by Katy Cannon
“You’re delusional.” I shoved my notes back into my file, while secretly wishing Lottie was right. “We just … hate each other less these days. And we, well, found some common ground. That’s all.”
For now, at least. But it had taken us so long to move this far, I could be at uni before we got it together enough to take it any further.
“If you say so,” Lottie said. But she was still grinning.
What you need:
Newspaper and a pen
Red felt
White or patterned felt
Red and white ribbon (optional)
What to do:
1. Draw a stocking shape of the size you want on the newspaper and cut out.
2. Fold your red felt in half and pin the stocking pattern to it.
3. Cut around the stocking shape to give you two identical felt pieces.
4. Draw a star shape on the newspaper, pin to the white or patterned felt and cut out.
5. Pin the star to the middle of the front stocking piece and, using an embroidery needle and three strands of embroidery thread, sew all the way around it using blanket stitch or whip stitch, removing the pins as you go.
6. Pin the stocking pieces together with the right sides facing outwards and tack around the sides and bottom with a loose running stitch in white cotton thread, leaving the top of the stocking open. Remove the pins.
7. Using an embroidery needle and three strands of embroidery thread, sew all the way around the sides and bottom of your stocking using blanket stitch. Remove the tacking stitch and your stocking is finished.
8. If you like, you could sew a loop of ribbon to the top corner of your stocking so you can hang it up.
“You know, I was so surprised when I got the part,” Violet said, talking down at me from the chair she stood on, ignoring Miss Cotterill whipping the tape measure around her taking measurements.
It was our last rehearsal before the Christmas holidays, and we finally seemed to be getting somewhere with the costumes.
“I mean, everyone thought that you were a sure thing to play Beatrice,” Violet went on. “I heard you even auditioned for the part after everyone else, as a special favour from Mr Hughes. I couldn’t believe he still picked me! But he did!”
Across the hall, Connor was watching me. Well, he was pretending to be sorting through props, but I knew what he was really doing. He was waiting to see how I was going to react to Violet’s total lack of empathy. And her inability to understand how things had actually happened.
I wanted to correct her. Wanted even to point out how much more I was needed to take care of the costumes. But everything I thought of to say sounded too much like “I’m still bitter you got the role, and I think I should play Beatrice”. And that wasn’t the vibe I was going for at all, even if it was true. Not when Connor finally seemed to believe I wasn’t all about the spotlight.
So instead I wrote down the measurements Miss Cotterill called out to me, and watched carefully while she explained to me how and why she was taking each one. I knew I’d be on my own doing this soon enough.
“Right, Violet, you go and slip this on and we’ll see how it fits.” Miss Cotterill handed her the dress we’d found for Beatrice to wear in the opening scenes. Violet hopped down from her stool and headed out to the toilets to change.
Maybe I could “accidentally” stab her with a pin while we were fitting the dress…
“You look like you’re contemplating pain and torture,” Izzy said as she wandered past, arms full of material.
“Only minor torture,” I assured her. “And well deserved.”
“Fair enough. Where do you want these?”
I squinted. “What are they?”
“Aprons for the maids,” Izzy said. “Sewn by my own fair hands.”
“Brilliant. Pop them over on that table. Ursula and Margaret are coming down next, I think.”
Izzy laid the aprons out, then turned back to me. “So, what about the wedding dresses? I mean, I’m having fun altering and sewing sequins on the flapper dresses, but shouldn’t I be sorting those, too?”
I sighed. “I know. I managed to get some netting to use to make the veils, attached to a headband or something. I’m just having a problem finding four white dresses than look more or less the same.”
“I could just make them, too, you realize.”
“Really?”
“Of course!” She waved a hand down over her body, showing off the dress she had changed into after school finished. It was a riot of colours, all sewn into one design. “Who do you think made this?”
I stared at the dress for another moment. “I guess we wouldn’t be looking for something quite so—”
“Well, of course not!” Izzy interrupted. “They’re wedding dresses. But we could find a simple pattern that suits the period and some white or ivory fabric – probably satin or silk – and a few sparkly embellishments, and I can make them up for you. No problem.”
“That would be fantastic!”
Izzy beamed at me. “Good. Then I’ll raid the pattern filing cabinet in the textiles classroom after we finish here and see what we have that might suit. Otherwise I’ll take to the internet and look at the sewing forums. There’ll definitely be something there we can use.”
“Thank you,” I said. Finally, we seemed to be getting somewhere.
Violet emerged scowling, draped in a drop-waisted party dress that hung off her and trailed along the floor.
“Well, it might need some slight adjustments,” Miss Cotterill said, squinting at her.
Izzy laughed. “Too right! I think the last person to wear that was the captain of the rugby team in some skit they did for a fundraiser a few years ago.”
“It’s the right style, though,” I pointed out. “And colour and fabric.”
Violet glared at me. “I’m not wearing this in front of a whole room full of people.”
“Just wait and see,” Miss Cotterill said breezily. “Grace and Izzy will fix it up right. It’s amazing what you can do with a nice piece of fabric. Let me just grab my pins,” she added, as she wandered off towards her sewing box.
