Untold Story by Monica Ali

Author:Monica Ali
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Scribner

Chapter Seventeen

When Wednesday came around again Lydia helped Amber change the window display. They lifted down the four mannequins and stripped them and dismembered their arms. The mannequins bore their indignities with Mona Lisa smiles.

“I was thinking I should put the evening gowns in,” said Amber. “But maybe all four would be too much.”

“No, go for it,” said Lydia. “Let’s make a splash. How many have you sold?”

Amber smiled ruefully. “One. Plus the one you insisted on paying for.”

“Let’s get to work. We’ll have them lining up and down the block.”

They tried the peach chiffon first but the tone didn’t work with the mannequin’s coloring.

“No,” said Lydia. “Not unless we give her an instant tan.”

They took it off and replaced it with the blue taffeta. Lydia stepped onto the platform and Amber handed up the mannequin. The dress needed pinning in at the back of the waist, and when she had done that Lydia whisked around to the front to check the alignment across the collarbone.

Mrs. Deaver from the drugstore waved as she passed by at a pigeon-chested strut. Across the road, Sonia from the florist added pails of yellow and white chrysanthemums to the display outside her store. She wiped her hands on her apron and stretched her back and then leaned against the doorpost, her movements as languid as a cat’s. Kindergarten had let out for the day and mothers and children paddled casually, stopping and starting, between the lakes of sun that fell between the buildings and the cool pools of shadow in front of the stores. They eddied generally in the direction of the bakery, from which the children emerged with a swoosh of sugar-fueled high hopes.

Albert Street was wide and generous. A grass verge extended the sidewalk on the east and the road itself was wide enough to turn full circle with a horse and cart. The town hall crowned the north end with erect Georgian symmetry, and the stores that mingled with the houses bore fascias and awnings in tasteful cottage-garden hues. The buildings, all clapboard or half-timbered, had air around them. It was the town’s main street but it wasn’t squeezed. It was a street with room to breathe.

Lydia looked to see if Mr. Mancuso would emerge from his bungalow. He liked to sit out on his little steel tube stool at this time. There he was, beaming as always, as if he couldn’t believe his luck in living through another day. He was getting so frail now that perhaps there wouldn’t be too many more. He set up the stool at the bottom of his stoop, and when a child stopped to have his cheek pinched Mr. Mancuso nearly fell off his stool in delight.

Six weeks to go, thought Lydia, until Albert Street put on its finery for the annual fête. She was looking forward to it. She smiled to herself. There had been a time when she could scarcely stay in one city, one country, one continent, for more than a day or two without being burned by the apparent certainty that she was in the wrong place.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.