Secrets, Schemes & Sewing Machines

by Katy Cannon

  “We’re coming,” Connor said. But as he turned to go through the door, I grabbed his hand to stop him.

  He raised his eyebrows at me, and I realized I had to think of something to say. Probably something other than “can you just kiss me again already?”

  I settled on, “You know, if it’s really bad at home, if you need somewhere to do homework, or whatever, you can always come round to mine.”

  “You really did miss me since New Year, didn’t you?” Connor joked, and I whacked his arm. Lightly.

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  Connor squeezed my hand again. “And I appreciate it, really.”

  We were doing the staring into each others’ eyes thing again now, and I thought for a moment that maybe we could just ignore Mr Hughes altogether and get back to the kissing again.

  Then Mr Hughes bellowed, “Anyone who isn’t back in this hall right now has to lay out all the chairs for assembly for the next month!”

  We raced into the hall in record time.

  The next day Faith stopped by the school, completely unannounced. As the lunch bell rang, I headed up to the gates with Yasmin and Ash, planning on nipping out to the corner shop to grab a sandwich or something for lunch. Being allowed off the school grounds at lunchtime was one of the few perks of being in the sixth form so, even though there wasn’t really anywhere to go, I liked to take advantage of it.

  I’d hoped to catch up with Connor, to see if we might pick up where we’d left off at the rehearsal the day before. He’d been dragged straight home by Mr Hughes when we’d finished, and despite a text that evening saying he’d see me tomorrow, he hadn’t. Yet.

  We were only a few metres away from the gates when I looked up and saw Faith standing there, her hand on her handbag strap like she needed something to cling on to.

  “I’ll catch you up,” I told Yasmin and Ash.

  “Are you sure?” Yasmin asked. Then she followed my gaze. “Is that…?”

  “Yeah.” My chest felt tight at the sight of her. Like I was waiting for exam results. “It is.”

  “Right. Come on, Ash, let’s go.” Dragging her confused boyfriend along behind her, Yasmin marched through the school gates and towards the shop.

  I took a deep breath and approached my sister. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” She gave me an uncertain smile. “Um, sorry to just loiter like this. I was about to call you, actually. I wanted to see if you were free for lunch.”

  If she’d called, I might have been able to come up with an excuse – homework or rehearsals or costume stuff or something. But standing there right in front of her, my friends gone, I had nothing, except an odd feeling that every single student in the school was staring at me and this woman who looked just like me.

  “Sure,” I said, but I didn’t move, not until she did.

  She’d brought her car, so we drove a little further towards town to a cafe I’d been to a few times. Inside, we found a table and both stared at the menus for far longer than we really needed. After the waitress came and took our orders we were out of distractions.

  “So…” I started.

  Faith nodded, like she knew what I meant, even though I hadn’t said it. “I just thought it might be nice for us to, I don’t know, catch up?”

  “Right.”

  We sat there in silence for another long moment.

  “So, how’s the play going?” Faith asked eventually.

  “OK, I guess. We’re getting there.”

  “You’re still understudying this year?” She twisted her engagement ring round and round her finger as she spoke, her gaze darting between my face, the table and her hands. “Only, your dad said…”

  “My main role this year is backstage, doing the costumes.” I leaned back against the bench seat, trying to act like I didn’t care about that.

  “Sounds like a big job.”

  “Yeah, it is, actually.” Not that anyone else in the play actually seemed to notice that. Except Connor, of course.

  “When’s the show on?” Faith asked, suddenly looking up again.

  “Beginning of March. Why?”

  “I’d like to come and see it, if that’s OK with you.”

  I stared at her, baffled. “Again, why?”

  “Because you’re my sister.” Faith shrugged. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

  “I guess,” I said. “Just to be clear, I’m really not in it. At all.”

