LOVE TO STITCH AND BITCH

 

STITCH AND BITCH.

     ‘Stitch and Bitch’ is a funny name for a sewing group but I suppose it’s a pretty good description of what goes on. My nan really looks forward to it every Saturday afternoon in the village hall, because she can really let her hair down about whatever it is that’s getting on her case. This particular Saturday it was the stolen milk bottles.

     “Three times this week.” Nan stared accusingly round the assembled group as if one of them might be personally responsible. “And the tub of Jersey cream I ordered for the weekend. Isn’t that right, Jay?”

     “Yes Nan,” I said and dropped a stitch. By the time I found it and managed to pick it up again I’d lost count of my rows. Nan is teaching me to knit but I’m not too pleased about it. It’s a girly thing if you ask me, no matter how much Nan keeps telling me how useful it is. When I complained to my mum, she just said, “Well, lots of fishermen learn to knit – they’re not girly, are they?”

     I wasn’t impressed. I’m hardly likely to grow up to be a fisherman, living in the Pennines, am I? And there won’t be any fish left by the time I grow up anyway.

     “You can knit me some socks for Christmas.” Mum laughed. She was happy because she was going away for the week with Hamilton, her new boyfriend, in his camper van. That’s why I ended up at the Stitch and Bitch group instead of playing footie with my mates.

     “Why don’t you get your milk from the supermarket, like everybody else? It’s much cheaper,” said an elderly lady with magnifying glasses that made her eyes look huge.

     Nan snorted. “Well, that’s just a typical attitude nowadays. What would happen to the milkman if everyone did that? What’s happened to community spirit and supporting local businesses?”

     “And he keeps an eye on you in case you drop dead,” my nan’s friend Gladys observed, looking up from her next entry for the Tidemouth Goldwork Cup.

    “It’s nothing to do with that,” Nan sniffed, “It’s about quality and respect, things some people seem to have forgotten. Anyway, I’ve got Jay to keep an eye on me, haven’t I Jay?”

     “Yes, Nan,” I said and dropped another stitch. This time I couldn’t find it and next thing I knew there was a big hole.

     “You’ll have to unravel that,” the lady with the frog eyes said nastily.

     “Never mind, Jay,” Gladys said, “You’re going to be a second Kaffe Fassett, I can feel it in my bones.”

     I was about to say that whatever a Kaffe Fassett was I didn’t want to be one, I’d rather be a Wayne Rooney but I thought better of it. It was all right for them to stitch and bitch, but probably not for me. I slid my knitting off my needles and started to unwind it.

     “Funny enough, my cat’s gone missing too,” said the mousy lady in the corner. “She’s been gone three days and she’s such a home lover usually.”

     “Maybe that’s who drank the milk,” said Gladys.

     “Or maybe it was a jackdaw,” the frog eyed lady suggested, “They’re well known for stealing milk.”

     “And I suppose they took the empty bottles away to the nearest dustbin,” my nan gave them both a withering look.

     I giggled so much my knitting ended up in a big woolly tangle and the more I tugged the more knotted it got.

     “No, there’s definitely a thief about,” Nan said, “and I intend to find out who it is. Starting Monday, I’ll be keeping an early watch. Jay, it’s time for a nice cup of tea.”

     There was no arguing with her tone of voice. Anyway, I was glad to get out of the room. All this bitching and my knotted up knitting was driving me potty. I stuffed the knitting in my pocket so that Nan wouldn’t be able to inspect it.

     I filled the kettle in the kitchen, thinking idly about who the milk thief might be but all this flew out of my head when I glanced down and saw fresh bloodstains on the tiled floor.

     “Nan! Nan! Come and see,” I shouted. “There’s blood all over the kitchen floor.”

     “That child!” I heard her say to the others. “He’s got an overactive imagination. I keep telling our Sandra, she lets him drink too much Coca Cola.”

     “Paint,” she scoffed when I pointed out the stains. “It’ll be from the playgroup, they were here this morning, or was it the Amateur Dramatics group? Aren’t they doing ‘Dracula’? Yes, that’ll be it. You’d think people would clean up after themselves – just what I was saying before, no community spirit anymore. Three teas and four coffees, Jason,” and with that she sailed off without a backward glance.

     I looked at the blood. I wanted to touch it but I knew you weren’t supposed to do that because of all the nasty diseases you can catch, and anyway it might be forensic evidence like they rely on in ‘Silent Witness’, but then I thought Nan knew  best and it did look a  bit like paint after all.

     I got the mop but then I noticed there was a trail of spots leading out through the other door into the corridor where the store rooms and toilets are. I knew my nan wasn’t going to be any help so I plucked up my courage and threw open the door where the spots ended. It was dark in there but I caught a flicker of movement.

