Free Needles and Pearls by Gil McNeil

the shop.’
    ‘Yes please love – it looks like it’ll be chucking it down again any minute. I think I might nip in the baker’s and get myself a bun to celebrate. I’ve been wanting to tell that Annabel where to get off for ages.’
    We cross the road and walk towards the car.
    ‘Well, we’d better keep an eye on those PTA letters, or we’ll be down for holding the sick bucket on every coach trip from now until the end of time.’
    ‘Don’t you worry, I’ve got her number. We do her hair inthe salon, so if she pushes it I can always do her a poodle perm, and she won’t need her velvet hairband for quite a while after that. Stuck-up cow. Anyway, that’s enough about her. What are you wearing tonight?’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘For your dinner with Martin. A little bird told me.’
    I look at Connie, who shakes her head.
    ‘Which little bird was that then, Tina?’
    ‘Quite a big one actually, Betty. She was in the salon yesterday, and between you and me I don’t think Elsie’s that keen.’
    ‘Oh, right.’
    I did notice Elsie seemed extra stroppy yesterday: it’s quite hard to bang balls of wool down on to shelves, but she was definitely giving it her best shot.
    ‘It’s not really a dinner dinner. It’s just to say thank you for making the shelves in the shop.’
    Tina raises her eyebrows.
    ‘Right.’
    ‘I’ve known him for years, Tina, ever since we were kids. It’s just a friendly supper.’
    ‘Shame. He could put my shelves up any day.’
    Connie laughs.
    ‘And me. Mark is hopeless.’
    ‘So’s my Graham. He’s put up two rolls of wallpaper upside down in our lounge, honestly he has. All the birds look like they’re diving towards the floor. Every time I look at them it upsets me. Silly sod.’
    Connie’s planning to paper her spare bedroom in honour of her mum and dad coming over at Easter from Italy, so she’s keen on getting wallpaper tips from Tina, and the subject of my supper with Martin is thankfully dropped.
    *
    When I get to the shop Elsie is even more narky than yesterday. She’s dusting, and she only ever dusts when she wants to make a point.
    ‘Morning, Elsie, I’m just putting the kettle on. Do you want a cup of tea?’
    ‘No thanks, I want to get this done and then there’s more stock to get out.’
    ‘Oh good, it’s arrived. We were running low on the tweed and the chunky mix at the weekend.’
    ‘Yes, well, I wish you’d tell me when you put new orders in.’
    ‘It was in the book, Elsie.’
    ‘Well that’s as may be, but I used to do all the ordering for your gran, you know.’
    Yes, and that’s why the shop was stuffed full of horrible pastel four-ply.
    ‘I know how busy you are, Elsie, and anyway I like doing it – it helps me keep track of things. I’ll give you a hand in a minute. Are you sure you don’t want anything? I got some more biscuits yesterday, Hobnobs and digestives.’
    She hesitates.
    ‘Oh go on then, I need something to give me a bit of a boost, I’ve been at it since six. I did all my nets before I came out. It feels like I’ve done a full day already.’
    I know just how she feels.
    After a busy day in the shop, with Elsie niggling away and a dribble of customers including Mrs Dent, who brings in her tangled knitting for us to sort out, again, and a group of women from Tonbridge who look at a huge range of colours before they all buy mohair for shawls and chunky tweeds for jumpers, I’m back at home, standing in front of my wardrobe and hoping for inspiration when Ellen rings.
    ‘How are you doing, darling? Found your killer outfit yet?’
    ‘Not really. My black jeans are pretty lethal though: if I do the zip up I can’t breathe.’
    ‘Totally not breathe, or just have to sit up very straight to breathe?’
    ‘Passing out, face-down-in-your-soup not breathe.’
    ‘Go for the velvet skirt then, but wear a tight top.’
    ‘That won’t be a problem, trust me.’
    ‘You’re meeting him at the pub, and Connie’s fully briefed,