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‘Oh, hi, Liz.’ Bess grinned at her, after she made a face at the urn. ‘Damn thing. It gets hot quickly but then it turns itself off and won’t turn back on again.’ She took a screwdriver out of the top pocket of her flannel shirt and lifted up a control panel on the back of the urn. ‘Nice to meet you, anyway. Sorry, it just annoys the hell out of me when it does this,’ she explained.
‘Bess’s our resident handyman. Handywoman, I should say,’ Sheila explained, grinning. ‘She runs a wee business round the village. Repairs, plumbin’, that kind o’ thing.’
‘Wow. That’s impressive. I can’t even change the washer on a tap,’ Liz confessed. ‘I bet you’re busy.’
‘Can’t complain.’ Bess ran a hand through her black curly hair and smiled bashfully. ‘I like my job. Gets me out and about. No day’s the same as the one before, and I get to help people out.’
‘Sounds great.’ Liz sipped her tea. ‘I know what you mean. I’ve always been in sales, and part of the reason I love that is meeting new people, and not being stuck in the office all day.’
‘Yup.’ Bess frowned at the urn, twisting her screwdriver in the back of it. ‘Hmph. Let’s see if that did anything,’ she muttered, and flicked the heating switch on. A light came on. ‘Yes! Fixed it.’
‘See? A legend.’ Sheila raised her eyebrow at Liz, smiling. ‘Bess, can ye find a hook and some wool for Liz? She’s goin’ tae join us in the circle today.’
‘No problemo.’ Bess nodded, and gestured to Liz to follow her. ‘Nice to have a new member of the group.’
‘Well, I didn’t say I was going to join. I’m sort of just here for the food,’ Liz protested, smiling, but Bess laughed.
‘Look, Sheila’s the boss. She’d going to get you to try, at the very least. My advice? Don’t resist. It’s way easier that way.’
‘Okay.’ Liz grinned back. She liked Bess and Sheila immediately, and she had a great lunch to eat for a bargain price. She could definitely try knitting – or crochet, if that was different – for once. In her new life, maybe she would be the kind of person to start crocheting. Anyway, she definitely didn’t hate the idea of coming here once a week and hanging out with Bess and Sheila, and eating huge slices of cake.
That was definitely something she could get used to.
SEVEN
‘So, first, ye need tae learn how tae make a chain stitch.’ Sheila handed Liz a plastic crochet hook and a small ball of black wool. ‘You havenae done this before? Have ye knitted?’
‘Neither. Total newbie, I’m afraid.’ Liz finished eating her immense slice of Victoria sponge, which was delicious but left her feeling quite sleepy. She wiped her hands on a napkin before taking the hook and wool.
‘Not to worry. Here, watch me. Make a loop, then stick the hook through it. Then, wrap round once an’ pull through; wrap around again an’ pull through. See? Like a chain.’ Sheila’s quick fingers demonstrated with her own bright yellow hook and a length of red wool.
‘Umm. Okay.’ Liz followed suit, as well as she could, but her chain looked far less neat than Sheila’s.
‘Good!’ Sheila grinned. ‘You’re a natural. Okay. Now we’re goin’ tae start wi’ a basic square. We make a circle of six chain stitches, like this.’ She linked her stitches together with one deft movement. ‘And then we go up two chain stitches like so, then we go back intae the main hole. Watch, this is a different move now.’ Sheila’s quick hands went over and under the wool she held in her hands and, magically, a small crocheted panel appeared between her fingers.
‘Wait. I didn’t see how you did that.’ Liz peered at Sheila’s hands. ‘Can you do it again?’
‘Sure.’ Sheila demonstrated the movements again. ‘So now, what yer doin’ is goin’ in and out of this central hole. In, wrap around, pull through third loop, pull through second loop. See?’
Liz tried to copy the movements, but her wool slipped off the hook.
‘Agh!’ she cried, good-naturedly.
‘That’s okay, Liz. It takes a bit of practice.’ Bess sat down on Liz’s other side. ‘Let me introduce you to the rest of the crochet coven. This is June, Kathy and Mina. Ladies, this is Liz. Just moved to the village.’
‘Welcome! Nice to have some new blood.’ June, probably the oldest member of the group, looked up from a very complex-looking green and blue garment she was working on. Liz thought it might have been a jumper. June had short grey hair and lined black skin; her brown eyes were piercing yet kind, and Liz felt that she was being assessed thoroughly in that sharp gaze.
‘Nice to meet you, Liz.’ Kathy nodded. ‘I heard you say you’re up at the distillery? My brother works up there. Simon?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve met Simon.’ Liz smiled at Kathy, who looked a little younger than her, and had vivid, bright pink hair on one side of her head, with the other side dyed a deep black. Tattoos covered her arms, and she was dressed in stripy tights, heavy black boots and a black minidress with a crocheted pink cardigan over the top. ‘What do you do, Kathy?’
‘I’m studying. Doing my PhD in archaeology,’ Kathy explained, her hands moving effortlessly on a small crochet square as she talked. ‘My thesis is on the Ring of Brodgar.’
‘Wow. That sounds amazing.’ Liz frowned at her wool, attempting the new stitches again. ‘So you weren’t tempted to work at the distillery as well?’
‘Not for me, no. Simon took after Dad. I didn’t,’ Kathy answered, one eyebrow raised.
‘Fair enough.’ Liz sensed that there might be some tension between Simon and Kathy, but it wasn’t her place to comment. ‘So what d’you plan to do when you’ve finished your PhD?’
