The Seamstress of Hulda Street(8-Chapter Challenge for @justwriteit)

Chapter Five

It had been a month since Rose had taken the bottles of werewolf blood to Daegol. A month of anticipation and waiting. And with not a single word with how he was progressing, Rose was growing more agitated with every passing day as always, the customer she was helping one morning not helping the matter. 

Standing atop the fitting platform in the middle of the shop, the patron, a woman with much girth and who clearly had money, said, 'Hulda Street is quite the dodgy place, isn't it? If I was you, I'd leave for better pastures. I'm sure my carriage passed some drugged up woman on the way here. Just absolutely filthy. Disgusting.' 

Any other time, Rose would have let the slight slide. Hulda street was more sinister than dodgy but it was home. 

With a measuring tape in hand, and wrapped around the hefty woman's waist, Rose squeezed it tight in redress. The woman yelped like a yappy lap dog as her bulging flab pinched and pressed. 

'Watch it there,' the woman squealed. 

'My apologies, Madame Calloway,' Rose replied, disguising a grin and the wicked glimmer in her eye. 'Now what kind of dress would you like me to make?' 

'A bodice and skirt would do nicely. It's for the First Minister's Ball in two months' time.' Madame Calloway looked down at Rose with an air of superiority. 'That's if you are up to the task.' 

Rather wishing the woman was a werewolf so she could end her morning suffering with a thrill, Rose just droned, 'I'm quite capable.' 

'We shall see about that. And you will only get paid if I approve of the finished product and you get it to me at the time of my choosing. You will still deliver it to me, however, if you fail at these conditions. It would only be right for wasting my precious time.' 

Well, that's how she stays rich, thought Rose. She's a miserly wench. 

After nodding in understanding, Rose threw the measuring tape around her neck and walked over to a rack. She then picked out a bodice and skirt she had previously made, its green fabric ruffled with flower prints and white lace. 'Would something like this do?' 

Madame Calloway tutted. 'No, no, no, dear. That looks ghastly. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing such a thing. I want to be the talk of the town, not a laughing stock.' 

At that, Rose had had enough. She could have used her magic to rid this woman from her sight but decided to do it the old fashioned way. 

'Get out,' she snapped instead, stuffing the bodice and skirt back onto the rack with much force to convey her displeasure. 

Taken aback, Madame Calloway almost fell off the fitting platform. 'Pardon me?' 

'You heard me, you hoity-toity cow. OUT!' 

'Well I never,' Madame Calloway croaked, her whole body shaking with umbrage. 'I will tell my circle of high society friends about this. Mark my words, you lowly scum. Your shop will flounder. You will be ruined. I may even write to the newspapers regarding you.' 

'Be my guest. Now, out!' 

Madame Calloway stumbled from the fitting platform and huffed to the entrance, opening it with a glare. But as she left, Rose waved her hand and the front door hastened her exit, hitting her on the backside. 

Her tumbling squawk made Rose smirk. And after hearing Madame Calloway depart in her carriage, the cab leaving a wake of terrified ramblers in the street, a special someone walked through the front door that instantly brightened the seamstress' mood. 

'Watch where you're going,' Emma yelled after the carriage, raising an arm. And after giving it a rude gesture, she turned to Rose, who was now wearing a warm smile, and said, 'Morning, Miss.'