Emma’s Secret. Barbara Taylor Bradford

smiled, crossed the room, knocked on the door, and went in. ‘Do you have a few minutes, Maggie?’

      The older woman looked up, gave Linnet a warm smile. ‘Certainly.’

      Linnet sat down, looked across at the head of Human Resources. ‘I wanted a word with you about Evan Hughes. I thought you seemed a little reluctant about her, not as enthusiastic as I would expect after reading her résumé.’

      ‘The résumé does read well, I can’t argue there. But I wasn’t sure if she was quite right for Harte’s.’

      ‘Oh. Why not?’

      ‘I can’t really put my finger on it …’ Maggie shrugged. ‘It’s just a feeling. And anyway, I thought it was odd, the way she was introduced by Mr Gideon, and then she denied knowing him to me. There’s another thing,’ Maggie leaned over the desk, and added, in a lowered voice, ‘Don’t you think she looks like your mother?’

      Linnet laughed. ‘They’re similar types, that’s all. And I don’t think it’s odd, no. As for my cousin, he ran in to her in the corridor when she was looking for this office. He simply guided her here. He doesn’t know her, Maggie.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘And even if he did, why would it matter? I think she has excellent credentials, and certainly she would be very helpful to me at this particular time.’

      ‘Are you going to hire her?’ Maggie asked, her voice neutral now, her expression cautious.

      ‘I’m certainly going to think about it,’ Linnet answered, and with a nod and a smile, she rose. ‘Thanks, Maggie,’ she murmured as she left the office.

      What was that about? Linnet asked herself as she went back to her own office, baffled by the attitude of the other woman, but determined not to be influenced by anyone. Evan could be of great help to her in mounting the retrospective. Perhaps she would hire her on a trial basis.

      The following morning Linnet spoke to Evan on the phone. ‘I’d like you to come in and see me again, Miss Hughes. Around eleven. We can talk some more, and I’ll take you to see the collection of clothes we’ve already assembled.’

      Evan was thrilled. ‘I’ll be there, Miss O’Neill, and thank you very much.’

      Always punctual, Evan arrived at Linnet’s office exactly on time.

      After chatting to Evan about the retrospective and her needs, Linnet said, ‘I’d like to offer you the job, on a trial basis, Evan.’

      Evan beamed. ‘I accept, Miss O’Neill. Thank you.’

      Linnet took Evan to a storage room on the seventh floor, behind the haute-couture fashion department. Pausing at a large metal-clad door, she took out a set of keys, and turned to Evan. ‘Only India and I have keys to this room. That way we’re the only two people responsible, and only we can be blamed if anything goes wrong. Or goes missing.’

      ‘I understand.’

      Linnet unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped inside. She paused for a moment on the threshold until she found the light switch on the wall. A split second later many overhead lights came blinking on; she beckoned to Evan to follow her and walked into the cool, temperature-controlled storage space.

      There were dozens and dozens of racks of clothes hanging in cotton bags, and when Linnet saw Evan’s face she exclaimed, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to show you everything right now. There’s far too much to look at. But perhaps you’d be interested to see a few choice pieces that belonged to Emma.’

      ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

      Hurrying to the far end of the room, Linnet moved a rack or two around and explained, ‘There are a couple of outfits here that are just knock-outs.’ As she spoke she began to untie the drawstring at the top of a cotton bag which held the garment.

      Evan watched her taking out a black suit on a padded hanger, and she remarked, ‘What a marvellous idea these cotton bags are. Did you have them made?’

      Linnet swung around. ‘Not these, no. They came from Paris. But we have had similar ones copied for the other clothes hanging here. Actually, the bag is called an “oooss”.’

      ‘An oooss,’ Evan repeated slowly. ‘What a strange name.’

      ‘That’s the way it’s pronounced, but it’s spelt h-o-u-s-s-e. It’s the French word for “cover”, in fact.’

      ‘They’re certainly effective for storage purposes,’ Evan replied, thinking they looked like voluminous tents.

      ‘Look at this suit.’ Linnet held it out. ‘It’s by Cristóbal Balenciaga. Emma had it made in 1951.’

      Evan inspected the suit closely, and nodded her head. ‘There’s nothing like a piece of haute couture, is there? The cut, the shoulderline, the overall silhouette. It’s simply impeccable, a masterpiece of workmanship.’

      Linnet pulled a dress out of another cotton bag. ‘And this is a cocktail dress by Balenciaga. Emma also bought it in 1951. I happen to think it’s fantastic. Here, Evan, hold it against yourself.’ She handed her the cocktail gown on its padded hanger; Evan did as she instructed and held it against her body, looking down at the dress, which was made of black tissue taffeta. ‘I love the way the skirt is flounced in tiers and the bodice wrapped around. It’s unique. And the wonderful thing is that, like the suit, it’s not a bit dated.’

      ‘I agree with you. There’s a picture of Emma in the dress, and it looks as if it was taken only yesterday. Over there –’ Linnet swung her head, gestured toward more racks – ‘are some couture outfits lent by my mother, India’s mother, and my aunts Emily and Amanda. Their pieces will also help to flesh out certain years in design.’

      Evan helped Linnet put the two garments back in their cotton covers and, as they stood at the rack, Linnet remarked, ‘I think you’re going to enjoy working on the retrospective, Evan. Even though we have a tough road ahead, I believe that the three of us will be able to pull it together most effectively.’

      ‘I know we will,’ Evan answered, crossing her fingers, stepping away from the clothes rack and picking up her purse.

      ‘Let’s go and see Maggie and get you properly hired as my assistant,’ Linnet said, leading the way out of the storage room.