The Stole
Ivy Simpson always arrived at The Stole half an hour later than the other girls.
She bustled in, pulling a scarf away from her heat-flushed neck, panting a little and opening her eyes wide. She planted her swollen feet heavily on the freshly mopped floor, waddled past the security guard Dave, then made her way between lines of hanging fur coats and sheepskin jackets to the staff room.
Morning! Dave would snap to attention, hastily straightening the immaculate collar of his shirt, as if Ivy was a general and he just a private, already in trouble for something.
Good morning, Ivy would sigh, utterly worn out by the stuffy shop air. Shed quickly scan the sales floor with sharp eyes. Girls, Im here.
Her colleagues, the sales advisors, nodded back from their postsscattered around the floor like poppies on fields of silver-blue mink, rabbit, and sable, all fluffy and sleek.
They all wore red blouses and black skirts.
Why red? Its too much! Makes my head spin! Ivy once grumbled at a morning meeting. Black skirts and white blouses would be just right!
Thats boring, thoughand everyone does it. Well do it differently, replied manager Linda. Plus, red is easy for customers to spot, so they dont have to search. Girls, keep your blouses ironed daily, skirts below the knee, heels optional as always.
That meeting ended with Ivy Simpson thoroughly put out. In a red blouse, she looked enormous, almost like a mountain or blazing ball. The colour did nothing for her already ruddy face.
Ivy, theres chamomile tea readycome and have some! piped up Gina, a tiny woman with spindly, always cold hands and a pixie crop. She and her sister Barbara, both over fifty, worked here together. Customers rarely noticed them due to their height, hidden behind the long furs.
Oh, Gina, enoughIm already swollen like a fish tank, and you want to drown me in tea, Ivy grunted, trudging on.
She brushed against the expensive furs, transferring drops of rain from her wet coat, but she didnt care. All she wanted was to reach the chair by the staff entrance.
After fiddling with her coat buttons for five minutes, huffing and puffing, Ivy finally managed to take it off and sat down, stretching her legs.
Martha, help meI cant bend! she wheezed to the sprightly, athletic woman hovering nearby.
Martha dashed over, never taking her gaze off customers roaming the floor. She whipped open Ivys boots, straightened up, and went back to surveillance. She smiled at someone and prepared to go, but Ivy stopped her.
Wait. Dont bother with those ones, theyre not buying. Tidy your tie insteadthey look like nooses! Ivy tugged at her own tight tie.
Martha fixed Ivys tie and straightened the blouses creases. Would you like some water? she offered gently.
Whys everyone trying to pour something down me? Should I explode? Ivy snapped, then sighed. Goyour couples thinking of the ash-grey mink. Shes been eyeing it for ages.
Martha hurried off, leaving Ivy to catch her breath.
She sat like an enormous red cloud or a hot-air balloon, ready to float away if only someone would fasten on the basket.
Ivy sat, hands folded across her belly, eyes fixed ahead.
Sales moved sluggishly in the shop. It was a weekday; most people were working. The rush would come in the evening, when the well-off rolled in with their equally well-upholstered stomachs and bleached, stick-thin wives.
Ivy never understood why rich womenthe ones who could afford a £5,000 furalways dyed their hair that strange ashy-blonde. It didnt suit everyone, not at all.
It used to suit herfifteen, twenty years ago, when her eyes were still a deep blue and not watery-grey. Shed dyed her hair to surprise her husband, revive the sparkbut he hadnt noticed. Didnt see it at all.
Where had she gone wrong? Too controlling? Thats what everyone said. She kept him on a tight leadbut for a reason. And those reasonssleek, curvy, poutyeventually destroyed their marriage. Not him, but her
Ivys drifting, half-dreaming thoughts were interrupted by a boot at the staffdoor. Some unfamiliar young woman burst out, catching Ivy hard. Phone pressed to her ear, she hissed, I wont stay; I wont do itnot going to degrade myself here!
As she wore a red blouse, Ivy realised this must be the new girl Linda had mentioned in last nights closing meeting. Shed taken a call reluctantly, listened, changed expression, then announced theyd have a new team member.
Why do we need her? Martha had asked. We can barely manage ourselves.
Lindas neighbour, she asked a favour. Thats that. Now focus, Ivy, do you think we should move those coats to another rack?
Ivy didnt care about coats or new staff yesterday. Shed just gone home, exhausted despite spending the whole day on that same chair, as usual. Slipped away to her lonely flat.
Steady girl, going to kill someone, Ivy grumbled, clutching her chest as the newbie thumped her.
The girl glanced back, scowling at Ivys sunburnt cheeks.
Who are you supposed to be? You shouldnt even be sitting here! Go work the floor, not loaf around! she spat, then snapped into her phone:
Mum! Its some dreary shop full of old maidsIm not doing this
Ivy didnt catch the end. Didnt care.
