by T. S. Easton
‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling a bit better.
‘Let’s go and have a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘Are you hungry?’
I was ravenous, as it happened, and ate a tuna sandwich and a packet of crisps which Mrs Hooper bought for me. She went off to see how the judging was coming along. Amelia had disappeared to gaze longingly at a wefting machine. I was left alone with Natasha and Megan. There was a bit of an awkward pause which I filled by jamming half a sandwich in my mouth.
‘So you’re the famous Megan?’ Natasha asked as I munched away.
Megan looked at her in surprise, and nodded.
‘Ben’s told me all about you,’ Natasha said.
‘Have I?’ I asked, finishing my mouthful.
‘Has he?’ Megan said.
Natasha nodded. ‘You talk about her all the time in knitting class.’
As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough already. That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Hi Megan, this is Bellend Ben, he’s a weedy knitting loser and is totally obsessed with you. Unfortunately I couldn’t say anything to defend myself because I’d shoved the other half of the sandwich in by then.
‘So you two are in knitting class together?’ Megan asked Natasha with a thin smile.
Natasha nodded. ‘Yes, it’s very sociable.’
‘Chat, chat, chat?’ Megan said. There was a bit of a tone to her voice.
‘Yes. We have lovely chats, don’t we, Ben?’
I nodded, chewing and forcing a smile, wishing I was watching Top Gear with Dad.
Thankfully Mrs Hooper came back then and told us the judges were ready to announce the winner. As I stood, brushing crumbs from my tank top, Megan grabbed my hand and squeezed it. It felt like a goodbye.
‘Good luck, Ben,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ I said, taken aback.
The desks had been cleared from the Knitzone and we all gathered around to hear the winner. I wasn’t holding out any hope that they might call my name.
Please let it be someone else, I thought to myself. Not Miss Angular. She’s not Katniss.
‘Ladies and gentleMAN,’ the Official Lady began, having apparently developed a sense of humour. ‘The invigilators have given us their reports on technique, and the judges have examined every stitch of each contestant’s piece.’
She paused for effect. ‘This was the closest heat we’ve had in years,’ she went on. ‘We hadn’t really expected anyone to complete the garment in the hour allowed, but one contestant came very close.’
Mrs Hooper stood right next to me on one side and turned to smile at me supportively. I saw Megan standing off to one side, just watching.
‘This has been a very difficult decision,’ Official Lady went on.
I noticed Natasha had crept up on my other side. I turned to grin at her.
‘There can only be one winner. But we have smaller prizes for three runners-up.’
I noticed Miss Angular standing at the front. She held her hands in front of her, slightly apart as if she were about to begin praying. Was it possible I might be one of the runners-up?
‘The third runner-up is Yasmin Gower!’
There was a loud shriek from Yasmin, followed by a warm round of applause. Yasmin was a reedy girl in a red cardigan who I hadn’t noticed up to now. An Assistant Official Lady ducked through the crowd to deliver a paper bag full of knitting goodies to her. I craned my neck to get a better look at the contents. Did I see some organic angora?
‘The second runner-up is Denise Hancock,’ Official Lady called out. A second shriek, even louder and another round of applause. This was a blow. Denise had produced a piece that I had thought might just win the whole thing. Miss Angular seemed to agree; she turned and smirked at Denise, clapping slowly. Ooh, I hated her so much. The Official Lady’s assistant delivered a second goody-bag to Denise and made her way back to the front.
‘The first runner-up is … ’
We held our breath. I felt Natasha grab hold of my hand. She was nervous too.
‘Jeanette Fairbanks!’ My heart sank.
There was no shriek this time. Heads turned as people looked for Jeanette.
‘Is Jeanette still here?’ the Official Lady asked.
‘She must have gone,’ someone called.
But then I saw something that lifted my spirits. The crowd had shifted slightly and I had a clear view of Miss Angular, who looked utterly furious. So not Katniss after all, but Jeanette. I grinned with satisfaction.