     “Is someone there?” I made my voice sound brave even though I was scared stiff. There was absolute silence. I thought maybe it was an injured animal so I started moving some folding tables away from the wall, when suddenly I heard a noise and turned round to find Shelley Clarke standing behind me.

     I didn’t recognize her for a second or two because she’s always neat as two pins in school and I’d never seen her out of uniform before. I don’t really know her at all because she lives on the other side of town and she’s two years above me at school, so she must be fourteen. All I know is she’s a prefect and she edits the school newspaper. I’ve always been a bit scared of her but now she looked dirty and her hair was a mess. She was holding her left hand which was wrapped in a bloody rag and she actually looked frightened of me.

     “You’re in my school,” she said after we’d stared at each other for a bit. “Aren’t you – Slugger Something?”

     “No, I’m not.” I was really offended. Slugger Sixsmith is our class bully, with a brain like a pea and fists like hammers. He’s the most horrible person in the world. “I’m Jay Grant.”

     “Oh.” She smiled vaguely so I knew she’d never heard of me. “You won’t tell, will you?”

     “Tell what?”

     “That I’m here. I’m hiding in here.”

     “Why?”

     “I’ve run away from home. It’s my mum. She won’t let me see Kevin. He’s my boyfriend but my mum hates him. She’s just cruel. I hate her. She says I have to finish with him but I can’t. Me and Kev, we just love each other so much.”

     “Is he in our school?” I couldn’t place him.

     “No. He’s older than me. That’s why my mum doesn’t like him. He works in Asda on the fish counter.”

     I tried to remember last time I was in Asda and my mum bought a piece of haddock but I couldn’t remember who had served her.

     “I’ve been here all week. I come in and out when it’s open. There are always lots of different groups in here. I just have to make sure I’m inside and hidden when they come to lock up.”

    “But where do you sleep?”

    She pulled me behind a folding screen. There was a saggy old couch and she’d used some old curtains for bedding. Her things were laid out on a chair. A torch, some books, an empty milk bottle.

     “I did have some money, but it’s nearly all gone. I had to shoplift a bit.”

     “You’ll get caught.” I couldn’t believe someone would really do this because of love, but what do I know? You only have to see the way my mum carries on when Hamilton’s coming round, to realize love makes people crazy.

     She shrugged. “Kev gets paid next week. He’ll see me all right then. I was getting a drink of water.” She lifted the cloth and looked at her hand. “I broke the cup and cut my hand  but it’s  stopped bleeding now.”

     “What about your mum? Won’t she get the police?” It was a good job it was the summer holidays or Mr Blackmore, our headmaster would have been after her too.

    “I don’t know. I don’t care. Kev and me, we’re going away when he gets paid, Scotland or somewhere, where they’ll never find us. Promise me you won’t tell.”

     She grabbed my arm and shook me and my knitting fell out of my pocket.

     “What’s this?” She picked it up and peered at it.

     “My nan’s teaching me to knit.” Now I felt really stupid. “That’s why I’m here. She’s looking after me while my mum’s away. I had to come to this ‘stitch and bitch’ group.

     “Stitch and bitch? What’s that?” she laughed. Where are your needles?”

     “Back there.” I jerked my head. I’d forgotten all about the tea.

     “Jason? Where are you? What on earth are you doing?” Nan sounded cross and perilously close.

     “I’ll have to go.” I pulled away from Shelley. “I could bring you some food.” I could see my nan pouncing on Shelley on the doorstep as she helped herself to the Monday morning milk.

     “That’d be great. Come tomorrow afternoon. The hall’s open for choir practice. Leave me your knitting needles. It’ll give me something to do.”

     The rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Shelley and Kevin. It was a bit like ‘Romeo and Juliet’ which we were doing at school but look what happened to them. I couldn’t get the hang of this love stuff and it was scaring me because it wouldn’t be long before it would start happening to me and I didn’t want to end up crazy too.

     “You’re very quiet, Jay,” Nan said. “I hope you’re not sickening for something.” This was because we were watching ‘X Factor’ and we usually have a good laugh at all the terrible singers but tonight I just couldn’t concentrate.

     “Nan, did you ever do something silly for the sake of love?”

     “I’ve had my moments.” She was still giggling but she gave me a funny look. “What’s all this about Jay? You haven’t got girl trouble at your age, surely?”

     I could feel my face going red. “Oh, nothing,” I mumbled. I wanted to tell her, but I daredn’t. “Just something in a play we’re doing at school.”

     I tried to act normal so she wouldn’t get suspicious and we watched ‘Casualty’ as usual and went through our line dancing routine, but even Hoss Humphries couldn’t cheer me up and when I went to bed it all kept going round and  round in my head.

