Page 80 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

‘Thank you, Harry,’ she murmured in his ear. ‘A thousand times, thank you. May I give you a hug?’

He nodded, pressing his nose into her hair as he took her in his arms. She smelled wonderful. He forgot there was a small crowd of people gathered around them and that they were standing in a backyard beside the bins; he wanted her to lift her face to his so he could kiss her lips.

‘Could you get my train set too, please, Harry?’

It was Max. Taylor broke off their embrace and bent down to her son. ‘Not today, Max. But you’ll get it back soon, I promise.’

Harry cleared his throat. Was he really going to say what he was about to say in front of Taylor?

Yes, he was. He couldn’t bear to think of the boy missing his engines.

‘Max, I have a model railway. It’s packed away at the moment, but you’d be very welcome to play with it sometimes, if that’s okay with your mum?’

He glanced at her, hoping she hadn’t now decided he was a complete loser; he was, after all, a thirty-five-year-old man who’d just admitted he still played with trains. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but it definitely wasn’t loser. Her face, if anything, was full of admiration. She was biting her lip too, as if she was struggling to hold back the tears.

‘Really?’ said Max.

‘Really,’ said Harry.

‘You are coming to the fashion show, aren’t you?’ Taylor said to him a short while later, as they made their way into the primary school, where the clothes would be stored until the show.

‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m very much looking forward to seeing my dragon shirt on display.’

‘Kate’s managed to rope in quite a few models apparently, but we’re two short for a couple of garments that I’ve recently made.’

She placed a plastic carrier bag on the table and pushed it towards him.

He opened it, and pulled out two waistcoats in a bright green fabric, covered with little steam trains.

‘There’s more,’ she said.

He felt inside the bag and discovered two bow ties.

‘One for Max and one for you,’ she said.

‘For the fashion show?’ Harry said. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? That he should model the larger of the two waistcoats? Stand up there on the stage at the primary school and parade himself for the whole of Hebbleswick to see?

‘She’s made one for me and one for you,’ Max clarified. ‘I’ll model mine but only if you model yours.’ He grinned at Harry.

‘No pressure then, Hal,’ said Kate laughing.

Taylor took Harry’s hand. ‘There really is no pressure. I know it’s probably not your thing, standing up there with an audience. It probably isn’t your thing either, is it, Max?’ She leaned forward then, and whispered in Harry’s ear, ‘I think it might do Max good if he does it. Boost his confidence a bit.’

So much for no pressure.

Without thinking, Harry brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. Kate had said he should do something romantic, something that showed her how much he cared. He had cleared out his dining room to make way for her sewing machine and broken into a house to retrieve all the lovely garments she’d created. If this was what it took to win her heart, he was more than happy to become a fashion model for the evening, especially if it would help boost Max’s confidence.

‘Taylor,’ he began before he could change his mind. ‘I’d do anything for you – you know that. If you want me to strut my stuff down a catwalk in a bright green waistcoat with little trains on it and a matching bow tie, then that’s what I’ll do.’

42

‘Are you nervous, Max?’ Taylor said.

‘Maybe a bit.’

They were walking from the Airbnb to Hebbleswick Primary School, where the fashion show was due to start in a little over two hours. She would see her designs – well, redesigns anyway – on a catwalk. This might be the closest she ever came to her childhood dream. It no longer mattered to her that this was Hebbleswick Primary School rather than London Fashion Week, or that the models weren’t glamorous professionals, but a bunch of local residents whom Kate had coerced into taking part, or that the garments were upcycled second-hand shirts and old duvet covers rather than haute couture gowns. She was going to relish every moment.

Max would be starting as a pupil here on Monday morning, she thought, as she pressed the buzzer on the intercom. The transfer had been surprisingly easy to arrange, with Jo taking care of most of the paperwork. He was joining Hebbleswick Primary the very week that they were moving back to Essendale. The irony wasn’t lost on her.