Evelyn (Cate Blancett x OC Story)

Chapter Three

                Chapter Three

               'Ghastly weather,' the woman gasped, arriving at Evelyn's elbow, smiling. 'It's so nice of you to come find me. You really didn't have to.'

    'I thought you might not be familiar with the area.'

    'It isn't too early for you, is it?'

    'Not at all.' Evelyn smiled. At least the woman had recognized her, she thought.

    'Do you have any preference as to coffee places?' the woman asked on the pavement, stepped straight on the first snow of the year.

    'There is a nice quiet one down the street. Have you had breakfast yet?' It was nine-fifteen already. Evelyn knew she would be terribly late, and it didn't matter at all. A lorry with rattling, slapping chains turned in front of them, and Evelyn couldn't hear what the woman said.

    She went with her into the coffee shop where she ordered a hot cup of coffee, and invited Evelyn to have one. 'Or perhaps a pot of Earl Grey? It's too cold to think straight.'

    Evelyn's impulse to refuse politely lasted only a moment. 'Thank you. I'd like some.'

    They didn't bother to talk anymore on the way. Now and then, the snowy paths made them separate, and once, the woman glanced at Evelyn, across a pushcart full of freshly baked doughnuts when they crossed the street, sipping from the coffee cup, smiling. Evelyn heard the soft snap of the woman's scarf end in the wind.

    They entered the dress shop, that was miraculously quiet for once on a Friday, and not half crowded except for a flushed Pippa running the front desk when there was no clientèle. Evelyn reminded Pippa Marionette was to handle walk-ins until she returned from her chamber upstairs.

    The spiral stairs that led to the second floor were a series of high-ceilinged, thick-carpeted hallways, a background of storage for the sewing staff, the sketches, illustrations, or whatever that hung in a crowded row on the walls. Evelyn informed Mrs. Roberts, the head sewer, that Madam Henrietta wanted her gown finished by Sunday for her brother's funeral when Mrs. Roberts peaked her head to see the commotion. Evelyn's private chamber was at the end of the hallway.

    It was warm inside the room. There was a plain table of pale dark wood in the centre, a tall dark-green ceiling with dark-green upholstery with windows facing south and west, and there was a small balcony overlooking the canal. The room smelled of aged wood and mustiness of varnish, of mothballs, and of the dusky faintly sweet smell that was woman's own now. A carefully laid roll of fabric against the upholstery, and the marked armless mannequins were the only signs of Evelyn's sewing.

    'So—this is where it all happens.' The woman took off her scarf as she walked in, and looked at Evelyn. She stood with her coat over her arm until Evelyn took it from her. 'You've been doing this for a long while, haven't you?'

   'Since I was a little girl.'  Evelyn hung her coat in a closet with the woman's.

    'How old?'

    'Young. Perhaps about your daughter's age. Please, make yourself comfortable,' Evelyn said softly, moving around the desk to rummage through the drawers for something. She placed a pair of dark-rimmed glasses on her nose, and a blank paper before her to sketch on. 'I would put secrets, words, messages-anything really-inside garment linings. Things that only I knew were there.' Evelyn glanced up at the little gold earrings, that were somehow more clear now and no lighter than the woman's eyes themselves, or her hair. Evelyn thought her beautiful and wanted to look at the woman's mouth, but the blue eyes so close drove her away, washing over her like an ocean.