A cup of coffee was suggested, but disappointingly, no cake. By her side was a plump and silent girl who, to Viva's considerable amazement, Mrs Sowerby introduced as her daughter Victoria.īoth of them were surrounded by a sea of packages. A small, bird-thin woman wearing an extraordinary blue hat (a kind of caged thing with a blue feather poking out of the back) stood up to greet her. She stepped into the genteel murmurings of the tea room, where a pianist was playing a desultory tune. Her hair – thick and dark and inclined towards wildness – had been dampened and clenched back in a small bun. It seemed like a form of magic to Viva Holloway when, having paid three and six for her advertisement to appear in the September issue of The Lady, she found herself five days later in the restaurant at Derry & Toms in London, waiting for her first client, a Mrs Jonti Sowerby from Middle Wallop in Hampshire.įor the purposes of this interview, Viva wore not her usual mix of borrowed silks and jumble sale finds, but the grey tweed suit she loathed but had worn for temporary work as a typist.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |