Needles and Pearls (8 page)

We’ve just reached the gates when Horrible Harry arrives with Annabel, looking flustered. She’s usually here bustling about with her clipboard for ages before us, so she must have had a Domestic Moment. I’m hoping for a dodgy washing machine, because there’s nothing like gallons of water sloshing all over your terracotta tiling to start you off with a bang on a Friday morning. But whatever it was, Harry’s definitely sulking as he walks to the front of the line and tries to push in. The kids all close ranks, and as he reaches Archie and Nelly he takes a sudden and dramatic dive and hurls himself to the ground, just like an Italian footballer only with less convincing hand gestures.

Mrs Berry comes out of the classroom as he starts rolling around yelling, but she’s obviously been watching because she doesn’t fall for any of it. He’s standing at the back of the line in no time, and seems fine. Unlike Annabel, who marches straight over to Mrs Berry, who Stands Firm, which is rather brave of her, and before we know it Annabel’s barrelling across the playground towards us, looking very thin-lipped. Christ. Quite a few parents are lingering now, and she’s in full Presidential mode.

‘I hope you saw that, Mrs Mackenzie. Your son just pushed poor Harry to the ground. I really do think you need to speak to him. It’s not the sort of behaviour we want to encourage in school. I’m sure you agree.’

Bloody hell. I’m trying to work out what to say that doesn’t involve the words ‘off and ‘fuck’ when Connie steps forward, looking pretty thin-lipped herself.

‘Archie did not push, he wasn’t even near him. So how can he be apologised for something he didn’t do?’

Annabel gives her a particularly condescending look.

‘Perhaps you didn’t see the incident quite as clearly as I did, Mrs Maxwell.’

Connie mutters something in Italian, and there’s an intake of breath from some of the other parents. They’ll be chanting ‘Fight Fight Fight’ in a minute if we’re not careful.

I try to smile, to calm things down, but I’m not sure it’s working.

‘I was watching them too, Annabel, and I don’t think Archie did push Harry. I know they’ve had their differences in the past, but I think they’re over that now. So perhaps you need to have a word with Harry. I think he tripped when he tried to get to the front of the line.’

Tina Davies is now standing next to us, nodding.

‘He’s always pushing in. Actually.’

Annabel glares at her.

‘My Travis was just the same, but you’ve got to tell them, haven’t you? They can’t always be first, can they?’

Annabel is looking Tense now; a playground mutiny was probably the last thing she expected, and quite a few of the parents are smiling. I think it’s starting to dawn on her that she may have misjudged things a tiny bit.

She seems to falter for a moment, and then rallies.

‘Well, I’m so glad we had this little chat. So important to
nip things in the bud, and we all need to do our best to keep our school a happy place, I’m sure you agree. Now I really must get on, so much to do, as usual, but thank you for raising it with me; that’s what I’m here for, to keep things running smoothly. Always happy to help. Good morning.’

She nods at the other parents and turns sharply on her medium-heeled court shoes and marches towards the main doors.

Connie mutters something under her breath and Linda laughs.

‘What was that, Connie?’

‘I can’t translate, it’s too rude.’

‘Oh go on, whisper, I used to collect rude words when I was little. Drove my mum mad.’

I do like Tina, she’s a real trooper, and her Travis is a sweetheart too, only he’s the kind of sweetheart you’re very glad isn’t one of yours. Last time he was in the shop he was telling me all about electricity and circuits, and even though he’s only seven and three-quarters he’s going to make a motor in the garden shed that will power a light so bright it can burn paper. So having a fireman dad will probably be coming in very handy any day now.

‘Do you want a lift, Tina? I’m dropping Connie off and then I’m due in the shop.’

‘Yes please love – it looks like it’ll be chucking it down again any minute. I think I might nip in the baker’s and get myself a bun to celebrate. I’ve been wanting to tell that Annabel where to get off for ages.’

We cross the road and walk towards the car.

‘Well, we’d better keep an eye on those PTA letters, or we’ll be down for holding the sick bucket on every coach trip from now until the end of time.’

‘Don’t you worry, I’ve got her number. We do her hair in
the salon, so if she pushes it I can always do her a poodle perm, and she won’t need her velvet hairband for quite a while after that. Stuck-up cow. Anyway, that’s enough about her. What are you wearing tonight?’

