Secrets, Schemes & Sewing Machines

by Katy Cannon

  “I don’t understand how you can still be defending him,” I said, taking another spoon of chocolate chip cookie dough from the bowl and eating it raw. As soon as the bell had rung for lunch, Yasmin and I had dashed for the food tech classroom and started mixing. A day like today required cookie dough.

  “I’m not.” Yasmin dug in with her own spoon. We were sitting on the floor behind the back workstation, because we figured that at least no one passing the room would spot us there. Yasmin had had enough pointing and whispers for one day. “Trust me, I’m far angrier with him than you are. He should know me better.”

  “Yes, he should.” Just like Connor should know and trust me. Except I hadn’t seen Connor or spoken to him since he’d left to find Ash. Just a few brief, terse texts that didn’t sound much like Connor any more.

  “But the thing is—”

  “No. No thing,” I interrupted. “He’s wrong. We’re right.”

  “Yes. But I can kind of understand why he’s reacting this way. A bit.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her over the mixing bowl. “Because he’s a ridiculous male?”

  “Because of his parents,” Yasmin corrected me.

  “God, parents. Is it me, or are they to blame for everything?”

  Yasmin smiled, which was nice to see. “Pretty much.”

  “So, what did Ash’s do?” I wondered if it was as bad as mine, or Connor’s. Or even Lottie’s or Mac’s. Or whether every family had its own special way of screwing people up.

  “His dad cheated on his mum,” Yasmin said, simply. “Ash saw him out for dinner one day, kissing another woman. He told his mum and she didn’t believe him, not at first. And then by the time she did, it turned out that almost all their friends had known for ages.”

  Ouch. That had to hurt. “Did they split up?”

  Yasmin nodded. “Eventually. Apparently they tried to make it work for a while longer and it was just awful. I guess that’s why…” She sniffed, and I handed her the bowl of cookie dough. Her need was greater.

  “Still. Just because his dad was an absolute idiot, doesn’t mean Ash can assume that you’re equally untrustworthy.”

  “I know.” Yasmin scooped up a huge spoonful of dough. “I just keep thinking … who would have told him that? I mean, it had to be someone he trusted. And yeah, maybe he’d be predisposed to believe them because of what happened when he tried to tell his mum, but still…”

  “He had to trust them. And they had to know that this was the best possible way to break you two up.” The more I thought about it, the more certain I was. Whoever had started this rumour had to have known the effect it would have on Ash. They had to have planned on it.

  Which meant they had to know all about Ash’s family history. Which meant a friend … or an ex-girlfriend.

  “I just don’t understand why anyone would care if we’re dating or not,” Yasmin said, sighing into the cookie dough. “I mean, what does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t,” I agreed. “Unless the person doing it had a reason to want you or Ash single again…”

  “You think it’s someone who wants to date Ash themselves?”

  “Makes sense.”

  Yasmin looked thoughtful. “It does… I’m just not sure it narrows down the field of suspects.”

  I slumped back down against the counter. She was right. Ash was a popular guy.

  “What about Connor?” Yasmin asked.

  I blinked at her. “How do you mean? He was with me, so he couldn’t have claimed to have seen you and Jasper. And anyway, he wouldn’t.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Yasmin said. “I just thought … you asked him to speak to Ash, right? So, what happened?”

  Ah. That. I looked away. “Um, actually, I haven’t really spoken to Connor much since then.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because of me?” Yasmin asked, sounding miserable.

  “No,” I said, firmly. “It’s probably because he’s Ash’s best friend, and he’s trying to help him. Like I’m helping you. As soon as we straighten all this out…”

  What? What did happen then?

  “Anyway. Don’t worry about Connor and me. Let’s focus on the most important part first,” I suggested.

  “Which part?” Jasper’s face suddenly appeared over the counter, peering down at us, followed by Lottie’s a moment later.

  “What are you two doing down there?” Lottie asked.

