Boys Don't Knit (22 page)

Somehow I got through the first session. I completed more of the tea cosy than I expected to. But Jeanette finished hers completely. She rested it on her knee as she waited for it to be collected, displaying it so I could see. Showing off. I could see a couple of dropped stitches, but apart from that it looked amazing. I was still a dozen rows short, but the stranded colourwork was neater on mine, and I thought maybe my leaf was a little more lifelike than hers.

Either way, I was definitely behind the eight-ball on this. Even at a distance I could see some of the others had made a much better job of things than I had.

During the break Mrs Hooper came rushing up to me to see if I was OK.

‘Not really,' I said. ‘Mrs Frensham was amazing, though.'

‘You're amazing, Ben,' she replied, warming my cockles. ‘That's why you have such supportive friends.'

I felt myself blushing and looked at my feet. ‘I'm sorry I couldn't win the trophy for them.'

‘It's not over yet,' she said. ‘Your cosy was wonderful, so neat.'

‘I didn't finish it.'

‘That's not the only consideration,' she said. ‘Anyway, there's another session yet. Have you decided what you're going to knit?'

‘I think I'd better just play it safe,' I said. ‘I can't afford any mistakes, and if my concentration is broken again  … '

‘Up to you,' she said. ‘But you have a talent, Ben. Now's your chance to display it.' She turned around and I saw that Megan stood behind her.

‘I'll give you two a moment,' Mrs Hooper said, and walked away.

‘Are you OK?' Megan asked.

‘Well, let's see,' I said. ‘My parents have abandoned me, the school is counting on me to pull off the impossible and win this final, as is the entire UK Probation Service. I haven't done any study for three weeks, my life is in danger from Lloyd Manning and I have no idea what I'm going to knit in the next session.'

I stopped talking then as Megan leaned close and kissed me.

She pulled back a little, and looked me in the eye. ‘You can't worry about everything at once,' she said.

‘You sound like my mother,' I told her.

‘I hope I don't kiss you like your mother.'

‘No. It's different with her,' I admitted.

‘Stitch by stitch,' she said. ‘You can't do everything at once.'

‘What should I do first?' I asked.

‘Kiss me, obvs.'

I did as she suggested, then pulled back and smiled at her. She smiled back.

‘Stitch by stitch?' I said.

‘Stitch by stitch,' she repeated.

‘Thanks,' I said.

‘Any time,' she said. Then she was gone.

So as I re-entered the Cauldron, this time to a huge round of applause, I still hadn't decided what to knit. The crowd seemed to have grown. Maybe word had got out that this was the place to come for that new extreme sport Combat-knit. I scanned the crowd as I sat down, looking for my friends. I waved at Alana and Marie, who whooped loudly as though this were a college basketball game. I sat well away from Miss Angular this time.

And then I saw Dad. In the back row, watching me. He raised a hand. I waved back, smiling. He should be at the game. At Stamford Street, or wherever, watching Lampard score a hat-trick. He'd given up the chance to see his beloved Chelsea for me. For this. I felt a huge surge of confidence. I felt I could do anything. If I was going to win this thing I needed to do something amazing.

And that's when I decided it was time to bring out Patt.r.n.

I knew I might not be able to get the whole thing completed. But if I used huge needles and made massive stitches I could do a lot of it. I had another advantage too. There was someone modelling the Hoopie for me in the audience. My muse.

I grabbed the biggest needles they had, wooden ones, huge fat things, like candles. I selected the heaviest wool available, dark blue with hints of silver glitter and decided to double it up. I could see Jeanette watching me curiously from across the circle.

I looked back at her, raised an eyebrow and curled my lip slightly. Like a more vulnerable and slightly built Clint Eastwood. She sneered right back.

‘Ladies and gentleman,' Julie called. ‘You may knit.'

There were no more interruptions after that. Even Jeanette was playing fair from then on. We all put our heads down and got stuck in. I quickly entered the zone. I don't remember much about the next hour, but Joz filmed some of it on his camera phone and I watched it later, gobsmacked by how fast I was. I'd never watched myself knit before, of course. My face takes on this weird, trance-like look. Making me look a bit dopey, to be honest. But it's my hands that the eye is drawn to. So fast. I'm like a robot: under, lift, over, off, under, lift, over, off. I got through six balls of yarn during the hour-long session and successfully completed Patt.r.n. An entire hooded top in an hour. Admittedly, the stitches were huge, there were only thirty rows. But the hood is tricky, as is the neckline.

I could see the other contestants looking at it, astonished. Jeanette had made a cushion cover with a bow and arrow motif. It was good, but she'd only completed one side. And it was just a cushion cover.