Strictly speaking, the cheeky thing, whod washed up here in the fur shop, was right.
Old maids. Not all old, not all single, but few of them sorted. The ones cushioned by a family and worries dont stand here for twelve hours between coats. They have no time, and no need. They wear furs, after all.
But those for whom home is silentgrown children long gone, or kids drowning in debt or a mortgage, or a pension barely stretchingthose are the ones here, in their red blouses and ties. Working. And Ivy, among them
Marthwhos that live wire who swung the door into me? Im going to have a bruise Ivy rubbed her shoulder, then let her arm slump.
Oh Thats Katie. You heard Linda last nightshe said to leave her be. Full of herself! Says she wont sell anythingso whats she here for, then? Martha raised an eyebrow. By the way, what brings you in today?
Ivy pressed her lips together, clicked her tongue, then opened her mouth wide as a fish washed ashore, hoisted her skirt up slightly, revealing thick, veiny calves, removed her boots and wiggled her stockinged feet. Her joints ached; her toes barely bent. Damn kidneys.
What would I do at home? This is work, at least. Like being in Parliamentturning up is half the job, even if the chairs too small. But no matter, bodys big enough! Never mind Katie. Go help that lady in orangeshell be picking a hat soon. Dont offer one with a bobble. Off you goshes roasting in that coat, as am I.
Martha gave her a concerned smile, then hurried out to fit a burnt-orange customer with a new hat, while Ivy, after resting a while, heaved herself up and retreated to the staff room, where she bent double, coughing, fists braced against the desk.
No, I really ought to see a doctor. But hospitals make my skin crawl. Ivy poured herself a cup of chamomile tea.
Katie hated everything herethe musty smell of sheepskin, the tickling hairs, the shimmer of furs she could no longer afford.
She and her mum once had nearly everything: car, fancy clothes, cash to burn, new jewellery every week. Well, maybe not every week, but plenty. Her dad even kept a safe full of notes and a pistol.
Hed shown it to Katielet her hold it. Cold and impossibly heavy. Shed asked to fire it once, but her dad only smirked. Later, he took her to a shooting range. She was a quick study. She rather liked the smell of gunpowder.
Life, in a word, was goodevery whim granted, every wish granted while still on the sofa.
But it burst in an instant.
Katie still trembled when she remembered the night the men forced their way in, shoving her dad aside and brandishing an ID. They tossed their drawers, yanked clothes from hangers, ripped pictures from the walls, demanded the safe be opened.
By then, the cash and pistol were gone. Her dad was grey and sweating. Her mother sobbed, Oh Bill, how could you? Bill
Katie still heard her mothers whimpers echoing inside her head. Even covering her ears didnt stop them.
They took her father away. He didnt even say goodbye, as if he was ashamed. Next came inventory, confiscation; later, moving in with Grandma in a pokey little flat. Dads flat was sealed off.
Grandma, growing tired of funding her fallen relations on a pension, got her granddaughter a job at The Stole.
Im not selling anything! Find someone else! Katie stomped.
Oh yes you are, my girl. You lived it up with your thief of a father, never gave me a penny, never visited, looked down your noses. Well, now its my turn. I called in a favourtheyll take you at The Stole. And just you dare steal money there! Just you dare!
Grandma shouted, banged her stick, even smirked as Katie burst into tears.
So here she was, in the sweaty, sheepskin-scented shop.
Well, dont just stand therego offer someone something! You do know furs, dont you? Someone nudged Katie towards a couple whod just entered.
Katie looked backit was Martha, high-and-mighty, watching her with that superior glare.
Katie did know her furs, but only on herself: what suited her, what didntknowledge adapted from lookbooks and makeover shows she watched over breakfast.
Detailed shapes, sleeves and liningsnever her thing.
Katie clacked to the couplestiff, ageing husband and wife.
Pick something lovely for my wife. Only the best! the man snapped. The womanwrinkled as a walnutstared longingly at the younger styles.
These arent for you. Try over thereroomier coats, Katie muttered.
What? Nothats not what I want! I need something chicfor the theatre, for
She faltered. Katie finished for her: For funerals, and the circus.
Martha swiftly slid Katie aside, switched to syrupy tones for the startled couple, and led them to the mid-range.
When the couple, pleased as punch, went to pay, Martha declared, Ivys clients.
Thats a lie! Theyre mine! I started with themyour Ivy never even approached! She just sits by the staff door, watching!
Katie fumed. But most sales went down as Ivys on the record.
Thats how it works, love. Ivy quietly tells us what to offer. Smileyoure lucky. Its not selling sausages in the market; its furs. Youre warm, comfy, lunch break soon. Ivywell, you wouldnt understand, Martha said, only half-listening as she bustled off, ever the hostess.
Katie stood in the middle of the floor, glowering at Ivy, the red thundercloud perched on her chair, barely moving her brows, sending secret signals to her team, who always obeyed.
