Hooked on You

by Jenn Matthews

  A hand-typed pattern was slipped onto her desk. Ollie was smiling down at her.

  “Mad, isn’t he?” Ollie glanced towards Christian.

  “A bit.” Anna’s brow furrowed at all the abbreviations and acronyms in the pattern. Then she noticed a hand-drawn red box on the side of the paper. “You made me a key.”

  “You only need trebles and chains and slip stitches for this pattern. Reckon you can handle that?”

  “I already know chains,” Anna said. “What’s a slip stitch?”

  “Like a double, but without the extra yarn-over-hook and pull through.”

  Anna just stared blankly up at her.

  Ollie smiled and perched on the side of the table and showed her until Anna nodded. “And then trebles.”

  A treble, it turned out, was simply a longer version of a double, and Anna got the technique pretty quickly.

  “Were you as good at teaching in the field as you are at teaching crochet?” she asked.

  Ollie averted her gaze, and Anna immediately regretted the question. But after a moment, and a deep breath, Ollie nodded. “Better,” she replied with a wink.

  With a sense of relief, Anna took out the correctly sized hook and leant her elbows on the table by Ollie’s hip.

  “A small row of chains, and a slip stitch to form a ring,” Ollie said slowly, allowing Anna to follow on the pattern with her finger. “Chain three, two trebles into the ring, chain two, three trebles…”

  Anna’s gaze darted from an abbreviation to the key and back. She continued reciting the pattern herself. “Chain two, three trebles, chain two again—there are a lot of these, aren’t there? Three trebles, chain two and join with a slip stitch into the…the third chain.”

  “Easier than Shakespeare?” Ollie teased.

  “It does look like a completely different language, to be honest. That is, until you look at this handy little key.” Anna eyed her. “I can tell you wrote this yourself. I hope it was a copy-and-paste thing.”

  Her lips twisted, and Ollie glanced away, flicking her hair away from her eyes.

  “You’re not telling me you typed this out from scratch?” Anna rolled her crochet hook between her fingers. “Oh, Ollie. You shouldn’t have.”

  “Just wanted it to be right.” Ollie tapped the side of her head. “Got it up here, the whole pattern.”

  “How long did it take you?” Anna asked.

  Ollie scratched the side of a finger. “Not long.”

  “Ollie.” Anna pointed towards her with her hook, ready to give her a royal telling-off for going to so much trouble.

  Amy called out, needing help beginning the slippers, and Ollie smiled briefly before hopping down from her perch.

  Christian was making something disc-shaped—perhaps the base of the basket for his grandchildren. It was getting bigger and bigger as he turned it like the steering wheel of a car, adding stitches in a spiral.

  Anna made a slipknot and began, following the pattern slowly and carefully. Realising she’d made a mistake, she undid the piece and then started again. Her stomach warmed as she felt her confidence grow. I like trebles. They’re huge.

  Once she’d finished the first four clusters of trebles, she joined them up and held them out, scrutinising the tiny, messy bundle of wool. Her hands shook a little with unease. She looked over at Ollie, but she was deep in discussion with Amy and the lad sitting next to her, so Anna turned to Christian.

  “Doesn’t look right to me,” she said, holding the work out at him like an offering.

  He took it from her and teased the tiny piece into a square shape with holes at each corner. “It’s fine, don’t worry.” He gave her an encouraging smile.

  She tilted her head to one side and reconsidered the square. “That’s…that’s okay, then?” She glanced towards Ollie again, who seemed miles away. I wish she’d come over.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She sighed and allowed her shoulders to drop. With a single nod, she bowed her head towards the pattern and continued. Similar to Christian, she worked round in a circle, making sure she remembered the two chain stitches in each corner.

  As she finished the second row, her phone rang. She dropped her crochet hook with a metal clang on the floor and bent down to grab it while simultaneously answering her phone.

  It was Timothy, and the moment she picked up the phone she knew something was wrong from his panicked tone.

