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‘Hey, don’t you think our meetings should have a name?’ said Nessa as she poked her tongue around her crumb-laden lips. ‘I vote for “The Knitting Ninjas”! What do you think?’
‘Great idea!’ Delia laughed, ‘but we are sewing bees, too!’
‘What about “Cupcakes & Couture”?’ suggested Marcia to a chorus of approval.
The doorbell jingled, causing everyone to swing their scrutiny to the unexpected intrusion.
‘Hi, I hope we’re not too late to join in the fun? Oooh, what fabulous little cakes!’
‘Girls!’ Nessa shot up from her seat to greet the trio of teenagers from St Hilda’s, her auburn hair swinging in a ponytail, her school mistress’s hat firmly on. ‘You’ve totally missed the lesson. We’ve moved on to the coffee, treats, and gossip part of the evening!’
‘Eh? Thought it was an eight o’clock start, Miss?’
‘No, seven, and anyway it’s eight forty-five!’ Nessa assumed her best “patient teacher’s” voice as she rolled her eyes at Alicia, Polly and Megan, the gang who adored their crafting sessions at school.
‘Oh, well, Megan’s dad’s dropped us off and adjourned to the pub so we’ll just have to stay for the coffee, cakes and gossip bit then.’ Alicia looked anything but regretful.
After introductions, the girls dropped into chairs at the table, and proceeded to swoon over the melt-in-the-mouth delicacies, then finger the ivory silk and drool over the lingerie photos. They laughingly placed orders of their own for the teddies, suggesting leopard-print and tiger-print satin, and joined in with the gossip as though old friends.
As darkness crept up unnoticed and the amber glow of the streetlamps suffused the gathering with a golden sheen, Sophie sank down into the seat next to Delia and took a moment to survey the scene. The room had come alive that evening with the swirl of chatter and laughter that wrapped a cloak of comfort and serenity around the group. The shop shone with the promise of a bright future, and several friendships had been forged that would never otherwise have been contemplated. For the firsttime in months, Sophie experienced a boost to her flagging spirits and the anvil-heavy weight that had clutched at her chest began to crumble.
This night had been for her aunt and, as she head-counted the participants, she knew it had been a great success. She had made no money as she had donated the acrylic yarn for the hospice project and the ivory silk from Sophie-Louise. However, the silk would hopefully be turned into items she could sell under the Sophie-Louise brand and the money would be shared between the ladies who decided after this evening to take part in the new enterprise. Delia had in any event signed up every attendee – including Alicia, Polly and Megan – for the next session of Cupcakes & Couture.
‘Okay, okay, it’s time to wrap up, and before you go, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for showing your support this evening. Delia and I truly appreciate it.’
Sophie was shocked to find her throat had choked up. She struggled to swallow down her rising emotions and was relieved when Delia pressed her palm gently on her forearm and stood up to continue on her behalf.
‘Many of you here tonight knew Claire as more than the proprietor of Gingerberry Yarns. She was a loyal and supportive friend endowed with a warm, welcoming smile and a listening ear for all our highs and lows as we pass along life’s treacherous journey. I, and I’m sure you all, miss her dreadfully, but I hope that our little haberdashery shop can continue to move forward into the future. I know you’ve all enjoyed this evening and learnt something new. Cupcakes & Couture will return in a week’s time, and I hope everyone will come back with renewed vigour for the world of Gingerberry. Thanks, everyone.’
Sophie swiped away a tear on the cuff of her black polo sweater and began to gather the discarded crockery as the classscraped back their chairs and prepared to leave with shouts of thanks and promises to finish their homework squares.
At last, the bell became silent.
‘Delia, I… I…’
‘It’s okay, dear. I know Claire was with us this evening and was bursting with pride at what you’ve achieved. I know I am. Oh, here’s Seb. I thought he’d promised to drop in.’
‘Wow, look at this place. What a wonderful transformation. Gingerberry is definitely going to remain a thrumming hub of creativity and chatter. What, no cakes left?’ Seb hugged Sophie to him. Before drawing away to greet Delia, he whispered in Sophie’s ear, ‘Hope you don’t mind – I brought a friend with me.’
Still retaining her welcoming smile, Sophie brushed her now almost shoulder-length hair from her cheeks to behind her ears and focused her tear-reddened eyes on Seb’s companion. Without warning her heart shot like a stone down a well into her stomach and bounced back up again, causing her knees to weaken under the sudden onslaught of emotion.
Noah!
Chapter Twenty One
‘Hi, Soph, can we talk?’ Noah asked.
Sophie nodded, snatched her jacket from the hook behind the bamboo screen, and followed Noah out of the shop, leaving Seb and Delia watching them like a pair of gobsmacked goldfish.
It was a mild night for early May. Shards of ivory moonlight glanced against the shop fronts and lit up their path as they sauntered down Somersby high street together, a soft breeze lifting Sophie’s overlong fringe from her eyelashes and tickling the leaves of the trees that framed the village green.
Neither spoke. Sophie was relieved because her throat was so tightly constricted that any reply would have come out as a squeak worthy of Tweetie Pie. Noah’s proximity had sent her heart into a frenzy of unfathomable emotions, and she had to use all her energy and focus to rein it in. They reached the churchyard and paused at the lychgate where the clematis wound its sinewy stems up the wooden posts to the slated roof and sent a waft of floral perfume into the air.
‘Remember when we used to frighten ourselves stupid playing hide-and-seek in the graveyard?’ said Noah.
‘I do.’
‘Remember when Seb dressed up as a ghost and you threw a rock at him? He’s still got that scar in the middle of his forehead.’
