“The queen is coming here for a fitting?” It didn’t make sense. The queen and princesses never came to Bruton Street. Mr. Hartnell and Mam’selle always went to them.
“No. To see the gown. Queen, Princess Elizabeth. Margaret, too. Queen Mary, Duchess of Gloucester.” Poor Miss Duley still couldn’t catch her breath.
“Just to see the gown?” Ann repeated.
“Yes. They want to visit the workrooms. But the state of this place . . . what’ll we do?”
Ann didn’t have to look around to know what was distressing Miss Duley. The workroom was a shambles. It was clean and orderly where it counted, which at that moment was the great, long frame that held the princess’s train, but everywhere else was a disaster.
“Mr. Hartnell will have a fit if he sees it like this,” Miss Duley went on. “And what will the queen say?”
“She won’t see it like this. We’ll tidy it now,” Ann promised. “If we all work together it’ll be done in no time.”
“Where’ll we put everything?” Miss Duley waved a hand at the stacks of empty tambour frames, messily folded lengths of fabric, overflowing boxes of trim, and unraveling spools of ribbon that had colonized the fringes of the workroom.
“We’ll hide it.”
“I know,” Miriam said. “We will take those empty frames, the ones that are stacked in the corner, and set them up along the wall there, and then we will put whatever we must hide underneath. Then we will cover all of it with, ah . . .”
“We’ve those old sheets. The ones we’re meant to put up if we notice anyone trying to take pictures from the opposite windows.” Then another idea occurred to Ann. “Do we have the samples back again from the queen and Princess Elizabeth?”
“Yes,” Miss Duley said promptly. “They’re in Mr. Hartnell’s office. I saw them there yesterday.”
“Let’s see if we can fetch them back. We can set them up on the table by the stairs, and we’ll put Mr. Hartnell’s sketches there, too. In case he wants to show them.”
“Good. Yes, that’s a splendid idea,” Miss Duley said. “Thank you, Ann.”
“Are you feeling better? Why don’t you stay put for now? We’ll take care of sorting everything out.”
It only took an hour to set everything to rights, although they had to work straight through their morning break to ensure everything was tidy and clean. Just as they were finishing there was another small panic, this time over everyone’s appearance. But Miss Duley, now herself again, was not to be moved. No, lipstick was not allowed under any circumstance, and no, the queen and other royal ladies would not notice what any of them were wearing.
“I can’t believe I’m going to meet the queen and I’m dressed in any old thing,” Ruthie complained. Ann, who was wearing her least favorite blouse and skirt under her coveralls, wisely said nothing.
“You’d look ridiculous if you were dressed up in your Sunday best,” Miss Duley reasoned. “Besides, they’re not coming to see us—they want to see the gown. We’ll be part of the scenery, no more.”
As soon as the workroom was ready for inspection, Miss Duley pulled out her box Brownie camera, which made Ann wonder if perhaps she had been hoping for a visit from the royal ladies, and had one of the girls from the sewing workroom take a photograph from the top of the steps of everyone at their places. That accomplished, there was just enough time for dinner, and for Ann to run over to the models’ cloakroom to return Carmen’s frock and coat.
“I promise to tell you everything later, but I have to rush back—the royals are coming.”
“I heard. Good luck! And don’t forget your coat.”
A dropped pin would have sounded like a falling anvil in the workroom that afternoon. Ann resolved to focus only on the work before her, and did so with such success that she nearly jumped out of her skin when the telephone on Miss Duley’s desk began to ring.
“Yes, Mrs. Price. Thank you. We’ll be ready.” Miss Duley set down the receiver and stood. “They’ll be here in five minutes. Please line up in front of the frames, ladies, and mind you don’t brush against them and knock off the coverings.”
They all did as she suggested, and then, frowning, she beckoned Ann and Miriam to come forward. “I want you to stand at your chairs. Just in case they wish to see a demonstration.”
Approaching Ann, her hands fluttering over her hair, Miss Duley asked worriedly, “How do I look?” She had added a white lace collar to her usual black dress, and her hair was in an even tighter bun than usual.