  “Anna. It broke. I didn’t mean to. It’s smoky and…” His voice was muffled, as though he had put the phone on speaker. All she could hear were smacking sounds—his hands against the sides of his face, she could easily imagine.

  “Don’t panic.” She stuffed everything into her cloth bag. “Timothy, I’ll be right there.”

  She was half aware of Ollie’s eyes watching her as she left.

  When Anna arrived home, having possibly ever so slightly broken the speed limit several times, Timothy was waiting for her by the front door. He point-blank refused to go into the kitchen and had sensibly closed the door after accidentally setting the toaster alight with a teacake.

  She stroked his upper arm. “It’s all right. You’ve done the right thing by calling me.” She looked around. “Where on earth is Bethany?” There was a growl in her voice.

  “She’s in her bedroom,” he said, starting to pat the sides of his head. She held his hands to his face and he stilled under her touch. He stood in front of her, shoulders slack. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His breathing was shallow and his face was beetroot.

  “I’m home now, Timothy.”

  “I knocked and knocked but she wouldn’t open the door.” His voice was a little muffled from between two sets of hands.

  She took his hand in her own. “This is what we’ll do,” she said. “You go sit in the living room. I will look in the kitchen and assess the damage.”

  “What if the fire isn’t out? What if the whole kitchen is ablaze?”

  “We’d know, wouldn’t we? It’d be very hot in here”—she gestured towards the kitchen door—“and there’d be smoke, wouldn’t there?”

  He nodded.

  “Once I’ve had a look, I will go up to Bethany’s bedroom and give her a piece of my mind.”

  Apparently having decided this was acceptable, he went into the living room.

  Anna held her breath and closed her eyes tight before opening the kitchen door. Her entire body relaxed on an exhale. Apart from a slight blackening to the wall behind the toaster, the only harm seemed to have been to the actual appliance. She figured she could do with a new one anyway—that one was at least ten years old. She tumbled the toaster straight into the bin and cleaned the area around where it had been. Then she trudged upstairs to confront her delightful daughter.

  Ten minutes of shouting from Bethany—and stern words from Anna, resulted in Bethany shuffling downstairs to apologise to her brother. They gathered in the kitchen, and for a second or two, Timothy eyed the place where the toaster had been.

  “It’s okay,” Timothy replied. “However, the rule remains that I am not to come into your bedroom.”

  This made Bethany’s mouth fall open.

  “Which is why after knocking for a long time, I had no option but to phone Anna.”

  “Maybe we should—maybe we should change the rule, then.” Bethany’s voice was tentative. “So long as changing it is…is okay with you, Timothy?”

  “I will need a detailed and specific list,” Timothy said, clasping his hands in a businesslike gesture, “itemising each individual situation in which I am permitted to enter your bedroom.”

  Even though Bethany grimaced and rolled her eyes, Anna stayed quiet. They had to sort this out themselves.

  “How about…” Bethany looked at the floor, eyebrows furrowed. “What if the rule changed to…you knock on my door. If after three kn
ocks you don’t get an answer, you can open it?”

  “Am I allowed to come in?”

  “No.” Bethany’s voice was sharp, but she softened as she looked at her brother. Then she smiled and shrugged. “Unless you think I’m dead.”

  “Right, kids.” Anna strode to the counter to open a bottle of wine. “Let’s watch a silly movie and eat popcorn. What do you say?”

  With a nod from Timothy and a shrug from Bethany, it was decided.

  “How was your crochet group?” Timothy asked once they were all sat down.

  “Until it was rudely interrupted by a misbehaving toaster, lovely, thank you.” Anna patted her cloth bag.

  “Meet anyone new?” Bethany tilted her glass of wine at her mother, and her tone was overly flippant, like she didn’t want to seem interested but actually couldn’t wait to hear the answer.

  “A man called Christian. He was making the strangest thing. A basket out of something called T-shirt yarn—can you believe?”

