Hooked on You

by Jenn Matthews

  “Wonderful.” Anna gestured at her dozen stitches. “This, I feel, will take a lot longer.” She looked at her work again, and her heart sank. “Damn. I’ve already completely forgotten how to do it.”

  “Hook in the chain,” Matthew said. “Yarn over, pull through, yarn over, pull through.”

  “Thanks,” Anna replied, her nose almost touching her hands as she continued. She got to the end of the row just as people were starting to pack up.

  Ollie came over and indicated the second untouched cup of tea she’d made for Anna, who stared at the cold drink and winced.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone so focused.”

  Anna huffed and held out the row. “It’s gone all curly.”

  “That’s okay.” Ollie pulled on the curl gently, like a spring, and her smile broadened as it bounced into the air. “That means your tension is okay.”

  “It does?”

  “Once you’ve finished one row, you do a chain stitch, and that counts as the first double for the next row.”

  People were leaving, putting their five pounds into a box at the door. Matthew smiled at Harry but didn’t speak to him. She probably shouldn’t keep Ollie. She and Matthew probably had plans for the evening. She gazed over at her cloth bag.

  “It’s fine,” Ollie said. “Stay until you’ve done another few stitches.”

  “So I go back and forth?” Anna did a careful chain stitch before turning the piece and slipping her hook into the next stitch. I like Ollie, and she doesn’t seem to dislike me. Maybe she’d like to go for a drink.

  “Yep.”

  Anna nodded, but decided against making the invitation. She barely knows me, and this is a business arrangement. Ollie and Matthew saw one another socially, but butterflies crumpled Anna’s stomach when she considered asking her herself. She wasn’t sure why she felt awkward about it. She wasn’t usually so nervous with other people.

  Ollie had gathered several cups onto one table and was moving them, one in each hand at a time, to the sink. Matthew walked past and didn’t offer to help. As he held a hand up, Anna mirrored his gesture as a goodbye. So, no plans, then.

  “I don’t want to keep you,” Anna said.

  “It’s fine. I’ve got to wash up anyway.” Ollie moved the last couple of cups to the sink. They clattered noisily.

  Anna looked up. “So, how long have you worked here?” she asked as the room emptied.

  “Actually I own it. Two years now.” Ollie ran the tap and filled the bowl. “Bought it with some inheritance. And a divorce settlement.”

  “Ah. Part of the angry ex-wives club too?”

  A quick breath of air huffed from Ollie as she wiped round the inside of a mug. “Something like that.”

  “It’s nice. The shop.”

  “I never thought it would do well but…I suppose your daughter is right. Crafts are the in thing.”

  Anna chuckled. “Yes. Sometimes my darling daughter is right.”

  “Teenager?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ve got one of those.” Ollie turned her full attention onto Anna.

  “How old?” The sudden focus on her was surprising, though it was nice; but it was also a bit disconcerting somehow. She looked back down at her doubles.

  “Eighteen.”

  “Mine’s twenty.”

  “Technically, twenty years old isn’t a teenager.” Ollie’s voice had a teasing lilt.

  Anna found the flow of her fingers and the tightened wool was a little more fluid and less disjointed. Her retort was deliberately tinged with amusement. “Yes, well, she often acts like one. What about yours? Uni?”

  “Chemistry. Yours?”

  “Italian and politics.”

  “Molto bene.”

  That lilt again in her voice captured Anna’s attention, and she found Ollie’s smile waiting for her.

  “Just the one daughter?” Anna asked a bit shakily.

  “I have a son too—Kieran. Grown-up but can’t tie his own shoelaces.”

  “Hmmm,” Anna replied, relieved to be on more familiar ground. She fell easily into the comfort of grousing with another mother. “Even when they’ve left home and moved on they still want you to look after them, don’t they?”

  “At some point he’s going to have to learn how to look after himself. I remember when he went away to university, I told him it wasn’t up to anyone else to cook his meals or wash his clothes.”

  “I have an adopted son too. He has autism, lives with Bethany and I. He was a pupil of mine, very bright, desperate to be welcomed into society. His mum died a few years ago. He’s tried living in a few shared flats but…they’ve never worked out for him. So I suggested he move in with us.”

  “That’s kind.” Ollie started placing the clean cups in the drainer.

  “He was always so lovely at school. And I couldn’t let him carry on living like that.”

  “How’s it working out?” Ollie asked as she dried her hands. She sloshed bubbly water out of the bowl.

  “Okay. I think the fact that he’s a boy is stranger than his diagnosis.”

  “He and your daughter get on?”

  “Fairly well. They have their moments.” She got to the end of her next row, laid her crochet down on the table, and pushed up from her seat. “All right. I’ve kept you long enough.”

  It took a moment longer than normal for Ollie to answer. “Been nice to get to know you.”

  Anna nodded, pushed her yarn and hook into her bag, gathered up the remaining hooks, and stretched the elastic round them. She took out the five-pound note from her purse and held it out.

  Ollie shook her head. “First class is free.”

  Anna folded her arms and regarded Ollie with amusement. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, her usual instinct to flirt taking over. “What’s your game?”

