House of Angels Read Online Free PDF Page B

her into a sensible chignon at the back of her head. The new style made Mercy feel very grown-up .
    Jessie had also insisted upon laundering her only blouse and good skirt, although it meant Mercy going about clad in nothing but her shawl until they were dry and ironed. Then her flannel petticoat and vest, worn next to her skin, which to her certain knowledge had neverbeen washed, were dunked in the wash tub too. Mam had always considered it highly dangerous to remove underthings, particularly at night. Now the clean flannel felt all scratchy and stiff, and full of shaming holes as the shock of the hot water seemed to have made the fabric fall apart. Fortunately no one but herself would ever see these, and Jessie had assured her the flannel would go soft again, with wear.
    Jack had managed to find some boot polish from somewhere, which he’d used to good effect on her one decent pair of boots. They pinched her toes a bit but Jessie said that were she to secure a job as a shop assistant, a uniform would be provided. Perhaps accommodation too, as many of the young women employed by Angel’s were housed either in large dormitories above the store or in various quarters around the town.
    Standing before her friends Mercy had felt unexpectedly optimistic and excited, but now she was sick with anxiety. She felt insignificant and out of place, the stuffed mannequins with their knobs for heads in the shop windows looking far better dressed than she was. But then Mercy couldn’t recall the last time she’d worn anything new, if ever.
    Giving a little gulp in a futile attempt to moisten her dry mouth, Mercy pushed open the shop door and walked in. She was as quickly marched out again with a stern reprimand from a man in a smart morning suit. Spruced up and clean she may be by Fellside standards, but not respectable enough to be seen shopping in Angel’s emporium.
    Back out on the pavement, Mercy chewed on her lip, wondering what to do next. How was she ever to get a job if she wasn’t allowed to set foot in the store? It suddenly occurred to her that, like any grand house with a servant’s entrance, the store itself would no doubt have a back door for employees, who likewise mustn’t be seen cheek-by-jowl with the esteemed customers. She set off down a side alley in search of one and soon found what she was looking for. No one answered her timid knock so she turned the handle and crept inside.
     
    The door Mercy had found opened onto a long corridor which, in turn, led to a labyrinth of similar passages. Mercy tiptoed along them, feeling very much like a mouse who might be pounced upon at any moment by the resident cat.
    Finally, and to her great relief, she opened another door and found herself in a large room. Her first impression was that it was filled with boxes, stacked high on the floor, on tables, on every possible surface, but then she saw that people were engaged in unpacking them: young boys, and girls in black dresses with their sleeves rolled up.
    There were shelves all around the perimeter of the room filled with bolts of fabric, lace curtains, blankets, mantles, shawls and even furs; a strange looking collection of brass stands that held an assortment of hats, muffs and umbrellas. One was completely decked out in feather boas. A group of the same mannequins she’d seen in the shop window leant drunkenly together in onecorner, their knobbed heads close together as if gossiping over some naughty secret. And through a half-open door Mercy glimpsed a second room, which appeared to be filled with girls operating machines of some sort, perhaps sewing the fine garments that she’d seen on display.
    Mercy was so overawed by the scene that she might have been content to stand transfixed for hours, drinking it all in, had she not been approached by a tall woman with a stern face and a spine that looked as if a steel rod had been inserted into it.
    ‘And what might you be doing in our stock room, young miss? If you’re