  Bethany pursed her lips for a moment. “Actually, that sounds kind of cool.” She slid her gaze towards Anna and narrowed her eyes. “But you are going to have to give me more information. What’s he like?”

  “Tall. Blue eyes, I think.” Anna sipped from her glass and shrugged, using her other hand on the remote to find a movie to watch. “I didn’t look that closely.”

  “Nice-looking?” Bethany asked, the embodiment of pure innocence.

  “Okay, I suppose.” She glanced at Bethany, who couldn’t hide the intensity in her expression. “Ah, I see. No. Not in any way my type, Beth.”

  “Shame.” Bethany twirled her glass and grinned with a conspiratorial air in Timothy’s direction. Timothy just grinned back but didn’t comment. Have they been discussing my love life? “Could do with someone interesting in your life.”

  “Uh, excuse me? What about Liam?”

  “What about him?” Bethany shrugged. “He’s such a bore, Mum.”

  “Oh, you just don’t know him very well yet.”

  “You’ve been going out what…” Bethany counted silently on her fingers. “Like, seven months? And he never stays here. And you never drive him anywhere; he always drives. And he talks about nothing but his work and how crap it is.”

  “I don’t like him,” Timothy said.

  “I know you don’t, love.” Anna sighed and shot Timothy a smile, hoping for one in return. He stared at her, his expression remaining sombre.

  “He was nasty to me when you brought him home,” Timothy said.

  “He wasn’t nasty exactly.” Anna scratched her jaw and grimaced.

  “He used the R word, and I don’t like the R word. It’s a word that is used to negatively describe someone with learning difficulties.”

  “He did not.” Bethany eyes were large, and her hand flew to her throat. “Mum. Seriously, that’s not cool. Get rid.”

  Anna held out her hands as if they were searching for an explanation. “He just…he simply didn’t have the right word in his vocabulary and…” She shrugged dejectedly. “I did pull him up on it.” She eyed Timothy. “He did apologise, didn’t he?”

  “Not very sincerely.” Timothy’s gaze remained downcast.

  He shouldn’t have to deal with that. Anna’s heart ached. Timothy should never feel that being ridiculed was normal. Her glass of wine held no answers as she stared down into its rich red. She sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Timothy. I’ll have another word.”

  “No need.” He shrugged. “He probably won’t get it.”

  Tears stung her eyes. She closed them against the intensifying ache in her chest.

  They all quietened in front of the television. The action noises filled the room: guns crashing, cars screeching, and characters shouting at one another.

  Timothy munched his popcorn.

  This evening could have been so much worse. What if he had set fire to the kitchen? I’ll have to go through some safety information with him at some point. Anna sipped her wine, barely tasting it. She knew logically that all was well, but she couldn’t help worrying.

  The light from the television flicked across the surface of her glass, turning into a fiery red as it hit her wine. Her stomach burned with the non-existent memory of her kitchen on fire. Pull yourself together.

  Her mobile rang for a second time that evening and she stared down at it as though yet another catastrophe was imminent. She saw a number she didn’t recognise.

  “Hello?”

  “Anna?” The voice was female.

  The burning sensation eased, as if Ollie’s voice were an icy presence that quenched it. “Ollie, hello.” She sat up straighter on the sofa. “How did you get my number?”

  Ollie laughed. “Oh sorry. I may have…um…saved it when you called me that…that first time.”

  The remote control was passed on to Timothy, and she carried her wine glass into the kitchen. She noticed Bethany’s raised eyebrow watching her leave.

  “Hope that’s okay?”

  “‘Course.” Anna said.

  “I was phoning because…because I was…honestly, I was worried. You left in such a hurry. Christian said it was something about Timothy?”

  “All sorted now.” Anna slid into a chair and placed her glass on the oak table. “He refereed an argument between a teacake and our toaster. Set fire to them both. No harm done.” She smiled. “Sweet of you to worry, though.”

  “Oh…well…”

  Anna gave her a moment, sipping at her wine and rolling it around in her mouth. It suddenly tasted scrummy.

