Secrets, Schemes & Sewing Machines

by Katy Cannon

  Leaving Ash and Yasmin in the lounge, debating which film we should watch, I wandered through to the kitchen where Lottie and Mac were already kissing instead of making garlic bread like they’d said they were doing. I glanced around and found Jasper slumped on a kitchen stool watching them. From the look on his face, his Christmas visit to see Ella hadn’t improved after he’d called me.

  I yanked over another stool and boosted myself up to sit next to him. “So? What happened?”

  “We did the present thing. I met her new friends, who all seem OK. Her mum tried to make sure we were never left alone. The usual.” Jasper shrugged. “We talked a lot.”

  He didn’t make it sound like that was a good thing.

  “And?”

  “And we decided that the long-distance thing is too hard right now. We both have exams and new friendships and stuff going on … so we’re going to try being friends instead. See how that goes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. It is what it is, I guess.” He jumped down from his stool. “Come on. I need a drink. Where did Mac put the beers?”

  By eleven, I’d given up any hope of Connor joining us. But then, ten minutes before midnight, in the middle of the last chase scene of our second movie, the doorbell rang.

  I bounced off the sofa before anyone else had the chance, earning myself a grumble from Jasper who’d spilled his drink when I jumped up. I didn’t care. All of a sudden, my heart was pounding from more than too much sugar and movie car chases.

  When I opened the door, Connor stood there, his face a little red. “Hey. You coming in?”

  “Actually, princess,” he said, out of breath, “you’re coming out.”

  “Am I now?” I said, but I was already reaching for my scarf and coat from the rack behind the door.

  Connor held out his hand and I took it, stepping on to the porch with him. I flicked the door on the latch behind me.

  “It’s nearly midnight,” I said. His hand felt so warm in mine, and so right. Like it had when we were dancing.

  “Exactly. I want to share my favourite part of New Year’s Eve with you.” I shivered, and Connor pulled me towards him, my back resting against his chest as he leaned against the brick pillar again, his arms wrapped around my waist. “Watch.”

  It felt a bit like a dream in that weird, slightly fuzzy, not quite making sense way. Why would Connor show up at midnight on New Year’s Eve and make me stand outside in the cold? Maybe I’d actually fallen asleep on the sofa with Jasper. That made more sense.

  But then I heard chanting from inside, my friends counting down to midnight, and people started spilling out from the house across the way.

  “Five,” Connor whispered in my ear. “Four. Three. Two. One…”

  His words were swallowed up by a sudden explosion, followed by flashes of light, cracks and bangs and sparkles, as what seemed like every house in the neighbourhood but mine set off fireworks at exactly the same time.

  “Happy New Year,” I murmured, captivated by the display in the sky. So many colours, so many sounds. Each bang was followed by a cascade of silver lights, like sequins falling from the sky.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” Connor said, as we watched. “I had to run from the station just to make it here in time for midnight.”

  I smiled at him over my shoulder. “You were here for the important bit. This is really your favourite part?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned back, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. But then his gaze darted away from mine to something over my shoulder. “Look.”

  He pointed up at the sky, and I followed his finger.

  “What are they?” I stared at the flock of slow-moving lights, drifting through the sky. “Are they sky lanterns?”

  Connor nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never seen so many of them at once before.”

  “Me, neither.” Watching them float up to the heavens, I could only think about how beautiful it all looked, and what a perfect moment this was.

  Finally they faded away into the night, and I turned to face Connor again, not sure what I wanted to say, but knowing I had to do something. His hands stayed loosely linked around my waist, holding me close, and I smiled up into his pale blue eyes.

  “Connor…” I started, but before I could get any further, his lips were on mine, firm but soft and sweet, and it didn’t matter that I couldn’t find the words.

  When the kiss ended and he pulled away, he murmured, “Happy New Year, Grace.”

  Behind us the front door flew open, and Mac’s face appeared. “Are you guys done kissing? Lottie wants hot chocolate, and I can’t find any.”

  I buried my head against Connor’s chest to hide my blushing cheeks.

  “We’re coming in,” Connor said. “I make the best hot chocolate ever.”

  He wasn’t lying. He found the cocoa powder and marshmallows left over from one of our baking sessions, grabbed the milk and some spray cream from the fridge and pulled out a saucepan. Mac produced a bottle of whisky to give them a little extra kick.

  “Where did you learn to make such good hot chocolate?” I asked, perched on a kitchen stool to watch him.

  “At my old theatre.” He stirred in the milk. “Whenever we had a late rehearsal, someone would end up making hot chocolate.”

  “It’s a good talent to have.” I watched as he poured out the chocolate into mugs, then topped them with cream and marshmallows. “Come and get it,” I yelled to the others.

  They did, thanking Connor then heading back through to the comfy sofas in the lounge.

  “So,” I said, once we were alone again. “Um…” I ran out of words.

  “You OK?” Connor leaned against the counter beside me, too close for friends.

  “Yeah. Just … surprised I guess.”

  “That I kissed you?”

  “That you’re here at all.” I took a sip of my hot chocolate so I didn’t have to look into his pale, watchful eyes. “It’s not all that long ago, you hated me.”

