Page 128 of Sins


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They didn’t share the kind of closeness with one another that would have enabled her to explain how she had felt when she had seen her mother’s face when she had looked at Emerald’s Designers Guild bedroom, even if she hadn’t been the kind of person who loathed talking about her own feelings. To see such sadness and loss in her mother’s expression had reminded Emerald of how important to her mother the interior design business was. At the time that hadn’t really mattered, but now somehow it did.

‘The property could be sold quite easily, I imagine,’ Janey continued.

‘Very easily,’ Emerald agreed, ‘but I don’t think that’s what we should do.’

‘What do you mean?’ That was Cathy, the rebel who had always taken delight in doing the opposite of what was expected of her.

‘We all know how much silk means to Mummy, both via Denby Mill and the Walton Street shop, how passionately she has always felt about her own father’s designs and the heritage that goes with all of that. More than anything else she wanted that heritage to be preserved and woven into a future.’

‘Well, yes, we all know that, Emerald. That was why she sent me and Polly to Italy to train at Angelli’s.’

‘That was part of the reason,’ Emerald agreed. ‘The other part was surely that she hoped you would give back to Denby Mill and the Walton Street business something of what she had given you.’

There was a small tense silence, and then Polly objected, ‘Oh, that’s good coming from you, Emerald, trying to make us feel guilty about the shop, and make sacrifices because we trained at Angelli’s, whilst you get off scot-free because all you ever did was be a deb and marry Drogo.’

‘It wasn’t my intention to make you feel guilty. I simply wanted us to discuss what we felt we could all do to help get the business back on its feet. And as for making sacrifices, well, there’s only one of us who would have to do that.’

They all looked at her.

‘Who?’ Janey asked.

‘Rose,’ Emerald announced. ‘It was Rose who Mummy always wanted to take over from her.’

‘That was a long time ago, Emerald. I have Pete to think of now, and it’s years since I worked professionally as an interior designer,’ Rose protested.

‘We all know how much the Walton Street shop and its business has meant to Mummy,’ Emerald continued, ignoring Rose’s outburst. ‘After all, she wanted all of you to be involved in its future, and she planned for that.’

A shared uncomfortable and guilty silence met Emerald’s unexpected comments.

‘It’s my belief that, more than anything else, whatever happens to Jay, what will give Mummy more comfort and hope than anything else will be the survival and renewed success of the Walton Street business. At the moment it’s dying on its feet and it needs new life breathed into it.’

Emerald paused, but none of them had missed the significance of her choice of language.

‘Its designs are old-fashioned, and so is the shop. The whole business needs revamping, and that is something we could all contribute to. It needs new designers for the fabrics. You two, Polly and Cathy, could take on the fabric design side of things.’

‘No.’

‘Impossible.’

The twins spoke together.

‘I live in Italy now, Emerald, and even if I could make the time, it’s been years since I last did any designing,’ Polly told her.

‘I’m an artist, Emerald,’ Cathy protested crossly.

‘I’m not suggesting that either of you design the fabrics yourself–as you’ve both said, neither of you is really qualified to do so any more–but you, Polly, are married to a man who provides what is regarded as the best training for young untested designers there is, and you, Cathy, have the skill to recognise the potential in the young graduates coming out of St Martins and the like. There is nothing to stop you selecting the best of the new designers straight from college, and nothing to stop you and Rocco, Polly, offering them a chance to spent six months with Angelli’s, really learning their trade, with a view to them then giving at least a year each to the Walton Street shop designing new fabrics.’

Polly felt curiously light-headed. How extraordinary that it should be Emerald, of all people, who should have come up with such an innovative and exciting idea. What Emerald had suggested had so many possibilities, so many potential challenges, so much about it that was unexpectedly close to her heart.

‘And before you say that you can’t check out St Martins students from St Ives, Cathy, what is there to stop you and Sim spending some of your time in London, and o

pening a gallery there as well?’

‘I don’t want a London gallery.’

‘Maybe you don’t, but what about Sim?’

Emerald had touched on a nerve. Sim was a wonderfully creative sculptor; he deserved and needed a wider audience for his work, Cathy knew that.

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