Miss! Miss, are you asleep? Show me that sheepskin, the white onewith the curly collar! A customer pointed at a white jacket.
Katie clumsily handed it over.
Hm. Where do you find such measly things? sniffed the woman. Take it away. Not for me.
At least it was offered! Perfectly nice piecejust youre too old for it.
What? Rude! Waitdo I know you? Youre Katie Rivers, arent you? From riches to rags? Is your mum here, too? Working the shop together? No, wait, the business was your dads. Has he been sentenced yet?
Gillian Pike Katie recognised her, her face flooding with shame.
The Pikes once mingled at her dads dos.
You got yourselves in hot water, didnt you? Gillian shook her head, a teacher scolding a naughty child. Big sentence, I expectand you, making do here!
She kept going until Katie nearly cried from embarrassment.
It pleased Gillianplain on her smug lips and straightened shoulders. Shed always wanted to destroy Katie, the girl her own ex almost left his family for.
Bill, you can visit her, surely, Gillian had coaxed once, standing in her hallway as he laced his boots. But live with me?
I cant visit my daughter. I love her, Bill replied flatly.
And do you love me? shed pleaded.
He only entertained her, nothing more. For that, she had her revenge. She reported Bill Rivers for his dealings, giving chapter and verse to detectives, outlining every scheme hed mumbled half-asleep. Satisfied.
Gillian would have followed Katie around forever, but spotted with peripheral vision the approach of the red cloud.
It moved closer, a wheezing sigh issuing from deep within, heavy hand settling on Katies bony shoulder.
Ladies, might I assist? Ivy rasped, her weary, baggy eyes focusing on Gillian and her friend. For your face shape, undeniably aristocratic, those pieces over there are idealone of a kind, I assure you. Katie, darling, let me, she added quietly, then to the clients, Talented, fiery young womanbut youth should be bold, dont you think? Thats how you live life to the full! She winked.
Gillian, thinking new generation was a compliment to herself, strode off towards the exclusive pieces. Ivy nudged Katie towards the toilets. Sort yourself out. You offended me, but I dont like pike biting minnow. Go on, Ill teach you everything later.
Katie fled. Ivy made the sale. Not the coat itself, but the care matteredsomething more.
The restsales, commissionsare always chalked up to Ivy by the girls. She sits by the staff door, always advising the best line if things turn sour. Clients who come in for a browse, always leave with gloves, hats, scarves, bags. Till bleeps, cards swipedthe shops profit, Ivys commission.
Technically, you make the sale, you get the bonus, Martha told sniffling Katie later, but Ivys different. Specialif not for management, then for us.
Whats so special? Sure, she helped me, otherwise Gillian would spread my work here everywhere, but Ivy does little else. Yet you all give her credit!
We all owe her, not money. Eat up; lunch is nearly over! Martha bustled away.
Years agoalmost a lifetimeIvy stood outside the maternity hospital, waiting for her husband to pick her uphed promised, or so she thought. She was exhausted, had lost a baby girl, her first and only child. Husband Tony never showed.
She wrapped her coat tight and walked home. She remembered yelling at Tony to throw out his friends, raged with jealousy, but he was cheating out of spite, or the reversewho knew? In the end, Ivy was left alone, hed fled. She was too much for him.
She grieved, cried, boiled for a while, then simply got bored and lonely. No children, no husband, hardly any money. She took a job at a random fur shopjust responded to an ad taped to a fence in the old days.
The Stole was just starting out; so was Ivy. She learned the business, attended trade shows, became manager for a time. She recruited Dave, once a down-and-out she nearly ran over with her old Mini. She fed him, bought him clothes, until he found his feet.
Martha and the mouse-sisters came from the haberdashery, also thanks to Ivy. Marthas raising three children alone; her husbands in and out of hospital. The sisters think themselves fallen gentry with refined taste so she took them in, too.
She found all the girls in red this wayover-fifties, Ivys girls. Children, drunken spouses, bankruptcies, redundancymany had hit bottom; she picked her team carefully, bringing them in.
When her health failed, Ivy left management for the floorlost money, but slept better. Kidneys, swelling, shortness of breathbut home was too lonely, too bleak. The Stole brought life.
Katie, dont be ashamed. Its just a job. Learn, grow, get good at itthen youll have something to show the other ladies, Ivy coached quietly, lowering herself onto a stool that creaked. And not just them. When you rebuild yourself, its nice to look back, and no one can say you rode someones coat tails. Your fathers done what hes done; you live your own life. When I sit here watching people, its like the theatrescenes, characters. I read them, guess their real wants, not what they say. We all lie to ourselves. I became expert at that, always pleasing my husband; Id guess what answer he wanted in a restaurant. I feared disappointing him. I was his stolehugging, warming, soft. I liked his reserve, but he found me suffocating and left. There I was, stuck with no jobTony didnt care about my career, and I didnt want to leave home in case he came back. But the skill of reading minds, thats stayed strong. You find yourself, now youre here. By the way, the lady who heckled you has bitten nailsshes hiding them in her coat. Alls not as rosy as she lets on
Go on, try that coat! Ivy nodded at a luxurious item peeking out. Katie shrugged into it; Ivy clapped her hands.
