Page 41 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

21

It was twenty past one in the morning when Taylor finally switched off her sewing machine. Spending so much time with Harry had put her woefully behind with her work, but it had been worth it. He’d been surprisingly easy company.

As she undressed, she reflected on his visit. She’d been so engrossed in teaching him how to upcycle his shirt that she’d completely forgotten about lunch – it was only when her stomach had rumbled outside the school gates that she remembered she hadn’t eaten.

Harry had seemed such an awkward character when she’d first met him. Almost like Max, come to think of it – not exactly blessed with natural social skills or charm – but under the surface, she’d found a completely different character, a man who was not only kind but also easy to talk to, so much so that she’d found herself wittering on about her childhood dreams of being a fashion designer. She mentally added ‘good listener’ to the growing list of Harry’s qualities and got into bed.

*

‘Could you turn the water off, please?’ Harry said. ‘Just in case.’

‘I’ve no idea where the… oh what’s it called?’ Taylor said.

She was standing in the kitchen, a hot mug of coffee in her hand, watching Harry who was lying on the floor as he rummaged behind the machine. A collection of assorted spanners lay on the floor around him, and a large black toolbox sat open on her worktop.

Harry sat up. ‘Stopcock. You could try under the sink.’

It wasn’t under the sink, or in the understairs cupboard. They eventually found it behind a half-dead pot plant in the backyard. Minutes later, Harry declared the washing machine was fixed.

‘What’s next?’ he said as he wiped his hands. ‘I couldn’t help but notice that your banister is a little on the loose side.’

Taylor yawned. ‘Sorry. Late night. Yeah, it is, but you really needn’t…’

‘I’d like to.’ He put the spanners back in the toolbox and took out a couple of screwdrivers. ‘Would you mind supporting one end of it for me?’

‘Sure.’

When the banister was secured, Harry fixed a loose connection in the kitchen socket so that it was working again, and examined the socket by the sewing table, but said it really did need to be checked by someone properly qualified.

‘I reckon it’s damp,’ he said, ‘and damp and electricity are not a good mix. Promise me you won’t use it.’

‘Promise. I’ll phone again. I phone that flippin’ estate agent every day and he keeps saying the landlord will get onto it, but nothing ever happens.’

Harry harrumphed. ‘Charlatans.’

‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘Finish your coffee and let’s stitch your dragon.’

With a little encouragement from her, Harry chose a bright red thread to stitch his green dragon onto the shirt. She threaded the machine for him, setting it to the narrowest zigzag stitch, and pulled up a chair for him beside her own, so he could see how she guided the fabric through.

As the machine whirred away, the needle whizzing up and down, she could feel Harry’s breath upon her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to prolong the moment, to stay like this, but she was supposed to be teaching him, so she reluctantly eased her foot off the pedal, and the machine stopped.

‘Your turn,’ she said, standing up and indicating that Harry should move into her seat. ‘Now you guide the fabric. Don’t try to pull it through. Touch the pedal gently – that controls the speed. Imagine it’s the accelerator of a car and you’re trying to move off really slowly, not do nought to sixty in two point four seconds. Or whatever.’

She had no idea if there was a car that could do nought to sixty in two point four seconds. Max would probably know.

She watched as Harry placed his fingers on the fabric. The machine sprang into life, clearly taking him by surprise as he took his foot off the pedal, stopping it again.

‘Gently,’ Taylor said. Without thinking, she put her hand on his thigh, pressing gently to show him how much pressure she wanted him to exert on the pedal. This was the second time she’d touched his leg, she realised, and took her hand away again quickly, just as Harry began to sew.

His second attempt was more successful. The needle moved steadily up and down, and Taylor put her hand on top of Harry’s, showing him how to guide the fabric through.

‘Okay, stop, stop,’ she said, as he reached one of the dragon’s spines. ‘We have to turn the fabric now. Take your foot right away from the pedal. With the needle through the fabric, we lift the presser foot up. Then we turn the fabric, lower the presser foot again and continue sewing. Easy.’

‘You make it look easy.’

When the dragon was finished, and she’d shown him how to do backstitch to secure the threads, she put the shirt on over her T-shirt and turned her back to show him his handiwork.

‘What do you think, Harry? Will your Dungeons and Dragons friend like this?’