Violet was still scowling. I smiled sweetly, just to annoy her.
“I know what you’re doing.” Violet leaned forward, her face close to mine and the words a harsh whisper.
“Oh?” I asked, refusing to back up an inch. “And what is that, exactly? In your opinion.”
“You’re trying to make me look ridiculous because you’re jealous I got the part that you wanted.” The look on her face as she folded her arms across her chest made it clear she thought it was obvious and impossible to deny.
Jealous or not, I wouldn’t risk ruining the play over it. That was what Connor hadn’t understood.
“You’re wrong,” I told her flatly. “I can understand how, in your position, you might feel that way, but quite honestly I’m more concerned with doing my job well than worrying about anyone else’s.”
Violet held out her oversized skirts. “And you call this doing your job well?”
“It’s not finished yet.” I just hoped the heat I could feel in my cheeks didn’t show on my skin.
“Come on, Grace,” Violet said. “Everyone knows you only got stuck with this job because Mr Hughes wouldn’t give you the part you really wanted. No one thinks you can actually sew or anything. Besides, the way I heard it, your whole family is falling apart. Family crisis – wasn’t that what you told Mr Hughes?”
“My family is none of your business.”
“Yeah, I notice you didn’t deny the rest of it, though.” Violet’s smug smile made me want to fight back, to slash her with a really cutting put-down. But Connor got in there first. I hadn’t even noticed him coming over to join us.
“Come on, Violet. Grace is working very hard to ensure that all our costumes for the play are authentic,” he said, and I stared at him in surprise. “She’s the one who has done all the research and the legwork, deciding on the costumes for this production, so we need to
trust her to make the best choices for everyone. You should be concentrating on making sure you know your lines, not worrying about what you’ll be wearing.” He smiled, which took the edge off his words. “Besides, I’m sure once Miss Cotterill, Grace and Izzy are done, you’ll love it.”
Violet didn’t look convinced, not that I cared. Connor truly believed I was doing the job I’d volunteered for properly. He trusted me.
With a quick grin at me, Connor went back to sorting props. Miss Cotterill came back at last, so I stayed and helped her pin the dress on Violet, without stabbing her once, however tempting it was. And by the time we’d finished even Violet would have agreed it didn’t look half bad – if she wasn’t being a total diva. As it was, I knew it looked good, which was all that really mattered.
“We’ll get it stitched up, then you can come and try it on again next week so we can make final adjustments,” Miss Cotterill said, putting the lid back on the pin box. “Now go and get changed into the next costume, preferably without dislodging any of the pins, please.”
Violet was bound to get a few pinpricks in the process, which only made me happier.
While Izzy and Miss Cotterill got to work on Hero’s dress, I went to check on the props with Connor. But before I could get there, Mr Hughes bellowed out across the room.
“Grace? Connor? I need you two up here.”
Connor and I shared a quick look, then dashed towards the stage.
“What’s up?” I asked, as we got close. “I’m just doing fittings…”
“I know, but I need you to take on your other role for a minute, while Violet’s busy. We’re blocking the chorus dance for the masked-ball scene and Ash’s understudy is off sick. I need you two to stand in for Ash and Violet while we do it, so I can see how it’ll all look. Up you go.”
I glanced back at Izzy and Miss Cotterill. I should be with them doing my real job but … our director had given me an order. What else could I do?
Connor sat on the edge of the stage and boosted himself up, and I followed suit. I’d watched enough rehearsals of this scene to know where I needed to stand, so I moved into place, leaning against a table that would be replaced with a proper bar before the show itself.
“OK, and … go!” Mr Hughes pressed play on the iPod and jazz music blared out. Behind us, the chorus started to dance the Charleston, almost in time, while Connor and I pretended to sip imaginary cocktails.
“And – Violet!” Mr Hughes said. “Sorry, Grace. Go.”
That stung. Still, I stepped in with my first line, glad I’d memorized this scene at least. No one else was using scripts, and I’d hate to be the odd one out. “Will you not tell me who told you so?”
“No, you shall pardon me,” Connor replied, speaking Ash’s words.
“Nor will you not tell me who you are?” I leaned closer, just like I’d always thought Violet should do in this scene. Despite the masks they’d wear for the ball, I’d always thought that Beatrice knew exactly who she was talking to, and enjoyed teasing him.
“Not now.”
“That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the ‘Hundred Merry Tales’ – well, this was Signior Benedick that said so.”
Beatrice wouldn’t smile here, so I couldn’t, even though I wanted to. Only a few weeks ago, if someone had said that I was disdainful I’d have known it had to be Connor. But now…
“OK, stop,” Mr Hughes called. “That looks fine. Skip ahead to where Beatrice and Benedick join the dance.”
Connor glared at his stepfather but he didn’t argue. At least we didn’t have to Charleston. At this point, the music turned smoother, and everyone took their partners for a slow dance, while at the side of the stage Don John told lies to Claudio.
Connor’s hand came round to rest at my waist, as his other wrapped around my fingers. The steps they’d decided on for this bit were simple, and my feet followed Connor’s lead without question. Which was just as well. All I could focus on was the warmth where he touched me, and how his eyes looked darker this close.
