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‘No, of course not. Tom Wallington brought the cakes and Marc Bairstow from Buds & Bows donated the floral display.’
She indicated Marc who waved a fingertip greeting whilst dissecting the girls’ choice of attire as though possessed of laser-vision. He stepped into the melee to receive their enthusiasticpraise, clearly in his element with so many women surrounding him, before claiming the seat at the head of the table, poised to learn his first stitch on the way to the promised Christmas sweater.
‘I think we should begin, Sophie,’ Delia said.
Sophie pressed the tightened coil of nerves to the back of her mind. She suspected she might be about to explain to her aunt’s WI friends how to suck eggs, but hey, in for a penny…
‘Can I first of all thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight. As this is our first session and we have a diverse range of talents here, I think we should begin with the basics and those who are more experienced can help the beginners before we break for coffee and some of these delicious cakes and a gossip?’
‘Sounds like fun!’ said Marc.
‘What I’d really like us all to do is work on two different projects. For the first part of the session, I’d like everyone to concentrate on a six-inch knitted square that can be practised on at home and brought to the next meeting. We can make use of the acrylic and man-made yarns Gingerberry used to stock. I hoped we could create a blanket from the samples we make, which could then be donated to the hospice in Cranbury in memory of Aunt Claire?’
She glanced across to Delia for her approval and saw a sparkle at the corners of her pale eyes as she nodded her agreement.
‘I am grateful to the ladies from the WI who together knitted this gorgeous navy and cream Aran-style sweater for us to display in Gingerberry’s window. Our new stock arrived this morning and I have to admit, it’s gorgeous.’
Sophie passed around the sweater for the group to inspect, followed by balls of soft-spun angora and cashmere to appreciative oohs and ahhs.
‘This yarn is gorgeous!’ said Marc.
‘I truly believe that if we are to spend our time in any artisan pursuit, then we should produce a garment worthy of our labour, in natural and not man-made yarns. Not only do we now stock cashmere, but also mohair, pure organic cotton in four-ply, a selection of bamboo yarns, which produces a lovely drape when knitted up, and organic lamb’s wool sourced from a sheep farm in Devon.’
Sophie held up a photograph she had printed from the internet of a Nordic-patterned sweater. ‘These hand-knit sweaters are flying off the shelves at Selfridges and Liberty’s. And they sell for over six hundred and fifty pounds apiece.’
‘Six hundred and fifty pounds? That’s ridiculous!’ exclaimed Iris. ‘Who would pay that sort of money when you can knit one yourself?’
‘That’s just the point, Iris. People are either too busy to make their own garments or have never acquired the skills to knit, and believe me, these sweaters have been carefully designed by the fashion houses that produce them. Then, there are the one-off pieces of couture. In fact, this one I’m showing you here’ – Sophie held up a photograph fromLuxeLifemagazine of a blonde Scandinavian woman sporting navy-blue, calf-length flares and a hand-knit cropped sweater fashioned in white angora with crystal detailing around the yoke and the cuffs – ‘this one retails at twelve hundred pounds.’
‘That’s stunning!’ gasped Julia, one of Nessa’s friends from school.
‘Well, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have a go at that, Julia.’
‘Where do I start!’ she exclaimed, grabbing a pair of needles from the centre of the table, slotting them under her arms and making a clicking noise.
‘With the basics,’ Sophie laughed.
‘What is the second project you have in mind, Sophie?’ asked Nessa.
‘Well, as you all know, I own a small bridal boutique in London.’ Murmurs of acknowledgement looped around the room. Sophie saw the expressions of sympathy on a couple of the WI women’s faces and pressed on. ‘Aunt Claire has amassed a cornucopia of pretty embellishments over the years – seed pearls, tiny crystals, sequins, beads, ribbon, lace – in every colour imaginable. I thought we could use some of it to make bridal lingerie.’
Sophie bent down and extracted the bolt of ivory silk that Scarlet had FedExed up from Sophie-Louise that just happened to be the leftover fabric from the ill-fated Lilac Verbois wedding gown. Scarlet had also emailed her the lingerie sketches she had worked on at college and not had time to develop. Sophie handed round the designs she had photocopied.
‘Wow, these are beautiful, really beautiful. Oh, look at this garter, I love it. Shame they are only worn for weddings nowadays,’ declared one of the WI women. ‘And I adore this nightwear. What’s it called?’
‘That’s called a baby doll and that one’s called a teddy, Kath. I thought we could have a go at stitching a few samples and see if they’ll sell at Sophie-Louise. The salon only stocks silk in cream, ivory and white, but I could maybe source some fabric in peach, pink, even scarlet?’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ declared Kath and a ripple of excitement spread around the table.
‘Okay, let’s get started.’
They spent the next thirty minutes learning how to cast stitches onto a needle using the thumb method, as Delia insisted this technique produced a neater edge. Kath and her friends helped Nessa’s friends to keep the stitches on the needles to much hilarity and giggling. At the end of their first hour the WI women had finished two squares each and Nessa’s friends had managed five lines filled with holes, but new friendships had been forged.
For the second part of the class, they moved on to sewing and embroidery. Sophie rolled out the silk and Delia helped her to pin out the paper patterns for the lingerie onto the fabric before the group took it in turns to carefully cut out the pieces. They then selected spools of ribbon and lace from the shelves and draped each of them over the silk, admiring the effect and offering suggestions.
‘Okay, I think we should break for coffee now,’ Sophie called above the hum of contented chatter.
Yarn and needles were stowed away and the silk pieces placed gently in a leather trunk lined with Liberty print. The remaining paraphernalia was cleared from the table and replaced by the huge brown teapot and a cafetière, along with the silver platter that everyone had been drooling over since they arrived.
