‘It wouldn’t be presuming, William,’ she said. ‘It would be lovely.’
‘You know I never dreamed I’d find such happiness again after my wife died,’ said William. ‘I have had girlfriends, of course, but they’ve never come to anything. They most of them tried to persuade me to give up gliding. This time feels very different.’
‘It does to me too,’ said Gilly. ‘And I love gliding.’
‘I know you’ve had other offers—’
‘Please don’t remind me.’
‘Then I won’t. But let’s not tell Aunt Daphne that we’ve got together just yet. I think it would be very bad for her to think her matchmaking worked so quickly.’
‘She will be pleased though,’ said Gilly.
‘Delighted. But she’ll become power mad and think she can reorder the universe.’
‘If anyone can, it’s Daphne.’ She took a breath. ‘Now, let’s go upstairs …’
In the very early morning, when William got up to go (bringing a change of clothes would have definitely been presuming, he insisted), Gilly looked at her phone. There was a text from Helena.Jago definitely not gay. Love, H.
Gilly settle back into the pillows, deeply satisfied. If there ever were any, the babies would be adorable.
Chapter Twenty-six
Helena didn’t rush to push her new-found happiness in her friend Amy’s face. Of course she would tell her, but Amy had been away and the time to share this news wasn’t now. Especially as the man Amy had had her eye on last month had not been interested in her. The perfect time would be when they were holed up in their favourite, regular Airbnb after the first day of World of Wool. She’d wait until they’d sunk half a bottle of wine and then tell all.
On Friday evening they drove down together in Helena’s old Volvo that could pack everything in, as always exclaiming over the beauty of the countryside, debating and arguing the best way to get to a little corner of Wales that had no obvious route and getting excited when they finally arrived at the Airbnb.
Setting up the next morning was always fun as, unlike at Springtime, they shared a stall. When they first arrived at their allocated spot, they always felt they’d never make their stall look attractive, andyet somehow they always managed it. It was Helena’s job to go on the first coffee and bacon butty run, finding the stall by following her nose. And she always came back with bits of news about who was there already, and who was expected, along with their breakfast. This time was no different and the show promised to be busier than ever.
‘Well, that was an amazing day, wasn’t it?’ said Amy as at last they unlocked the door to their little home for the night. ‘Best ever, I reckon.’
‘I think it was!’ Helena walked straight into the kitchen and found glasses. ‘Do we need a corkscrew?’ she asked. ‘There’s one just here.’
‘You know I always buy wine with proper corks, or we’ll lose the cork oaks,’ said Amy, but without emphasis. They were dog-tired but happy.
When they both had wine and the ready meal was heating up in the microwave, Helena set to lighting the fire. It was one of their rituals and today they needed it more than in some years. Although it was late spring according to the calendar, the nip in the air said different.
‘I never know if we do this show to display our work or catch up with our mates, or both,’ said Helena, snapping twigs and piling them up carefully.
‘Definitely both,’ said Amy. ‘It’s so great being in our own tribe, surrounded by like-minded people who get us.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Helena. ‘It’s relaxing not having to pretend we’re something that we’re not. I loved doing posh Springtime, and we both made lots of money, but I felt a bit out of my depth. I’m an artisan, not an artist. The guys there today were all the same.’
‘Even if some of them look a bit as if they spun and knitted themselves?’ Amy was being provocative on purpose. ‘You’ve always been a bit more tolerant of the complete yoghurt knitters than I have.’
In spite of Amy’s occasional snippy remarks, she had a heart of gold. Helena often thought the snippiness was partly to disguise her kindness.
When she was confident her fire wouldn’t go out, Helena flopped back on to the sofa and picked up her wine glass. ‘So,’ she said, ‘what was the best thing you saw today?’
‘I’ll tell you what the worst thing was – that blanket that looked if it was literally made out of what was picked up from the cow-shed floor,’ said Amy. ‘But I did love that alpaca stuff. Such fine wool. I must get hold of some and give it a go. And did you see Elaine? Isn’t she looking great these days? She’s definitely better fatter.’
They chatted on about the various people and projects they had seen, what was new and what was boringly the same.
‘I must say I was relieved that my wall hangings went down so well,’ said Helena, having stirredthe beef and dumplings and put it on for a few more minutes. ‘I was quite nervous about them, I must say. My work is usually far more ordered than that.’
‘They worked very well artistically, and I loved the great chunky bits of fleece in them.’ Amy frowned. ‘Where did you get the idea from?’
‘Can’t I ever have invented anything? Do I always have to have got the idea from somewhere else?’
