How I knew there was something sinister about Harrods

It was a temp job that sounded almost too good to be true for a university student fed up with handing out nightclub flyers for peanuts in Brighton.

During the holidays, a university friend of mine had been making almost triple what I was spritzing perfumes in the glamorous beauty halls of Harrods.

The luxury store was one Tube ride away from where my parents lived in zone 6, and I wanted in.

What neither of us knew at the time, more than 15 years ago, was that behind the glitz and glamour of this famous department store lay a world of abuse.

From my first interview in a west London townhouse, run by an agency which hired mostly young actresses for ad hoc shifts on the ground floor beauty halls, the rot was evident.

We were told that pencil skirts should be so tight that we should struggle to take a big step, heels had to be a certain height and make-up was mandatory.

It soon became clear that these rules, which were strictly enforced, had little to do with creating a polished image for the department store and everything to do with something far more sinister.

When Mohamed Fayed walked the shop floor, women considered not to his taste were asked to disappear. I was once threatened for not wearing enough make-up.

I have a memory of receiving a strange call about where to meet someone after my shift.

When my bewildered response made it clear that mine was the wrong number, the caller hung up.

I never got to the bottom of it, but it was all part and parcel of a toxic environment where nothing felt as it seemed.

The abuse at Harrods under Fayed was an open secret.

This was a dangerous man convinced he had the power to do whatever he wanted to vulnerable young women.

Sadly, he was right. Lawyers are now representing 37 alleged victims of the late former Harrods owner, but I suspect that there are many more.

I have always been aghast at how such high levels of abuse could have gone on so openly in such a well-known institution.

“About time,” a message sent to me from an old school friend read after the stories of abuse were published. About time.

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