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4
“The ball is like a woman—she loves to be caressed.”
Eric Cantona, former national soccer player for France
Abby was meeting with the women of Knit or Die when Katy burst into the room.
“Muma, you need to take me to the shop!”
“Don’t interrupt, Katy.” Abby was firm, but she smiled at the same time. She wanted her daughter to learn manners, not to have her personality subdued. “It isn’t polite to interrupt. Wait until I finish talking with the ladies.”
Abby turned her back on her impatient and grumpy daughter. She was in the middle of presenting her knitwear designs to the local knitting group. She hoped they would work with her by making the designs a reality. This new business had seemed like such a great idea during the planning stage. It would combine the skills she’d learned in college with hours to fit around raising Katy. Now as she looked at the uncharacteristically quiet demeanours of the women in front of her, she worried she’d overreached. It’d been years since she’d studied textile design at art college. She was rusty. Out of date. She wasn’t talented enough. Or smart enough. What had she been thinking? This was stupid idea.
The presentation fizzled out as Abby’s cheeks heated. She’d made a fool of herself. She knew it. She forced her head high. She’d be polite, let the women off the hook and forget she’d ever come up with this foolish plan. Mind made up, she opened her mouth to speak. Kirsty’s mum, Margaret Campbell, beat her to it.
“I am stunned,” she said.
Abby’s stomach lurched. She could hear the rest of the woman’s comment before it came out of her mouth. I am stunned you thi
nk such a childish plan will work. Your designs are pathetic. You’ve wasted our time. She took a deep breath. It was okay. She’d be okay. She’d get a job at the supermarket. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard this stuff before. Her father had been very vocal about her lack of ability and talent.
“Abby?” Margaret said. “Are you listening to me?”
Abby lifted her eyes to look at the woman. “I’m sorry, Margaret, my mind wandered. I didn’t mean to waste your time. I’ll just clear this mess up.” She motioned to her designs. “Then I’ll make everyone a nice cup of tea.”
She rose from her seat, but a hand on her arm stopped her. Matt’s mother, Heather, gave her a look of confusion. “Sit back down, Abby. You’ve completely missed what Margaret said.” She turned to Margaret. “Say it again.”
“I said”—Margaret looked at Abby—“these are the most amazing designs I’ve seen in a long time and I’d love to be a part of your new business.”
Abby stilled, unsure she’d heard correctly this time. Heather patted her arm in reassurance.
“I’m sorry?” Abby said. “You want to work with me?”
“We all do,” Shona said with a laugh. “You’re going to make us rich with your patterns. They’re gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.”
“I like the idea of local wool supplies and ancient dyeing methods,” Jean added. “I like that it’s going to be completely Scottish.”
“I love the bags,” Margaret said. “Who would have thought of designer bags in knit? They look so classy.”
“The mix of textures is wonderful. Is that felting?” Heather pointed to one of the sketches.
Abby nodded, still too stunned to speak. They wanted to work with her? They didn’t think she was reaching too high? They thought she had talent? It was a little too much to process.
“What are we calling this company?” Jean asked. “If we’re going to be partners, I want us to have a good name.”
Abby blinked a couple of times, still in shock. “I haven’t thought of a name yet. I was more focused on the designs.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jean said. “We’re great at coming up with names.”
“I came up with the name for our knitting group—Knit or Die,” Shona said proudly. “Best name in Scotland.”
The women gave her a round of thumbs ups.
Abby eyed each of them in turn. The youngest woman in the group was in her fifties. These women had lived through a lot of life—losing husbands, losing children, losing jobs. They understood what it meant to start again.
“You really mean it? You want to do it? You want to start a business with me?”
“Of course we do, silly girl,” Heather said with an understanding smile. “Now go make some tea and we’ll hash out the details.”