Marian Joyce had done a baby's woolly hat. Pretty and complete it may have been, but it was just a hat. The Scottish girl, Kirsty Thingummy, had kept it really simple and done three squares of a patchwork quilt.

I was happy. I was sure the disaster over the tea cosy had taken me out of the contest, but I'd pulled off a real achievement. I looked up at my supporters in the crowd, who were all grinning and giving me the thumbs-up. I looked for Dad, who nodded at me, smiled and pointed towards the Cauldron entrance. I turned around and saw Mum standing there, waving at me. She was wearing full magician regalia, clearly not having waited to change on the way down.

All was right with the world.

7.22pm

We had to clear out quickly to let them get prepared for the senior competition, which was due to start at eight. The results would be announced just before that. We went back to the café while we waited. I was ravenous and ate two sandwiches, a packet of crisps and a muffin. We took over about six tables, there were so many of us. Everyone kept clapping me on the back and congratulating me.

Joz was still looking pale. He was worried he'd broken his shoulder.

‘You're a goddamn hero!' Gex told him.

‘Sod off,' Joz replied, looking green.

Mrs Frensham told me they'd chased Manning's gang all the way down Kensington High Street, where they escaped by jumping on one of the new Boris Buses. They wouldn't be bothering us again tonight.

Soon it was time to go back for the results. We all crowded into the Cauldron, the contestants standing in the middle, surrounded by our supporters and knitfans. Julie stood on a chair.

‘I have here the results from the judges,' she cried, holding up an envelope, to raucous applause. ‘Firstly, can I just say how impressed we all were with the extremely high quality of the knitting here this evening. I think I can quite honestly say that the junior category has never before produced so many excellent contestants, including some who have only been knitting for a few months.'

Someone slapped me on the shoulder at that point. I looked for Jeanette, but didn't see her.

‘Now, we don't have much time,' Julie said. ‘So I'll crack on. The name of the third-placed contestant is  … '

She held it for a few seconds and everyone went quiet, except for Gex, who was talking on his phone and ignoring everyone shushing him.

‘Marian Joyce!' called Julie. There were cheers and a red-faced Marian was ushered up to the front to receive her prize.

‘Marian wins a £50 voucher from Royal Yarns, Kaffe Fassett's new book
Knit to Win
and a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne.'

I felt a little bit of disappointment. I hadn't really expected I might win, but I thought third might be an outside possibility. There was no way I could have beaten Jeanette, and in Kirsty whatsit there was at least one other contestant I was sure had out-knitted me.

‘And now, the name of the contestant in second place,' Julie went on, when Marian had disappeared back into the crowd. ‘Is  … ' Again there was a long pause. Surely it couldn't be  … 

‘Ben Fletcher!'

I was properly amazed. I thought there must have been a mistake. I was swamped by my friends and family. They were all slapping me on the back. Natasha picked me up in a great bear hug and swung me around. I saw Megan eyeing her coolly.

‘Brilliant, Ben!' I heard Dad cry from somewhere.

‘Nice one!' Gex yelled, breaking off his phone call for a second.

‘Though Ben's tea cosy was only ranked fourteenth out of twenty-two,' Julie called over the din, ‘his extraordinary achievement in finishing an entire hooded top during the second session without dropping one stitch ensured he finished a strong second.'

Someone pushed me up to the front, where I was handed a bag of goodies.

‘Ben wins a £100 voucher from Royal Yarns, a signed copy of Kaffe Fassett's book, a bottle of champagne and a meal for two at any Yolo Japanese restaurant.'

There was another round of applause as I came back with my winnings. Mrs Frensham ruffled my hair and Megan practically shoved Natasha over so she could kiss me on the cheek.

‘Finally, the name you're all waiting for,' Julie said. ‘The winner of the All-UK Knitting Championship Junior Category is  … '

‘Jeanette Fairbanks,' I mouthed as the seconds ticked off.

‘Jeanette Fairbanks!' Julie yelled.

‘Boo,' Megan murmured.

‘Yes!' Jeanette screamed. She rushed up to the front and turned to look at me with a look of such smugness I wanted to murder her. I had intended to congratulate her on her win. It had been fair and square after all, unlike the regional heats. But after that, I decided not to bother.

‘Congratulations, Jeanette,' Julie said. ‘Your tea cosy was almost perfect, and your cushion cover both neat and attractive. The judges admired your classic technique and your refusal to allow distractions to get in your way.'

She then handed Jeanette a trophy. ‘This will have your name inscribed on it. You also win a £250 voucher from Royal Yarns, a signed copy of Kaffe Fassett's book, a bottle of champagne, and perhaps best of all, two all-inclusive tickets to the New York Knit Fair, including air fares, hotel accommodation and spending money.'

Not bad, I thought. Maybe next year that could be me.

