A distant door slammed. Jemima finished examining the fabric before wandering towards the stairs up to the main house. ‘That’ll be Aggie back from the shops, my lovely. You go and see her and wait for your girlfriend to arrive and I’ll give this a quick press.’
Hetty wasn’t sure how this would go. Would it be too soon into their … friendship … to give Stella a gown? Stella had suggested that the videos should be done in period-appropriate clothing, but she hadn’t agreed to appear in them with her.
But Aunt Jemima had assured her that making two period morning gowns of completely differing sizes was little different to just the one. If she was to be trusted, of course. It was sometimes very hard to tell when her aunts were being serious and when they were not. Aggie had laughed uproariously when Jemima had said it, but Jemima had, after all, got to work and made both dresses.
She went upstairs to find Aggie and Stella. On hearing voices, she peeked carefully around the door frame to the kitchen. Stella was already there, carefully examining a mug of tea. It was a promotional one from the 2019 Knitting and Stitching Exhibition. Across the kitchen Aggie was stirring her own chipped mug, emblazoned with a faded Legend of Zelda logo. Two more cups sat on the counter, clearly waiting for Hetty and Jemima. Stella stared at them, as though wondering who’d get the Portmeirion one and who’d get the ‘Colonoscopists Like It From Behind’ one.
‘So, dear, getting on well with our Hetty, then?’ Aggieasked. She was immaculate in a twinset and pearls, newly arrived home from the supermarket, and was pulling bottles of gin out of a carrier bag. ‘Showing her the ropes?’
‘The cables, really,’ Stella said.
Aggie grinned. ‘And does she know her USB from her HDMI yet?’
Hetty knew Stella wasn’t going to be fooled. They’d googled Lady Agatha Bainbridge together in one of their first classes. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t taken her on yourself. Major investor in Apple, aren’t you? I heard you knew Steve Jobs himself.’
‘Oh, but Hetty has so much to learn and I have so very little patience,’ Aggie said lightly. ‘And much better she learns from someone her own age. Ah, here you are, Hetty. Do go and show Stella Jemima’s artistry.’
Hetty smiled nervously and guided Stella back down the narrow steps to Jemima’s many workrooms.
‘Taking me down to the cellar to murder me, eh?’
Hetty turned, looking concerned, then saw Stella’s face. ‘No, but I wanted to show you something. A present, from me and my aunt Jemima.’
The next thing she knew, Stella was pinned into a bright orange shot silk, which she declared was ‘the most beautiful dress I have ever, ever seen’. She stood on an old box in a cellar stuffed with piles of fabric, with Jemima fussing around the hem.
Stella was laughing to herself.
‘What?’ asked Hetty, feeling a ripple of anxiety. ‘You don’t like it, do you?’
‘No, no, Hetty, I love it. I really do. It’s just … I was trying to keep things slow. Court you like an old-fashioned lady. And here I am in a silk ballgown.’
Jemima tutted, mouth full of pins, and muttered something incoherent.
Hetty beamed. ‘She’s saying it’s a morning dress, not a ballgown, and she’s quite right, you know. But morning gowns are not traditionally crafted from silk, Jemima, as wellyouknow.’
Hetty and Stella looked at one another, and then all of a sudden they both burst into laughter from the strangeness of it all.
Jemima gave up. ‘Good god, off with it, then, if you’re both going to roll about laughing. I’ll have it hemmed in half an hour, girls.’ She started carefully removing the dress from Stella, who carefully stepped down from the box she’d been standing on. ‘Thank goodness you left your jacket behind last week, Stella, or I’d have had no chance of getting the size right.’
When they were safely ensconced in the love seat in the sitting room and they started discussing the videos, she was elated to see Stella’s eyes shine with mirrored excitement. Hetty had no idea about things like ‘short form videos’ and ‘social strategies’, but Stella clearly did.
Her Substack was doing well – Hetty’s writing was described by one reader as ‘archaic but very sweet’ and by another as ‘just like reading a Jane Austen novel’. She couldn’t remember how to tell how many people were actually reading it, despite Stella’s detailed explanation. And when that had happened, she had forgotten about early entries that included her rapturous first impressions of computer class and her gorgeous teacher, which had been rather embarrassing, so she didn’t want to ask again.
When Stella wasn’t teaching computer classes, shededicated most of her time to finishing a degree in something called ‘Marketing and Communications’ that had clearly had nothing to do with either markets, physical trading, or public speaking. Hetty worried that her life was so much easier than Stella’s seemed to be, but Stella didn’t seem to mind. Stella was remarkably relaxed about most things. As Hetty poured tea, she realised that without even noticing it the world had become a far, far brighter place and she was pretty sure that Stella had a big part in that. She wanted to freeze this moment and stay in it forever.
Despite having little knowledge of the technicalities behind her Substack and Instagram page, it felt so good to be making connections with people online. She found herself engaging in the most wonderful conversations in the ‘comments’ sections.
Stella had warned her to expect negativity whenever strangers were able to talk to her on the internet, and she was right. But she had also been right about the benefits of being online: Hetty had met the most amazing people, too. Some of them were becoming quite regular correspondents, recommending books, websites and even offline events she might like to attend. It seemed that people had far more options when it came to making friends in 2023.
And though she had no idea how these new Instagram videos would work, they would be fun to plan. It didn’t matter what she did, when she was doing it with Stella.
‘So where do you come from, Hetty? I realised last night that I hardly know anything about you,’ said Stella, cracking open a bottle of wine.
Hetty was surprised out of her reverie. She had been dreading this moment.
‘Oh, well … I grew up in the countryside, with my mother and brother. But they’re …’ Hetty grimaced. How to explain this? ‘… not here now.’
Stella looked up from filling their wine glasses to clutch Hetty’s hand.
