The Gown(95)
“I’m going to crouch down,” Ann whispered in Miss Duley’s ear. “It’s that or stand on my chair.”
The last of the choirboys passed by, and behind them another man in clerical robes carrying a golden cross, and outside the cheers were growing louder and louder. To her left, she saw, people’s heads were bobbing up and down, and it made her think of the day of the royal visit to the workroom and the way they’d never quite managed to sort out their curtsies.
A gleam of white—the princess—and when everyone else strained high to see the bride Ann bent her knees a little. She saw the flowers she had embroidered on the lustrous satin of the gown, she saw the hundreds of blossoms she had appliquéd to the train, and she was wonderstruck at the magical way its crystals and pearls glittered and gleamed in the harsh glow of the electric lights. Again came the singing bells far overhead, and meeting them a swell of joyful voices as the princess and her husband emerged from the abbey, and Ann was grateful in that moment, grateful down to her toes. She had seen the princess in her gown, the gown she had helped to make, and her heart was full with the delight of it.
“My heavens,” Miss Duley said. “Wasn’t that splendid? Of course we’ll have to wait for the newsreels to see more.”
They waited and waited, and at last the stream of departing guests began to thin. “Shall we try to make our way out?” she asked, and when Miss Duley and Miss Holliday both nodded she followed them out into the central aisle and then to the door, but first she stopped to turn for one final look. It was something to remember, she told herself. No matter what happened in the years to come, she would never let herself forget this day.
“Well,” she said to the other women. “That was something, wasn’t it? Where are you off to now?”
“I’m going home,” Miss Holliday said. “My sister’s been listening on the wireless, and she’ll be keen as mustard to hear all the details.”
“And I’m going to a party in the parish hall at my church,” Miss Duley said. “At last I can tell everyone what I’ve been up to all these months. My friends all suspected but they knew better than to ask. I’m looking forward to setting a few things straight, I must say. Working us around the clock, my eye! As if Mr. Hartnell would insist on such a thing.”
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” Ann asked. It was only Thursday, after all, and they’d a mountain of orders waiting for them.
“You will, but if you feel like having a lie-in you go right ahead. You’ve worked yourself half to death over these past weeks, and it hasn’t escaped my notice how tired you’ve been. If you want the day off I won’t say a thing, and if anyone takes any notice I’ll go straight to Mr. Hartnell.”
“I’m fine, Miss Duley. Go and enjoy your party, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Miriam
November 20, 1947
Miriam arrived at Bruton Street at precisely nine o’clock, as instructed, and went straight upstairs to Mr. Hartnell’s office. She had with her a small kit of supplies she’d assembled the day before, for there didn’t seem much point in going to the palace without any means of actually effecting repairs. Ann had lent her a lidded wicker sewing basket, a smaller version of the one that sat in the sitting room and held their mending, and it was just big enough to hold everything Miriam might need: curved and straight needles, spools of thread, examples of each kind of pearl, bead, and crystal used on the gown and train, and two pairs of scissors.
Mr. Hartnell was there already, as were Mademoiselle Davide, Miss Yvonne, the princess’s personal vendeuse, and Betty from the sewing workroom; like Miriam, she had been asked to come to the palace in case of a last-minute disaster. Before five minutes had passed they were joined by two additional fitters, and though Miriam recognized the women by sight she couldn’t recollect their names.
“Good morning, ladies. Is everyone ready? In that case we ought to be on our way.” They followed Monsieur Hartnell downstairs and out through the front entrance, where two enormous black cars were waiting. He, Mam’selle, and Miss Yvonne got into the first car, leaving the rest of them to squash into the second, and as soon as the doors were shut they were off. There was no risk of being caught up in traffic, since theirs were practically the only vehicles heading in the direction of the palace, so it took only a few minutes to skirt the edges of Green Park and come around onto Buckingham Palace Road.
Monsieur Hartnell’s car turned into a gateway, pausing as it crossed the pavement, but when the guards peered in and saw its occupants, they waved both cars through onto the raked gravel forecourt. Seconds later they drew to a halt in front of a rather grand entrance.
“This is the servants’ entrance?” Miriam marveled.
One of the fitters shook her head. “Usually we go in through the Privy Purse Door on the north side. This is the Ambassadors Entrance. I guess they thought it would be easier because of all the crowds out front. Makes me feel rather a star, though.”
A man in uniform came forward and shook Mr. Hartnell’s hand. “Good morning, Mr. Hartnell. Ladies.”
“Good morning. Shame about the gloomy weather. Shall we see ourselves in? I’m sure you’re run off your feet.”
Mr. Hartnell led them up a set of low stairs and along an unremarkable corridor to a lift, and though it was rather small they all managed to squeeze inside. It stopped after one floor, at which point the two fitters got out.