Laura’s Big Day

Little did the new girl dream of what drama her first day at the prestigious Oxford Street department store might hold…

On a fine, crisp September morning Laura stepped out briskly on her way to the Tube station. It was her first day at work and she had just left her home, a neat mid-terrace property in an East London suburb where she lived with her widowed mother.

“Tell me all about it when you get home, Laura Jane,” Mrs Bracegirdle called out, raising her voice so that the neighbours were sure to hear. It wasn’t every day that a girl from Waterloo Terrace was accepted for a position at Harrington’s, the recently opened Oxford Street department store. It was 1921 and London was the place to be.

Laura smiled, waved and hurried on. She loved her mother dearly, but she didn’t want the whole street to know her business. Even so, Mum was sure to tell their next-door neighbour, Queenie Green, who would delight in passing on titbits of news to her friends over tea and biscuits.

The women of Waterloo Terrace were a tight-knit community and all very houseproud – just like Laura’s mother, who spent her days sweeping, cleaning and polishing until everything from the brass doorknocker to the black-leaded range in the tiny kitchen, gleamed.

The lingering smell of polish and carbolic soap was ever present, as was the pungent odour of Jeyes fluid, used daily in the outside lavatory – a luxury denied to householders in the next street, where two privies were shared by all.

The inhabitants of Waterloo Terrace were very conscious of their elevated status, and when her chores were done Mrs Bracegirdle always changed into her afternoon dress and settled down to read the latest copy of her favourite magazine.

Having reached the station, Laura purchased a return ticket to Oxford Circus. She was nineteen and very conscious that this was the first day of the rest of her life; being accepted to work in the perfumery and make-up department of such a prestigious store was an honour.

She couldn’t wait to walk through the big glass doors and inhale the aroma of expensive cosmetics and toiletries.

She arrived in good time and was met by Miss Watson, head of the department, who had been present at her interview. A tall, stately woman with her grey hair scraped back into an uncompromising bun, Emmeline Watson looked Laura up and down as if calculating the cost of her clothing from her button-strap shoes to the crisp white cotton blouse.

Laura waited, holding her breath until Miss Watson gave a nod of approval.

“I’ve put you on the make-up counter. It was opened by Miss Elizabeth Arden in person and I expect

“You do as I TELL YOU. If you get on my WRONG SIDE you’ll be out on YOUR EAR”

the highest of standards from my young ladies.” She beckoned to a pretty brunette hovering in the background. “Miss Dennis will show you where to hang your hat and coat and she will help you today, but after that I expect you to be able to manage unaided. Do I make myself clear, Miss Bracegirdle?”

“Yes, Miss Watson.” Laura glanced anxiously at Doreen Dennis. The senior assistant might be endowed with a lovely face but she had ice-cold blue eyes and an equally cool manner. Laura followed her to the staff cloakroom.

“You are a junior sales assistant, Miss

Bracegirdle,” Miss Dennis said, frowning. “You do as I tell you, and if you get on my wrong side you’ll find yourself out on your ear. I’m your senior – you don’t breathe without asking my permission.”

For a moment Laura thought that the snooty young woman was joking, but then she realised her mistake.

“Yes, Miss Dennis.” Laura hung her hat and coat on the peg provided, patted her hair in place and followed her mentor back into the store.

The other sales assistants gave her curious looks, but Miss Watson was patrolling the shop floor like a prison guard, and there was a respectful silence while the girls made ready for the doors to open. Laura was given a duster and told to polish the counter, taking care not to disturb the array of cosmetics.

She did so, casting covert glances at her workmates, who were beautifully turned out. Almost without exception their hair was bobbed in the latest style, and their complexions were so perfect that they were either born lovely or they assisted nature with the use of beauty products. Laura was suddenly conscious of her old-fashioned hairstyle and her shiny face, innocent of make-up – Mum would not have allowed her out of the house had she been wearing powder or lip rouge.

She worked hard, and did not put herself forward when Miss Dennis stepped in to charm a customer into buying a jar of expensive face cream.

Tea break at eleven o’clock was taken in the staff canteen, but Laura sat alone at a small table in the corner, sipping her tea and feeling very much like a new girl at school.