     I knew I ought to tell a grown up about Shelley. I knew her mum would be worried and I was sure the police would be looking for her, but I’d promised her I wouldn’t tell and adults have a way of not understanding things. In the end I fell asleep but I still hadn’t decided what to do.

 

     

                                                          ---

    

    

       Sunday afternoon I hurried round to the village hall with my backpack full of supplies for Shelley. The choir was so intent on the noise they were making that it was easy for me to slip past into the corridor.

     There was a distinct smell of fish, so I tapped discreetly on the storeroom door and muttered, “Shelley, it’s me, Jason,” but when she came to the door she was alone.

     I laid out the crisps, apples and bananas I’d pinched from Nan’s kitchen, along with a couple of cans of Coke I’d bought out of my pocket money.

     “Don’t you think you ought to go home?” I said as she munched her way through a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. “Your mum must be worried sick.”

     “So?” She pulled a face. “She hates me. Serve her right.  I’m never going back. I told you we’re going to Scotland. Kev’s got some mates there and I’ll get a job. It’ll be cool.”

     I had to admit that it sounded more fun than going back home and going to school.

but what was it with Scotland? I wondered. That’s where my mum had gone with Hamilton to some village in the mountains. 

     “I can’t stay long, my nan’ll get suspicious but I’ll come back tomorrow.” I had to keep her away from Nan’s doorstep.

     “You’ve got through a lot of fruit today, young man,” Nan said, looking at the half empty fruit bowl. It’s nice to see you eating healthily for a change.” She turned her attention back to ‘The Antiques Roadshow.’

    I wandered into the kitchen, wondering what I could take for Shelley without my nan  noticing it was gone.

     The next couple of days I got more culture than I’d bargained for. On Monday there was an art exhibition in the hall that I had to pretend to look at before I could sneak through to Shelley. On Tuesday it was dress rehearsal for the Amateur Dramatic Society’s production of ‘Dracula’. That was quite good but I didn’t have time to hang around because I was going shopping with my nan.

     “Honestly, Jason, you’re eating me out of house and home.” Nan stared at her shopping list. “I don’t know what’s got into you.”

     “Growth spurt, Nan.” I stretched up on my tiptoes. “We learned about it in school.”

     “Hmm” Nan looked unconvinced. “What soup do you like, tomato or oxtail?”

     I wandered off toward the fish counter. Nan wouldn’t notice. She spends ages reading all the ingredients on every tin and packet before she buys anything. A crowd of people were scrabbling in the reduced goods corner and I hid behind two large ladies who were fighting over a half price crispy duck, so that I could spy on the assistant at the fish counter.

     Surely that skinny, spotty kid couldn’t be Shelley’s boyfriend? He didn’t look a bit like Romeo. I crept closer till I could clearly see the name ‘Kevin’ printed on his identity badge.

     Love must be blind, like my nan said the first time my mum introduced her to Hamilton. I mean, according to Shelley, Kevin was just sex on legs and the best looking thing ever.

     I followed my nan round Asda, feeling more and more confused. It didn’t help when I saw a poster in the post office on the way home, with a photo of Shelley on it, saying, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? in large letters. I had to do something, tell someone, but how? Next to Shelley’s picture was one of a cross eyed black and white cat. “Mitzi – much loved, missing from home” it said.

     That night my mum phoned from Cleckamairie and I plucked up courage to tell her about Shelley but she went on so much about what a great time she was having with Hamilton that I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.

     “What happened to those chicken legs I put in the fridge for our supper?” Nan demanded when I came off the phone.

     “Sorry, I couldn’t resist them,” I patted my stomach. “They were really tasty.”

     “If this keeps on I’ll have to take you to the doctor. I think you’re developing an eating disorder. Either that or you’ve got worms.”

     “Nan!” She can be really disgusting sometimes.

     “Open your mouth.” I had to stand there while she pinched and poked me all over but she couldn’t find any disturbing symptoms.

    “At least you’ve got plenty of milk,” I tried to distract her from this embarrassing examination.

    “Yes, it’s very odd,” she said turning away to take a pint of milk out of the fridge for our cocoa. “I’ve kept watch both mornings and not a sign of anyone. It’s as if they know, or maybe they’ve been warned.” She gave me a look and I smiled innocently but I had a feeling my nan was onto me and I would have to be careful. That night I decided that the next day’s visit to Shelley would be the last. I would have to make her see sense and go home.

     “There are posters in the shops about you,” I told her as I unwrapped a slice of ham and the last of Nan’s ginger cake.

     “I’m not going back,” Shelley declared but that was as far as she got because the door was flung open and my nan stood there like an invading Barbarian.

     “I knew you were up to something, Jason Grant,” she shouted. “What’s going on?”

     “Quiet , please,” a voice floated out from the yoga class but my nan took no notice. She peered at Shelley who stared back with her mouth open, revealing the stolen ginger cake.