Licking my lips, I remembered what I’d wanted to say to him, before we were called to the stage.
“Thanks,” I whispered, my eyes downcast. “For, you know, sticking up for me with Violet.”
Connor shook his head a fraction. “Just telling the truth.”
“You didn’t have to, though.” I glanced up again and caught him watching me, and suddenly I couldn’t look away. What was it about his eyes that dragged me in? “Why did you?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, looking as baffled by all this as I was.
“It was almost like you, I don’t know … care.”
“Maybe I do.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “God knows why.”
“Maybe we’re becoming friends,” I suggested, even though my heart was pounding.
“Maybe we are, princess,” Connor said, and somehow it didn’t sound like an insult this time. But as he spoke, I stumbled, pressing up against him for a moment until I could step back. My whole body tingled, and I saw Connor’s throat bob as he swallowed. “Friends.”
I smiled, slow and real. “Friends.”
Friends would be good. But I knew there was something much more between Connor O’Neil and me.
I couldn’t wait to find out what it was.
Christmas was officially weird.
First off, it felt strange to have Christmas Day, just Mum, Dad and me, even though that was how we’d always had it before. Now there was an extra, unopened stack of presents under the tree, because Faith and Adam were spending the day with Adam’s family.
Then, even weirder, we had a second Christmas on Boxing Day. Since it was my first time meeting Adam, and only Mum and Dad’s second, it was a really big deal. More turkey, more presents, more everything. Dad even taped the Queen’s speech to watch again at three o’clock, which took it beyond weird and into the realm of plain bizarre.
After the second watching of the speech, I escaped to my room for a little while to take an emergency phone call from Jasper.
“This is just weird,” he said, the moment I answered.
“You should try being here. What’s happened?”
“Nothing, really. I’ve only been here a couple of hours.” I could hear his teeth chattering as he spoke.
“And you’re, what, hiding out in the garden already?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did Ella like her stocking?”
“She did,” Jasper said, but I could hear a “but” coming.
“But?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought she’d be more excited about it.”
“Things still feeling a bit distant?”
“Very. I don’t know, Grace. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Anyway. How was Christmas Take Two?”
“Also weird. But at least we now know that Adam officially exists. I finally got to meet him – he seems OK.” I launched into a description of our bizarre Groundhog-Day Christmas that made Jasper laugh, at least, until he said he had to go back in for dinner. I hung up and headed back out to face the family, wondering if Jasper and Ella would still even be a couple by the time we got back to school. And also, despite myself, wondering what Connor was doing. It had been almost a week since I’d seen him, and I couldn’t shake the irrational fear that if he went too long without me reminding him that I wasn’t the girl he thought I was when we first met, he might forget. I didn’t want to go back to the sniping and the sarcasm, just when we seemed to be getting somewhere.
I spent the rest of the holidays practising my sewing, using Mum’s sewing machine while she was out at work or at some wedding fair or another with Faith. I finally finished the jeans bag I’d wanted to make, and I sewed a couple more scarves for belated Christmas gifts. I even took out Grandma’s patchwork a couple of times, and tried to read up a bit on the internet about what to do next with it. I sewed a few patches t
ogether, but I barely made a dent in the pile. It was a huge project. It would have to wait until I had more time.
At New Year, I talked Mum and Dad into letting me have some friends round while they were out at some fancy dinner thing. After my Bake-Off celebration back before Easter, I was officially banned from ever having parties again, but I convinced them that this would be a much smaller get together. We could have all gone out into town, or found a party somewhere else, but Jasper said he was broke after Christmas, and Mac and Lottie were working from five that morning and, even with New Year’s Day off, wanted something a bit quieter.
Since I was providing the venue, I let the others pick up food, entertainment and drinks. Now Mac had his own car and looked closer to twenty than his actual age of seventeen, I didn’t imagine they’d have any problems.
I spent a whole day after I invited the others wondering if I should invite Connor, too. Eventually, on New Year’s Eve during the day, I plucked up the courage, telling myself that he was new in town, Ash was his best friend, and it was a nice thing to do. Even if I wasn’t completely sure, it would be wrong to leave him out. Right?
So I texted him.
Hey, we’re doing New Year at my house. Ash is coming with Yasmin, obvs, plus Mac, Lottie, Jasper. You want to come? Starts at 7.
Three hours later, I got a response.
Sorry, got plans. But I’ll try and stop by later if I can.
Which meant one of two things, I figured. One, he had gone back to thinking I was some diva he wouldn’t spend New Year with if you paid him, even if it meant he had to spend it alone. Two, he actually had plans, which meant he had other friends who weren’t us. And if it was the second option … would he really run out on them to come and see me?
I was still arguing with myself about the likelihood when Lottie, Mac, Jasper, Yasmin and Ash all appeared on my doorstep with bags of food and DVDs. Mac’s bag had the very distinctive clink of bottles in it, which was just as well as I’d also promised Mum and Dad I wouldn’t raid the drinks cabinet this time.
As I grinned and let them in, I decided to forget all about Connor and the play for one night, and just enjoy being with my friends. If he showed up, great. If not, I wouldn’t let it ruin my night.
