Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

“I am very happy to meet you, Mevrouw Van der Hoven,” she said in her best velvety, Russian voice.

“And I am delighted to meet you, Madame Koska,” said the girl in a high-pitched but pleasant voice without a trace of accent. “Madame Golitsyn told me so much about your establishment! I was so excited when she said that you might consider me for the position of a mannequin! I would be so honored! Oh, please consider me!”

“Consider you? My dear, vith the vay you look, it is as good as arranged,” said Madame Koska. “Ven can you start?”

“Why, right away, Madame Koska. Anytime you like! Now!”

“Even vithout talking about terms?” asked Madame Koska, amused by the girl’s innocent enthusiasm.

“Oh, I don’t care about all that,” said Gretchen with childish disregard for the prosaic side of life. “I just want to be a mannequin… to wear these heavenly clothes, to meet all these interesting people! And I know you will take good care of me, you are a friend of Madame Golitsyn, after all.”

“In vhich case, let me introduce you to a few people… excuse us, Anna.”

Madame Golitsyn smiled happily as she returned to her niece. “So all is well?” asked Natalya.

“Oh, yes, they liked each other right away. I am happy to find Gretchen a good place, she needs to start growing up and learning some independence,” said Madame Golitsyn. “She is so child-like.”

“But she is so incredibly beautiful,” said Natalya without the slightest touch of envy. “She would have done well at the Tsar’s court.”

“Try to forget those days, Natalya. You must live in the present. Here comes Gretchen and Madame Koska. I think Madame Koska wants to introduce the two of you.”

Introductions were soon made, and chatting in French, the two girls seemed to have quite a lot to talk about, mostly about their future work together. Madame Koska drew her friend aside and looked carefully around to make sure no one was listening.

“Anna,” she said very quietly. “I won’t be able to keep up the façade here in London. I simply have to learn Russian. In Paris, everyone talked French. Here, it’s another matter altogether. I will be caught.”

“Well, you learned French when you came there,” said Madame Golitsyn. “You can learn Russian. It’s not too difficult, and you already mastered the accent.”

“I’ll need a teacher. You don’t have the time to teach me, you are too busy with the catering,” said Madame Koska.

“How about Natalya? I am sure you could trust her with the secret. She is trustworthy.”

“No, it won’t do. She will be working for me; people will notice the added connection, no. I need to find a discreet, good teacher who is not connected to the world of fashion. You know plenty of Russians, can you think of someone?”

“Yes, of course,” said Madame Golitsyn with a smile. “I know just the right person. He is of a very noble family, and was a priest. But he was dismissed from the priesthood after a romantic scandal…”

“ Mon Dieu! ” said Madame Koska, aghast.

“It was not his fault, really,” said Madame Golitsyn, smiling. “He was simply fawned over by the women. He used to be extraordinarily handsome when he was young, and he just succumbed to it. It’s all in the past. Of course he is older now, and very respectable. He makes his living teaching languages, Russian, French, German, Italian…”

“Very well,” said Madame Koska. “I would like to meet and arrange it with him. You are sure he can be trusted with the secret?”

“Absolutely,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Just don’t blame me if you fall in love. All his students do.”

Madame Koska laughed. “No, no, Annushka. He will fall in love with me!” she said, and the ladies giggled like two schoolgirls as they rejoined the party.

“No trouble at all,” said Madame Koska. “I vill be over this afternoon at three, as you vish, Lady Victoria. Thank you for your trust in my establishment.” She hung up the telephone and walked over to the sewing room; everyone looked up from their work.

“Ladies,” she announced, “I have good news. Very good news indeed. Lady Victoria Ashton-Smith vants us to create an evening gown. A little later, she plans to order more garments. In other vords, a big part of her new vardrobe.”

The women nodded with appreciation. You never know with a new establishment, the first couple of years are dangerous. They trusted Madame Koska’s business sense, but still, if she failed, there were not too many jobs around, and her place promised to be good and steady—if it stayed in business.

“I have to leave here at two… someone vill have to answer the telephone.” She looked around and her eyes fell on Gretchen, who had nothing to do unless someone came for a fitting or to look at clothes. Gretchen would not go home, though, and preferred to stay all day and help out since, as she told Madame Koska, at home things were boring, but the atelier represented Life. And as she was always happy to fetch, carry, look under the table for lost buttons or beads, thread needles, and sweep all the bits and pieces of fabric and thread off the floor, Madame Koska did not have the heart to send her home. Besides, she had a new idea. She looked at the girl. Her amber-colored hair was carelessly tucked up, she was wearing a striped seamstress smock at least two sizes too big, and yet she looked as beautiful as ever.

“Miss Van der Hoven,” she said, “From now on, I vould like you to answer the telephone vhen I go out.”

“But, but… but that would be as if I am a vendeuse,” Gretchen murmured, clearly alarmed by the honor bestowed on her.

“So? I have seen you talking to people. You can talk to anyone. Come along into the front room.” Gretchen followed meekly.

“Look, Miss Van der Hoven, you have nothing to do until ve start the real collection and the big shows. Vhy not try to vork as a vendeuse? Of course you von’t deal vith money issues, you are like a baby vith money, but you can fix appointments in the book, and be nice to the clients on the phone, right?”

“Yes! I can!” Gretchen suddenly smiled with renewed courage. “Why not? I can talk! I like to talk!”

“Exactly… and it von’t hurt you to learn a bit of the business side. Of course, you are so beautiful that you vill probably marry soon, but just in case… no one is a mannequin forever, but a vendeuse, now this is a real trade.”

“I will have to wear nice clothes all the time, right, Madame Koska? Not the smocks?”

Madame Koska smiled indulgently. “Yes, you vill sit in the front, be nicely dressed, and vhen the ladies come in, you vill greet them politely.”

“I can do that! Yes!” Gretchen smiled. “Madame Koska, the telephone is ringing… shall I?”

“Yes, try it!”

Gretchen picked up the telephone. “Madame Koska’s Establishment,” she said sweetly and without the slightest hesitation. “May I help you? Yes, she is here. Who may I say is calling?”

Her manner is as polished as can be, thought Madame Koska, surprised. But she had no time to ponder since Gretchen handed her the receiver, saying quietly, “Mr. Korolenko, Madame Koska.” Madame Koska took the receiver, shrugging her shoulders and raising her eyebrows to indicate she had no idea who it was. Must be a potential supplier, she thought, since the all the clients were women, naturally enough. “Yes, Mr. Korolenko?” Gretchen left the room with utmost discretion. Yes, she would do very well, Madame Koska thought. The girl was carefully brought up, excellent manners…

“Oh,” said Madame Koska after listening for a second. “Just one minute, Mr. Korolenko. Let me shut the door…” The seamstresses heard her murmured conversation behind the closed door. After a few minutes Madame Koska opened it again.