‘Sorry?’

‘For your dinner with Martin. A little bird told me.’

I look at Connie, who shakes her head.

‘Which little bird was that then, Tina?’

‘Quite a big one actually, Betty. She was in the salon yesterday, and between you and me I don’t think Elsie’s that keen.’

‘Oh, right.’

I did notice Elsie seemed extra stroppy yesterday: it’s quite hard to bang balls of wool down on to shelves, but she was definitely giving it her best shot.

‘It’s not really a dinner dinner. It’s just to say thank you for making the shelves in the shop.’

Tina raises her eyebrows.

‘Right.’

‘I’ve known him for years, Tina, ever since we were kids. It’s just a friendly supper.’

‘Shame. He could put my shelves up any day.’

Connie laughs.

‘And me. Mark is hopeless.’

‘So’s my Graham. He’s put up two rolls of wallpaper upside down in our lounge, honestly he has. All the birds look like they’re diving towards the floor. Every time I look at them it upsets me. Silly sod.’

Connie’s planning to paper her spare bedroom in honour of her mum and dad coming over at Easter from Italy, so she’s keen on getting wallpaper tips from Tina, and the subject of my supper with Martin is thankfully dropped.

*

When I get to the shop Elsie is even more narky than yesterday. She’s dusting, and she only ever dusts when she wants to make a point.

‘Morning, Elsie, I’m just putting the kettle on. Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘No thanks, I want to get this done and then there’s more stock to get out.’

‘Oh good, it’s arrived. We were running low on the tweed and the chunky mix at the weekend.’

‘Yes, well, I wish you’d tell me when you put new orders in.’

‘It was in the book, Elsie.’

‘Well that’s as may be, but I used to do all the ordering for your gran, you know.’

Yes, and that’s why the shop was stuffed full of horrible pastel four-ply.

‘I know how busy you are, Elsie, and anyway I like doing it – it helps me keep track of things. I’ll give you a hand in a minute. Are you sure you don’t want anything? I got some more biscuits yesterday, Hobnobs and digestives.’

She hesitates.

‘Oh go on then, I need something to give me a bit of a boost, I’ve been at it since six. I did all my nets before I came out. It feels like I’ve done a full day already.’

I know just how she feels.

After a busy day in the shop, with Elsie niggling away and a dribble of customers including Mrs Dent, who brings in her tangled knitting for us to sort out, again, and a group of women from Tonbridge who look at a huge range of colours before they all buy mohair for shawls and chunky tweeds for jumpers, I’m back at home, standing in front of my wardrobe and hoping for inspiration when Ellen rings.

‘How are you doing, darling? Found your killer outfit yet?’

‘Not really. My black jeans are pretty lethal though: if I do the zip up I can’t breathe.’

‘Totally not breathe, or just have to sit up very straight to breathe?’

‘Passing out, face-down-in-your-soup not breathe.’

‘Go for the velvet skirt then, but wear a tight top.’

‘That won’t be a problem, trust me.’

‘You’re meeting him at the pub, and Connie’s fully briefed, right?’

‘She knows we’re having supper, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t booked under a false name or anything. It’s no big deal, Ellen.’

‘Unless you kiss him again.’

‘Look, I’ve told you, it wasn’t a
kiss
kiss. He’d just found Archie – that was different. It was a Thank God kiss.’

‘Whatever. Just ring me later with a full debrief.’

‘OK.’

‘And darling –’

‘Yes?’

‘If you feel like not kissing him again, just go for it.’

Great. That’s made me feel so much calmer.

Gran’s reading stories when I leave, and promises not to get conned into reading past eight-thirty; although we both know she’ll cave. It’s a ten-minute walk to the pub, and I’m feeling rather grown-up being out in the evening without the boys. I can’t remember the last time I had supper without a small person in tow, keeping an eye on my chips for any extra-crispy ones.

Martin’s wearing a dark-grey suit when I arrive, looking unusually smart. Bugger. Now I feel underdressed in just my
skirt and jumper; I should at least have gone for high heels instead of my boots. He’s sitting at the table with a bottle of wine, and Connie winks at me as she takes my coat.

He stands up as I walk across the restaurant.