Then it was back behind the counter and she was allowed to serve someone – but very soon Laura realised that the overdressed woman wearing a fur tippet and a pearl choker, which threatened to sever her head every time she nodded, was one of Miss Dennis’s least favourite regulars. The customer found fault with everything and walked away without making a purchase.

“So you didn’t make a sale.” Miss Dennis tossed her head, causing her immaculate Irene Castle bob to shimmer like molten chocolate.

Laura bit back a sharp retort, her attention focused on the double doors. They had been flung open to admit a glamorous woman wrapped in furs, followed by an entourage of attendants and reporters. “Who is that?” Laura whispered. Staring open-mouthed, Miss Dennis recovered quickly.

“It’s only Gloria Day, the film star. Don’t you know anything, Bracegirdle?”

Laura could hardly believe that she was seeing the beautiful and talented star of many silent films in the flesh.

Gloria Day was twice as striking in real life – and she was heading straight for their counter. Miss Dennis pushed Laura aside.

“Good morning, madam. How may I help you?” she purred.

“Move aside, luv. Let the dog see the bone, will you?”

Gloria’s gruff voice was so at odds with her appearance that even the poised Miss Dennis seemed taken aback.

“Er – is there anything in particular you wish to see, Miss Day?”

“I got eyes, my duck. I don’t need specs.” Gloria picked up pot after pot, scattering them over the counter. Miss Dennis looked on helplessly.

“What exactly are you looking for, Miss Day?” Laura ventured.

“Tell Miss Po-face to buzz off. I’ll deal with you, luv.” Gloria exposed her pearly-white teeth in the smile that had won the hearts of millions, and Laura thought Miss Dennis was going to faint.

She revived at the sight of Miss Watson steaming towards them – with Henry Harrington, the store owner. Mr Harrington held out his arms. “Gloria, my darling, how wonderful to see you.” He shot a glance at her entourage. “And I see you’ve brought your army with you.” Gloria fluttered her lashes. “Henry, you was always a flatterer. I come in to buy some slap and this lovely girl is helping me.”

Laura waited for Miss Watson to say something cutting, but she was smiling and Mr Harrington beamed at her.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he said vaguely. Laura wondered if she should curtsey. “Yes, sir,” she murmured. “Jolly good.” He turned away, giving his full attention to Miss Day. “Will you allow me to treat you to lunch in our newly opened Garden Restaurant?”

“Got to think of me figure, ducks. I’m on that Banting diet thing. Blooming horrible doing without cream cakes and sweets – can’t even have a fish supper without Felix here breathing down me neck.” She raised her hand to give her companion a playful slap on the cheek. He smiled good-naturedly. “Come off it, Gloria. You get plenty of treats. The bill for caviar and champagne alone would feed a small country for a month.” He held his hand out to Mr Harrington. “Felix Hampton, Gloria’s publicity officer.”

Laura stared at him. He was more handsome than any film star she had ever seen – even the great screen lover, Rudolph Valentino. His smile was charming, if slightly lopsided and he had a tiny chip off one tooth. She was wondering how that had happened when she realised he was staring at her, and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

“You’re just the girl we’re looking for,” Felix said, eyeing her critically. “I’ve scoured theatrical agencies in search of a face like this. What d’you think, Gloria?”

“If you say so, luv.” Gloria turned to Harrington with a persuasive smile. “We want to borrow your girl, Henry. You can spare the young lady for a day, can’t you, darling?” Without waiting for a reply, she spun round to face Laura. “What’s your name, ducks?” “Laura Bracegirdle,” Laura murmured. Felix proffered his arm. “Allow me, Miss Bracegirdle.” Too stunned by the sudden turn of events to argue, Laura had time only to fetch her coat and hat before she was ushered out of the store.

Moments later, she was seated between Felix and Gloria in the back of a posh chauffeur-driven motor car, speeding west along Oxford Street.

“Am I being kidnapped?” she asked dazedly.

“You’re the spitting image of me when I was your age, ducks,” Gloria said with a throaty chuckle.

“I am?” Laura looked from one to the other, receiving a nod from Felix.

“Yes, you are,” he said, smiling. “We’re going to the film studio where Gloria’s current picture is being made. All we need is a few publicity photos of you, posing as Gloria before she was discovered. It’s for a magazine article.”