Dave gave Katie a look, but Ivy waved him offtime enough for romance later.
If not quite Ivys child, the fur shop was certainly her creationthe displays, the traditions, even the scent. The Stole was known across London, a model of style; people came from afar to see the furs and themselves in the mirrors. Soon Katie would be proud of itabsolutely.
By mid-December, Ivy grew even more swollen, doctors demanding she go into hospitalshe refused.
If I go, what about my girls? shed shrug. Not yet. Later.
Youll kill yourself! Its madness, for what? the doctor would protest.
You dont need to tell me how to live, Pauline. Why not buy yourself those leather gloves? I saw you admiring them. Go on, Ill arrange a staff discount.
The doctor blushed; shed known Ivy since her marriage, later treated her after the miscarriage. They were nearly the same age. But the grit she saw in Ivyshe could never match.
How do you do it? Pauline asked, finally. Lifes put you through so much and youre still standing.
So what? If I fell, no one would pick me up, Ivy replied softly.
But she was wrong.
The Stole was ablaze, blue flames rising for over an hour. Firefighters wrestled hoses, climbed ladders, barked into radios.
Oh, God Ivy whispered, standing at the cordons. Shed come by taxi the instant shed heard. Struggling out of the cab, she found Dave, who shruggedno one knew how it started; nothing had been saved.
What will we do, Ivy? Martha sobbed, shaking. Nearby, Linda popped heart pills.
So be it. Oh, Lindaput the pharmacy away! Its all insured, you daft mare. Chin upmaybe its time. Time.
Ivy left. She had nothing holding her any more. No one waited for her.
Two days later, she was hospitalised. She told no one. Why bother?
A few days after, Katie came to visit, pale and serious, armed with a bag of oranges, juice, and a bunch of flowers.
And whats this supposed to bea protest march? Im illnot seeing anyone! Ivy called, not getting up.
Hello, Ivy. Too lateyou have to see me. The doctor said so.
Katie set snacks on the table.
Liar! Ivy grumbled.
You are. You taught us to listen to ourselves. Youre pleased Im hereany fool could see. How is it?
Im fine. Not sure. Not allowed to smoke. Katie, maybe you can convince them to let me out for fresh air, and then? Ivy pulled a fishy mouth, grinning.
You cantbut well walk. Come on, get dressed.
Katie looked away as Ivy squeezed into her tracksuit, barely done up at the waist.
All rightIm ready. And you, hows life? Ivy asked as they reached the corridor.
Katie noticed Ivys walking stick with a pang.
Im all right. Dads due out soon. Mums stopped crying, Nans calmed down. I got a new job, re-enrolled at unisat the exams, passed. So things are looking up.
Good for you. Youve built yourselfno one can unmake you now. So many just coast Its a shame about the shopfine place.
Behind a hawthorn bush outside, Ivy lit a cigarette.
Katie didnt stop her. That wasnt why shed come. Shed just wanted to help, visit, support. Ivy had loomed in her dreamsalways in that red blouse by the staff entrance, winking.
So Katie had comebecause she wanted to. Because that was enough.
Want a coffee? Ivy nudged her.
You cant! And why is your neck exposed? Katies grandmothers spirit stirred in hera little grumpy, a little stubborn.
Blast my neck. Im sick of chicory. I want proper coffee, Ivy stamped her foot, Katie rolled her eyes.
They got their coffeemuch later, when Aunt Ivy visited Katie. Dave brought her round.
Ivy hadnt been a guest anywhere for yearsrarely invited, and, if so, always felt unwelcome.
But with Katie, it was different. Her grandmother was old-schoolif she had guests, there was a table, a toast, a singsong. Katies mum would have suited a long, fitted fur coatthe sort that once hung close to Ivys throne by the staff door.
Thered be another New Year, full of pine and magic, and spring with sparrow-song. Plenty still awaited Ivyonly now, without The Stole. So what.
Aunt Ivy and Katie keep in touchthey visit, chat, argue. Katie pushed Ivy to join a fitness class (gently, nothing too harsh); Ivy agreed, and now swims at the club over the roadher healths improved. Katies doing well at university, preparing for her placement, with Ivy and her mum cheering her on.
Their meeting clearly wasnt by chanceit was necessary, for both. And neither of them is anyones stole or scarfsomething soft, nice, but ultimately disposable. Notheyre the ones burning with an inner strength money cant buy.
