Secrets, Schemes & Sewing Machines

by Katy Cannon

  The sewing projects in this book, much like the recipes in Love, Lies and Lemon Pies, are meant as a jumping-off point for your own sewing adventures and I’ve tried to include something for everyone.

  The projects range in difficulty from the really simple (Needle Book) to the rather more tricky (Drop-waisted T-shirt Dress) with a lot in between. Some are easier with a sewing machine, but most can be sewn by hand.

  If you’ve never sewn before, you’ll need to learn some basics before you jump in. The internet – not to mention your local library – is there to help you. There are endless sewing websites with detailed descriptions of how to sew the stitches or techniques included in the projects, often with very helpful pictures or videos, too.

  Once you’ve mastered the basics, there’ll be no stopping you. So go ahead and make your own school bag, or decorate a plain canvas tote bag with sequins and buttons. Make yourself a skirt, or upcycle one you found in a charity shop. Just like Grace, you’ll learn how to make your outfits, accessories, home – and life – utterly yours. Unique and special – and with added sparkle.

  Katy x

  P.S. Don’t forget to send in photos of your creations via my website! I’d love to see them.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  About the Sewing Projects

  What You Need to Begin

  Needle Book

  Heart Pincushion

  Cupcake Appliqué

  T-shirt Cushion

  Infinity Scarf

  Laundry Bag

  Jeans Bag

  Phone Sleeve

  Book Bag

  Christmas Stocking

  Simple Skirt

  Bunting

  Baby Blanket

  Drop-waisted T-shirt Dress

  Apron

  1920s Headband

  Flower Corsage

  Patchwork Quilt

  About the Author

  Copyright

  A needle.

  Thread.

  Fabric.

  And a pattern.

  Sewing is more than just a hobby. Learning to sew means you can create outfits, accessories and looks knowing that no one else will ever have something exactly the same. You will always be unique and true to yourself. Whichever pattern you follow, make it your own.

  My dad told me to always have a plan. Doesn’t matter if the plan changes or shifts a little, as long as you have one. “Fail to plan, Grace, and you plan to fail!” he’d say. “I want you to plan to succeed.”

  So I got ready to start sixth form with a plan – to be a star. To matter. After the disappointment of coming in second to Lottie Hansen in pretty much everything that happened during my GCSE year, I needed to win at Year Twelve. After all, it wasn’t like I had had a baking apprenticeship and a fortnight in Paris to keep me busy over the summer, like some people. I didn’t even have the hot boyfriend.

  All I had was a plan to prove myself – to my parents, my friends and even to me. But it all went out of the window the night before term started, the moment Faith knocked on our front door.

  What you need:

  2 pieces of card, 15 x 10cm

  1 piece of fabric, 20 x 26cm

  2 pieces of felt, 13 x 20cm

  What to do:

  1. Lay your fabric out in a landscape orientation with the pattern (the right side) facing down and the back of the fabric (the wrong side) showing.

  2. Place your pieces of card in a portrait orientation, side by side on the wrong side of the fabric, with a 1cm gap between them and a border of fabric around the edges.

  3. Glue the card in place, then fold and glue the edges of the fabric neatly over the card.

  4. Glue one piece of felt over the card that’s still showing, to give you a neat finish, then fold in half to make the needle book cover.

  5. Mark the middle of the felt inside the book, and the middle of your second piece of felt – this will be your spine.

  6. Lay the second piece of felt inside the book so the marks match up, then sew in place with a line of running stitch or back stitch using embroidery thread in a complementary colour up the spine, from top to bottom. Now you have the pages of your needle book.

  7. Store your needles in the pages by feeding them through the felt and back out again.

  My breath burned in my lungs and, for the first time in the three weeks since term started, I was actually grateful that we still had to wear school uniform in sixth form, and that high heels were not allowed. I didn’t dare waste time checking my watch, I already knew I was late. Not just for school, but for something far more important.

  I was late for the auditions.

  And it was all Faith’s fault. Her fault I hadn’t had time to run my audition speech in the mirror enough times yesterday. As if some “family dinner” in a restaurant was suddenly more important than my actual life.

  “Since when do we have family dinners?” I’d asked Mum, but she’d just given me the sad eyes and gone back to talking to Faith. Again.

  Then, back home, there had been the photo album from my parents’ wedding and embarrassing stories about me as a child. I’d escaped to my room to call Yasmin, relieved to talk to someone who didn’t make everything about Faith. Mostly because she didn’t know Faith existed. Then it had been late and I must have forgotten to set my alarm because suddenly it was morning and I was running late before I even got out of bed.

  I rounded the last corner before the school gates at high speed, grabbing hold of a lamppost to spin myself around in the right direction. Other sixth formers were still sauntering through the gates behind a crowd of younger kids, so maybe I still had a chance. Maybe the bell hadn’t rung yet. Maybe I could make it…

  I cursed Mr Hughes and whatever stupid timetabling issue meant he’d had to hold the auditions before school this year, instead of after school or even at lunch.

