“I know. Well, now I’m here, and I’m available. So long as I’m not teaching, or in the shop… You should come see the shop. I’d hope you’d like it.” She directed her words at Helen. “You always liked art, didn’t you? Not like Mister Monkey here.” She grinned at her son, who blushed modestly. Images of him up a tree with muck all over his face flashed in front of her eyes. The tears hiding on the brink receded just a bit.
“True.” Helen bit her lip and then took a forkful of cake. She hesitated, her gaze flicking up to Ollie before she ate it. Her face relaxed, even, and her mouth turned up ever so slightly at the corners.
Everything seemed to flop into a mess of relief in Ollie’s body. Progress, indeed. “We have card-making supplies, and little kits to make fabric animals. If you like one, you’ll definitely get a family discount.”
“I don’t want any handouts from you.” Helen’s fork clattered to her plate. She sat back in her chair. “It’s not going to make up for it. Any of it.”
“I just meant…” Ollie reached out to her, but Helen was out of her chair in a heartbeat.
“No, Mum. You can’t buy me off with promises of pretty things like I’m still ten years old. It doesn’t work like that.” Her hair bounced about her shoulders as she left the café.
Ollie slumped on one hand, her fingers sinking into her hair. A tear dripped down her wrist and into the shirtsleeve she had rolled up to her elbow.
A warm hand on her back made her relax somewhat. At least my boy is still here. She turned her head to one side on her hand and smiled sadly at him.
His hand smoothed up and down her spine. “You just need to give her time.”
“Where’s my little girl gone? The one that used to jump up and down when I came home from work? That terrific little girl that hung onto my legs when I was leaving on assignment?” She leaned heavily towards her son, and his arm circled her shoulders.
“She’ll come round, I promise. Just you see.”
“Kieran, I can’t do any more to make it right.” She sat up then, away from his embrace. “I didn’t mean to offend her. The family discount; I’d give it to any of our relatives if they’d just talk to me, or visit.”
Kieran nodded, his dark eyes soft. He looked so much like his father, who was a good man despite all he had been through. All I’ve put him through. Ollie swallowed and shook the tears away.
“Eat your cake, drink your tea.” She eyed Helen’s cake and pushed it into the middle of the table. “If she comes back, she can continue with hers.”
Kieran sipped his tea and started to munch on his cake. It made her stomach unclench just a bit as she watched him.
One down, perhaps. One to go.
Red and orange leaves blew around Anna’s feet as she strode up the street towards the shop. She had arrived early with a crisp new five-pound note ready. The yarn she had bought and all her shiny new hooks were tied with an elastic band and stuffed in an old fabric shopping bag. The front door to the shop was locked, so she found a door to the side, with a sign on it reading: Crochet Groups.
A man in his late twenties let her in. He had sandy-coloured hair and a large grin. “Evening. You must be Anna.”
“Yes.” She blinked. “How did you know?”
“I come every week, been coming since it started. I’m practically Ollie’s right-hand man.” His grin widened. “She told me you would be joining us. And she described you.”
“Described me?” Anna looked at him in confusion, then settled her face into a more relaxed expression. She followed him into a dark corridor. “All good, I hope?”
“Oh, definitely. Very much so.” The man pursed his lips as if holding back more.
“Let me guess. She told you about my foray into the world of online crochet, did she?”
There was a pause while he looked at her, his gaze steady. Then his face relaxed, and he held a hand out, showed her into a large airy room with tables and chairs. “Yes, that’s it. Oh,” he said chuckling, “my name is Matthew.”
“Nice to meet you. Anna Rose.”
They shook hands, and he left her standing in the classroom.
She put her cloth bag atop one of the tables. The room was covered on two sides with shelves full of patterns, books and materials. Handmade items hung all over the walls, and a stereo stood in one corner. In another corner was a countertop with a sink, a kettle, and a mini fridge. When Ollie came in, Anna turned to give her a smile.
“Hi, Anna,” Ollie said. “Welcome. It’s nice to have a fresh face joining us.”
“I’ll need a lot of help.” Anna rolled her eyes.
“It’s okay. We’ll get you there.” They locked gazes for a moment.
There was a warmth in Ollie’s eyes that Anna liked. She sat down, her cloth bag on the table in front of her.
More people filed into the classroom. They seemed like a good mix of ages and genders—mostly women, but Anna had expected that. A couple of teenagers were whispering between themselves. An old man shuffled inside in what looked like an old pair of leather slippers.
Ollie greeted every person with a pat or a hug. Some people handed her crocheted squares in a variety of colours. Ollie placed them into a shallow wicker basket on the counter. She held on to the old man’s elbow as he took his seat. She smiled at everyone who smiled at her.
Everyone likes her. Anna watched people pull out their projects. One older lady had a huge blanket that would probably cover a king-sized bed. It flowed down her knees and onto the floor. Ollie approached and said something quietly to her. The lady wrapped her arms around Ollie, patted her cheek, and then kissed it. Ollie seemed to shine with affection. Anna thought she saw them exchange a knowing smile, as if they shared a secret.
A teenage girl took out the striped head, legs, and tail of something that resembled a cat.