And then something odd happened. Julie's wide-eyed assistant came running up and tugged on her trousers. Julie bent down so Bush Baby could whisper in her ear.

‘You were fantastic, son,' Dad said, elbowing his way through the crowd to chuck me on the shoulder.

‘Thanks, Dad,' I replied. ‘Sorry you had to miss your game.'

‘Oh, don't worry about it,' he said. ‘They were probably going to lose anyway.'

‘It's nice to see you,' I said. I could see Mum waiting behind him, still wearing her top hat.

‘Yeah, well, sorry about running off like that,' he said. ‘Shouldn't have done it  … '

But our reunion was cut short at that point.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,' Julie shouted out. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.' Some people had started to leave, but stopped to listen.

She went on. ‘I'm afraid to say there's an irregularity in the results. It turns out that our winner, Jeanette Fairbanks, actually registered twice for the regional heats. Once for Hampshire, and then again for Surrey.'

I subtly scanned the crowd, looking for my adversary, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had she run off already, clutching her trophy?

‘Though I'm sure this was just an oversight on Ms Fairbanks' part,' Julie went on, ‘rules are rules, and this does, unfortunately mean she has been disqualified. Therefore, the winner of the All-UK Knitting Championship Junior Category  …  is Ben Fletcher.'

There was a stunned silence for half a second, then the place just went mental. Whether it was because my posse was so big, or because of the dramatic circumstances, or maybe because the entire crowd had taken a dislike to Jeanette, I don't know, but it seemed the whole world was there screaming and cheering. Gex and Freddie lifted me up onto their shoulders, Mrs Frensham was waving her giant knitting needle around dangerously, Dad hugged Mum, Mum kissed Dad. Joz kissed Amelia, Natasha kissed Freddie. Gex ended his phone conversation. The lady from the Home Office grinned in delight while the cameraman filmed everything. I saw neat Mr Hollis hugging Mrs Tyler at the back. Megan leaped up and down, grinning ear to ear and clapping her hands together.

Even Julie looked pleased, though Bush Baby had disappeared again, perhaps terrified by the noise.

Someone must have wrestled the trophy back off Jeanette, because it was thrust into my hands. I lifted it high, glinting in the overhead lights.

I'd won.

I'm at Mrs Frensham's. It's raining again and she's gone to make a fresh pot of tea.

Must finish writing the account of the final. I suppose there's not that much more to tell. We all decided to get back to Hampton and have a late pizza together. Most of us managed to squeeze onto the mini bus, though not Mum and Dad, who came back in Mum's car. It turned out Dad hadn't been able to find anywhere to park the camper van so had just left it out the front of the venue. It got clamped. Poor old Dad, he didn't have the most comfortable of journeys home apparently, squashed between the swords and the cage with the surviving dove, which kept pecking him. Mrs Hooper drove her own car back with Mrs Tyler and Mr Hollis.

Joz was still in pain, but Amelia sat with him and plied him with some strong painkillers she happened to have. He began to feel better once we were on the A3 and they snogged the rest of the way back.

As the bus pulled out of the car park on to the main road, I saw, through the window, Jeanette Fairbanks standing by a bus stop, looking absolutely furious. I'm not proud of myself for this, but I couldn't resist sticking my head out of the window.

‘I'M KATNISSSSSS!' I screamed at her as we shot by. She looked up in confusion, then flipped me the bird when she realised who it was.

I sat back down next to Megan, grinning and felt my phone buzz. A text from Mum.

Just heard on the radio that Chelsea won a nail-biter. Lampard scored the winner. Your dad's being philosophical about it.

Good old Lampard. The one time I didn't want him to score.

‘How did you do it?' Megan asked. ‘You managed your distractions. It was chaos in there.'

‘Sometimes chaos is OK,' I replied. ‘Sometimes, to make something beautiful you need a little disorder. You can't always control everything, sometimes you need to let things flap free.'

‘It's not just knitting you're talking about, is it?' Megan said.

‘No,' I replied. ‘You were right in there. I can't hold everything in my head all at the same time. Sometimes I just need to concentrate on one thing at a time. Mum said the same thing.'

‘Exactly,' she said. ‘This is how normal people think.'

‘It's like a patchwork quilt,' I said. ‘You don't do it all at once. You can only work on one square at a time. At the end you sew them all together to finish the piece.'

‘I'm not sure why everything has to have a knitting analogy,' she said. ‘But yes, you're right.'

I sighed and looked out of the window at Londoners going about their chaotic business. A whole world was out there which I couldn't control. And that was OK, as long as my little bit of it was fine. And it was, just for the moment.

‘So what now?' Megan asked.

‘Pizza,' I said after a pause. ‘Let's just have pizza for now. We'll take care of everything else tomorrow.'