Glimmering silver. I think it's Valentino. My vision's gone blurry and I can't concentrate.
Out of the corner of my eye I can just about make out Jenny jumping up and down and hyperventilating.
‘It is, it is, it IS!’
Everyone turns to look at me. Gradually, it starts to sink in. I'm looking at Sigrid's perfectly toned back above a frayed and layered waterfall skirt. Then she turns and the light catches the shimmering satin of the bustier. She's worn it with diamanté sandals and a rope of diamonds. As you do.
She chose the Swan. Over vintage, Versace and Valentino. Oh. My. God.
‘Hey, look. Over THERE,’ says Female Presenter. ‘Sigrid! Sigrid! Come over here, gorgeous. You're looking WONDERFUL.’
Sigrid comes over for a quick interview and about a billion people see the dress. Edie's fingers are still biting into me.
‘Who are you WEARING? I've never seen anything like it. It's INCREDIBLE.’
Sigrid may not be my favourite movie star, but she's a perfect clothes horse and she knows what to do on the red carpet. She twists and poses and shows the dress from every angle.
‘This is by a young designer in London called Crow. It's from her first collection.’
She flashes a smile that I feel is aimed straight at me. A sort of triumphant apology. ‘A week tops’, my foot. No wonder she's been avoiding me. She's had that dress a fortnight by now and it feels like a year.
‘My! I'm LIKING the LOOK,’ Female Presenter pronounces. ‘Who did you say? Crow? FABULOUS, darling. You're the belle of the ball.’
Sigrid turns to waft up the red carpet. Jenny whacks me on the back.
I haven't breathed yet and apparently I've gone slightly blue.
It's September. We're standing in the costume section of the V&A. I'm beside Crow, who's wearing painted silk dungarees and a tee-shirt that was a present from Stella McCartney. I'm in a vintage Balenciaga cocktail dress that Granny has finally let me borrow. It looked much too old on me until I customised it with some felt flowers and teamed it with my tartan tights and Converses. Now I think it will just about do.
We're staring at a new case that's just been set up near the steps leading down towards the café. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Vivienne Westwood, whom Mum's just introduced me to. She said (Mum, not Vivienne) that I was the person who made all of this happen and she's totally, totally proud of me. I'm so glad I'm not wearing mascara yet. It would be all down the Balenciaga.
Vivienne said something, but my brain was going ‘La la la la Dame Vivienne Westwood is talking to you la la la,’ so I'll have to ask Mum later what it was. I think it might have been how much she enjoyed Crow's show, although I'm pretty sure she wasn't there. Too busy with her own. Maybe she's seen a video. It's a total hit on YouTube. I think I'm responsible for half the views, though.
Crow's looking critically at the case and I can tell she's doing some mental redesign, but it's too late now. Inside is the Swan, fitted onto a mannequin that bears more than a passing resemblance to Sigrid Santorini. The V&A asked for it after all the hoopla over Crow's show and the Oscars. We paid for shipping and Sigrid sent it back to us, along with a glossy photo of herself wearing it on the night, which is in the case too. At least she had the decency to get it cleaned. The curator has stood the mannequin on a red carpet and put fake movie lights all round the case so there's more than a hint of Oscar about the thing.
After the Sigrid red-carpet appearance, our phones didn't stop ringing for weeks. We had to hire people to answer them in the end, so we could find the time to go to school. Although Crow has moved away from the Three Bitches. James Lamogi has bowed to the inevitable and agreed to let his daughter stay in London, but not at that school. Edie's mum has found another one that's really good for children with dyslexia. And they're pretty good at giving her time off to design dresses for TOP HOLLYWOOD ACTRESSES to wear on GLOBAL TV. Her place at St Martins is pretty much booked for when she's old enough to go, if she can be bothered by then.
Crow's also designing her first high street collection for Miss Teen. Which keeps me busy too. I'm the one who picks up the phone, answers the emails, translates Crow's shoulders and makes sure everyone understands what she wants. I'm also learning the art of running a label. I've got extra-good at maths recently. Understanding Crow's finances is a lot harder than GCSE. What it basically comes down to, though, is that we owe Andy Elat a LOT of money.
The good side is that I get so much free fashion stuff now I can't even fit it all in my room. I keep some of it. A girl has to look good in this business. But the rest I give away to the charities that Edie supports to help Invisible Children return to normal life. They've already finished the new school. No need to call it after Henry. Instead, they called it after a friend of his, who died in the first raid.
Edie's been to see it. James and Grace looked after her when she visited Uganda. They're back at home, helping their community as they've always done. It took James a while to get used to this blonde teenager from Kensington trying to help out too. But she found Henry for him, so he can forgive a lot of Edie-ness. I'm absolutely certain she didn't do it for the CV points, but I bet the Harvard professors are going to be a lot more impressed with this than a video of Edie by a pool. She looks rubbish in a bikini anyway.