It looks like Arthur.
Matthew came to sit next to her and laid his pieces out on the table. He aligned everything together on the smooth surface and smiled at Anna as she peered at his work. He gestured to the pieces before him. “What do you think?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.
They were pale blue, flecked with navy. Neat stitches with little bubbles across in a pattern. “Um. It’s lovely.” She looked up at him. “What is it?”
He frowned. “A cardigan. Can’t you tell?” His hand went over his mouth, and she took another look.
“Of course I can.” She touched his arm. “I was thrown by the lack of buttons. Very nice.”
“Spent a fortune on the yarn.” He sighed. “It’s for my mum. She’s lovely.” He shrugged. “Dippy, but lovely.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Anna said.
He beamed at her. “Usually I don’t try anything so difficult. More of a quick-and-easy kind of guy. I’m never making anything like this again; it’s been an absolute nightmare.” He looked Anna up and down. “I expect you’re not as lazy as me.”
“I don’t know yet,” Anna replied. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Right, everyone,” Ollie said, standing up at the front and clasping a bunch of papers. “We’ll be making chickens today.”
“Chickens?” Anna hissed. She pressed her lips together obediently as Matthew flapped his hand at her.
“The head and body are made in one, the legs are one row of doubles, and the beak is just a cone. Who’d like one?”
A few people put their hands up.
Ollie handed the patterns out. When she passed Anna’s table, she leant down, her loose blond curls swinging by her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll sit down with you in a minute.” She placed a pattern on the desk. “Take one, though. For when you’ve learned enough.”
“Okay,” Anna said.
When Ollie offered him a pattern, Matthew held up his hand. “No thanks. Looks too complicated.” He indicated
his cardigan.
Ollie looked carefully at his work before giving him a thumbs up. She turned on the stereo, a popular channel but at a low volume. “And keep those squares coming, guys. The Women’s Institute is rather lacking in crocheters, and Sandra is continually telling me how awfully grateful she is about the project. That back wall has been empty for months.”
So far, there were quite a few squares in the wicker basket. Anna wondered how big the wall hanging was going to be in the end. She unwound the elastic band from her hooks and arranged them by size on the table. The cloth bag got stuffed into her handbag. She stared at her hooks, then looked around. Everyone was getting to work.
Matthew had a hook and ball of wool and was continuing with what looked like a sleeve. His attention seemed to be repeatedly drawn towards someone behind them. Finally, she followed his gaze.
A dark, curly-haired man sat next to the teenager with the cat-shaped item. Anna looked back at Matthew and cleared her throat.
He feigned sudden concentrated interest in the pattern he had laid out, but underneath his bowed head, she saw a small smile.
Anna peered at the curly-haired man and his teenaged companion. Interesting. But before she could contemplate this discovery more, Ollie passed her to fill the kettle and collected together some mugs.
“Teas?” she asked.
Anna put up her hand.
“Coffees?”
Anna sat with her hands clasped, listening to the quiet murmurs and occasional chuckles that filled the rom. The kettle rumbled on the counter as it boiled.
Once everyone had a drink, Ollie brought Anna’s over and slid into the seat next to her. “Right, then,” she said. “Let’s start with how to hold your hook and yarn.”
Anna felt all fingers and thumbs as Ollie demonstrated making a slip knot, then showed her how to maintain the correct tension. She copied her successfully, but had put the hook down onto the table. “I’m sorry. Show me again how to hold it?”
Ollie was obviously used to showing beginners how it was done. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it. Here, let’s try a chain stitch.”
Anna felt like there was yarn coming out of about six places on her hand, but after gentle coaxing and carefully placed encouragement, she shakily made her first chain. She let out a stuttering laugh.
“You’ll get it, I promise,” Ollie said.
“Thank you for being so patient.”
“You’re welcome.”
It felt strange being the object of Ollie’s kind and sparkly eyes. She’s very pretty.
Anna swallowed hard. Where did that come from? She made herself focus back on her slightly trembling hands. Ollie sat and watched her continue to work but didn’t interrupt.
Anna let out a slow breath, set her shoulders and finished another chain stitch. That earned her one of Ollie’s kind smiles.
“See? You’re doing it.”
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Anna continued to make a string of stitches around a foot long. As she worked and got used to how the stitches felt and she relaxed further. The stitches were getting neater and more uniform.
Anna reached for her tea and took a sip. “Mmm, perfect,” she said. “So…how long have you been crocheting for?”
“Five years,” Ollie said.
“Oh! I would have thought longer.”
“I started crocheting after I was in an accident.” Ollie sipped her coffee. “I was bored. My children pushed me to go do something. Anything to stop me watching daytime TV in my pyjamas. Had a neighbour who sat with me and showed me the ropes.” She smirked. “So to speak.”
“My daughter convinced me as well.”
“Yes, you said.”
Anna held out her chain. “So, what now?”
“Depends how much of a perfectionist you are.” Ollie smiled.
Anna rolled her eyes. “Um…am I that obvious?”
“If you want them really neat, you can undo them and start again.” Ollie made a sweeping gesture with her arm.