  “Hiding from the mob,” Yasmin said.

  Lottie came round to sit with us. “It’s not that bad. No one really cares that much.”

  “Maybe not, but right now it feels like it’s all anyone is talking about.” Yasmin handed over the mixing bowl, and Lottie grabbed a fresh spoon from the drawer.

  “Well, then, just remember that the people talking about it are mindless gossips with nothing better to do,” Lottie said. “We all know you wouldn’t do anything like this.”

  “Neither would I!” Jasper protested, joining us on the floor. “Not with Yasmin! No offence.”

  Yasmin sighed. “None taken. I wouldn’t kiss you, either.” She grinned. “Izzy would kill me.”

  Jasper groaned. “God, Izzy. Just when I was starting to make sense of things with her.”

  “Surely she doesn’t believe this nonsense?” I said.

  “Of course not. But it doesn’t help.”

  “Did you talk to her today like you planned?”

  Jasper shook his head. “Not really. We sort of stammered through the first bit of me saying I was sorry, but by then she’d heard about the thing with Yasmin, so I explained what had really happened … except I don’t know what really happened. Who the hell started this rumour?”

  I shrugged. “We don’t know. Yet. Actually, maybe you can help.”

  Jasper stopped with a spoonful of cookie dough halfway to his mouth. “Me? How?”

  “Well, you and Yasmin were the only people we know were there. But someone must have seen you together to be able to start this rumour in the first place. Otherwise, Yasmin would have been able to say – no, I was with my mum, ask her, or whatever. So, who else was in the bakery that day?”

  Yasmin shook her head. “Sorry, I really don’t know. I had my back to the window, so I wouldn’t have seen anyone walking past. And the bakery was really quiet that afternoon – we didn’t get there until quite late. I don’t remember anyone else coming in.”

  “Must have been someone walking past, then,” I muttered. “So, it’s all on you, Jasper.”

  He winced. “Sorry, Yasmin. I was kind of caught up in my own stuff that day. I wasn’t looking.”

  We all slumped down a bit at that, and Lottie handed the bowl over to me.

  “So, what do we do now?” Yasmin asked. She sounded defeated, like she’d given up on her own relationship already. And I just couldn’t let that happen.

  “I’ll talk to Connor,” I said decisively. If anyone had a better insight into Ash’s state of mind, it would be him. They were friends. And the few glimpses of Connor I’d had over the last day and a half, he’d always been with Ash.

  Besides, it would give me a chance to find out what was going on with Connor and me. I mean, it couldn’t just be him avoiding the drama again, could it? That was stupid. This wasn’t drama for the sake of drama – it was our friends.

  “And if all he can tell us is that Ash hates me?” Yasmin said, staring into the bowl.

  “Then I’ll figure something else out.” I put an arm around her and squeezed, feeling her lean into my shoulder. “I’m going to fix this,” I promised.

  I just hoped I could.

  What you need:

  A rectangle of thick fabric, 80 x 65cm for the apron

  A rectangle of fabric in a complementary colour or pattern,

  35 x 20cm for the pocket

  2m of 30mm cotton tape, cut into 4 lengths of 50cm for the apron ties

  What to do:

  1. Fold and iron your fabric in half lengthways
and sideways so you have a cross in the middle. Open back up and lay out in a portrait orientation.

  2. On what will be the top end of your apron, measure 15cm to the left and right of the fold and mark.

  3. Draw a diagonal line from these points outwards to each side crease, halfway down the edge of the apron, to give your apron shape. Once you’re happy with the shape, cut along these lines.

  4. Hem the apron all the way around.

  5. Pin two of your ties at the outer edges of the top of the apron, and the other two at the waist (where your diagonal line ended). Sew firmly in place.

  6. Hem all four sides of your pocket.

  7. Pin the pocket piece into place on your apron, using the cross in the middle as your guide.

  8. Sew around the sides and bottom of your pocket to hold it in place, then sew another line up the middle to split it into two sections.

