Annie's Promise by Margaret Graham

week, cutting, sewing, checking the garments, listing them for insurance purposes, packing them in reams of tissue paper which Sarah and Davy pinched, wrapped round combs and blew until Annie shouted and their lips were numb. She arrived in Dundee, lugged her skips to the taxi, fell into bed and saw the first of the buyers at ten o’clock the next morning. She called for coffee but the buyer drank tea, then said that the the jute trade was in a bad way, had been since ’53 and there wasn’t a lot of money around. He couldn’t take anything.
    The last buyer said her budget was already committed but yes, she’d like coffee and perhaps a cake. At Stirling, Perth and the Lowlands they liked the samples and said they’d take a few ‘to help her out’, but they’d want extended credit. She refused but offered them another five per cent discount. One refused, the others accepted but when she took the train for Edinburgh she knew that so far their costs had not nearly been covered.
    In Edinburgh a central buyer told her she should get her stationery and advice notes and invoices printed up properly. ‘Can’t expect anyone to take you seriously unless you put on a good front,’ the woman said. ‘Come round again in the autumn, let’s see how you’re doing then. May I have your card?’ Annie did not have one, had never had one.
    The buyer bought nothing, and Annie toured the Madam shops and sold six dozen bra and pant sets. A buyer in Glasgow liked the samples but had committed his budget almost before the tour began. ‘Might be an idea to put out a catalogue,’ he said as she left.
    With what? Annie longed to ask.
    She took the train to Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, Nottingham and York and sold a total of thirtydozen pants and bras, fifteen dozen aprons and gloves. It would perhaps pay for printed stationery but not for the train fares, the hotel charges or the taxi fares, she thought as she caught the train from Newcastle to Wassingham and wondered how she could tell the others.
    Georgie was waiting for her at the station, running towards her, lifting her in his arms, kissing her, then hauling along the skips. She told him the total sales and then, when he seemed not to care, she set those against their expenses, but he just shrugged, heaved the skips into the boot and opened the door for her.
    ‘We need proper stationery, proper advance planning, collapsible boxes for neat presentation, we must dip further into our resources, Georgie, it’s not that much to ask.’
    He smiled at her, touching he shoulder. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get back, I’m nursing the phone.’ He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. ‘I’ve had a call from a wholesaler, Nigel Manners, who supplies hundreds of small shops. Apparently his wife was in Newby’s while I was trying to flog some to the buyer. She liked them, or so he says. I’ve sent him a sample and he’s ringing back tonight at half past eight. Says if the terms are right he’ll want thousands, so I’ve sorted it all out for you, darling, there’s no more need for you to worry.’
    Annie looked at her watch. It was eight o’clock. She looked ahead and made herself smile because all the months she’d worked, all the miles she’d travelled had been a waste of time – she’d been right in the first place, it was Georgie who should have run the business – and the knowledge churned deep inside her.

CHAPTER 5
    There was no call at half past eight but at nine o’clock Nigel Manners rang and ordered eight thousand bra and pant sets as per the sample but with a few modifications.
    Georgie mouthed to Annie, ‘We’re on, we’re actually on,’ his eyes alight. He turned back to the phone. ‘My wife will drive across tomorrow.’
    ‘Sorry, no, never deal with women. You’ve another director, surely?’
    Georgie shook his head at Annie, raised his eyebrows. ‘Fine, Tom Ryan will be with you at … shall we say eleven?’
    Annie lit