“I see…” said Madame Golitsyn. “So what do you have in mind?”
“I think the first thing to do is to find out, once and for all, how Gretchen was involved in the break-in, why she pretends to be a little fool, and where her father is hidden,” said Madame Koska.
“And do you have an idea how to start?” asked Madame Golitsyn.
“Only vaguely,” said Madame Koska. “I need to think about it a little longer. You will help me, won’t you, Annushka?”
“Of course,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Is there even a need to ask?”
“No, I know I can rely on you… thank you. Now let’s go and get some very hot coffee!”
It turned out to be a particularly busy day, not only with the usual work done for the customers, and the added work for the show, but with a surprise visit from the Misses Plimpton-Anderson, who came in twittering in their youthful way and demanding to see sketches of Russian style clothing. Madame Koska would have greatly preferred to see them safely back in India, but a valuable customer was a valuable customer, and the sisters were quite ready to obtain very expensive clothes.
“I just can’t remember the names of the outfits,” simpered the younger sister. “I am so silly sometimes… what was the name, Adelaide, dear?”
“Oh, Helen, you really are such a goose… they were the Zipun and the Sarafan that Madame Koska told us about!” said the older sister.
“Yes, of course,” said Madame Koska. “I can show you some sketches. They vill be different from the ones in the show, of course, but still very new and elegant. I don’t think anyone has them yet.” She knew that this would make them long to come to the show wearing such clothes, to show the world they were the first to wear her new styles.
“How exciting! How thrilling! How marvellous!” The sisters were overwhelmed.
“Miss Van der Hoven, vould you kindly bring the green portfolio from the middle shelf to the first fitting room?” asked Madame Koska. “Ve vill be quieter there. Let’s go there, ladies.”
“But this is extraordinary,” said the older Miss Plimpton-Anderson as she was seriously examining the sketches. “Helen, I think we could wear similar outfits, but with different colours and embroidery.”
“Absolutely,” said Madame Koska. “You vill truly stand out if you vear them vhen you come to the show. For your ensemble, Miss Adelaide, I suggest green, vhich vould bring out your chestnut brown hair, and for Miss Helen, who is blond, I favour dusty rose.”
“And the embroidery?” asked the younger sister.
“Complementary colours, since it’s for afternoon vear. If it vere for evening, I vould have suggested Russian pearl embroidery, since I have a great expert in this craft vorking here. But for daytime, I suggest Ukrainian style embroidery in subtle colours, but interesting textures. I think crimson and cream over the dusty rose, brown and beige over the green.”
“Superb,” said the younger sister. “Indeed,” said the older sister.
“So vould you come for measuring next veek?” asked Madame Koska. “Monday, perhaps? Miss Van der Hoven can take care of fixing the appointment. By then I vill have samples of materials for you to look over.”
“Yes, we could come Monday. What kind of hats would we need?”
“I’ll have sketches ready for you that could make suggestions,” said Madame Koska. “I think, perhaps just vide head bands instead of real hats, made of the same materials, but I am not sure yet…”
“Can we look at the atelier a little?” asked the younger sister with a sweet, childish smile that did not belong on her mature face. “Oh, yes, Gretchen told us so much about it!” said the older sister.
“Certainly,” said Madame Koska. “I vill take you everyvhere except vhere ve are preparing the secret collection!” The two sisters giggled like school children.
Madame Koska showed them around the other fitting rooms, the office, one of the sewing rooms, and the areas where she kept the supplies. Gretchen followed them, chatting with the sisters, until finally, the younger sister looked at her watch and said, “Adelaide, we really must go or we will be so late to tea.” and Madame Koska breathed with relief.
When the sisters left, Madame Koska sat in her office for a few minutes, thinking. From her window she could clearly see the police officer that Commander Blount placed across the street. She was rather happy to see him. It did not escape her attention that the sisters were looking around with a certain efficiency that did not match their fake and youthful silliness. They seemed to even look in the direction of the safe, quite pointedly. She could not forget that they were dear friends of the Howards—whom she did not trust at all.
By the end of the day, Madame Koska and Natalya were alone in the atelier, after everyone else went home. They finished setting up the little ironing room to Natalya’s satisfaction.
“It’s raining,” said Natalya, looking out of the window that was the main attraction of the ironing room, since the fresh air would allow her to work there without choking on the ashes of the chemically treated mousseline. “Nasty cold rain, which is such a pity—I meant to check the shop for more ironing cloths, since they are the only thing we miss for this arrangement.”
“Time enough,” said Madame Koska. “You should go home, Miss Saltykov. It’s dark and unpleasant, and you must be tired after such a long day. I vill only stay for an hour or two for the accounts, and then I just have to go upstairs, I don’t have to travel. But you should not exhaust yourself; ve have so much to do and I don’t vant you to be ill.”
“Yes, this is true,” said Natalya and shook her head ruefully. “I know I am foolish… When I start on something I am so anxious to go on… to finish… you should have seen me when I was sewing my new suit, the one I wore to the Christmas dinner. I worked well into the night, for days!”
“It vas a beautiful suit, I truly admired it,” said Madam Koska. “So elegant vith the simple, clean lines you achieved; it vas very becoming.”
Natalya smiled. “Thank you, Madame Koska. Auntie gave me this beautiful shot silk… and can you imagine, Miss Wilma gave me her hat that was perfect for the suit! She said she had changed all her wardrobe, and will never again wear such an old-fashioned hat.”
“It is hardly old-fashioned,” said Madame Koska. “It is the height of fashion. But I know what she means. Miss Vilma is, vell, hmm, she is following different fashions now.”
“She is a flapper,” said Natalya with admiration. “They have so much courage, such daring style…”
“Yes, indeed,” said Madame Koska. “But I liked your suit better; much more refined and elegant.”
“Really?” said Natalya, visibly gratified. “How wonderful… thank you! Did you think the sleeves fitted? I had some trouble with them.”
“Oh yes, they fitted perfectly; you never make sewing mistakes, Miss Saltykov. Vell, run along home. Tomorrow ve’ll get you all the ironing cloths you vant, I’ll send Miss Van der Hoven to the suppliers.”
“I will, but I pass them anyway, so I might just look and see if there is anything else…”
Madame Koska laughed. “You are incorrigible, my dear. Good night.”
When Natalya left, Madame Koska toyed with the idea of going straight up to her flat and leaving all the bills and paperwork for the next day. However, she knew she would have absolutely no time and not a moment’s peace during the day. So after turning off all the lights other than the small lamp on her desk, so no one would think the place was open and try to bother her, she sighed and sat down to do her bills. At least, she thought, she now knew where Natalya’s expensive suit came from… but still… did Natalya make a deliberate effort to tell her about it? Did she have a reason to think Madame Koska would suspect her of something? Ah, well. It would be easy to find out if Annushka really gave her the shot silk… she turned to her bills.