  9. Wear and bake!

  I found Connor in the sixth-form common room the following morning, sitting in the same chair he’d been in on Monday. He looked considerably more uncomfortable to see me this time, though.

  “Hey,” he said, as I sat next to him. “I haven’t seen you around this week.”

  Because he’d been avoiding me – avoiding this conversation. And if there was one thing I hated more than anything it was being pushed aside and ignored. “I kind of had other priorities. Like my best friend’s reputation being trashed by the whole school and her boyfriend being a complete and utter—”

  “Hey,” Connor interrupted me. “Whatever happened, it’s their business. Not ours.”

  “You really believe that? Then why are you taking Ash’s side?” I leaned forward in my chair, hands resting on my knees, waiting for his answer. The muscles in my arms and shoulders ached they were so tense – and from the way he was tapping his thigh with his fingers, so was Connor.

  He thought I was going to cause I scene, I realized. Make more drama for him.

  Maybe I would. Maybe he deserved it after this week.

  “I’m not taking anybody’s side,” Connor said, which was just a blatant lie. “Ash is my friend – he was my friend before, he’s still my friend now. I’m trying to keep him … stable, for the show as much as for him. I’m just not getting involved in any of the—”

  “Drama,” I finished for him. “You know, Connor, for someone who wants to work in the theatre, you have a real issue with that word.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said, scowling. Other people were starting to notice us now. Some were obviously listening in, others outright staring. I bet Connor hated that.

  Part of me wanted to let rip – to really put on a show for everyone watching. But I knew Connor now, I knew how that would hurt him. So instead, I lowered my voice and tried reason.

  “Look, this isn’t like that. Someone is trying to hurt my friend – by lying about her, by ruining her relationship. And I’m not going to let that happen.” One thing I’d learned about friends in the last year – their opinion was far more important than what other people thought about you. Even someone as important to me as Connor.

  He reached across to try and take my hand, but I snatched it back. I needed to know he understood before I figured out if we could even carry on being together.

  His eyebrows lowered into a frown. “Look, I know you’re upset for your friend, and I get that you want to help her. But I don’t appreciate being put in the middle of that. It’s their drama, not mine, and I don’t want anything to do with it.”

  “Or with me,” I guessed. “Not while this is going on.” Hadn’t he already made that clear with his utter lack of communication?

  With a sigh, he reached for my hand again and, this time, I let him hold it. “Look, I don’t care about Yasmin and Ash,” Connor said. “I mean, they’re my friends, sure, but I care a hell of a lot more about you and me. So … be there for your friend, I get that. And I’ll do the same for Ash, because he needs someone right now. But I’m not getting involved with the gossip and the ‘he said, she said’. And if that’s where you’re going to be while this is going on, right in the middle of it all … I guess I might need to step back a bit until it’s over.”

  “You’re asking me to choose between my friends and you?” Because that was what it sounded like. And I didn’t do well with ultimatums. “You want us to break up?”

  “No.” He spoke the word firmly, gripping my hand even tighter, but I still wasn’t sure I believed him. “I want you to choose not to be part of the drama.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t get it.”

  “Yes, I think I do.” Whether he knew it or not, his voice was louder now. And sharper. And people were watching again. “You can’t leave it behind, can you? Even though you knew how I felt about all that, you had to throw me into the middle of it, sending me after Ash. As if nothing I said to you in London counted for anything.”

  “I thought our friendship – our relationship! – counted for more.” I yanked my hand out of his and stood up. “Obviously I was wrong.”

  Connor leaned back in his chair, staring down at his knees. “I’m not doing this.”

  “Of course you’re not.” I almost laughed. “Look, if you want to end all this, tell me something. Do you know who told Ash? About Yasmin and Jasper, I mean?”

  He groaned. “No. No, I don’t. Does it really matter?”

  “Yes. It really does.” If I could figure out who it was, I could find a way to make them tell the truth.

