The Memory Dress

Chapter One

ONE

Meredith

LONDON

1988

She’s barely slept. Not last night and not much for the previous ten, the number of days since she was offered the job she will start this morning. But she knows adrenaline and coffee will power her through whatever lies ahead. Meredith’s stomach flips. She takes a deep grounding breath and hopes with all her heart that they will be kind. That she will be able to add something, to answer any questions directed at her. But more than anything she hopes that she will love this job every bit as much as she’s always dreamed she will.

She checks her bag for the final time, ensuring everything she needs for the day is there before she leaves her small apartment. She arrives early and circles the block several times. It may inconvenience others if she arrives too soon. They won’t be ready for her and it will cause a disruption.

At eight a.m. on the dot she presses the doorbell and waits. Another deep breath, smoothing her hands down over her brown wool coat, which now feels lacking, given what she knows is created behind this door, which is at this very moment opening to reveal a man.

“Meredith?”

She nods, nervous anticipation not yet allowing her to smile or offer a good morning . She reaches out a hand to shake his but the tall man ushers her inside a cramped narrow hallway and misses it.

“You can hang your coat there”—he nods toward a rail that runs the length of the small space—“and ideally your bag. We try to keep as few personal belongings in the workroom as possible. No drinks, obviously. Staff room and the bathroom are one floor up.” He nods skyward. “I’m Peter, the sample cutter.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Peter. I’m really looking forward to getting started.”

“That’s great to hear because there is a mountain to do,” Peter adds with all the weariness and none of the enthusiasm of first-day Meredith. “This is the workroom where you’ll be based.” He pushes open a door to another room that is again much smaller than Meredith anticipated. Everything she would expect to see is here—and nothing else. Everything is in its place, just as she likes it. There is very little color, no plants, no personal effects, no packed lunch waiting to be eaten later.

“It’s all pretty self-explanatory. That’s your seat.” Peter nods toward the one vacant spot close to the window, not that there is much of a view through its frosted glass. It’s one of the lower tables and, she can see, has enough space for her to neatly display all her own essentials. “I’ll leave you to make your own introductions if you don’t mind. I’ve got to get on.”

“Absolutely, no problem at all.” Meredith casts a broad smile around the room. She takes her time introducing herself, ensuring she makes eye contact with everyone, eleven of them in total, mostly women. Everyone nods, taking the briefest moment to acknowledge her, to assess how she will fit into their tightly ordered regime.

All except one.

A man in a pristine long white coat leaning over a high table, a small sharp pencil in his right hand. Meredith refuses to be ignored so she waits. She sees the faintest frown pinch at his eyebrows. He doesn’t want to pause. Doesn’t want to raise his head from the work he is doing, breaking his concentration, but understands that he should. His eyes move a fraction toward her. He senses her continued presence and eventually straightens. Surprisingly, his eyes are kind, not challenging. Shy perhaps, or unassuming, thinks Meredith, rather than rude.

“Hello, I’m Meredith,” she says directly to him, then watches as his face remains motionless. He’s going to ignore her. She can see his head start to dip back toward the white shapes in front of him on the table.

“And you are?” She tilts her head, searching out eye contact again. She allows her smile to deepen. Now is not the moment to be intimidated by anyone, least of all someone she is about to have a close working relationship with. Their eyes reconnect for a second or two longer than she suspects he has awarded anyone else so far today.

“William.” There is the subtlest curve upward at the corners of his mouth. She’s reminded of the efficiency of Peter’s smile earlier. It wasn’t friendly. It was intended to communicate something else altogether, his doubt about how much she might enjoy being here, perhaps. William’s smile is different, more genuine.

“Well, I’m looking forward to working with you, William.”

Meredith hears the door open again behind her and feels the faintest shift of energy in the room. She looks over her shoulder just as Catherine enters, instantly recognizable with her dark shoulder-length hair and an immaculate jet-black trouser suit, the jacket open, its sleeves pushed a little up her arms, ready for work. Meredith didn’t imagine she would meet her so soon. She’s considerably more beautiful than the few images of her in the press suggest. But it isn’t her looks that impress Meredith. Here is a woman at the very top of her game, whose creativity and work ethic have ensured the kind of meteoric rise that might give birth to a giant ego in some. Not so, in this case. Meredith has read enough to know this is where she wants to be and whom she wants to learn from.

Catherine extends a hand. “A pleasure to have you with us. Meredith, isn’t it?”

“It is, yes.” The two women exchange a firm handshake before Catherine makes her way to the back of the room to chat with Peter.

Meredith turns to take her seat and notices that William is yet to return to his task. He is watching her, a subtle curiosity in his eyes, and apparently feels no need to hide the fact.