  “I know. But you’ve been working hard on those costumes. I’d like to see how they turn out. And, you know, support you.” She gave me a small, timid smile, like she wasn’t quite sure she was permitted. Like I might leave a note at the door to stop her being allowed in. “I used to do some sewing myself, actually. I made all my friends skirts one year in school, from this really great pattern… I could email it to you, if you wanted?”

  “That would be … nice. Thanks.” I frowned. “I’ve never actually done costumes for a play before. They might be a disaster.”

  Faith laughed. “I’m sure they’ll be fantastic. Besides, they can’t be any worse than the bridesmaids’ dresses, right?”

  Was she joking? Or was this some sort of trap to make me admit that I hated the dress she’d chosen? “I think the dresses are going to be lovely. A really … sunny colour, too.”

  Faith leaned across the table towards me and whispered, “Grace, they’re hideous. The pattern is hideous and the colour is hideous. And if you never forgive me for making you wear it, I will totally understand.” She sat back again and spoke in a normal voice. “One of the other bridesmaids has already asked to be demoted to get out of wearing it, you know.”

  She was serious. She really did hate those dresses as much as I did. “So why did you pick them, then?”

  She looked up as the waitress brought our paninis. “Thanks,” she said, then added, “I didn’t, really,” taking a mouthful of sandwich. “Sorry, I’m starving. Anyway, it was just that Mel … sorry, Mum, was so desperate to make the dresses, and she really wanted to show off a bit, I think. I kept looking at plain dresses – you know, simple, elegant styles. But I think she thought I was saying that I didn’t think she could do anything more complicated. So then one day she showed up with this hideous pattern for a frilly dress and she was so excited about it… I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her no.”

  Maybe Mum was trying as hard to live up to Faith’s expectations as I always had to Dad’s. “But why are they yellow?”

  Faith groaned. “That was the florist’s fault. I mentioned that I liked sunflowers a bit, and Mum gasped and said that they were her favourite flowers, too, and suddenly the florist was pulling out all these photos of a sunflower-themed wedding. Complete with yellow bridesmaids’ dresses.”

  “You know, this is your wedding. I think you’re allowed to say no.”

  Faith looked glum. “Turns out that’s not really how weddings work. Anyway, the point is, I’m really sorry about the dress. But the fact that Mum is willing to make them – wants to make them, even… That means far more to me than what they look like or what colour they are.”

  I sighed and picked up my sandwich. “I guess I can see that.”

  “It must be hard for you, though,” Faith said, and I tensed up, waiting to hear what she had to say next. Was she going to call me out on avoiding her? Or, worse, try and set up some sort of regular sisterly bonding sessions.

  “I think I can cope with wearing yellow,” I joked, hoping she’d let it go. But she didn’t.

  “The day I found out that I was adopted … my whole world changed. Everything that had been real wasn’t any more. And, for a long time, that meant I didn’t know quite who I was or where I belonged.” She sounded like Connor had, telling me how his family had moved away without him. All matter of fact, as if by not putting any real emotion into it, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  “I can’t imagine that,” I said, although, in a way, I could.

  “My adopted parents were great, though. They made me t
heirs, they made home, home. But they were quite a lot older … and when they died, I felt kind of adrift again. Until I met Adam. He’s the one who convinced me to come and find you all before the wedding.”

  “Are you glad that he did?” I asked. Maybe we weren’t all she’d hoped we’d be.

  But Faith smiled, a true and honest smile. “Very. It means a lot to me to have this second chance with my first family. But I know it can’t be easy for you.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  Faith sighed. “Mum is trying really hard to make up for the last twenty-two years, even though I’ve told her she doesn’t have to. This is the way life happened, there’s not a lot of point looking back now.”

  “I think Mum’s trying to pretend it didn’t,” I mumbled, and Faith’s smile turned sympathetic.

  “Maybe she is. And I’m really sorry if it’s making you feel left out, Grace.”

  “I don’t,” I said, too quickly to really be believable.

  “OK.” Faith studied me until I squirmed a little in my seat and shifted all of my concentration to my panini.