  “I don’t want to waste any time,” he’d said at our last Drama Club meeting, the first I’d actually managed to make that year. “We’ve had a few weeks to get familiar with the material and I think you’re ready. My vision is for something really special – different from the traditional versions of Shakespeare we’ve done before. I’m going to need real commitment from everyone, starting with the auditions. I want each of you to prepare a two-minute speech – a monologue from any play you like – and I’ll be keeping time. The auditions will be held on Monday morning at 8 a.m. sharp in the school hall.”

  And now it was almost nine.

  Shoving my way past a few slow-movers, I raced down the path towards the main doors and veered left into the school hall, just as the bell clanged out over the speakers to signal the official start of the school day.

  “Thanks for coming today, everyone. I have a really good feeling about this show.” Mr Hughes beamed at the group of people on stage, who all looked unbearably pleased with themselves. Then, realizing they were running the risk of being late for registration, they started to scatter.

  I had bigger worries than missing registration.

  “Mr Hughes.” I sidled up to his chair, still trying to catch my breath. “I’m so sorry I was late today. Bit of a family crisis, I’m afraid.”

  His gaze unnerved me. It felt like he was studying me, analyzing me, like a character in a play. “Another one, Grace?” he asked. “Wasn’t that the excuse you used when you missed Drama Club the first week we came back? And the second, actually. Is it something you’d like to talk about?”

  My smile froze. No, actually, it really wasn’t.

  “It’s been an … interesting summer,” I told Mr Hughes, aiming for wry understatement in my voice. What I actually felt was disbelief, confus
ion and just a tinge of despair, but I figured he didn’t need to know that. “I’d still really like to audition for the play. You know how much I love Shakespeare.” Total lie, but teachers always liked to hear that sort of thing. “And how much time and energy I’ve put into Drama Club over the past five years.” A little reminder that I’d paid my dues and worked my way up.

  This year’s play, after the roaring success of last year’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream (featuring yours truly as the fairy queen), was Much Ado About Nothing. As far as I’d been able to tell from the film clips on YouTube, it was about two people who argued all the time to hide the fact they were secretly crazy about each other.

  I was the queen of banter. Nobody in the group could pull off a flirty argument like me. I was born to play Beatrice. This was my year to take the lead. That was the plan!

  Mr Hughes studied me a moment longer, then got slowly to his feet. “I think, Grace, that if you were really as invested as you claim, you’d have managed to make it to Drama Club more than once this term. And you’d have been on time this morning.”

  My breath was back, but my palms were sweating now. He wasn’t actually being serious, was he? “Mr Hughes, really, you don’t understand—”

  “I think I do. You have stuff going on in your life,” he interrupted me. “But the thing is Grace, so does everyone else.”

  Heat rose up to my cheeks and I knew I was blushing. He had no idea about my life and I didn’t see why I should have to tell him.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, anger and embarrassment throbbing in my chest. “I’m the best actress you’ve got in this club. You’re not seriously going to leave me out because I was late? Just let me audition, please. I’ll come to the drama room at lunchtime, or after school. Whenever.”

  But Mr Hughes shook his head. “I’m sorry, Grace. I need a cast I can rely on to show up on time, and for every rehearsal, not just when it suits them.”

  “But wait…” I darted in front of him to stop him reaching his files. “You’re not being fair.”

  “Auditions aren’t about being fair, Grace. And they’re not about who’s been here the longest, or who thinks they deserve what. They’re about choosing the right person for a role.”

  “I’m the right person,” I insisted. “Who else are you going to cast? Sara? Violet? They’re not a patch on me and you know it.”

  “They did the most important thing, though. They showed up.”

  Mr Hughes sidestepped me to gather up his files. “I’m sorry, Grace. Auditions are closed.”

  And with that he left the hall, with me staring blankly after him, wondering if that had really, truly happened.

  The sound of a chair scraping on the wooden floor made me spin round, as I realized that my latest private humiliation hadn’t been private at all. There by the door, stacking up chairs, was a guy I didn’t recognize. Taller than me by half a foot, and with sandy hair he brushed back from his face with his fingers, he didn’t look like anything special. But then he glanced up and his pale blue eyes caught mine, and I got the uncomfortable feeling that he could see right through me.

  I blinked. “What are you doing here?” I snapped, embarrassed. He was in uniform, and looked about my age. New student, I guessed.

  My eyes narrowed as he raised an eyebrow at me and pointed at the chairs, a smirk spreading across his face. “I thought it was kind of obvious.”

  “So, what? You were auditioning?” He was cute enough to make a passable Benedick, I decided, once I’d persuaded Mr Hughes to let me play Beatrice. The irritating smirk would be perfect for the banter. Not to mention those eyes…

  But the new guy shook his head. “I’m more of the backstage sort. Looks like you might be, too, by the sound of things.”

  “Not a chance,” I said. “I just need to convince Mr Hughes to let me audition. He’ll come round.”

  “I don’t know, he seemed pretty decided.” The new guy boosted the last chair on to the stack, before lifting the whole lot as if they weighed nothing and carting them over to the other side of the hall. “And he’s not the sort of man who changes his mind easily.”

