Page 72 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

In large red-painted letters were written the words: Will you go out with my mum?

Max waited for a moment, then passed the sign to his friend, revealing another sheet underneath bearing one word in capitals: PLEASE.

Harry laughed and waved to Max, but he mused on the signs for the rest of the journey. Max wanted him and Taylor to get together. Harry felt all warm and fuzzy thinking of it, but he didn’t know how to explain to the child that it wasn’t as simple as asking Taylor out. He suspected that the next time he looked out of the window on the way to Halifax, he’d see Max with the sign again on the platform at Hebbleswick station, so when Harry reached the office a little later, the first thing he did was print out a sign of his own, on A3 paper. It simply said, It’s complicated.

37

When Taylor closed her eyes to go to sleep, she could still hear the noise of the sewing machine. It was the constant soundtrack of her life. From the moment Ava and Oliver knocked on the door in a morning and Max disappeared off with them to school, to the moment she went to bed – usually at some ungodly hour of the morning – that machine was whirring away. The needle whizzing up and down permeated most of her dreams.

Still, it was worth it. It was slightly tricky on an unfamiliar machine, but she’d got going with her customers’ repairs and alterations. Three pairs of curtains were finished and ironed, ready to go. And there was a small but growing pile of upcycled garments for the fashion show. A waffle-knit flannel top in an off-white colour gained a flowery pocket and flowery sleeves, a child’s denim jacket was given ladybird pockets, and a large blue and white check coat was transformed into a coat dress with a fitted waist and a bow at the back for good measure. Esme Young would be proud. With the original garments she’d made still stuck in the old co-operative, these were the reserves.

Now she was making something for Max. Mr B’s request to make him a waistcoat and bow tie had given her the idea; she had found some curtains in the mountain of stuff that people had given her to upcycle. The bright green fabric was printed with little steam trains – they’d undoubtedly come from a child’s bedroom – and she couldn’t resist fashioning a waistcoat for Max. He’d never wear it, of course. Max liked plain clothes. The plainer and duller the better. She harboured a little dream of him agreeing to model it at the fashion show, but the chances were slim; she doubted she’d even persuade him to come along, let alone take to the catwalk, or rather the stage in the hall of Hebbleswick Primary.

Still, it was the nearest she’d ever come to seeing her designs on a catwalk, so she was determined she was going to enjoy the evening despite the setbacks. Not long to go now.

She reached the end of the seam and backstitched a little to secure the threads before snipping them off. She turned the garment the right way. She’d done a pretty good job, even if she did say so herself. No-one could fault her work.

There was plenty of the train fabric left, so she decided she would make a bow tie. If Max wouldn’t model it, maybe some other child could be persuaded.

Max was in his bedroom, playing with his train set. He’d been happier recently, she’d noticed. Going to school with Ava and Oliver seemed to be working out well. Ollie didn’t like trains, Max had told her, but he did play a few board games, and there’d been a tentative suggestion that Max might visit their house one day to play. Taylor hardly dared hope it would actually happen. Had her son finally made a friend?

She’d been gutted to lose her house with its shop window, but apart from that, it felt like things were finally beginning to look up. She was still hopeful that Tarquin would phone any day now and allow her to retrieve her things. Once the fashion show was over, they’d be moving into Mr B’s charming little house in Essendale; it was a bit on the small side, but she was looking forward to some stability and Mr B was bound to be an improvement on her last landlord. Plus she’d be working every day from Harry’s dining room, which meant she’d see more of him. She was looking forward to that too. Romance might be off the cards for the next few years, but she was very fond of Harry and he was a good friend.

‘Mum.’ Max came bounding into the room.

‘Max.’ She put down the waistcoat and turned to face him.

‘Can I do some sewing?’

‘Sewing?’ That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. ‘Sure, Max. What do you want to sew?’

‘A red petticoat. Like in The Railway Children.’

She hadn’t expected that either.

‘A petticoat?’ she said. ‘For you?’

He hesitated. ‘Yeah. Can I?’

‘Of course. Does it have to be red? I’m not sure if I’ve any fabric.’

‘It has to be red.’

She rummaged through the fabrics she’d been given, searching for something suitable. Here she’d been, making him a little train waistcoat, never suspecting for a moment that he might want to wear girls’ clothes. And red too. He’d always shied away from bright colours. But if it was what he wanted, she would support him. Her son could dress however he liked, be whoever he wanted, and she would love him every bit as much.

Did this explain, she wondered, as she pulled out a length of red cotton with tiny white flowers from the bottom of the pile, why he’d had so much trouble fitting in at school?

‘Will this do?’ she said.

Max frowned. ‘I wanted plain red.’

‘Sorry, Max. It’s all I’ve got.’

‘Can you hold it up, please, Mum?’

She obediently held the fabric up and Max walked to the other end of the room. ‘Yeah, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘You can’t even see the little flowers from here.’

‘Do you want me to show you how to make it?’ she said.