Page 40 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

‘Would you mind very much,’ he said, ‘if we left the sewing part till another day? I’ve a Zoom with my boss at 3.30 and I’ve a couple of documents to check first.’

‘That’d suit me too,’ she said. ‘I have to catch the train at five to three.’

‘The 2.54? I’ll accompany you, if I may?’ She looked puzzled, so he added, ‘I live in Essendale.’

*

‘Did you always want to be a seamstress?’ he said as they walked towards the station.

‘I wanted to be a fashion designer. I used to make my own clothes when I was growing up and I filled notebook after notebook with designs. I’ve still got all of them. I suppose lots of girls – perhaps boys too? – keep diaries. Well, those notebooks are like my diaries. The designs contain the memories somehow, if that makes sense.’

It did make sense; more sense than she could possibly realise. He had notebooks too. Notebooks full of engines. They might have looked like lists of numbers, with dates and places, but each one conjured up a memory of his childhood, standing on station platforms in the late afternoon sun, with his dad, his trusty old Olympus slung round his neck and a flask of hot coffee in his bag. He wanted to tell her that, but he remembered Fay’s taunts about his hobby and decided against it. Why was it that many women seemed to like men who liked fast cars, but not men who had a thing about trains? Why was one mode of transport sexier than another?

‘My red mini-skirt,’ Taylor was saying now, ‘reminds me of when the boy I had my first crush on told me he didn’t fancy me back.’

‘I know exactly what you mean about things bringing back memories,’ he said, though what he really wanted to say was, That boy was mad.

They had reached the station now and were standing on the platform.

‘I wanted to go to art college, to study fashion properly,’ she said, ‘but Dad said it wasn’t a proper course, and put pressure on me to go to university. He wanted me to be a teacher or an accountant.’ She grimaced. ‘I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being an accountant, but it wouldn’t have been me.’

He laughed. ‘Accountancy wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea. You’d have made a brilliant teacher though, judging by the last couple of hours.’

‘Thanks, Harry. I suppose if you’re passionate about something, it’s easier to convey that passion. I’m not sure I’d be any good at teaching anything else.’

When the train arrived, Harry gestured for Taylor to sit down first, letting her take the window seat. He wasn’t interested in looking out of the window anyway, not with her beside him. He reminded himself not to stare at her too much.

‘Did you always want to be an accountant, Harry?’

Should he admit he’d wanted to be a train driver?

Why not? It was a common enough dream for a little boy to have. She needn’t know he still fantasised about it sometimes.

‘Like many little boys, I wanted to be a train driver,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t say my parents put pressure on me to go to university, but they hoped I would. I was the first in my family.’

‘Why accountancy?’ said Taylor as they stepped off the train in Essendale. ‘Why not archaeology or French literature or media studies?’

As they walked through Essendale, Harry told her how he much he loved numbers, hoping it didn’t make him sound boring. ‘I even liked maths at school,’ he said. ‘Accountancy was a good fit for me. Even though it wasn’t my childhood dream.’

‘Childhood dreams,’ said Taylor with a sigh. ‘And now I spend my days replacing broken zips and taking up hems. It’s not exactly creative.’

‘You’re providing a valuable service. You’re saving people money. Environmentally friendly too, prolonging the life of garments.’

‘Good for the planet, good for the purse.’

Harry laughed at her imitation of Kate. Then all too soon, they were at the point where he needed to turn left towards home, and he realised he’d passed the board game café without his usual wave to Emily.

‘This is me,’ he said, gesturing down the street.

Taylor, he assumed, was heading straight on, towards the primary school to pick up her son, although she hadn’t actually said.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Well, thanks for coming over.’

‘Thanks for teaching me about appliqué.’ He hoped he’d pronounced that right. ‘I meant it about fixing your washing machine. I could work from home tomorrow, perhaps pop over late morning with some tools. If you’d like me to?’

He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping she would say yes. He was usually in the office on a Friday, but he hadn’t any meetings and was sure he’d be able to wangle it. Quite a few people in the office were working home three days a week now.

‘If you’re sure,’ she said. ‘And we could finish your dragon too.’