LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Lot 1

      Lot 2

      Lot 3

      Lot 4

      Kim

      Lot 5

      Lot 6

      Kim

      Lot 7

      Kim

      Lot 8

      Lot 9

      Kim

      Lot 10

       Lot 11

       Lot 12

       Lot 13

       Lot 14

       Kim

       Lot 15

       Lot 16

       Kim

       Lot 17

       Lot 18

       Kim

       Lot 19

       Lot 20

       Lot 21

       Lot 22

       Lot 23

       Kim

       Lot 24

       Lot 25

       Kim

       Lot 26

       Lot 27

       Lot 28

       Lot 29

       Kim

       Cato Hamilton Auctioneers & Fern Banks Vintage Auction Catalogue

       Acknowledgements

       Keep Reading …

       Also by Sophie Jenkins

       About the Publisher

       LOT 1

       A Chanel-style black-and-white cotton tweed suit with bracelet-length sleeves, double ‘C’ gilt buttons, chain-weighted hem and matching skirt.

      Most stories start with action. This isn’t one of them. Mine starts with indecision. It’s a warm Sunday evening and I’m dragging my wheelie case over the cobbled stones of Camden Market, pondering the big issues of my life. Can I really make a living selling vintage dresses from one small stand? Should I call in at Cotton’s Rhum Shack to cheer myself up before going home?

      The din of the case rattling on the cobbles is attracting some negative attention from passers-by in an annoyed ‘What the hell is that noise?’ kind of way. It’s a cheap black suitcase, with nothing going for it except that it’s big enough to carry my stock of frocks.

      I come out through the imposing arch of Stables Market onto the busy Chalk Farm Road and I stand on the kerb, still undecided. Quick drink? Across the way, the lights in Cotton’s Rhum Shack are gleaming. It’s snug and inviting, located between a music shop and one selling white crockery. Right now, there’s a gap in the traffic and I’ve got the chance to dash across. Still, something makes me hesitate. It’s been a long day and I haven’t sold much so the case is heavy. If I turn right past the Lock and trundle my case along the towpath, I’ll be home. I can hang up the dresses, kick off my shoes, undo my fitted jacket and relax. Simple choice. Drink, or home?

      Before I reach a decision, a woman coming along the pavement catches my eye. I see her now exactly as I did the first time we met, in a series of close-ups – the scarlet lips, the little Chanel suit, the black silk turban covering her dark hair, her sharp little face, faux pearls, a black patent handbag with intertwined Cs hanging from the crook of her elbow. She wears the outfit as naturally as if it’s her skin. It is the perfect fit. With the tick-tick-tick of her heels, she’s a combination of sound and vision – that confident, moneyed walk; chin tilted upwards, completely self-contained except for the way her eyes flick slyly towards me to gauge the effect she’s having.

      I’ve imagined this moment for a long time.

      I feel a surge of happiness and forget about the Rhum Shack. This is my chance to thank her, I decide, for the way she changed my life one day a few years ago.

      I was very down at the time; stuck in a dark place. What turned me around was that she noticed me, a total stranger, when I thought I was invisible; she saw through my misery to the person I wanted to be; she told me in a few kind, well-chosen words how to be the person I could be.

      I want her to see my transformation.

      Transformation!

Скачать книгу