  “It’s just … don’t you think they’re being kind of hypocritical? I mean…” I trailed off. She might have asked, but could I really talk to Faith about this? She wasn’t really my sister in anything except blood.

  “I think they’re trying to make up for a lot,” Faith said, looking down at her sandwich. “And maybe … maybe they’re not always sure of the best way to go about it, and maybe they get it wrong sometimes, or try to overcompensate. But they are trying. That’s the part I’m focusing on.”

  “With you, maybe,” I answered. With me, they just seemed to expect me to accept everything without complaining.

  Faith gave me a small smile. “You know, I think that maybe they’re not quite sure how to act with you, either. You’re growing up, things are changing all around you. That kind of thing is always hard with parents; I know it was with mine. My adopted parents, I mean.”

  I tilted my head as I looked at her, a question I’d never even thought of before popping into my head. “Do you have any other brothers and sisters? Adopted ones, I mean.”

  Faith shook her head. “It was always just me and my parents. A bit like you, until I came along. So I’ve never had a sister before. It’s all new to me, too.” For some reason, that made me feel a bit better. “Do you think…” Faith bit her lip. “Maybe we could work out how to be sisters, together?”

  I looked up and met her gaze. I’d wanted to say no. I’d planned to say no. From the moment she picked me up at the school I’d known we were leading up to this, and I’d expected to turn her down and walk away. To tell her I didn’t need a sister.

  But when I looked into her face, and I thought about that hideous yellow dress, about her offering me skirt patterns, and how she wanted to come to my play but wasn’t sure I wanted her there…

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  And I wasn’t even lying.

  What you need:

  2 pieces of fabric with complementary patterns

  Ribbon

  What to do:

  1. On some paper, draw a triangle slightly larger than the size you want your bunting flags to be and cut out.

  2. Fold your first piece of fabric in half, right sides together, making sure the edges match up and that it is well ironed.

  3. Pin your template on and trace around your triangle using tailor’s chalk.

  4. Repeat until you have half the total number of triangles you need.

  5. Repeat steps 2–4 with the second piece of fabric.

  6. Cut out all the triangles, keeping the pairs together.

  7. Pin each pair of triangles together, right sides facing, down the diagonal sides.

  8. Sew down each side of your first pair of triangles, leaving the top unsewn and removing the pins as you go.

  9. Trim away any excess fabric at the point, and turn your triangle the right way out, using a pencil or chopstick to turn the points out properly.

  10. Repeat for all the triangles, and iron them flat again, tucking in the fabric at the tops to give a neater edge.

  11. Lay your triangles out along the back side of the ribbon, alternating the two patterns of fabric and making sure the spaces between the flags are even. Pin in place.

  12. Machine or hand sew along the edge of the ribbon to hold the flags securely in place, removing the pins as you go.

  13. Hang and enjoy!

  “OK, we have a problem.”

  I’d known that Mr Hughes calling Connor and me into his office on a non-rehearsal day didn’t bode well. His furrowed forehead had been a definite warning sign, and it worried me enough that I didn’t even try to grab a moment with Connor on the way in. A proper hello would have to wait until we knew whatever the latest disaster was.

  Connor and I looked at each other, then back at Mr Hughes. “Is this a costume problem?” I asked, hoping against hope the answer would be no.

  “I’m afraid so.” Mr Hughes sighed. “The friend who was going to loan us the uniforms for free now needs them for another play. He’s very sorry but…”

  “We’re going to have to hire them,” Connor said.

  “Using the costume budget we’ve already spent on other things, because we thought we had the military stuff sorted.” I dropped to sit on the nearest chair. “Great.”

  “We’ll find a way around this,” Mr Hughes said, with fake cheer. “Except … the head’s already told me we can’t have any more money.”

  “Maybe we could make something that looks authentic?” Connor suggested, sitting beside me.

  I shook my head. “Izzy is already making dresses and all sorts with Miss Cotterill. There just isn’t enough time to make five First World War military costumes.”

