Page 26 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

‘Do you have a torch?’ he called.

She stood up. ‘Only on my phone.’

She grabbed her Samsung, which was sitting on the worktop, flicked the torch on and handed it to him.

He peered behind the machine again. ‘I can probably fix that, but I’d have to go home and fetch some tools.’

‘No, really, you’ve done enough. I’ll phone the agent again, and ask him to send someone round. There are several other things that need looking at anyway. Come and finish your tea.’

‘Well, if you’re sure…’ He pushed the machine back into place and scrambled back onto his feet, holding out her phone. ‘I don’t know how to turn this thing off.’

They returned to the bin bags, mugs in hand. Neither of them spoke. Taylor wasn’t sure what you said to a man who’d mopped dirty water up from your floor and then rummaged behind your washing machine.

‘The jeans,’ he said finally. His voice had a note of triumph as if he too had been racking his brains for a conversation starter. ‘You did an amazing job.’

‘You saw them?’

‘Only through the window. I went into along to the shop on Saturday, but they’d been sold already. Apparently, they caused quite a stir. You should make some more. I’m sure they’d sell.’

Taylor looked over at her sewing machine. Much as she’d love to upcycle more garments, transforming ordinary and unwanted clothes into something special that people actually wanted to wear, she had a living to earn. Those hems weren’t going to take themselves up or those new zips magically stitch themselves into place.

She turned to him. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve a business to run. I work most evenings as it is.’

‘You could sell them here,’ he said. ‘Make them part of your business. It’s ideal with that big shop window. You’d have to work out the margins, of course. The cost of the fabric. Buying the initial garment. How long it takes you to do the work and what the potential profit could be.’

‘You sound like an accountant.’

He laughed. ‘I am an accountant.’

Hence the grey suits, she thought, but she liked his thinking. The window was perfect for displaying things she’d made, and upcycling was definitely more fun and creative than her usual work. Bang on trend too these days as it was good for the environment.

‘I love the idea,’ she said. ‘Upcycling existing garments would be less time-consuming than making clothes from scratch, but it’s not only the sewing, it’s all the other stuff. Marketing. Promoting myself on social media. Sourcing garments. Finding fabrics. Coming up with ideas…’ Her voice trailed away as she realised how impossible it was.

Much as she’d like to do it – okay, so it wasn’t being a fashion designer, but it was a step nearer her original dream than the work she was doing now – she was already stretched. And there was Max to consider. Undertaking a new project would mean less attention for him, and she had to put her son first.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Not now. Got to stick to the day job.’

‘I see.’ Harry stood up and held his empty mug out to her. ‘Thanks for the tea. I ought to be getting back to my day job.’

She accepted the mug, and stood up herself to show him out.

She paused by the door before letting him through. ‘Look, Harry. Thank you for the flowers and the help and the encouragement. I really appreciate it. It’s been a long time since anyone… Well, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘Call me if you change your mind about the washing machine. Do you still have my number?’

‘In my client book,’ she said with a nod to the sewing table.

‘Yes, of course. Your client book.’

For a second, she thought she saw disappointment flash across his face, but then decided that no, she had imagined it. Why would he be disappointed that his number was in her client book? He was, after all, a client. She thought she was good at reading people but this guy… she couldn’t read him at all.

14

It was raining, and rather than waiting on the station platform for the return train to Hebbleswick after the school run that morning, Taylor decided to treat herself to a latte in the board game café. She liked this place. Liked the vibe of it. And Max would love it here, if only she could bring him when it wasn’t populated by the dreaded Year 6 boys.

‘I like your shirt,’ said a voice.

She looked up to see Kate, the client who’d ordered the two pinafores, standing beside her.