‘Jeanette Fairb—’
‘I’m Jeanette Fairbanks,’ she shouted. She virtually snatched the goody bag and walked off into the crowds. It seemed to me she was very careful to avoid catching my eye.
Mrs Hooper gave me a wink and I grinned back. So I hadn’t won any prizes, but at least the cheating Jeanette had got her comeuppance.
‘And so the winner of the Junior Category of the Hampshire Heat of the All-UK Knitting Championships is … ’
Silence fell as we all waited. The Official Lady gave it the full X-Factor sixteen-second delay before shouting out the name.
‘Ben Fletcher!’
You know that whooshing sound you get when you come up for air after being underwater for a while? I had that.
Was this for real?
I realised the place was in uproar. Mrs Hooper slapped me on the back.
‘Well done, Ben,’ Amelia cried, grabbing my upper arm.
‘Woohoo!’ she shrieked as I blinked in surprise.
Then Natasha grabbed hold of me and gave me a great bear hug, spinning me around. I could see Megan over her shoulder. She’d come forwards, presumably to offer congratulations, but Natasha accidentally stepped backwards, standing on her foot. Megan stumbled away, looking cross and was swallowed up by the crowd.
Then Natasha kissed me.
17th December
Like I said, it was a strange night. Emotions were running high. I had a brilliant time and was thrilled to have won but, as ever, my obsessive mind wouldn’t stop poring over the details, trying to figure things out. Trying to solve mysteries which might not have even existed in the first place.
So that was that with Megan. After the result was announced she disappeared. Part of me was annoyed at her. Even if she found the knitting a turn-off, she could have hung around to congratulate me. Couldn’t we be friends at least?
The rest of us went back to the café for a celebratory cupcake. After congratulating me, Mrs Hooper went to find Megan and came back a while later to tell us she wasn’t feeling well and that she was going to take her home. I’ll have to find her at school tomorrow and explain about being too embarrassed to come out of the knitting closet. She’ll understand. I hope. But I’m also bricking it a bit that she might tell other people about my little secret.
Secondly, Natasha. Her kiss had been a bit … wet. It didn’t seem like a congratulatory peck on the cheek. But then again, she is quite a touchy-feely person. Did Natasha fancy me? Was she my cougar? Surely not.
The third thing bothering me was the fact that I’d just won the regional heat of the AUKKC (Junior Category) which meant that I now have to go to London for the Final. My first thought was to reject the idea. I couldn’t possibly keep that a secret. But how could I turn it down? What a disappointment it would be for Mrs Hooper and the others who came to cheer me on. And worse yet, it would mean Jeanette bloody Fairbanks would go instead.
I can’t let that happen, can I?
18th December
Dark days for the Knitwits! podcasters. Alana desperately wants to knit the Rocky Coast cardigan, which I checked out online, and it is pretty impressive. She has the right needles, size 10.5. Problem is, she’s having a tough time deciding what yarn to use. The pattern calls for a worsted-weight yarn. She has an impressive stash at home, including a single-ply organic alpaca at the right weight, but only in a navy blue. Oh no. Alana doesn’t wear navy! Why spend all that time knitting a beautiful cardigan that you’re never going to wear, right? Also, a darker colour won’t sh
ow up the attractive cabling. On the other hand, she has a pretty pale blue Malabrigo worsted that is the perfect colour. It would make a nice cardigan, but it would pill like crazy.
Well, Alana, I’m no expert, but that’s the problem with single-ply!
Marie, as usual, is totally useless at coming up with a solution. She doesn’t say much anyway, Marie. And she’s a total yarn snob. It’s got to be organic, it’s got to be unusual. Normal, boring old merino isn’t good enough for Marie, oh no. I sometimes think I should be Alana’s partner on Knitwits! I wonder if I win the final I could get a guest spot, and start elbowing Marie out. Alana sounds quite cute, too. I wonder how old she is.
19th December
I looked for Megan at school today but couldn’t find her anywhere. I did run into Jasmine though and asked her if she’d seen Megan. She put that look on again.