Anna pulled the end of her chain and the whole thing unravelled in small pops. The now-unused wool spread back and forth across the table.
“Try to make them about twice the thickness of the hook you’re using,” Ollie said.
Carefully, Anna remade the slip knot.
Ollie gave her a thumbs up. “Brill.” She looked around. “Mind if I leave you to it?”
“Not at all,” Anna said, though that was a complete lie. She missed Ollie’s presence already.
“Let me know when you’re confident with the chains, then we’ll learn some doubles.”
She found herself suddenly determined to get confident with chains as quickly as possible.
As Ollie rounded the table and walked amongst the group, Anna noticed a slight limp on her right side. Perhaps from her accident. She peered at her for a moment more, before turning her attention back to her chain. Why can’t she spend more time with me? Anna blinked rapidly. Because she’s here for everyone, you idiot.
Around half of the group periodically called Ollie over to ask for help, and she moved between them with an energy that bubbled around her. Despite her determination to succeed at single chains, Anna was more than once caught up in watching Ollie help people. She’s a born teacher.
Matthew paid alternating attention to the man across the room and his own pattern. Anna wondered how he could focus on two things like that, but asking would make him lose his place.
She nodded towards the curly-haired man. “Who’s that?”
His cheeks reddened. “Um. Just someone that came in a few weeks ago.”
Matthew reminded her of the girls in her form when a new, rather attractive male teacher had started at the beginning of term. “And you’re interested in him because…?”
Matthew swallowed, but then grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Oh, I’m really not. He’s just…” He looked carefully over his shoulder. “He’s nice to look at.”
“Right.” She tried not to smile. It was sweet, really, watching someone with such obvious confidence get shy over another human being. “Why not go over to him?”
“I thought about it. Usually I’m not one to shy away from introducing myself, but…” His gaze lingered on Ollie, who was helping out somebody close to Curly Locks.
“Have you been warned off?” Is he spoken for? Are Curly Locks and Ollie an item? But she hadn’t seen her spend any inordinate amount of time with the man, no more than with Anna. Maybe even a bit less. And they didn’t seem to have that flirting spark a couple usually had.
“Of a fashion.” He huffed and went back to his sleeve. “Nothing like Mother Hen reminding me that if I do with Harry what I usually do with men, I’ll then have to see him every week afterwards. And Ollie wouldn’t forgive me for tainting such a lovely atmosphere with the consequences of my escapades.”
“Ah.” Anna tried not to laugh. Not an item, then. “So you’re the fancy-free type, hmm?”
“That’s me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and she giggled. No wonder he was so devoted to his mother. Anna bet she had let him get away with murder as a child.
“So, you obviously enjoy coming here.” Anna returned her gaze to her doubles.
“I do.” His voice was silky, affectionate and settled, as if he were enclosed in a big fluffy blanket someone had tucked around his shoulders as they stirred the sugar into his cup of tea for him.
“What is it about the group that you like?”
“I like that I’m part of something. Something fairly normal. If you can call crochet normal, I don’t know. I like the people. And Ollie’s a friend.” He snorted. “If I didn’t come to her classes, I probably wouldn’t see her sober.”
“Sounds like you two are close.”
He sighed. “Best mates.”
She concentrated o
n her chain, on making each stitch exactly the same size with the exact same tension in her yarn. The room seemed to grow quiet around her, and her shoulders slowly dropped. When she looked up, Ollie was leaning against the sideboard watching her.
“Knew you’d want to make them all perfect,” she said.
Anna suppressed the urge to beam. “Well, if you’re going to do something, might as well get it right,” she said modestly.
“Ready to learn some doubles?”
“Goodness yes.”
Ollie immediately slid back into the chair beside her, like she’d just been waiting for an excuse. “Okay. So we stick the hook into the chain just there…” Ollie pointed with her little finger. “Then yarn over.” She plucked Anna’s yarn gently and pulled it over her hook. “Pull a loop through.”
Anna pulled the loop through the chain stitch herself.
“Yarn over again, then pull a loop through both hoops.”
“Right.”
Ollie’s blond hair fell forward as she leaned closer. A small waft of chlorine and lavender tickled Anna’s nose.
By the time Anna looked at the stitch again, Ollie’s instructions had disappeared from her memory.
But Ollie just smiled and went over it four more times with her. “Keep going across. When you get to the end, give me a shout.” She stood to put the kettle on again.
That top looks so nice on her. It was grey and well worn. Anna wished she could wear something so casual to work, but it wouldn’t be appropriate at school.
Matthew nudged her and held out his sleeve. “Nearly done,” he sang.
“So quick! It’s a very nice colour. May I?” At his nod, she ran her fingertips along a row of stitches. “Lovely and soft. Your mum’s going to love that. Perfect for winter.”
“I’ve been working on it for ages,” Matthew said. “I didn’t think I’d get it finished in time.” He paused. “Or at all.”
“How long have you got left?”
“Two weeks until her birthday. At least she only turns sixty once. I won’t have to make anything this extravagant for at least ten years.” He pointed to the neck. “Just the edging here to do, and to sew it together.”
Hooked on You Page 3