  “I didn’t hate you.”

  “You thought I was a drama queen who would wreck your play.”

  “Well … yeah. I did think that.” He gave me an apologetic half smile.

  “So what changed?”

  “You did.” With a sigh, Connor moved away and boosted himself up on to his own stool. “Here’s the thing. This play matters to me. A lot.”

  “I got that.” I picked a marshmallow off the top of his mug. “Why?”

  “Because … this is what I want to do with my life. I want a career in the theatre. And back when I was living with Dad, I was working towards that. I had the school Drama Club and the youth theatre, but I’d also lined up some part-time work at the main theatre where we rehearsed, too. Learning the ropes, shadowing the ASMs – all while doing the boring admin work no one else wanted to do.”

  “And then you had to move.” No wonder he’d been so grumpy at the start of term.

  “Yeah.” He grabbed a spoon and used it to stir the cream into his hot chocolate. “When I moved here, Guy tried to make it up to me. He set me up as stage manager for this show and … you know the theatre that’s lending us the uniforms? Well, his mate there is interested in hiring me for the summer to stage manage their youth theatre summer production. He’s coming to watch our show before he makes a decision.”

  “Which is why it needs to be good.” Suddenly a lot of things were starting to make sense.

  “It needs to be great,” he corrected me. “Seamless. If I get that job, it’s a real leg up on my application for drama school, after A levels.”

  “And you were worried that I would ruin it for you?” I gave him a half smile to show him that I wasn’t really cross. Much.

  “I was worried that you cared more about being a star than what was best for the show.” Reaching out, he took my hand. “I think I know better now.”

  “I hope so.” But that uncomfortable feeling was back, worming its way up through my stomach. I did want
what was best for the play. I just wanted the lead role, too. But it wasn’t like I was actively sabotaging the show to get it or anything. I had nothing to feel guilty about.

  “So, what now?” I asked.

  “I guess … I’d just like to get to know you better. Start over, maybe. What do you think?”

  Start over. Without him assuming I was a diva, and with me understanding why this play mattered to him so much. That could work.

  “I think that sounds like just the way to start the New Year,” I said, and he kissed me.

  What you need:

  Fabric of your choice

  2cm-wide elastic

  What to do:

  1. Measure around your waist and the length from your waist to your knee.

  2. Measure out your ironed fabric so you have a rectangle twice as long as your waist measurement, and as wide as your waist to knee measurement plus 7cm.

  3. Using a sewing machine, sew a zigzag stitch all around the edges of your fabric. Or if you’re sewing by hand, use pinking shears to prevent fraying.

  4. Lay your fabric out in a landscape orientation and hem the bottom of your fabric.

  5. Fold in half, right sides together, and sew a 1cm seam along the short side, to give you a tube of fabric with the hem at the bottom.

  6. Measure your elastic and cut a piece the length of your waist measurement plus 3cm.

  7. With your skirt still inside out, fold the top over by 3cm, to give you a fold just wider than your elastic.

  8. Iron in place, pin and sew around the bottom of the fold, removing the pins as you go. Leave a 5cm gap at the side seam, to give you a fabric channel for your elastic.

  9. Attach a large safety pin to one end of your elastic, and pin the other end to the fabric by the gap at the seam.

  10. Use the safety pin to feed the elastic through the channel, making sure it doesn’t twist.

  11. Sew the two ends of the elastic together, then adjust the gathers that have formed at the top of your skirt until they are all even.

  12. Sew closed the gap you left, so that the elastic is completely hidden.

  13. Wear with pride!

  Back at school, everything felt grey and dark and depressing. Jasper still hadn’t recovered his bounce and now his stocking was done and given, he said he had no reason to come to Sewing Club, which left me poring over dress patterns from the 1920s with Izzy.

  “Jasper not coming?” she asked, the first week back at Sewing Club.

  “Apparently not. He says now his stocking is done there’s not a lot of point.” I picked up one of the patterns. “What about this one?”

  Izzy shook her head. “Too forties. So, did his girlfriend like it?”

  “The stocking?” I winced. “They broke up. But not because of the stocking.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Izzy said. But something about her tone didn’t sound completely disappointed at the idea that Jasper was single again… “Now, this dress I could work with.”

  “Show me,” I said, taking the pattern from her. We had bigger problems than Jasper’s love life, after all.

  By the time I showed up for the first play rehearsal after the break, we had the perfect design for Beatrice and Hero’s party dresses. We’d decided to go for the same pattern, but made from different materials and colours. We were also going to embellish each one differently, to reflect the characters.

  I skipped into the school hall with the pattern in hand, eager to show Connor … and ask him how the rest of his Christmas holiday had been. We’d texted a few times since New Year, but that wasn’t enough. I couldn’t help it. I was smitten.

  Except our almost-relationship seemed to have taken a backwards step over the last few days.

  “Hey! Look what I’ve got!” I waved the pattern in his general direction the moment I spotted him.

  Connor barely looked up. “I can’t. In case you hadn’t noticed, I need to get this stage cleared so we can start rehearsal.”

