The Girl With the Golden Scissors by Julia Drosten

Author:Julia Drosten [Drosten, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542007825
Published: 2020-01-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Vienna, 1913

“Holy Mary, mother of God, must your madame drive like a mad woman? It’s not doing my old bones much good!” Josepha hung on to her hat with one hand while the other clutched at the arm rest in Madame Moreau’s elegant black Bugatti.

At the age of seventy-six, Josepha was experiencing her first trip in a motorcar, the elegant façades in Vienna’s Tuchlauben district flashing by.

“Don’t be concerned! Madame is an experienced driver.” Sarah Moreau’s right-hand woman, Elfriede Schubert, attempted to soothe Josepha’s nerves while Fanny, sitting between the two of them in the back seat, put a comforting hand on the old lady’s shoulder.

“C’est vrai!” Madame sang out, her eyes firmly on the road ahead. “I have to hurry, I’m afraid, if we’re to be on time to mark Fanny’s success! And remember, I’ve never had an accident!”

As the vehicle swung left into a narrow alley, Madame sounded the horn at a couple of passersby who had failed to immediately make way for her. The car bumped and jolted over the uneven cobbles the short distance to Judenplatz before braking abruptly in front of a striking white building.

“Just in time!” Madame glanced at the well-groomed guests gathering at the main door, now staring with curiosity at the vehicle and its occupants. Straightening her hat before stepping out of the vehicle, she went immediately to assist Josepha, while Fanny gazed up at the façade. The broad, triangular gable bore the distinctive coat of arms, scissors and a thimble. Running across the front of the building between the first and second floors was a bold inscription to mark the home of the civil tailors’ guild: Haus der bürgerlichen Schneider.

Today’s the day I qualify in my trade, she said to herself, full of joy and anticipation, as she got out of the car behind Josepha.

The old lady had hardly slept a wink and was full of pride to be wearing the Viennese tailored suit that Fanny had made as her final test piece. For Josepha, this was simply the most beautiful item of clothing she had ever possessed. It was made of the finest English cloth, and Fanny had fashioned the buttons from old silver coins.

As the four women approached the wide doorway together, Fanny was aware of whispers left and right. Her own kimono-style gown caught the eye of all the women, while the men ogled the Bugatti and trotted out whatever they knew about pistons, cylinders, valves, and horsepower.

It feels like no time at all since I started out as a new apprentice, thought Fanny as they went upstairs to the hall for the celebration. She marveled at what she had learned over the past three years. Madame Moreau had shown her how to breathe life into clients’ fantasies through imaginative fabric choices and flattering colors, always adding a personal touch. And from Elfriede Schubert, she had learned the nuts and bolts of her craft. A hard taskmaster, Frau Schubert had often criticized Fanny’s early work as “sloppy,” but the girl had bitten her tongue and never talked back.

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