‘I won’t be betraying ye, mavourneen. Ye know that. By the way, I saw David Kallinski yesterday. I went to look over the factory, so I can make me plans for the alterations. I hope ye don’t mind, but I told him about ye husband passing on.’
‘Oh! What did he say?’ she asked cautiously.
‘He said he was sorry. But to me he looked like a man who’d just inherited a million pounds.’ Blackie scrutinized her carefully. ‘What’s going on between the two of ye, Emma?’
‘Why, nothing,’ she said evenly. ‘I’m his business partner, that’s all.’
‘Oh, aye,’ said Blackie thoughtfully. ‘Well, it strikes me he thinks otherwise.’
‘Stuff and nonsense. It’s your Celtic imagination getting the better of you. Yours is a sight more vivid than even Frank’s.’
Blackie did not reply. He reached into his overcoat, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and handed them to Emma. ‘Here are the plans for renovating the middle shop and then joining all three together like ye wanted, mavourneen. I aim to go into Mrs Minton’s on either side. That is, from the haberdashery and through that wall over there. I’ll make a sort of passage that links all three. How does that sound?’
‘Wonderful, Blackie! You know I trust your judgement. I’ll look at the plans tonight. When will you start?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Knowing ye, I suppose ye’d like me to start immediately, but it’ll have to be after Christmas, Emma. We’ll do a fast job, though, and ye’ll be in the shop by the middle of January.’
David Kallinski leaned back against the sofa in the kitchen-parlour behind Emma’s food shop and thoughtfully regarded the last of her sketches. He held it away from him, his eyes narrowing perceptively.
As he continued to gaze at it David experienced a flash of excitement and his hands tightened on the drawing. If anything, her designs for their winter collection were even more striking than her summer outfits. They were superb, in fact. The lines were understated and elegant, balanced by fine detailing, and she had cleverly combined the colours for wholly different effects. Her colour sense was extraordinary, even if it was a little daring. Only Emma could have conceived of such unusual mixtures – burgundy trimmed with bright pink, navy blue highlighted with apple green, vivid cyclamen flashed with lilac, and, on the other side of the spectrum, a mélange of rich autumnal tones enlivened by pure white, misty greys, and blues combined with violet, plus fir green sparked with rose. And they all worked beautifully together. Not only that, because of the simplicity of their basic construction, their clean lines and general lack of fussiness, her creations were ideal for the mass-manufacturing techniques he was employing at the factory.
David smiled with pleasure and pride in Emma. He did not know where her artistic gifts sprang from, but they were indisputable and her taste was matchless, her flair unrivalled. He had long come to recognize, and with not a little wonder, that Emma possessed natural genius. There was no other term appropriate to describe her incredible talent and, coupled with her prodigious energy, it made her formidable. Apart from her brilliance as a designer, she had an innate understanding of the public’s whims, an uncanny knack of discerning ahead of time what they wanted and, more importantly, what they would buy. It was as if she had a daemon telling her things, and all of her ventures were instantaneous successes. David suspected that Emma Harte would make money at whatever she decided to turn her hand to, for her touch was golden. Both he and his father had been staggered at her total grasp of financial matters and her capacity for structuring complex monetary schemes, all of which stood up to their accountant’s scrutiny and won his astonished approval. She read a balance sheet the way other people read a newspaper and she could pinpoint its flaws and its virtues in a matter of minutes. She was only just twenty-one and already she was scaling ambition’s ladder with the swiftest and most determined of steps. It seemed to David that nothing could hold her back – it would have been like trying to harness lightning, he had long ago decided. She continually managed to amaze him and he dare not speculate where she would be in ten years’ time. At the top of that ladder, he conjectured, and the prospects were dizzying.
David placed the sketch with the others and lit a cigarette. Things were proceeding on schedule and exactly as he had planned. He had been in business for four months, with Emma and Joe Lowther as his partners. Emma also acted as the designer and stylist, and his brother, Victor, was the factory manager. In one month David would be twenty-five, and he had no doubts whatsoever about the future of the Kallinski Clothing Company, or his own destiny. He intended to be a rich and important member of the community; and the whole of Leeds, indeed if not Yorkshire, would take notice of him one day. That was a promise he had made to himself years ago and he had every intention of keeping that promise.
David had launched into business on his own with flair, assurance, and aggressiveness and it had been a fortuitous start. At the initial showing of the summer collection, the first samples had been received with enthusiasm by the buyers from the big emporiums in Leeds, Bradford, Sheffield, and Manchester, who had fortunately followed up their accolades with surprisingly large orders. The tremendous energy that Emma, Victor, and he had expended, and the long hours they had put in to get the first collection under way, had certainly been justified.
David could not resist shuffling through the sketches once more. He spread them out on the floor and his excitement was barely contained. Yes, by God, she had done it again! This new line could not be bettered by any other manufacturer in Leeds, or even London for that matter. He was absolutely confident that after the winter showing the orders would be huge. He had heady visions of tripling the amount of business he would do in the next few months, for, like Emma, David Kallinski was a born salesman – charming, suave, and utterly dedicated to business.
Emma interrupted his thoughts as she came into the room carrying a steak-and-kidney pie from the storage cellar. David looked up and caught his breath. She had changed into one of their samples and it was enormously becoming to her. Although the style of the dress was not particularly revealing, being tailored and dignified, the fine wool clung to her lovely figure, gently outlining the high curve of her breasts, the rounded smoothness of her thighs, and the length of her graceful legs. The dress was of a dark bottle green and this colour served to emphasize the brilliance of her eyes and the translucency of her skin. He noticed she had done something different with that magnificent and abundant hair. It was pulled back as always, so that the widow’s peak was highly visible, but she had brushed it loose for once and then captured the thick tresses in a dark green net, a sort of snood topped by a small green velvet bow. The netted russet hair fell to her shoulders and framed her incomparable face and it gave her an innocent look. She’s the the most alluring creature in the world, David thought wonderingly.
Uncomfortably aware of his prolonged examination of her, Emma halted, frowning. ‘Don’t you like the designs, David?’ she asked, misunderstanding the expression on his face.
‘Good God, yes!’ he cried. ‘They’re excellent, Emma. No, that’s an understatement. They’re outstanding. You’ve done a fantastic job. Truly.’
Emma smiled. ‘Don’t exaggerate,’ she demurred, but she sighed with relief. After she had placed the pie in the oven, she glided over and sat on the floor at his feet, her back to the fire. She sorted through the sketches, expounding quickly on each one, her face revealing her zeal. She suggested minor changes to some of the designs, explained her ideas on the cutting and manufacturing processes most suitable, and volunteered her thoughts about costing. When they had first started, Emma had applied strict cost accounting to every phase of manufacturing and because of this they would be able to produce more for less than their competitors. She reiterated those points and David leaned forward, eagerness washing over his fine young face. He listened carefully, making mental notes of everything she said. Her advice had proved to be sound, and he