  “Glad it’s all okay,” Ollie eventually said. Her voice seemed stronger. “Is Timothy all right?”

  “He’s fine. Think he was more concerned he’d set the kitchen on fire, to be honest.” Anna leant her elbow against the cool wood of the table. “Very small fire, mainly located inside the actual toaster.”

  “Good.”

  Anna leant her phone against her shoulder and fingered the stem of her wine glass. She scrambled for something more to say. “So, hope the rest of the group went well.”

  “Yeah, fine. Thanks. Amy is such a clumsy kid, though. Her yarn went flying across the room, nearly hit Matthew on the head.” Ollie snorted.

  Laughter bubbled up Anna’s throat. “Oh dear. Perhaps she could do with a sling for it, or something. Like a kangaroo’s pouch.”

  “Oh my God, that’s a great idea. You design it; I’ll get the patent sorted.”

  They laughed some more before quietening.

  “Crumbs, I’m sorry. I just realised I didn’t pay you for the lesson.”

  Ollie’s chuckle made the ache in her stomach completely dissipate.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let you off that easily. You can pay it next week.”

  “All right,” Anna said. “You do have a knack for convincing me to return, don’t you?”

  “I’m the best.”

  Anna stared down at the wood of the table, traced a finger around one of the knots. I wonder if Ollie’s settling down for the evening too. I wonder what she’s wearing. She stared at her wine and then pushed it away. It was obviously loosening her mind, making her think things she wouldn’t usually. First I stare at her backside, and now I’m wondering what she’s wearing.

  “Anyway,” Ollie said on a sigh. “I suppose it’s nearly bedtime for me. You working tomorrow?”

  “Nope, the wonders of October half-term. You?”

  “Well, I’m sort of by myself. No one to actually run the shop if I have a day off. And what with the swimming lessons I teach, I don’t have much time to sit around. So, Sunday is my only day of rest.”

  “You should get an assistant,” Anna said. “What does Matthew do? He told me when I first met him that he was your right-hand man.”

  “He probably meant when it came to picking up…” Ollie c
leared her throat. “Picking up potential dates.”

  “Ah right, a wingman, is he?” Anna sipped at her wine. “Although I’m sure the places he goes to find potential partners are a little different from the places you would go.”

  Ollie muttered something that sounded like agreement. “Anyway. I’ll let you go,” Anna said. She was surprised how deflated she felt about the prospect.

  “Been nice to talk to you.” Ollie’s words came out in a rush.

  They made Anna feel tingly all over. “You too. Um. Text me if you get bored. I might not answer straightaway but…it’s half-term. All I have to do is housework. And a bit of marking.”

  “A-ha. I remember it well.”

  “I can’t have my phone set to ring when I’m teaching, but if I’m at home, it’s usually close by.”

  “Well, I’m the boss. I operate under a very strict mobile-phones-allowed policy at my place of work.”

  “Ha! Okay, I’ll see you next Thursday, Ollie.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Bye, then.”

  “Goodbye, Anna.”

  The line went silent, and Anna and sat back in her chair. She smiled, rubbed her upper arms, and reached across the table to finger her wine glass. Ollie’s voice was warm, and it was natural and easy to listen to.

  When she turned around, she found Bethany leaning against the door frame leading into the hallway.

  “Everything okay?” Anna asked.

  Bethany had her eyebrows pushed downwards, but the corners of her lips were curled up. “Yes. Can I have another glass?”

  “Do you have uni tomorrow?”

  “I do not.” Bethany tossed her hair back.

  “In that case, my dear, feel free to finish the bottle.” Anna smacked her thighs with her palms, drained her glass, and stood. “I am off to bed.”

  Chapter 4

  Granny Squares

  “How does Lady Macbeth persuade her husband to do what he does?” Anna looked around her Year 10 class and smiled encouragingly at them.

  Callum raised his hand. “She calls him a coward.”

  “She does indeed. What else?”