Glynis Peters - The Secret Orphan

‘I’m afraid it was my fault, sir. I do hope I’ve not hurt your foot.’

The words rushed from Elenor’s mouth. She was so embarrassed and uncomfortable with the situation.

With a loud laugh, the man lifted his foot and wiggled it from the ankle.

‘No harm done. There is nothing of you to have put any pressure on these boots.’

Elenor smiled back, looked down at his large black service boots, then back up to his face – still smiling down at her.

‘It was the door you see. I’ve never, I mean, I don’t …’

‘Like stepping into the lion’s mouth these things. If you don’t get it right the first time, you could be going around and around until the store closes.’

Elenor burst out laughing. Fascinated by the soft accent, she wanted to listen to the man for longer but was aware she had already held him up from entering the store.

‘Well, after you sir. I won’t detain you any longer.’

She went to walk away.

‘But weren’t you going inside miss? Or did you walk out backwards and that’s how we came to meet.’

A twinkle in his eye made Elenor like the uniformed man even more, and she felt her face flush at her foolish behaviour. Her aunt was right, she was a country bumpkin.

She shook her head.

‘I think it safer I stay out of the store. If I have caused this much havoc just trying to get inside, who knows what will happen when I get close to a counter or worse, one of those elegantly dressed statues.’

His laughter rang louder than before and the man bent his hands to his knees.

‘Miss, it has been a long day and you are the fresh air I needed. The statue if I might be so bold, is known as a mannequin in my country, and a young woman so full of grace such as yourself could not possibly cause havoc anywhere.’

He held out his hand to shake hers and she was grateful her gloves hid her calloused hands.

‘Squadron Leader, Samuel Fleming, of North Vancouver, Canada. Pleased to meet you.’

She held out her hand and took his.

‘Elenor Cardew, Miss, of Summercourt, Cornwall. Pleased to meet you.’

‘Cornwall? That’s a fair way from Coventry. I had the pleasure of visiting an air force base for NCO pilot training only last year. Pretty place.’

Elenor nodded with such enthusiasm she felt the muscles in her neck stretch. She had no idea what NCO stood for, but she was not going to set herself up for more embarrassment by asking.

‘It’s beautiful. My family has a farm there, Tre Lodhen, but I am here for a while to care for my aunt. Talking of whom, I will catch the devil’s tail if I don’t carry out her wishes. I must get inside and hand this letter over to a Mrs Green.’

The man put his hand to the rotating door.

‘Now we have been introduced, I think it is safe for us to travel onto the other side together. After you.’

When they entered the vast building, they were greeted by the smell of beautiful fragrances and leather. Elenor took a step to one side; it was everything she’d imagined.

‘Well, this is where I leave you. I must hunt down a small token to take back to my wife. I hope you complete your mission with Mrs Green in good time. Good day.’

When he saluted her Elenor felt like a princess.

‘Thank you, sir.’ She gave a giggle. ‘Thank you for helping me, I no longer fear the exit journey.’

She watched as he walked away, tall, upright and confident. A posture to mimic if she was to get through the store. She had already noticed the side glances from customers and staff alike.

With a fake air of confidence Elenor approached a member of staff and held out the envelope.

‘Excuse me, I need to hand this to Mrs Green?’

The member of staff looked her up and down and held out a gloved hand.

‘I’ll take it to her. Thank you.’

Putting her hand back down beside her hip, Elenor straightened her back.

‘I’m afraid it is for the attention of Mrs Green only. It’s from Mrs Matthews, Stephenson Road.’

With an impatient sigh the sales woman pointed to a stern looking female on the other side of the shop and walked away.

‘Mrs Green?’ Elenor asked the plump middle-aged woman in a smart suit casting a watchful eye over the shop floor.

‘What can I do for you, young lady?’

Although her appearance came across as stern, her smile portrayed a softer side.

‘A letter from my aunt, Mrs Matthews.’

She handed over the envelope and hesitated about what to do next.

‘I think there is an instruction for you to help me purchase an outfit. Although, I now realise she’s not given me any money to purchase anything. Perhaps I should return later.’

Mrs Green pulled out a pair of round spectacles from her pocket and opened the letter. ‘Well, young lady, it appears you are to have two sensible outfits for the season. A pair of shoes. A stepping out ensemble – I do love her old-fashioned ways – and a warm coat. Sensible over fashion are her words.’

Elenor gave her a quizzical look.

‘But how am I to pay you? I think I need to return home and come back with my aunt another day.’ An unexpected tear dripped from the tip of Elenor’s nose.

A guiding arm went around her shoulder when Mrs Green ushered her into a small cubicle with a chair.

‘Sit there dear. I will call one of my assistants. Here, use this, it is better than the hem of your frock.’ She gave a reassuring smile as she handed over a cotton handkerchief.

Elenor sat in the comfortable chair and waited.

When the curtain pulled back, Elenor jumped to her feet.

‘This is Sally and she will take your measurements. I assume you will require undergarments?’

Still wondering how she was to pay for one item let alone the many suggested, Elenor gave a shy nod of her head.

‘Everything. But …’ she whispered.

‘Fetch me all I need, Sally. And this is to go onto Mrs Matthews’ account. Her niece is to be assisted by you personally. Miss Cardew, you are happy to have Sally help you?’

‘Yes, Mrs Green. And thank you, Sally.’

The tall girl gave Elenor a smile.

‘It will be my pleasure Miss Cardew.’

Never had Elenor felt so grand. This time she made no attempt to ask to be addressed by her first name. Miss Cardew was going to relish the attention bestowed upon her.

For over an hour, Sally rushed backwards and forwards with outfits. A bemused Elenor could not believe trying on clothes could be so tiring. At first, she was embarrassed by her own attire but soon learnt that Sally was not there to judge. Her professional behaviour was that of an actress on the stage. She must have been horrified by what Elenor hid beneath her ugly frock, but showed no sign of shock, she simply asked if they were to be placed in a bag or sent to the basement for removal. Never one for waste, Elenor was torn. She hesitated when Sally presented the question. In true form, Sally came to her rescue.

‘I’ll wrap and bag them for you Miss Cardew, and that way you can decide what to do when you are home.’

‘Thank you, Sally.’ Elenor touched her arm. ‘I know it seems odd to want to keep clothes fit for the scrap bag, but they … they were my mother’s. They are all I have left of her.’

‘I understand. Maybe you could create something from them as a keepsake. A parcel home it is then, miss.’

She gave a wan smile. ‘I bet oddball country bumpkins are a one of a kind in your store – in Coventry.’

Sally waggled her finger at Elenor.

‘Never call yourself that again. I must admit though, your accent amuses me, where are you from Miss Cardew?’

‘Cornwall. Your accent amuses me too. I’m a farmer’s daughter, hence the rough hands and unkempt clothing.’