  “I’m not playing a game.” Ollie put up her hands as if Anna were pointing a gun at her. “Just want you to come back next week.”

  Anna paused. Why am I flirting with her? At least she doesn’t seem too uncomfortable with it. Her arms dropped to her sides. “Okay, then.” She put the note back and snapped her purse closed. “I’ll have to come back, make sure your efforts aren’t all for nothing.”

  “Practice makes permanent.”

  “Isn’t it ‘perfect’?”

  “Only if you practise correctly. If you practise something wrong, it won’t be perfect.”

  “Good point.”

  Ollie lowered her gaze.

  She looks sad. Maybe I should ask if she’s okay. Or perhaps out for a drink? But, no, she was still too intimidated by that idea for some reason.

  “See if you can make it a square,” Ollie said before Anna could speak, pointing to the cloth bag.

  “Okay.” She was relieved to see that the sadness had disappeared. She followed Ollie into the dark corridor and moved past her onto the street when Ollie held the door open for her.

  “See you next week, Anna.”

  Anna nodded and walked away, her cloth bag firmly under her arm.

  Chapter 2

  Double Crochet (dc)

  The attempted square mocked Anna as she held it up before her. Her throat tightened, and her jaw ached from grinding her teeth. “Damn. How have I managed that?”

  Bethany’s raised eyebrow nearly gained the power of speech from across the room. “How would I know?” she said. “You’re the one that went to the class.” She promptly went back to her magazine.

  Anna huffed and stared at the neat row of double crochet stitches she had begun with. “I don’t understand.” She frowned and started again. Ten minutes later, she found herself in the same situation. She sighed, put the almost-triangular piece onto her lap, and folded her hands on top of it.

  Ti
mothy wandered in with his laptop and sat in the armchair. “Dinner was an eight out of ten,” he said. “As good as last night, but not as nice as the pie you made on Monday.”

  “Thank you, Timothy,” Anna said.

  He smiled at her. “What’s the matter? You’re frowning.”

  “I’m having yet more trouble with crochet.” She pouted at her work.

  Bethany sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, miss,” Anna said. “You’re the one who decided I needed a new hobby.”

  “Yeah, to meet people and get you out of the house,” Bethany said. “Not to be all moody and ask me how it’s done when you’ve got some new friend who should be teaching you.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes again. “Ask her tomorrow.”

  “I’m not sure I could show my face in there with a square like this.” She held the piece so it dangled from her hook.

  Arthur rolled onto his back and looked up at her from the carpet. He stretched his white-socked legs out and purred. His gaze moved to the mess in her hands.

  “You are not having it,” Anna said. “I don’t care how awful it looks.”

  “Why do you call it a square? That’s not a square shape,” Timothy said.

  “No.” Anna wiped at the tears of frustration that had gathered in her eyes. “It’s not, is it?”

  “You must be making fewer stitches at the end than at the beginning.”

  She stared at him. “How do you figure that?”

  “If you start with twenty stitches, for example,” he said, “and you accidentally do one less stitch each row, you will end up with a very neat, if unintentional, triangle. Like you have there.”

  “Timothy.” Her eyes were suddenly alight, and she sat up a little straighter. “You’re a genius.”

  “No, I’m not. Just remarkably intelligent, statistically speaking.” He pointed at her work. “You should count the stitches for each row you do. Maybe you are missing one each time.”

  She followed his finger, then undid the same rows she had done incorrectly and began again, mouthing the numbers to herself as she went and making sure she had the same amount of stitches on each row. Timothy was right. She had been missing out the last stitch of each row. She exhaled into the quiet room.

  Bethany was engrossed in her magazine.

  Timothy had his headphones on, watching something on his laptop.

  The tension dropped from Anna’s stomach. She could do this.

  Arthur continued to purr.

  Ollie picked up another key ring to attach to the tiny unicorn she was making. She shook her head at the yellow-and-green toy and looked over at the cluster of unicorns on the desk. It simply didn’t look as cute as the pink, purple, and sparkly baby-blue ones. So much for non-gender-binary toys.

  The bell jingled and she glanced up. Matthew was sauntering towards her.

  “All right?” she said.

  “I’ve finished my cardigan,” he announced. “Which means I’m allowed to go out for a drink. What do you say?”

  She looked at her watch. “I say: ‘an hour left until I close’.”

  “Not too long, then.” He perched on the arm of the sofa and fingered the handmade rainbow throw slung over the back. “So, looking forward to tomorrow?”

  Why were his eyes glinting? She turned her attention back to her unicorn. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

  He smirked. “Crochet class. With the lovely Anna.”

  That deserved a snort. A snort and a pointed look. “There are other people at the class, you know.”

  “And?” He continued to examine her.

  She tilted her head. “And it’ll be nice to see her again, yes.”

  “You did plenty of seeing her last week.” Matthew threw his head to one side. “I’m surprised she didn’t notice.”

  “She was too engrossed in crocheting. She barely noticed me.”

  He just gave her a smile and shook his head.

  “Anyway, what about you and your eternal passive interest in Harry?”

  He twisted his lips and clutched at a fistful of the throw. “Just a passing fancy.”