  “You clearly haven’t seen how persuasive I can be,” I told him. “Besides, how would you know? You’re new, right? You can only have been at this school for, like, five minutes.”

  “True.” He grabbed his school bag and swung it up on to his shoulder, fixing me with that cool blue stare. “But I’m Connor O’Neil. Mr Hughes is my stepdad. I’m not just helping him backstage – I’m the stage manager. Which in this case means I’m helping with the casting, too. And, to be honest, I can see exactly why we wouldn’t want you in the play. Far too high maintenance.”

  Connor sauntered out of the hall, leaving me alone for real this time. Which was a good thing, since I was gaping slightly. High maintenance? Who did he think he was, acting like he knew all about me?

  He knew as little about me as I did about him, anyway. Mr Hughes’s stepson. How had I missed that? I leaned back against the stage and replayed the whole exchange with him and Mr Hughes in my head. Damn it. The one guy I could have used on my side, to help me convince Mr Hughes to give me the part, and he thought I was a teenage diva with an ego problem.

  Not the best start to my bid for stardom.

  The bell rang again and I realized I’d missed registration completely. I grabbed my bag and dashed out of the hall to my first class of the day – history. Fortunately for me, I shared the lesson with Jasper. Maybe he’d know enough about Connor O’Neil to help me win him over, convince his stepdad to give me the starring role, and get my sixth-form plan back on course.

  After three weeks of studying Russia and communism, I already knew our history lesson was going to be a snoozefest. The only slight relief from the boredom was the fact that the teacher, Mr Edwards, was slightly deaf, and didn’t always notice when Jasper and I were chatting. We’d teamed up at the back of the classroom on the first day, and I had promised to prod Jasper with a sharp pencil whenever he started to snore.

  “How were the auditions?” Jasper asked, before yawning. “God, Mondays.”

  “I hear you.” Dropping my bag beside my seat I smoothed down my skirt and sat down quickly, before Mr Edwards arrived. My skirt was just a smidge or eight above regulation length and although Mr Edwards might not be able to hear well, there was nothing wrong with his eyesight. This day really didn’t need a trip to the head of sixth form and a lecture about appropriate dress. “I overslept. Missed the auditions.”

  Jasper winced. “Bad luck. Does this mean you’re in an even worse mood than normal for a Monday?” He studied me, a little frown appearing across his forehead. “Hang on, why are you smiling? Is there some evil scheme afoot to maim or injure whoever gets the lead so you can step in and save the day?”

  I gave him a Look. It was still kind of hard to believe that I was actually friends with Jasper. I mean, who actually uses the word “afoot” these days? But over the last year I’d realized that Jasper was more than “that weird goth kid”. And after his girlfriend, Ella, left town last Easter to live with her mum up North, Jasper had needed distracting, so we’d ended up hanging out together quite a bit. Then this summer, with Yasmin away and Mac and Lottie in Paris, it had mostly just been him and me.

  “No schemes.” I turned my attention to the front of the class, where Mr Edwards had just walked in. “I don’t need schemes to be a star. I just need the chance to actually audition.”

  Jasper rolled his eyes and I knew he was thinking, Same old Grace.

  Well, fine. I had a plan and I was sticking to it. Yeah, home might be kind of crazy right now, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could hide something as big as Faith forever, but I didn’t want to let it change me or my plans for the year.

  Speaking of which… “Actually, you might be able to help me. What have you heard about this new guy – Connor?” Jasper always had the best gossip. I guessed it came from his irritating habit of asking endless questions all the time.


  He gave me a sideways look. “Why? What’s he to you?”

  I shrugged, playing it cool. “Nothing. But he’s stage managing the play, apparently. I met him this morning after the auditions.” I paused. “Oh, and it turns out he’s Mr Hughes’s stepson.”

  “Yeah, I heard that. Poor guy. So what? You’re hoping he can help you score a special audition?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to try,” I admitted. Maybe Connor and I could be friends, since we would have to work together on the play anyway. And friends helped each other, right?

  “OK, so what have you heard already?” Jasper half turned towards me in his chair. We were whispering now, since Mr Edwards was wittering on about Stalin.

  “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Well, all I really know is that he transferred here from a school over on the other side of London.” So, about forty miles from our leafy little suburban town.

  “That’s it?” I asked, surprised. Usually, Jasper had a lot more on people.

  “Yeah. I mean, I chatted to him a bit the other day – he’s in my English lit class. He seems nice. Friendly.” Jasper shrugged. “I don’t know – we didn’t really get on to sharing our deepest secrets or anything.”

  “Huh.” I frowned. “Why not?”

  Jasper laughed, loud enough to attract a glare from Mr Edwards. We both ducked our heads behind our books again.

  After a moment, I asked, “No, seriously. Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t know you’d be quizzing me later?” Jasper said. I shot him a look. “OK, fine. I assumed he didn’t really have any. Like I said, he’s a nice guy. People like him.”

  “People? Which people?”

  “I dunno. He doesn’t seem to have been hanging around with anyone in particular, I don’t think.”

  “Then how do you know people like him?”

  Jasper stared at me. “Seriously, what’s this about?”