     “You’re that missing girl everyone’s looking for.” She turned to me. “Jason, you knew about this and never told anyone?”

     “I wanted to tell but I promised.” I tried to stop myself from whining. Juliet’s protector would never do that.

     “Aren’t you Melanie Clarke’s girl?” Nan grabbed Shelley by the arm and shook her.

     “Owww! Gerroff!” Shelley squealed, but she looked like a frightened rabbit.

     “I had to help her, Nan, she had to run away because of Kevin and she was hungry.”

      Nan looked at me bewildered. “Kevin?”

     “Her mum tried to split them up.”

     “We love each other!” Shelley burst into tears.

     “Now then chick, come on, tell me all about it.” Nan’s voice changed and I never heard her call anyone ‘chick’ before, but it worked. She had the whole story out of Shelley in two seconds flat and the next thing my nan had tears in her eyes so I realised she  must be into this love stuff too though you’d never think it to look at her.

     I almost got tearful myself but I remembered Mr Gunter telling me that men don’t cry when  we were having a man to man talk in his garden shed so I practised keeping my upper lip stiff, like he told me to, while Nan  fussed over Shelley.

     “You come with me, lass and we’ll get this sorted out. I went to school with your nan and I’ve known your mum since she was a little girl. Don’t you worry, it’ll be okay.”

     I trailed along behind them till we got to Shelley’s house, but when Shelley’s mum opened the door and Shelley got behind my nan, I got behind her too. I thought there might be fisticuffs, especially when Mrs Clarke shrieked, “Shelley, where have you been? The police have been hunting for you and I haven’t slept for a week.”

     She made a grab for Shelley but my nan stopped her.

     “Now then, Melanie, calm down and let’s sort this out quietly. Are you going to ask us in or do you want all the neighbours to know?”

     “That boy’s put you up to this,” Mrs Clarke snapped when we got inside.

     “But I love him,” Shelley wailed.

     “Love? What do you know about love?” She glared at my nan. “He’s far too old for her.”

     “Melanie, do you remember a certain young lady who ran off with a fairground worker when she was sixteen?”

     Mrs Clarke turned bright red. It was a wonderful colour, almost the exact red of my knitting.

    “He was twenty one, remember?” my nan went on. “Shelley, why don’t you take Jason up to your room and play some records or something while me and your mum have a little chat.”  

     Considering she was never going to go home again, Shelley seemed pretty happy to be back in her bedroom, although how she could stand all that pink and those fluffy toys was beyond me.

     “Thanks for helping me with the food and stuff. You’ve been a star.”

     I felt embarrassed sitting on her girly bed and for a moment I felt a twinge of something – but that couldn’t be love, could it?

     “I’ve got something for you.” She opened her bag and pulled out my knitting, only now it had been transformed into a scarf. She looped it round my neck and kissed me on the nose and then it was my turn to go bright red. Luckily Shelley’s mum came up then and hugged Shelley and they both burst into tears and my nan cried too.

     My stiff upper lip trembled all the way home until my nan suddenly shook my arm and said, “Isn’t that Mavis Turnbull in that tree?”

     It was the mousy lady with the missing cat. “Call the fire brigade,” she wheezed as she dangled from a branch, “Mitzi’s stuck, and so am I.”

     “Nonsense,” my nan shouted. “Do you think the fire brigade has nothing better to do?” She gave a vigorous tug at Mavis’s legs and she plopped to the ground like a ripe apple.

     “AAaagh!” Mavis squawked waving her legs like an upturned beetle.

     “Get up you silly fool,” Nan pulled her to her feet, “And you, Jason, get up that tree and fetch that cat.”

    It was useless to protest, anyway I like climbing trees. Mitzi was perched on a skinny branch at the top but I reached her quite easily. The problem was how to carry her down. I’d heard that cats always land on their feet but I didn’t think Mrs Turnbull would appreciate my dropping Mitzi from such great heights.

     Suddenly I had an idea. I whipped my new scarf from round my neck and tied it round Mitzi’s middle, even though I got a few scratches in the process. It was easy enough to lower her down to Mavis Turnbull’s waiting arms and by the time I got down the tree both Mavis and Mitzi had disappeared, leaving my nan holding the scarf.

     “Just what I expected,” Nan snorted, “No sense of gratitude.

     “You made a good job of this scarf,” she said as we walked past the sweetshop. “Nice neat knitting. I’m proud of you. You deserve a treat. Come on, I’ll buy you a packet of your favourites.”

     “Lovehearts?” I shuddered. “I’ve gone off them. Can I have

        liquorice allsorts instead?”

READ MORE ADVENTURES OF JASON AND HIS NAN NEXT MONTH.