll snatch your arm off. And can you get some new sew-in labels made?DRJis nothingy; how do you feel aboutDiane Jenner Original? I want to sell them top end so we need to push the individuality angle.’ She grabbed a pad and pen and began a series of calculations. Then she turned the pad to face Diane. ‘Look, this is what I’m in the market for paying. I think these figures are reasonable and I’m going to devote a bit of shop space to you. I’ll need delivery, latest, absolute latest, by mid-September. Are you selling your stuff through any other local shops?’
Diane’s lips had gone stiff with shock, but she managed, ‘Rowan’s in Peterborough.’
‘Can you stop?’
‘Yes. The relationship isn’t satisfactory, that’s why I’m approaching you.’
Unity frowned. ‘I don’t want anyone else local selling you, ideally. They might undercut me. I’ll give you another ten pounds on each garment if you don’t sell to anyone else in a 50-mile radius of this shop.’
Slowly Diane nodded. She sipped some of her tea, the teabags bobbing against her lips. ‘What about customer commissions?’
Unity shrugged. ‘Yes, OK, small, direct-to-customer commissions are the exception. I take a full-page ad in the local paper at the beginning of each season, so we’ll launch Diane Jenner Originals in the autumn one. Will it be OK to have a pic of you and like a news flash about how well you’re doing and how lucky we are to be able to buy your original garments locally?’
‘I … I expect so.’ This was beginning to seem like a dream.
‘Are you going to be able to handle the order?’
Diane gathered herself. ‘Yes. These are only garments, there’s no hand embroidery and not much beading – that’s what takes the time when I’m doing customer commissions. And I’ll use help for the basic stuff, you know – cutting out, tacking in interfacing, sewing on buttons. My daughter’s just come home from Brazil, she might want to help.’
Unity’s eyes were gleaming. ‘Embroidery? In a few weeks we’ll have to start talking about Christmas, and embroidery, beading and lace will be snapped up. Do you produce drawings?’
Diane thought of her children’s sketch book full of line drawings, a bit wonky sometimes. ‘Not what you’d calldrawings. Not like on a commercial pattern.’
‘Can we have an ideas meeting, in that case? Say at the end of August?’
‘I’m sure I can fit that in.’ Diane could scarcely believe it was her speaking.
‘I think this is going to work,’ Unity mused. ‘Lots of my ladies will go for a fresh, exclusive but local designer.’
Diane let out a strangled laugh. ‘Let’s hope so.’
Unity helped her gather up and re-cover the garments before seeing her to the door of the shop. ‘Where did you do your training, by the way?’
Diane grinned. ‘Which? The A-level needlework or the evening class in pattern-cutting?’
