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“Everything starts with tracing a foot and making a pattern. From the pattern, a last is created. Think of a last as something like a mannequin’s foot. We use the last to ensure what we make has the correct shape and specifications a person may have or want to order.” David turned to his desk, took an unfinished last, and handed it to Clara.
She ran her fingers over it, feeling the edges and shape. “How long does it take to make a shoe? Do you just cut the leather and sew it together?” She passed the last back to David.
“It really depends on the material and craftsmanship, but a bespoke shoe can take up to a year to make. If it’s for myself, I tend to have it done in about three months.”
“This may be a dumb question, but what does bespoke mean?”
“There are no dumb questions.” David paused. “Bespoke is a custom-made, handcrafted item. Like my suits. I have them made specifically for me here on Savile Row.”
David passed Clara the samples of leather and showed her a few different popular styles of men’s shoes and the two pairs he had recently finished making.
“Have you ever thought about making shoes for others? These samples are wonderfully made.” Clara turned the shoes over carefully in her hands, examining the stitching.
“I would like to create an affordable collection of dress shoes under the Leeds name in the next year. That’s secondary, however, to the launch to the Whaleeds Trust. Do you mind if I take a look at your feet?” David wanted nothing more than to create a special pair of shoes for Clara.
Clara made a face. “My feet are the most hideous things you will see. Dancers have the worst feet in the world.”
“I’ve seen some pretty horrid ones. Feet tell a story, though.”
Clara reluctantly agreed and shifted so her casted leg remained on the couch and her ‘good foot’ could be examined. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Just as if she were Cinderella, David carefully knelt down and intimately peeled off Clara’s left shoe. If there was a way to make this sexy, this was it. Her sock came next and he slowly and methodically examined her foot. David believed the foot to be one of the most intriguing parts of the body.
“I’m curious. What exactly do you see?” Clara stared down at her own feet.
“I see a dancer. I see a bunion that forces its way into a shoe that doesn’t fit. I see a high instep. I see an ankle that has been sprained a few times and is slightly stronger because it has been compensating. I see toes that are bruised and still swollen from all the work they do.”
“You see all of that just from a thirty second evaluation? That is so amazing.” Clara and David’s eyes locked. David wouldn’t be able to resist kissing Clara much longer. He tried to remain moderately professional.
“You can tell a lot of information from the foot and the shoe. I usually look at the wear pattern on the tread of the shoe and the insole.” He picked up Clara’s discarded shoe and pointed out the wear pattern he just spoke about.
David placed the shoe on the floor.So much for self-control.Clara took hold of David’s arms and pulled him in. David's breathing increased. His eyes closed. Clara and David’s lips locked. Their arms wrapped around one another as the tension from the last few days was released through the kiss. Clara pulled away and took a breath.
David moved next to Clara on the couch, mindful of her cast. They kissed a few more times, each one more intense than the other. Clara and David’s lips were swollen by the end of the third round. To ensure their privacy, David stood up from the couch and locked the door.
Clara and Davidslowly slipped back into reality. It was close to 1:00 p.m. David placed his glasses back on his face and buttoned his shirt back up. Clara searched for her hair tie and threw her hair into a messy bun. David sent off the text message to George.
“What do you say to some lunch and a tour of some of the shops along Savile Row?” David hoped she would agree to his plan.
“Lunch sounds great. I’m starving.” Clara stood, followed David out from the workroom, and attempted the stairs on her own. Lunch was served in the private room on the first floor typically reserved for VIP customers. David and Clara exchanged knowing looks and were more interested in one another than their food.
David and Clara’s tour began with some of the other bespoke shopkeepers who all greeted David on a relaxed, first name basis. It never occurred to Clara that so many tailors still created custom suits, hats, shirts, and other items for clients around the world. Handcrafted items had been made the same way for generations, and the amount of work that went into making a pattern, fitting, and customization gave Clara a new understanding into David’s passion and character.
By the afternoon, David had exhausted Savile Row and Jermyn Street. Michael drove them to Hyde Park. Being out in public, David was more recognizable in his suit than in his tourist attire. For the first time that day, Clara noticed David had a few more protection officers tailing them than in the morning. As David pushed her wheelchair toward the Peter Pan statue, many of the joggers and families paid them no mind.I don’t think I could ever get used to this.
“Do you always have the same team of officers?” she questioned David, trying hard not to stare too much.
“George is my regular. He handpicks who travels and accompanies me. We served together in the Cavalry. He knows me well enough to know who may be a good fit. The schedules rotate all the time so there isn’t a set pattern, but it’s hard not to get to know them well when they are with me nearly every waking hour.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“They are an extension of my family in many ways.” He paused. “There is something you need to know about tonight,” he mumbled when they reached the statue. It was larger and more polished than Clara imagined. The thought of generations of children climbing over it brought a smile to her face.
“I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What were you saying about tonight?”
David looked for a more private area they might speak and settled for a spot on the path toward the Kensington Palace gardens. “Tonight there will be a lot of press out and about. Word has leaked that I will be attending the Royal Ballet, which is unusual for me. The British tabloids are notorious for finding out anything and everything and can make your life a living nightmare. You have to make a decision. Is giving up your privacy something you are willing to chance?”
In a conversation with Amanda a week ago, she would have given a resounding no as her answer, yet the more time she spent with David, the more she was prepared to give everything up for him. In the back of her mind, Clara knew where her heart was. “Yes. I want to see where this goes.”