‘No,’ she snapped.
‘Is she avoiding me?’
‘Why would she avoid you?’
‘Because … I dunno.’
‘Well then.’
‘Look, if you see her, just tell her … sorry.’
‘Sorry for what?’ Jasmine said, smirking at me. A cold hand clutched at my heart. She had clearly been talking to Megan about something. Did she know about … ?
‘Did Megan say something to you?’ I asked tentatively.
‘About what?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, backing away from her.
20th December
I mentioned to Mrs Hooper tonight at knitting class that Miss Swallow had asked me to knit a tank top for her boyfriend and wanted to pay me for it.
‘Great,’ she said. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. Now that you’re a regional heat winner, you should use it in your favour.’
‘How do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Have you heard of Etsy.com?’
‘Yes, Miss Swallow told me about it.’
‘Well, if you want to, you could set yourself up as a supplier. With the endorsement you get for being a junior finalist, you’ll likely get plenty of orders.’
Well, that got me thinking. Could I actually make some money out of this? I had another look at the site when I got home. It was pretty simple to set up my own page. Reading through the comments section it seems that a few people actually make a living out of it. I checked out the competition and there was a lot of quite shoddy work on there. I was sure I could do better.
The only slightly sticky bit was that the website asked me to upload some photos of my garments being modelled. Who am I going to get to model for me?
21st December
Last day at school before the Christmas break. I left a Christmas card and a small box of chocolates on top of Megan’s locker. But I didn’t have the chance to talk to her.
I gave the tank top to Miss Swallow today, along with her card. She was thrilled. She even kind of hugged me. At school. Just outside the staffroom. Where people could see us. She smelled faintly of lemons. I’d never thought of the lemon as being one of nature’s sexier fruits before now.
Natasha? Miss Swallow? I’m like a babe magnet now. Well, not all babes. Not the babe I like. Maybe I’m only attractive to older women?
‘This is brilliant, Ben, thanks so much,’ she said.
‘Miss Swallow,’ I said as she turned to go.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you think. I mean, would you mind taking a picture of your boyfriend, wearing the tank top?’
She looked puzzled. ‘Er, OK. Why?’
‘I need a male model. I mean, I need a man to wear it so I can use it on my website, for advertising. I’d cut his head off if he wants to be anonymous.’
She looked thoughtful.
‘I’ll ask him, but why don’t you just use yourself as a model?’
I laughed. ‘I’m a little … small for that. It needs someone with a proper chest to show it off properly.’
She gave me a curious little smile.
‘OK, Ben,’ she said.
As I walked off she called after me:
‘But just remember, Ben. A big chest isn’t everything.’
I think it is, Miss Swallow. I think it kind of is.
Christmas Day
3.34pm
A very merry Christmas dinner’s over. Molly was very funny and Mum got a miniature magic set in her cracker and actually managed to make the tricks work. Then she did some other brilliant tricks of her own. It’s amazing the number of places she can pull a Brussels sprout from. I even laughed when Dad suggested he liked filling a big bird with his special sausage stuffing. They got me a new phone, which is totally amazing.
‘What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?’ Mum asked me over pudding.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘Really? Not going out with your friends?’
‘No. Look, it’s always a disaster. I’d rather just not bother and stay in, get an early night and catch up on my studies.’
‘Maybe we could watch The End of the Year Quiz together?’
‘Sounds good, Mum, yeah,’ I said. What I really wanted to do was crack on with my knitting, of course. But I couldn’t say so with Dad in the room.
‘You could invite your friends over, if you like?’
No way, I thought. They’re nothing but trouble. I think it best for all of us if I have a bit of a break from my friends, especially Gex.
11.38pm
Just finished half a Terry’s Chocolate Orange. Feel sick.
We all stayed up late to watch Murder on the Orient Express, which is one of Mum’s favourites. Dad claimed not to remember who’d done it. We all stared at him in disbelief but he’s like that, he never remembers films or books once he’s finished them. Unless they’re about the Second World War, of course, in which case he’ll bore you to death with the details.