She's over in another corner, talking earnestly to Granny and the Director of the V&A and no doubt getting them to sign her petition. She's up to twenty thousand signatures now. She still looks as if she's dressed for tea at an embassy and there's nothing we can do to help her, but she doesn't seem to mind. She still hasn't decided about her fringe.
Jenny isn't here. She really meant it when she said she was going to keep her head down after the awards ceremonies. She's sick of parties, frocks and photographs and just wants to get on quietly with her GCSEs. She's doing French homework tonight, I think.
Harry's not here either. It's New York Fashion Week and he's gone over there to do the music for a couple of the big designers. After Crow's show so many of the models raved about him that he's got a bit of a waiting list and Mum has given up on him ever finishing his degree. At least it means he gets to see more of Svetlana, which both of them seem pretty happy about.
Henry, on the other hand, is standing quietly in a corner, reading a book of poems and waiting for Crow to finish so he can escort her home. Where Crow goes, Henry goes. That was clear from the start.
It turns out Henry was that boy they'd heard about in one of the camps, who wrote poems. He didn't talk, which was why no-one knew who he was. Nobody knew if he could talk. But when they asked him if he was Henry Lamogi and told him how much his family wanted him back, he simply said yes and he's been talking ever since.
Bad stuff happens, but every now and again miracles can happen too. (Although, admittedly, Edie helped. So did Andy Elat, with an emergency visa.) Life can be that kind.
Henry's hand occasionally moves to touch a long, jagged scar that runs from his cheek to the back of his head. It's the only visible sign of his experiences. Other than that, you'd assume he had always been the gentle student he is now. He's moved into a new flat with Florence and Crow while he catches up with his exams and it's hard to say who's looking after whom.
He can see Crow's tired and he's itching to take her away, but he won't say anything until she's ready. He's just a quiet, steady presence in her life, making sure she's OK.
I feel a movement behind us and realise that Mum has joined us. She puts a hand on my shoulder.
‘What did Vivienne say?’ I ask her.
‘That the show was brilliant. But she also said it's a tough business. Hard work. Lots of disappointments. She's right. Are you sure you want it?’
Crow shrugs her shrug. She knows that if she wasn't a designer she'd go stark, staring bonkers. Thank goodness her dad understands.
I just laugh.
Me and Vivienne Westwood. Talking about the fashion business. La la la.
What you can do
If you want to show your compassion for children like Henry, Crow and Victoria, there are people out there helping and there is something you can do. The charities that I support are www.oxfam.org.uk and www.savethechildren.org.uk, but there are others doing a great job too. So ask your family and teachers, go online, find out more and do your bit to make a difference. Check out the Invisible Children campaign on www.invisiblechildren.com. Together, we can make good things happen.
Take fashion action like Edie. Why not join Save the Children's campaign?
Get all your friends to take action. You could win the chance to see how your action can save children's lives.
Save the Children is the world's independent children's charity. We're outraged that millions of children are still denied proper healthcare, food, education and protection. Save the Children are working flat out to secure the rights of children everywhere and we're determined to make further, faster changes. How many? How fast? It's up to you.
Visit www.savethechildren.org.uk/threads
Acknowledgements
Sitting down to write Threads in my local library, I had to imagine myself into lots of different worlds. I'd like to thank all the fashion bloggers, children's writing bloggers, the Invisible Children campaign and bloggers about life in the Ugandan displacement camps who helped me get where I needed to be. And whoever invented wifi.
Claire B. Shaeffer wrote a book called Couture Sewing Techniques. It was my couture bible and went with me everywhere (even though it's quite heavy).
Lola Gostelow is one of those people who works out how to make life better for children caught up in disasters round the world. I'm lucky to know her, and grateful for her advice, but anxious to stress that what I've written is partly fiction. Other people can describe the realities of life as a child soldier, displaced person or refugee better than me.
Katie Rhodes, Claire Potter and Anna Linwood read the first finished draft for me, when it was just a bunch of A4 papers in a blue folder. Their encouragement, and well-placed criticism, was exactly what I needed. If they ever feel like jobs as book critics, it's a career option.
The publication of this book was a fairy story in itself. And so I have to thank my own fairy godmothers: Barry Cunningham, Imogen Cooper, Rachel Hickman and the rest of the team at Chicken House. Their vision and passion has been my happy ever after.
I couldn't have created Threads without the help of all these wonderful people. Any mistakes and omissions are my own.
From The Chicken House
I still love dressing up. Funny old clothes, smart new ones and that old hat from a junk shop in Ireland that I adore. But in Sophia Bennett's prize-winning book, fashion is not only about feeling good – it's art, it's freedom, it means doing something that changes lives in all kinds of ways. Threads is brilliant, funny, heartwarming and creative. Like my old hat.
Barry Cunningham
Publisher
Published by Scholastic Australia
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SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First published in Great Britain by The Chicken House in 2009.
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Limited in 2013.
E-PUB/MOBI eISBN 978 192506 357 8
Original text © Sophia Bennett 2009.
Sophia Bennett has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, unless specifically permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 as amended.
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