‘I’m not the best person to ask as I’m a bit biased. I was the one who made them.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Just these ones or all of them?’
‘All of them.’
‘You aresotalented. I wish I was creative but I can’t knit, sew, bake, draw… but I can change the oil in the car and fix the washing machine when it has a hissy fit.’
‘I can’t do either of those things so I’m in awe of your talents. It’d be a boring old world if we were all good at the same things.’
The woman smiled. ‘Too right! I’m Fen, by the way.’
‘Yvonne.’
‘What are you working on because that doesn’t look like a quilt to me?’
I turned the bear over so Fen could see him from the front. ‘He’s a memory bear. These were my husband’s shirts.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Recent bereavement?’
‘Five years ago but I’d never got around to doing anything with his clothes. I’ve sold my house so I had to do a clear-out and a friend suggested making a bear from my favourites. I’m really pleased with him.’
‘He’s gorgeous. I don’t suppose you take orders?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it but I don’t see why not.’ I did a swift calculation in my head. As the customer would be supplying the fabric, I only needed to charge for the stuffing, thread and eyes, but I needed to account for the labour, bearing in mind that the cutting up and organising of the patches did take a lot of time. I suggested a price, expecting a pass but she smiled.
‘That sounds reasonable to me. My dad passed away recently and I reckon my mum would love a memory bear from his shirts. We’ve just bagged up his clothes this past week but haven’t done anything with them yet so this is perfect timing. I think my girls would like one each too. Any chance you could make four? I’ve got a niece and nephew too but they’re a bit older so I think I’d better ask them first. What do you need from me?’
‘A pile of clean shirts and some guidance as to which are the favourites as I can make those ones more prominent and include them on every bear. Some insight into your dad’s personality would be good too. I can attempt a facial expression that’s more serious or a bit cheeky, depending on what he was like.’
‘I love that idea. I live in Kendal but my brother lives in Keswick so I’ll get him to drop them off but I’ll scribble down some notes. Do you need a deposit?’
‘Ten pounds per bear when your brother drops the shirts off.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll send cash with James and, for now, I’ll take the green quilt, please.’
When Fen left, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d sold yet another quiltandI had orders for four memory bears. It had never entered my head to sell them but I’d check the others were happy with it and, assuming they were, I’d get Saffy to make a sign and I’d display Cliff’s bear in the shop.
39
The following week, I was wrapping up a pair of Christian’s wood-turned candlesticks when a man entered the shop and strode towards the counter. Evidently noticing I was serving a customer, he moved off to one side and stood with his back to me, looking at Saffy’s pictures on the wall. My candlesticks customer was about to pay when she spotted some cute wooden toadstool keyrings on a stand by the till.
‘I’ll have one of these, but which colour?’ she murmured, clearly more to herself than to me. While she was deciding, I glanced across at the man. He had a large bag with him which he’d placed on the floor and his right hand crept up to his short dark hair, his index finger swirling in a small circle. My breath caught and my heart leapt. Will? It couldn’t be! I pictured him in the pub in Manchester, nervously twirling his hair exactly like that. I gripped the counter, my legs feeling suddenly shaky, but there was no way it could be him. Not now, not in my shop, not after all this time.
‘I’ll take this one,’ the customer said, yanking my attention back to her and the lilac toadstool she was dangling from her finger. ‘No! I’ll go traditional with red. But purple’s my favourite colour. Argh! I can’t decide. Which do you like best?’
My favourite was actually a turquoise one but I wasn’t going to confuse matters by throwing that into the mix. I was desperate for her to make a decision and go so the man could turn around and I could settle my now-pounding heart with confirmation that it wasn’t Will. I mean, why would it be?
‘If purple’s your favourite colour, I’d go for your first choice.’
‘Good idea. I’ll take this one, please. No! I’ll go for both.’
She then faffed about as to whether to pay cash or card, settled on card, then couldn’t decide which of several accounts to use. Paulette didn’t have a lot of patience for ditherers but they’d never bothered me – until now! She changed her mind back to cash and, while she made a rigmarole of counting out the exact money, I kept glancing across at the man. He had his phone out and whatever he was reading on it sent his finger back to twirling his hair.
‘Thanks for your help,’ the woman finally said, picking up her purchases and heading out with a wave.
The man picked up his bag and sauntered over to the till, his head bowed over his phone, his shoulders hunched.Look up! I need to see your face!He was the right height and build for Will – maybe a little more filled out across the stomach – but I couldn’t be sure until he raised his head. Although if my pounding heart and swirling stomach were anything to go by, it was definitely him.
‘My sister asked me to drop these off.’ He placed the bag on the counter but still didn’t look up. ‘There’s an envelope in there with some money and instructions.’
