Page 52 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

That someone would preferably be Taylor.

Although he doubted she’d be interested in the fact that the Shinkansen cut the journey time between Tokyo and Osaka by about a half or that some of the engineers who’d worked on the train originally worked in the aeronautical industry, which probably accounted for its iconic shape.

He went outside for some air, heading over to the Pacer train, which couldn’t have been further removed from the Shinkansen with its body based on a Leyland bus. It was a familiar sight, as not so long ago, he’d sat on seats like these on his daily commute to and from Halifax. He hadn’t known Taylor back then, and perhaps it would have been easier if he’d never met her. His days hadn’t been full of excitement, but he’d been happy enough. For many people, his life would have been too ordinary, too mundane, but Harry had accepted that this was all the world had to offer him. He’d made the best of it, finding little moments of joy in creating a tiny tree for his model railway landscape, or finding a second-hand tome about trains in the Oxfam shop, watching Michael Portillo in his brightly coloured trousers or learning a new fact in a museum such as this one.

Harry sat on the stationary Pacer train in the outside area of the museum, absent-mindedly running his hands over the blue striped velvet of the seats. He wished it would start moving along the rails, magically transporting him back to those days before he met Taylor, when he was blissfully unaware of her existence and content with his lot in life, because the truth was that now he’d met her, he couldn’t imagine being happy without her.

27

Taylor sat staring at her mobile phone. He had hung up on her.

He had said, ‘I’ll see you around,’ and then, ‘Look after yourself’ – something like that anyway – and then he’d hung up.

And that was that. It was all over and Taylor felt flat.

She wondered how Harry was feeling. Last night, she’d thought he was really into her, but today she wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t given her much time to explain about Max. She’d been intending to tell him that there hadn’t been anyone in her life since John, partly because of how difficult Max was, and partly because until now, she hadn’t met anyone she really wanted a relationship with. She’d wanted to leave things on a positive note; she’d thought she might even say that they could stay friends and that maybe in a few years, if Harry was still single, if the feelings were still there, they might rekindle things.

But he hadn’t given her chance to say any of that.

There hadn’t been many men in Taylor’s life, but the ones there had been had whispered how beautiful she was or how hot. They’d told her repeatedly how much they liked her, even if they did go on to dump her three days later. They’d called out her name in the throes of passion. Not Harry. He was difficult to read. She’d thought she’d seen disappointment on his face when she’d left, but perhaps she’d misinterpreted. He’d made love to her without saying a word, then calmly got up afterwards to make coffee. She knew he found her physically attractive but had there been anything more to it than that, on his part?

Max was busy playing with his train set – his usual Saturday morning activity. Through the floor, she could hear him, putting on a station announcer’s voice.

‘The next train to arrive at platform 1 is the 16.37 to Halifax.’

Bless him. He knew the actual timetable off by heart.

She tipped a huge bag of charity-shop purchases out on the sofa. Her plan was to transform these clothes for the fashion show.

The first garment that caught her eye was a silver evening gown. Taylor put it on the mannequin and snapped a quick shot on her phone. She wanted a ‘before’ and ‘after’ photo of every item. The gown was very flamboyant, like something you’d see on Strictly Come Dancing. It had a fitted bodice and full skirt of satin, with a layer of sparkling lace on top. The sleeves were see-through, being made of the same lace. Taylor wondered who would wear such a dress and more to the point, where would they wear it. It would have been over the top at the fanciest of balls or even, she imagined, at the opera – not that she’d ever been to an opera.

She carefully unpicked the sleeves, detaching them from the garment and putting them aside for use in another project, then she got up to make a cup of instant coffee. She remembered Harry and his grinder, but pushed the thought away, turning her attention back to the gown. It must have been expensive, and she felt a little guilty cutting into the fabric, taking a chunk off the skirt so that it hung an inch or two above the knee. She added a couple of layers of tulle underneath the skirt, to fluff it out, and altered the bodice, removing the shoulders so that it became a strapless dress.

Absorbed in her work – and happily distracted from regrets about Harry – Taylor’s morning flew by, with its soundtrack of the whirr of her sewing machine and the occasional platform announcement from the room above.

‘Mum, I’m hungry.’ Max appeared again.

Taylor glanced at her watch. ‘It’s nearly midday and you’re still in your pyjamas.’

‘So are you.’

She glanced down and saw that he was right; she hadn’t bothered getting dressed, and was still in a pair of pink, brushed cotton PJs printed with little teddy bears. Thank goodness no customers had come in.

‘Come on, Max. Let’s get showered and dressed then have something to eat. What d’you fancy?’

She didn’t know why she bothered asking. On Saturday he always had Heinz tomato soup.

After they’d eaten, she offered to take Max to the park, but he said he’d prefer to play with his trains again, so she decided to finish the silver gown. She spent another two hours hemming the skirt and using interfacing to finish the new neckline of the bodice.

She was pleased with the results. Okay, so it wasn’t something you’d wear often – certainly not for a trip to Tesco but perhaps for a school prom or Christmas party? She took a photo of it displayed on the mannequin and WhatsApped it to Kate, though the person she wanted to show it to was Harry. She remembered how his eyes had shone when they’d finished the dragon shirt together. She felt sure he’d appreciate her efforts.

With a sigh, she hung the gown on her clothes rail with the other garments for the fashion show.

After checking that Max was still happy, she set to work on an off-white cotton dress with three-quarter-length lace sleeves. It hung like a sack on the mannequin, which certainly wasn’t a flattering look. It had several stains too; they were pale but made the dress unwearable, but thanks to Harry and his spanners, she’d be able to dye it later in the washing machine. In the meantime, she set to work with the scissors. She shortened the dress, adding a little split at the back. She unpicked the seams and placed it on the mannequin, pinning the fabric to create a more tailored fit and adding darts under the bust to give it more shape. Again, she removed the sleeves.

After dinner, when Max had gone to bed, Taylor worked late into the night in a kind of sewing frenzy, and the collection of upcycled clothes grew. She had enough self-awareness to know that her industriousness was an attempt to distract herself from her sadness that she couldn’t be with Harry, and it mostly worked, except when she completed a garment.

She longed to show him the oversized grey T-shirt that had metamorphosed with the addition of an array of more colourful fabrics: two huge patchwork stars that she’d zigzag-stitched to the front and back, slightly longer, fuller sleeves to match the patchwork stars, and a deep patchwork hem adding enough length that the T-shirt could now be worn as a mini-dress. She imagined herself modelling it for Harry, giving him a little twirl as he applauded her efforts.