  I hesitated, wishing things were better between us, but knowing they couldn’t be until this was all sorted. Were we ultimately incompatible when we felt so differently about things? “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow?” I said, and he nodded.

  “Yeah. Wait – Grace.” He grabbed for my hand again and held it, looking up at me with those pale blue eyes I’d once thought were cold. Now I could see nothing but feeling in them.

  “I get why you think you have to do this, I do,” he said, finally, which was more of an admission than I’d hoped for. “And … I guess the most important thing to me is that it doesn’t come between us.”

  “You’re the one putting it there,” I pointed out.

  “I know.” He looked down at our joined hands, his thumb rubbing across the back of mine. “I know you now. I trust you. If you say you’re not doing this for the drama, I believe you. I know you won’t let any of this affect the show—”

  “Is that all you’re worried about? The show?”

  “No!” Connor blurted out. Everyone was watching us now. “No,” he said again, softer this time. Standing up, he pulled me closer. “What I care about is us. All I want is for everything to just go back to normal. Yes, I want the show to be a success, you know I do. But mostly I want for us to be good again. Because I care about you, more than any show.”

  I sighed. “I can’t promise not to support Yasmin in this, so I can’t stay out of the drama completely. But I can promise I won’t let it affect us – or the show. OK?” It was the best I could do. I wanted the show to be a success, too – for Connor, as much as anything. He deserved that summer job, and I wanted to make it happen, however I could. But for it to work, Ash needed to be on form. And I knew he’d act better if he wasn’t angry and confused about Yasmin.

  Which led me straight back to finding out who had been telling Ash lies and setting him straight. Just as long as whoever it was wasn’t involved in the play, it should be fine.

  Except I had a sinking feeling that everything these days had to do with the play. Even this.

  Connor nodded, relief in his eyes. “OK.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. Once I’d figured out how I was going to fix everything.

  I had a free period last thing that afternoon, but I didn’t want to risk the common room or the library so instead I hid out in the empty textiles classroom and finished off a project I’d started the week before – a striped apron. Holding it up, it was too long for me, and more of a manly design
anyway, but it was an actual working apron with straps and everything and I’d made it all by myself, with no help from Izzy or Miss Cotterill or Faith.

  I felt unbearably proud of it.

  Maybe I could tackle Gran’s last patchwork quilt after all. I’d learned so much over the past few months, and I felt more like an actual seamstress. Gran would be so pleased, I thought.

  Packing up the apron, I gathered my things and headed out to the food tech classroom. I was early for Bake Club but, as it turned out, I wasn’t the first one there.

  “Hey. What are you doing here?” I asked, as I tossed my bag down by my workstation.

  Mac looked up from the pastry he was rolling out. “I was helping Miss Anderson with a couple of classes this afternoon, and she said I could use the room to bake something special for Lottie. I’ve been working a lot of extra hours lately, so we haven’t seen much of each other.”

  “That’s nice. Glad you learned something from Valentine’s Day.” I perched on the stool opposite where he was working and watched him line the pie tin with the pastry. It was weird. Mac wasn’t any less attractive than he’d been last year – if anything, he was looking hotter than ever. Before last year, the fact that he had his own flat and car would have been more than enough to interest me. But I wasn’t the slightest bit interested any more. The attraction had gone completely, and I knew who was to blame.

  “So, what’s been going on around here?” Mac asked, placing a circle of baking parchment in the middle of the pie and loading it with baking beads. “Lottie called earlier, she said things were kind of tense.”

  I laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Mac picked up his pie and carried it to the ovens, then came back and washed his hands. “So, tell me.”

  “You really want to hear?”

  Mac nodded, and I launched into a retelling of the whole miserable business. He listened far better than Jasper ever would have, with hardly any interruptions. He winced when I got to today’s conversation with Connor.

  “What if he doesn’t really believe I’ve changed?” I finished.