Page 36 of Barging In

She and Victoria made their way through a crowd lingering in the reception area and gift shop — no doubt Jasper’s waiting tour group — and headed outside.

Victoria glanced at her, probably trying to gauge her reaction, whilst Clem’s mind buzzed, absorbing everything she’d seen and heard and struggling to process it all.

The museum was a marvel. It wasn’t simply about corsets but a broader exploration of women’s history and fashion.

It was interactive, not too info-heavy, and, above all, fascinating.

Clem had assumed it would only captivate those already interested in the subject, but it resonated deeply with her as a woman.

There were, however, a few problems.

“Well?” Victoria asked, clearly impatient to hear Clem’s thoughts.

“I loved it, but there’s a fundamental lack of information about the female experience within the factory environment.

People connect best to human stories; they want to relate to people in the past, to feel what they went through.

To try to understand it through someone else’s eyes.

That’s what creates connection.” Clem paused, choosing her words carefully.

“Jasper focuses a lot on the history, which is great, but this is a corset factory. I’d like to see more about the lives of the women who worked here.

How did they feel about their role in that wider, problematic picture of corsets? What were the working conditions like?”

“Why didn’t we see that?” Victoria said, shaking her head.

“Sometimes you have to be on the outside looking in to notice these things.” Clem tilted her head slightly, hoping Victoria would catch the deeper meaning and apply it closer to home.

Victoria pursed her lips but remained silent.

“It could be as simple as adding some audio clips of factory noises when you enter,” Clem suggested. “They would complement the video. I’m guessing it’s from the 1920s, so that’s why there’s no sound.”

Victoria nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, and it’s actual footage from this factory.

I found it in an archive. The tall chap standing with his arms crossed, watching everyone, matches a photograph I have of my three-times-great-grandfather.

His brother was an early filmmaker and made a lot of silent films like this. ”

“Wow,” Clem couldn’t help enthusing. “What an incredible resource to have! Adding factory sounds would give people a sensory experience, making them feel like they’re inside the building in the past. You could even have a woman’s voice reading accounts of what it was like working here, even if you need to fictionalise some parts. ”

Victoria nodded in thought. “When I was doing my initial research, I came across some newspaper articles documenting accidents and events. I’m sure I could come up with something.”

“See what Jasper thinks. He’s done a great job with it, but it needs a few tweaks to tie it more closely to the building itself. Where are you in that museum, for example?”

Victoria’s eyebrows knitted together. “Me?”

“Yes. This is your ancestry. Your family built this factory from the ground up, yet there’s no mention of it anywhere.

If you don’t want to add something in the museum itself, I noticed a blank patch of wall in the entrance.

You could hang a board there, share some information about where the wharf came from and why.

Put some photographs on it. Add your family tree.

It would make visitors feel like they’re supporting something meaningful.

Everyone loves a family business story.” She took a breath before continuing.

“I also have no idea how the factory ended up where it did today. When did it close and why? I get that Jasper has focused the museum on his work, but in doing so, he’s forgotten the most important part: the wharf, the history of the building that houses it.

It’s a museum of corsetry, but why is it here, of all places? ”

Victoria nodded again, slowly this time. “Yes. I see what you mean. I gave him free rein with it and rather forgot about myself.”

“Sounds like a habit.”

The speed with which Victoria’s eyes met her own indicated she’d understood Clem’s true meaning. Clem held her gaze, raising her eyebrows a little, daring her to challenge the remark. Thankfully, Victoria’s face softened.

“When did it close?” Clem asked again.

“In the 1940s. My family sold it in the early thirties when demand dwindled, but it survived until the end of the war because the new owners pivoted into medical garments, surgical supports and that sort of thing. After the war, it fell into decline. ”

“The world had changed.”

Victoria hummed in agreement.

“After that, various people owned it, but ultimately they let it fall into disrepair, standing empty.”

“Until you,” Clem said softly.

“Yes,” Victoria replied with a wistful smile, gazing up at the building.

Clem let out a quiet, peaceful breath as she watched her. The connection Victoria held to the place was clear; it was wonderful to see something in her life bringing her genuine happiness.

“There’s no denying you’ve built something spectacular,” Clem said. “Apart from a few minor tweaks, I really believe the wharf could thrive. It’s just a matter of drawing more people in. I must admit, I never realised there was so much to corsetry.”

“Few do. Which is why the museum is so important — to educate people.” Victoria paused for a moment before adding, “You see now how much Jasper holds up his end of the bargain. He’s the real asset — the perfect performer — and his knowledge is endless.

All the blood, sweat, and the occasional tears in that museum were his.

And now it’s down to me to make it all work. ”

“We’ll get there; I’m sure of it.”

"We?" Victoria arched a brow.

The slip of the tongue made Clem groan internally.

She’d allowed herself to get excited, coming up with ideas and ways to implement them, but how would she manage it all with Florence?