  We all looked at each other in silence. “Any other suggestions?” Mr Hughes asked, looking about as hopeful as I felt.

  “Maybe a fundraiser?” Connor asked.

  “That could work,” Mr Hughes agreed.

  Just then, the door to the drama room opened, and Mr Hughes’s Year Eight class started filing in.

  “OK, why don’t we all think about it over the next day or so, then we’ll pool ideas at Friday’s rehearsal. Sound good?” Mr Hughes said.

  Connor and I nodded, but I don’t think either of us held out much hope.

  “Any thoughts?” he asked me, as we slipped out of the drama room and through the side door into the yard.

  “Not yet,” I admitted. “But I do have a few friends who might…”

  “Bake Club?”

  I nodded. “Yasmin’s great at organizing stuff like fundraisers. And Lottie’s obsessive enough to make it perfect. They’ll help me come up with something.”

  “Great.” Connor grinned. “Although between rehearsals, Sewing Club, Bake Club and a new fundraiser, I have no idea when you’ll have time for me.”

  “I’ll come up with something,” I promised. And then, with my heart pounding in my chest, I stood up on tiptoes and pressed a quick, soft kiss against his lips. “I’ll see you later.” As I started to pull away, he grabbed my waist and kept me close, kissing me again, deeper this time.

  Yeah, I was totally making time for Connor O’Neil.

  On Thursday at Bake Club, I filled in the others on my fundraising issue. We all huddled around the back workstation, minus Mac, who was working, but with a surprise addition in the form of Izzy. I hadn’t even really realized that she and Jasper were still friends, since he hadn’t been back to Sewing Club after Christmas. But I was glad that he seemed to be coming out of his post-Christmas sulk. I made a mental note to talk to him about it, after I’d solved the more pressing problem of the costume budget.

  “What about a bake sale?” Lottie asked. “We can all make stuff to sell. That could raise some money.”

  “But probably not enough.” I sighed. “I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn’t think of a way to make it enough of an event. You know, really get the whole school
interested.”

  Yasmin had her thinking face on. She got this little line between her eyebrows, and her finger came up to tap at her jawline. I really hoped it was leading up to something good.

  “Yasmin?” Lottie asked.

  Yasmin held up the tapping finger in a “wait” gesture.

  “Give her time,” Jasper said, but we were all staring at her in anticipation.

  Then Yasmin blinked and she was back with us.

  “Got it,” she said.

  “And?” I sounded impatient. I didn’t care.

  “We make it a Valentine’s Day Extravaganza.”

  “Extravaganza?” Jasper pulled a face. “It’s going to be cupcakes, Yasmin, whatever day we do it. I’m not sure we can call it an extravaganza.”

  “Yes, we can,” Yasmin said. “Because it isn’t just going to be cupcakes. It’s going to be decorations and advertising and cake stalls in the halls. It’s secret cake deliveries to the girl or boy of your choice, along with your card or flowers. It’s going to take over the whole school for the entire day. And people are going to pay for it.”

  “Valentine’s Day is still weeks away,” I said, frowning. “Can we wait that long?”

  “If you want the event, the spectacle, I think we have to,” Yasmin said. “We need it to be something special, to raise the kind of money you need.”

  She was right, but it was still cutting it closer than I’d like.

  “You think we’ll be allowed?” Lottie asked.

  “I think we just do it,” Jasper said. “It’s genius! It’s a whole school takeover!”

  “Are you lot plotting a revolution?” Miss Anderson’s voice made us all jump.

  “We’re planning a bake sale, Miss.” I gave her my best innocent smile. “To help raise money for the school-play costume fund.”

  Miss Anderson didn’t look fully convinced. “And the whole school takeover?”

  “We thought we’d decorate a bit. For Valentine’s Day. Get people into the spirit of things so they buy more cake.” Izzy sounded utterly convincing. “I’m going to make the bunting.”