“We couldn’t even afford a box Brownie where I come from,” Gloria added, sighing. “So there’s no snaps of me when I was your age.”

“You’re JUST the girl we’re LOOKING FOR,” Felix said, EYEING her critically

Laura found herself in a dressing room at the studios with people running in and out carrying armfuls of clothes.

At last Gloria was satisfied with the costume choices and photos were taken against a photographic backdrop of the street in Clerkenwell where Gloria grew up. Lunch was provided in the canteen, although Gloria chose to have her food in her dressing room. Laura suspected that cake and chocolate might have been sneaked in by Ivy Trott, Gloria’s dresser, but Gloria swore that she was sticking to her diet.

In the canteen, Felix introduced Laura to the film director and some of the crew as well as the cast, and she tried not to appear star-struck. She hardly tasted the food, although it looked and smelled delicious.

“I have to ask you a favour,” Felix said when they were sitting together at a table, drinking coffee.

She knew that she would do anything within reason, but she forced herself to sound casual. “Go on.”

“We’ve almost finished, but the last shots are more up to date. Gloria insists that she started the craze for the bob and that Irene Castle copied her.” “I see.” “It would mean you’d have to have a bob, and you’ve got such beautiful hair. Wearing a wig wouldn’t be quite the same. Would you be prepared to make such a sacrifice? You’ll be paid well for the inconvenience and emotional upset.”

Laura thought for a moment. The money would be handy. She could buy her mother a new winter coat to replace the old one that Mum insisted would last at least ten more years. She always said that if you kept anything long enough, it would come back into fashion.

She knew that her mum was used to being frugal – but she deserved a treat. “I’ll do it,” she declared. “You are a star in your own right.” Felix grasped her hand. “Thanks, Laura.”

She felt a tingle start in her fingers and run up her spine. She told herself this was purely business, and when she was finished here she would return to her job as a junior shop assistant. However, a smart bob would show the stuck-up girls at work a thing or two.

“Miss Bracegirdle. They’re ready for you in hairdressing.” Ivy beckoned to Laura. “Come on, dear, don’t look so worried. They’re good with the scissors.”

Gloria had said goodbye as fondly as if they had been sisters, inviting Laura to return to the studios whenever she was in the vicinity. She knew this wouldn’t happen, but it was nice to be asked, and Gloria had seemed genuinely pleased with the photographs.

“We could be twins,” she had said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “Except for a couple of years’ age difference.’ “More like fifteen,” Ivy said darkly. “You should give up the ciggies and the tots of brandy, Gloria.” Harrington’s was closed by the time Felix dropped Laura off. He drove her in his own motor, a smart roadster, and he jumped out to open the door for her. “You know I could take you home. It’s not far out of my way.” She was suddenly shy, staring down at her sensible shoes. They lived in different worlds; it was no good kidding herself that there could be any future for her and someone like Felix Hampton. “Thanks, but I’ll get the Tube.” A frown creased his brow. “It’s no trouble, honestly.” She was weakening, but if he took her home now her mother would be cooking supper, and she would hate being seen wearing her carpet slippers and her floral pinafore. Laura was not ashamed of her home, but she didn’t want to put her mother in such an embarrassing situation.

Anyway, Felix was probably just being a gentleman, and she was unlikely to see him again.

“The Tube stop is only five minutes from my home. But thanks.” He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “You’re a lovely girl, Laura. I’d like to see you again. How about tea on Sunday afternoon?” He took a diary from his pocket and a pen. “I’d like that, Felix.” The words came tumbling out before she had had time to think.

“Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at three, if that’s convenient.”

Laura walked home from the Tube station. It was dark and the street lights glistened on wet pavements, but they might have been paved with gold as far as she was concerned. She unlocked the front door and let herself into the house. “Hello, Mum. I’m home.” Her mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “You’re late.” She stared at her daughter. “Laura Jane Bracegirdle, what have you done to your hair?” Laura enveloped her mother in a hug. “Oh, Mum. Just wait until I tell you about my day.”

Her mum was USED to being FRUGAL but she DESERVED a treat. “I’ll DO IT…”