Otterford Wharf was a good cause, something she’d love to be part of.

It wasn’t just any museum; it was an important lesson in women’s history.

“Let’s see, shall we?” Clem said, not wanting to raise Victoria’s hopes any further. “And I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for your contribution. You got it this far so there could be a museum.”

“Mmm,” Victoria mused. “Well, you’ve seen the shop, the café, my office — several times.” She flashed Clem a cheeky grin, thinking of their earliest, most fraught interactions. “I’m not sure what else there is to show you.”

“What about that?” Clem asked, pointing towards the outbuilding across the courtyard.

“Oh, that. We don’t use it.”

“Exactly my point.”

“We were going to divide it into retail units, but costs overran, and it got cut from the project.”

“Is it structurally sound?” Clem asked, her curiosity rising.

“Yes, just not kitted out for retail.”

“Is it potential income if you can find someone who doesn’t need it to look pretty?”

“Yes,” Victoria sighed, “but it still needs a degree of work to make it sanitary. It’s clean and dry with good ventilation, but it’s not quite ready to move into.”

“But with the right tenant who’s willing to put in the work in exchange for a couple of months rent free,” Clem gently pushed back, “it’s a win-win. You wouldn’t lose out, and you could gain a potentially long-term tenant. Plus, their investment in your building becomes your benefit.”

Victoria’s hands fell to her hips as she eyed Clem thoughtfully. “Does your brilliance ever end?”

“I’m sure it must.” Clem chuckled. “I might even know someone who would be interested in renting it.”

“Seriously?”

Clem nodded. Hadn’t Max mentioned he needed space to expand his cider production?

“Want to look inside?” Victoria asked .

“Yes, please,” Clem said eagerly, not one to decline poking her head into something interesting.

They crossed the courtyard to the long, stone building with three large, wooden barn-like doors set into the front of it.

Victoria unlocked a smaller door to one side, on the end nearest the bridge, and flicked on a light.

A beautiful oak-beam ceiling illuminated a red-tiled floor.

The space was in better shape than Clem had expected.

Suddenly, Victoria let out a scream. A huge spider scuttled across the floor in front of them. Clem felt strong arms gripping her from behind as Victoria ducked out of sight.

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. “Wow! I love how you made me your human shield there.”

“Sorry,” Victoria panted into Clem’s right ear.

She did her best not to react to the stimulating sensation of Victoria’s closeness, her warm breath on her ear.

Once it was clear the offending spider was gone, Victoria eased off Clem’s arms, much to her relief.

“So,” Clem said, “you’re arachnophobic as well as claustrophobic?”

“No,” Victoria replied, shaking her head. “I’m neither. I don’t like large spiders or small narrowboats. I only have one fear, and it’s neither of those.”

Clem smirked, clearly prompting a response.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Heights, if you must know.”

“Ah, a Canary Wharf penthouse must have been fun then,” Clem said, pressing her lips together before she could say more.

“Yes, well,” Victoria blustered, “you can see why I didn’t want to stick around. I prefer my feet to be firmly on the ground. ”

Before Clem could reply, Victoria shifted the subject back to business. “It’s a good size, with electricity and running water.” She pointed to a sink in the corner.

“It’s a great blank canvas,” Clem admitted.

They made their way back outside. Clem looked around as Victoria locked up. The whole atmosphere at the wharf felt welcoming. If you ignored the few staff cars parked in the courtyard and the picnic benches, it was easy to imagine yourself in the past, amid the hubbub of the working factory.

“Well, if that’s everything,” Clem said, slipping her hands into her pockets.

“Yes. I don’t want to keep you,” Victoria said, stepping forward and narrowing the space between them. “I can’t thank you enough, Clem. You have helped me so much without any reason to.”

“I have every reason…” Clem wanted to say she’d do anything for her, but settled for, “To help a friend.”

Victoria’s hand rested gently on Clem’s bicep. “Dinner? Saturday night?”

“Great,” Clem replied, her voice a little higher than she intended.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Victoria gave a soft squeeze, nearly melting Clem into a puddle before she turned away.

As she watched her go, Clem’s hand instinctively went to the place where Victoria had touched her.

Afraid she would turn and see her staring, Clem darted to the bridge.

She was growing used to Victoria’s touches, but each one left her with a simmering frustration.

She wanted more than a brush on the arm, a hug, or a kiss on the cheek.

She longed to pull Victoria close, hold her tight, and show her everything she was missing out on.

She forced her mind back to the wharf and the endless stream of ideas swirling in her head.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she furiously tapped them all into a note.

The excitement bubbled up inside her as she did.

She almost didn’t want to return to Florence.

She wanted to dive in, work side by side with Victoria, and see her every day.

The woman was to be admired for her achievements. She’d spent her life leaving marks on buildings; all Clem had done was leave her mark on people’s waistlines.