  “Is it?”

  “Very much so.” He turned back to her. “Anyway. Anna.”

  She cut him off before he could go there. “She’s divorced. Blatantly straight.”

  “You’re divorced. You’re not straight.”

  “Hmm.”

  A moment of silence passed. Matthew bounced from the sofa and squeezed her arm. “The Cock and Duck?” he asked. “Just for one, perhaps?”

  “When we close.” She batted his hand away. “And it will be just one. Some of us have a shop to run.”

  “‘Course,” he said with a bright look.

  “I’ve got some boxes to move into the storeroom.”

  “All right, then. I’ll be back in an hour to whisk you away from this drudgery, m’lady.”

  She rolled her eyes as he promenaded out the door.

  Anna had a free period on Thursday afternoon, so she got home early, applied a tad more make-up than usual, and waited for the sound of her doorbell. It rang at four o’clock sharp.

  Liam’s smiling face emerged as she opened the door. He hadn’t changed out of his ‘school clothes’, but then, neither had she. “Evening,” he said.

  “Not quite,” she said, looking at her watch. “But near enough.” She took her handbag from the hook and followed him to his car.

  Her stomach fluttered as they drove into town, but when they pulled into the car park of the same old pub they’d been to countless times before, her heart sank just a touch. Never mind. One day, when we have more time together, or something to celebrate, he’ll take me somewhere a bit more posh. He parked carefully, and she did admire the way he made sure his car was just perfect in the space.

  I don’t know why he and Timothy don’t get on. They both care so much about detail. She was glad he had driven. Her parking wasn’t dangerous, but he always commented if she was an inch this way or that. It made her grit her teeth.

  His hand felt heavy against the small of her back as he steered them into the pub and guided her towards a small table by the window. She sat and gave him a grateful smile. He was being chivalrous, and there was nothing wrong with that. She liked being treated as if she was special. As if she was someone to be worshipped. It made her stomach tingle.

  “Thank you.” She took the menu from its holder. “Just a red wine, please?”

  He stood with a scrape of his chair and went to the bar. She took in the roundness of his backside in his dress trousers as he left, and then leant forward over the menu to peruse her options.

  Their dinner was pleasant enough. A bundle of kids raced around the pub, and she watched them with joy. They looked about ten or eleven. Soon, they would be coming to her school, fresh-faced and hopefully eager to learn. She loved that look, the bright and huge eyes, the quick wit and the pureness the eleven-year-olds brought on that first day. Next year. A whole year away, in fact. Returning her attention to Liam, she noticed his hard gaze on the children.

  “You watch. One of them will fall, running around like that in an enclosed space. Don’t their parents know how to control them?”

  She sighed. “I expect they’re just letting off some steam from a boring day at juniors.”

  “Well, they should sit down and be quiet. Especially at a place like this—somewhere so nice. I don’t pay good money to have kids running all around me screaming. Get enough of that at work.”

  She held back from rolling her eyes and instead chose to take his hand. She squeezed until he looked at her, and then she sent him a warm smile. “There are places we could go where the atmosphere is a little more…romantic.” She tried to keep her tone light, but the swirling annoyance in her stomach made it a bit hard.

  He seemed not to notice,
thankfully. “Next time we go out, when we have a proper night off together, we’ll go to the theatre, hmm?”

  A flash of Liam in a suave suit, holding his arm out to her as they ascended the steps into the local theatre made her smile. Hope shone from his eyes, and she felt her whole body soften. “That sounds marvellous.”

  As they ate, she watched the precise movements of his knife and fork. He really was quite handsome, and he did scrub up well. His job, as boring as it probably sounded to everyone else, sometimes fascinated her. What he didn’t know about health and safety, policies and procedures, was nobody’s business. She liked hearing the stories about scrapes he’d had to clear up when he was just starting out in the job, and the way he spoke about some of the managers he had worked with sometimes made her howl with laughter.

  “How are the kids?” Liam took a perfectly cut sliver of steak from his fork and chewed it with precise movements.

  “They’re okay. Bethany seems to be doing well at uni. She’s not asked me for help, not that I have the time. But she seems happy. Pleased that I’m broadening my horizons when it comes to non-work-related activities.”

  They exchanged a smile.

  “And Timothy?”

  “He’s well. Enjoyed the recent stock take they did at the shop. He really is exceptionally good at counting things. He’d do it all day if they let him.”

  He swallowed. “I can imagine. He wouldn’t get far, though, would he? If he wasn’t diagnosed as retarded?”

  Anna’s stomach twisted at that word. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Please, Liam.”

  “Please what?” Liam shrugged and put his knife down perpendicular to his plate and then picked up his glass. “It isn’t as if it isn’t true.” He took a sip. “Or am I using the wrong word again?”

  Anna continued to stare at him, her hands curling into fists. If she spoke she’d say something she would later regret.

  “Oh, it is that? Okay. I clearly need to write some kind of list and carry it around with me. ‘Words I’m Not Allowed to Use to Describe Timothy’ or something.” Liam sighed. “He’s not even here to catch me. What difference does it make?”