  I took in the stage for the first time. It was covered in chairs, boxes and tables. “What’s been happening here?”

  “Year Eight, apparently. They had drama last period and they ran over, so they didn’t have time to clear the stage.” He hefted one end of a table and started to drag it, so I dropped my bag and the pattern and dashed to help by picking up the other end. “I can do this myself.”

  I frowned. “Yeah. But why would you, when I’m here to help?”

  “Because any minute now Guy is going to come out here and yell at me for distracting you when he needs you doing something else.” Connor backed up through the curtains at the side of the stage, and I followed, still carrying the table.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s in a foul mood and he’s taking it out on everybody else.”

  “Speak for yourself, Connor,” Mr Hughes said, appearing in the doorway to the drama room. “Grace, I need you to help Violet with that scene in Act Two. She’s having problems with some of the lines.”

  “Right.” Of course she was. And of course I could help her. And of course she’d still end up playing the part. I was starting to think that Connor’s bad mood was catching. “I’ll just finish helping—”

  “Now, please,” Mr Hughes snapped, then disappeared back into the drama room.

  I dropped my end of the table. “I see your point.”

  Connor gave me a tired half smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry, Ash will be along in a minute. He’ll give me a hand.”

  “OK.” I dashed back across the stage to grab my stuff, then headed into the drama room to face Violet and the severely bad mood of our drama teacher.

  The rehearsal was a disaster from start to finish. No matter how we broke up the lines in the scene, Violet just could not get them. By the time we took it out on to the stage with the rest of the cast she’d improved, but still stumbled over a few. I stood at the side of the stage with a script to prompt, but rarely got the chance. The moment she slipped up, Mr Hughes would bellow the correct line from his chair on the hall floor. And, of course, Violet got more flustered with every mistake.

  “I can’t take this any more,” Mr Hughes declared, after about half an hour of misery. “Take a break while I find some headache tablets. And while you’re at it, try and find your ability to act again, please, people.” He stalked off towards the drama room, leaving us all staring after him, speechless.

  Then Violet burst into tears, and half the cast rushed to comfort her. I dropped my script on to the prompter’s chair and went to find Connor.

  He was propped up against the wall outside, coat huddled around him, staring out at the January rain from under the porch of the school hall. I leaned against the brickwork beside him and stared out, too, but it just looked dark, damp and miserable to me.

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Mr Hughes today?” Connor jumped at the sound of my voice and twisted towards me, blinking hard.

  “Sorry?”

  “Were you actually asleep with your eyes open just then?”

  Connor brought his fist up to press against his eyes, first the left then the right. “Possibly. Lily’s teething. I don’t think any of us have slept since New Year.”

  Well. That explained a lot. “I’m guessing you and Mr Hughes don’t do well with sleep deprivation.”

  “Not really, no.”

  I grinned. “Well, at least you’re finding things you have in common.”

  Connor closed his eyes and laughed, far louder and longer than the joke deserved. “There is that.”

  “How’s your mum?” I asked.

  “Exhausted. We’re all trying to do our share, but…”

  “But that just means you’re all tired and cross,” I guessed.

  “Yeah.”

  We stood together in silence, staring out at the rain. Then, a touch on my palm, that same tingle I remembered, and suddenly his fingers were wrapped around mine.

  I bit my lip and listened to my heart race a
s I stared down at our interlinked fingers. Looking up again, I saw his serious eyes gazing down at me, and suddenly my fears were just spilling out of me. “Just then, inside… I thought that maybe you’d forgotten that you didn’t hate me any more.”

  Connor swore softly and tugged me a little closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry. Sorry that you ever thought that at all. Even from the start. I shouldn’t have… It was just, when we met…”

  “I didn’t make a great first impression, I know.” I almost laughed at the memory. For the first time, with Connor here beside me, it was just about funny.

  “Yeah, well. I just … I’ve known a lot of drama girls.”

  “Known?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “Oh, you know what I mean. There are always more girls than boys in these clubs and groups. And the girls … most of them were great. But some…”

  “Were divas?”

  “Were more interested in the drama than the play, if you see what I mean.” Connor sighed. “Everything was about whatever the latest crisis was. Who had kissed who, who’d broken up, who had what made-up issues. And they all wanted to be at the centre of it – for the glory or the popularity or whatever. They couldn’t just let anyone sort out their own problems. They had to make it some big thing that involved everyone. On top of everything that was going on at home … it was tiring. And it distracted them from what we were actually trying to do – put on a play.”

  “And you thought I was another girl like that.” The thing was, a year or so ago, he’d have been completely right. But not any more. “And that having me in the play would ruin your chances of getting your summer job.”

  “I was wrong,” Connor said, squeezing my fingers.

  “Yeah. You were.”

  “And I’m sorry.” I couldn’t look away from his eyes, even as his lips nudged closer towards mine and I felt relief flooding through my veins. I hadn’t kissed him in days, and I missed it.

  “You two better get back in here,” Ash said, sticking his head through the doors. “Mr Hughes wants to start again, and I don’t think he’s feeling patient.”