As it turned out, he went to sleep twenty minutes before the end of the film and has only just now gone to bed, still with no clue whodunnit.
Might have the rest of this Terry’s Chocolate Orange, then head up myself. Ooh, just heard comedy ring-tone on new phone.
It was a text, from Megan.
Merry Xmas, Ben, thanks for the card and chocs. Sorry haven’t had chance to congratulate you on your win last week. You around tomorrow? Will pop by and drop off present.
So she isn’t avoiding me after all? I texted back to let her know I would indeed be around. I wonder if she now thinks Natasha is my girlfriend, or more likely doesn’t care one way or the other. Her text contained distinct tones of friendliness, which suggests to me she’s well over whatever feelings she might have had for me. No kiss, though. What does no kiss mean? Friends get one kiss, don’t they?
Either way, I’m stoked that she’s coming over, and that she’s bringing a present. Crap! Just thought, what am I going to wear? I currently have on a festive woolly jumper (shop-bought) with a snowman motif. That’s got to go, as do the comedy monster slippers Molly gave me for Crimbo.
26th December
So Megan came this morning to give me my present. I wore skinny jeans and a GAP hoodie and think I looked pretty good. Shame I forgot to take off the illuminated reindeer antlers but I suppose it shows I don’t take myself too seriously. She wore a Santa hat which was a little too big for her. It was a good look. She has lovely big eyes with long lashes, Megan Hooper. I sighed inwardly.
‘It’s knitting-related,’ she said. ‘Hope that’s OK.’
‘That’s perfect,’ I said. I was glad she’d told me before I went ahead and opened it in front of Dad. I opened it later to find some lovely 2-ply merino wool in a dark blue. She has good taste.
‘Do you want to come in?’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Going to Gran’s for lunch.’
‘OK. Look, Megan?’ I began.
She stood for a moment, looking at me expectantly.
‘Sorry about … you know, the other night.’
‘What about it?’ she asked.
‘Oh, don’t you start,�
�� I said. ‘You sound like Jasmine. I just meant that it must have been a shock for you.’
‘Yeah, a little,’ she said after a slight pause. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t tell me.’
‘You haven’t told anyone else?’
She shrugged. ‘I told Jasmine.’
I knew it.
‘Why, is it a secret?’ she asked sniffily.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘But –’
‘Strictly confidential,’ I said firmly.
‘OK, Ben. I’ll tell her to keep it zipped,’ she said a bit frostily. ‘Merry Christmas.’ Then she was gone. Why is she annoyed at me? What did she expect me to say?
27th December
Be still my heart. I’ve just received an email from Miss Swallow. She wrote:
Hi Ben,
Here’s a couple of pictures of Joe flexing his pecs, though you can’t really see that under the tank top. Hope they’re OK (pics not pecs). Joe is delighted in his new role as knitwear model and is happy for you to show his face.
Good luck with the website!
Jx
P.S How’s the ziggurat coming along?
I now have Jessica Swallow’s email address. Or should I say J’s email address? She’s just Jx to me now. and I’m B to her. Or Bx. She signed her email with a kiss! Should I respond? If so, should I kiss her back? Up the ante with another kiss? A smiley face. No. It’s only girls who put kisses and emoticons on emails and texts. As Dad would say, it’s ‘not a thing for men’.
I waited an hour, so it didn’t seem desperate. Then I waited another seven minutes so it didn’t seem like I’d waited exactly one hour.
Hi there,
Thanks! These are perfect.
B
Pretty smooth. Pretty, pretty smooth.
28th December
I put the pictures of Joe up on my Etsy page today. It all looks brilliant. Joe looks great, which must be because of the tank top. I added a caption to the photos saying things like ‘Hampton FC striker Joe Boyle wears a classic tank in 4-ply navy merino.’ Maybe I’ll get some hits from Hampton FC fans!