‘You look lovely. I’m sorry I’m dressed like this, but it was either this or jeans, and most of them are covered in paint at the moment.’

‘You look great, Martin.’

He blushes.

‘No, I look like I’m off to a sales conference, but Mum had ironed a shirt, not that I ask her do my ironing or anything, far from it, but she won’t have it.’

‘She’s the same in the shop. Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean –’

‘No, it’s fine. I know what she’s like.’

There’s an awkward silence. Bloody hell: I’ve managed to make him feel uncomfortable in his suit and made fun of his mother, and I’ve only just sat down. I wonder what I’ll come up with for an encore.

‘Would you like a glass of wine? Connie brought this over; she said it was one of your favourites.’

‘Lovely.’

‘Do you know a lot about wine?’

‘Not really, but Connie usually brings a bottle when we have our Stitch and Bitch Group.’

‘That’s your knitting group, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, knitting and cake. Mark makes them. I think they’re the real attraction.’

He smiles.

‘And how’s it going, with the shop, I mean?’

‘Pretty well. I’m never going to make my fortune, but as long as it pays the bills I’m happy, and now the upstairs is opened up with your new shelves and everything, there’s so much more room for stock, which has really made a
difference. I’ve been thinking about starting another group on Saturdays, for beginners. Unless you already knit, buying wool isn’t really something you do on impulse, but once you get going it’s really addictive.’

‘Have you thought about a website?’

‘Sort of. It’s on my list, but I’m not really that good with computers; I’m fine with the orders and emails but that’s about it.’

‘I could help, if you like. It wouldn’t need to be anything complicated, but you really should have one – everyone’s got them now.’

‘Not in Broadgate they haven’t.’

‘Well, you can be the first then.’

By the time our food arrives he’s drawn all over three paper napkins, and I seem to have agreed that I need a website, with online shopping facilities and a customer database.

‘Have you got a digital camera?’

‘I did have, until Archie dropped it in the sea taking pictures of a crab.’

‘You’ll need one so you can put things up on your site.’

‘OK … This fish is delicious. Is yours good?’

‘Lovely. What laptop have you got?’

‘A blue one.’

He smiles and shakes his head.

‘What’s your budget?’

‘About twenty quid.’

‘Am I sensing a bit of resistance here?’

‘Sorry, no, it would be great, I’m sure it would. It’s just, well, imagine how you’d feel if I handed you a ball of wool and some needles and asked you to knit a jumper.’

He puts his fork down.

‘Wouldn’t it be quite a small jumper, with only one ball of wool?’

‘Very clever. A glove then. Wouldn’t you be a tiny bit daunted?’

‘I’d be more than daunted, particularly if it was an emergency.’

‘An emergency glove?’

‘If we were in the Arctic’

He’s smiling.

‘Look, I know what you’re saying, but honestly, once I’ve set it up a monkey could do it. And it could double your business in no time, maybe even triple, with no real effort. You should think about it, you know.’

‘I will, I promise.’

‘Do you think Grace Harrison would let you put her picture up? That would be great – you could do a VIP customers page.’

‘She might, as long as they got to approve the picture. I could ask her, I suppose, but honestly, Martin, I’m having enough trouble just keeping up with the shop and the kids without going interactive. I’d want to start really slowly, nothing too complicated, and anyway I don’t want to take up too much of your time.’

‘I’ve got an ulterior motive, actually.’

‘Oh?’

‘I need your help with Mum.’

‘Help with what?’

‘You know I told you my divorce was through and I wanted to start looking for somewhere to live round here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’ve found something. Only it’s not really a house, it’s more of a barn.’

‘Barn conversions can be lovely.’

‘Yes, but this is definitely more like a pre-conversion barn.’

‘Has it got a roof?’

‘In places.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s got so much potential, and I can live there while I do it up, and it’ll be great for all my wood and everything, and that’s what I really want to do. I don’t mind computers, particularly now I’m freelance, as long as I’m not stuck in an office all day, but it’s not what I really care about. And it’s important, isn’t it, to care about what you do all day?’

‘Definitely.’

‘I want to go into cabinet-making, general carpentry. I’ll probably have to do all sorts until I get established, but that’s the plan. So will you help me explain it to her? Dad’s all behind it, but you know what she’s like – I don’t want her to worry.’