Page 56 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to.’

He turned his entire body away from her and stared out of the window for the rest of the journey. He didn’t speak as they walked to school. The discussion was over as far as Max was concerned. She was never going to persuade him.

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Over the next fortnight, Taylor had a total of three unsatisfactory meetings with the headteacher and created seven upcycled garments for the fashion show. She also made two pairs of curtains and replaced five zips. Max won six games of Ticket to Ride against Sylvia.

Sewing took her mind off her problems. As a baggy polka-dot dress became a fun short catsuit, Taylor reflected that she could lose herself in a garment in the same way that other people lost themselves in a good book. It stopped her feeling guilty about Harry; he had stopped coming to the upcycling group on a Monday and she knew that was because of her. And it stopped her worrying about Max being bullied. Well, almost. She almost stopped worrying and feeling guilty. For a few blissful minutes, even hours sometimes, she was able to put things to the back of her mind.

Shirts were given funky buttons, ripped jeans were given patches with intricate topstitching in bright colours, and flowers and butterflies were appliquéd onto skirt and tops. A pair of dungarees gained a flowerpot pocket with embroidered daisies appearing to grow out of it. A striped cashmere cardigan was made over with giant felt flowers, the shades carefully chosen to complement the original stripes. A needlepoint panel depicting a hummingbird was added to a straight corduroy skirt.

Taylor wondered if she might do something using the leftover fabric from those two pinafore dresses that Kate had commissioned. In the end, she opted for a weebles apron and a small Scrabble waistcoat; it would fit a child a little older than Max.

She had promised to make a garment for Kate, as a thank you for doing all the marketing. Kate had done so much work, so it had to be something wonderful – ‘a dress that will knock a guy’s socks off,’ Kate had said.

Kate wasn’t a patchwork, flowerpot pockets kind of person. She usually wore simple yet stylish clothes that showed off her slim figure, so Taylor wanted to make something similar, something elegant. She remembered that somewhere in one of her boxes was an absolute tent of a bridesmaid dress; she’d picked up in a charity shop ages ago, because although the style was terrible, the fabric was gorgeous – an emerald green silk. It had been an absolute bargain and she’d felt sure she’d do something with it at some point.

There was plenty of fabric, so she decided she’d make a pencil dress, with a fitted skirt. It would be knee length, with a shirt collar that was low enough to reveal just the tiniest hint of decolletage; the kind of dress you could wear in most situations – daytime or evening, smart but not formal. Taylor knew Kate’s size but would do a final fitting at some point to get it absolutely perfect; like in the made-to-measure challenges on The Great British Sewing Bee. She imagined her heroine Esme Young running her expert eye over the garment, praising the perfect seams and darts. ‘And silk is such a difficult fabric to work with, Taylor. You’ve done an excellent job.’

Taylor worked late every night, as Max slept in his bedroom above, dreaming no doubt of model railways and playing Ticket to Ride. At least, Taylor hoped that was what he was dreaming about; she shuddered to think of him having nightmares about school.

As her anxiety about her son deepened, she sought solace in transforming the garments. A long skirt became a mini and a pair of torn jeans became a pair of shorts. Sleeves were removed and sleeves were added. Garments were lengthened, garments were shortened. She began to experiment. Out came the spray paint – and the old newspapers – and a pair of jeans got a striking, graffiti-like design. An embroidered cushion cover with an elaborate floral design became the back of yet another discarded denim jacket. Several cashmere jumpers became a knitted dress.

Would the original owners recognise their clothes? she wondered. She doubted it. All these things had been unwanted, but had now been given a second chance, a new lease of life.

When this show was over, she resolved that she and Max would spend more quality time together. She was going to lure him out of his bedroom at weekends and they’d go on day trips together.

She began to feel a sense of optimism as she thought about the future. She was beginning to believe Kate’s assurances that the show was going to be a success, and that the garments would fly out of the virtual door of her revamped Etsy shop as soon as it was open for business. She resolved that one way or another, she was going to sort out Max’s schooling; she’d be calm but assertive with the school until proper action was taken to stop the bullies in their tracks and if that didn’t work, somehow, she’d persuade him to give Hebbleswick Primary a try.

And she would finally apologise to Harry. She shouldn’t have waited so long. She’d assumed she’d bump into him sooner or later in Essendale; it was a small place so their paths were bound to cross. Only they didn’t. According to Emily, it had been weeks since he’d visited the café.

‘One of my best customers,’ Emily had said. ‘And one of my favourites. He’s such a lovely guy, isn’t he?’

Taylor had nodded and thought what an idiot she’d been. Even if a relationship was impossible, she could have handled the whole situation so much better, and perhaps salvaged their friendship.

She was thinking about Harry, as she often did, whilst she was adding new lapels to a jacket, when there was a knock on the door. She stood up, leaning over the sewing machine, to see Tarquin standing on the doorstep. He was wearing a snazzy green suit with a striped shirt and a contrasting maroon waistcoat. It was a good look, she had to admit, but his dress sense didn’t impress her anymore.

It wasn’t great timing, she thought, and wished he’d called ahead, but she was glad to see him. Perhaps he was finally going to get round to organising for an electrician to look at the dodgy socket, and the boiler was proving a bit temperamental these days too. And there were the draughty sash windows upstairs too, and she should point out the growing stain on the kitchen ceiling.

‘Tarquin,’ she said. ‘Come in. Have you come to check out some of the problems?’

‘I was passing and happened to see your shop window.’

He walked into the lounge and looked around, his eyes fixing on the table with the sewing machine and the upcycled garments now displayed in the window. He walked over to take a closer look. Taylor assumed he was going to admire her handiwork, since he was obviously fond of more unusual attire. He checked out the price tags on the garments and then said, ‘You seem to be running a business from these premises.’

She immediately sensed there was a problem. ‘Well, not exactly. I work from home. I’m a sewist. Mostly it’s all zip replacements, mending and alterations. Very low key.’

‘You’re selling clothes,’ he said.

‘Not really. No-one has actually bought anything yet.’

‘In your tenancy agreement, it specifically states that you cannot run a business here.’

‘I work from home,’ she said again. ‘It’s not really a business. I’ve upcycled a few garments for a charity fashion show.’

Surely he couldn’t begrudge her doing something for charity.

‘I’ll have to mention this to the landlord,’ he said. ‘He may want to take action.’