Tamar by Deborah Challinor Page A

properly, how to have intelligent and charming conversations wi’ the customers, and what it is a man likes between the sheets. And there’s the other matter too — good at it ye may be, but ye’ll still be a whore. That doesnae worry ye?’
    A shadow passed across Polly’s pale face. ‘Myrna, I’m already a whore.’
    ‘All right, lassie. I’ll take ye on. The house willnae be opening for a few more weeks, so there’ll be time enough, I suppose.’
    Polly jumped up, almost scaring the life out of Cabbage who was messily eating a bun on the kitchen floor, and hugged Myrna.
    ‘Thank you! I won’t let you down, I promise!’ She snatched the dog up and swung him around as he stubbornly hung on to the bun. ‘Rich, Cabbage, we’ll be rich! I can have my parlour with the ostrich feathers and you can have as many buns and as much roast lamb as you like! And a little silk coat in the winter.’
    God Almighty, thought Myrna. That poor wee dog.
    The following day Myrna went to see Tamar and find out how her order for soft furnishings was coming along. Mr Ellis confirmed her goods would be ready by the middle of the following week. Would she like him to come to her new home and fit the new drapes? No she would not, she would do that herself. After Mr Ellis had retreated in a mild sulk, Myrna told Tamar she had found Polly, who was safe and in one piece. She also told her of Polly’s decision to work in Myrna’s house.
    ‘Is that a good idea?’ asked Tamar, looking concerned.

    Myrna described exactly what Polly had been doing when she found her.
    ‘I see,’ said Tamar. ‘So she might as well then?’
    ‘Aye, she might as well,’ Myrna agreed. ‘Ye havnae had a wee visitor?’
    ‘John, you mean?’ Tamar replied, blushing slightly. ‘Yes, he was in yesterday morning. He came to say hello then he was off to do some surgery. Did you tell him I was here?’
    Myrna nodded. ‘That isnae a problem, is it?’
    ‘Not at all, it was lovely to see him. He looks well and he seems happy.’
    I know what would make him happier, Myrna thought.
    The women parted, Myrna having extracted a promise that Tamar would come to the Mt Eden house on Sunday evening for supper.
    As Myrna left the shop, a tall, fashionably dressed gentleman held the door for her. Looking back through the big glass window, Myrna observed him wander around the interior before stopping in front of several bolts of white lace. By the time Tamar emerged from the back of the shop, Myrna had gone on her way. ‘Can I help you, sir?’ Tamar asked.
    When the man looked up and smiled at her, her heart lurched. His eyes, so deeply brown they were almost black, matched heavy ebony hair. A five o’clock shadow was evident on his chin and upper lip, even though it was not yet midday, and contrasted with his pale skin. His nose was strong and straight and he had regular white teeth in a smile that tilted the corners of his mouth attractively. Elegantly dressed, he wore high black leather riding boots, snugly fitting beige trousers, a dark brown waistcoat over a white shirt, and a well-cut black top coat of good quality broadcloth.
    ‘Yes, please,’ he replied, removing his black top hat. ‘I’m looking for some lace. My wife is about to have our first child and she wantssome suitable decoration for the crib.’
    ‘Well, sir,’ said Tamar, recovering quickly from her disappointment at the man’s mention of a wife, but nonetheless bewildered by her fleeting, irrational response. ‘We have some lovely Brussels lace, and some very fine examples from Ireland. Is this the type of thing you’re looking for?’ she asked, indicating one of the laces.
    He looked doubtful. ‘Well, I don’t know anything about this sort of thing but Anna has her heart set on something pretty for the baby. What would you put on a baby’s crib?’
    ‘I’d probably choose a border of the Brussels lace on a gathered swathe of white satin or silk, if it’s a ruffled effect Mrs, ah