Katy Read online

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, sipping. ‘I just feel so hopeless. It’s so awful, being stuck here.’ Then I blushed, because I realized I was being tactless. ‘I didn’t mean stuck with you. You’re being ever so kind. It’s just …’

  ‘I know,’ said Izzie. ‘Why don’t you take a little break from all that schoolwork? Do something else.’

  ‘I can’t think of anything else,’ I wailed. ‘I feel so stupid and useless. Maybe I should have stuck it out at the pottery classes. Then at least I’d be making my Christmas presents like Clover and Elsie. Though you’d have to be pretty weird to be grateful for one of my wobbly pots. But what else can I make?’

  ‘Well, I know it was a bit of a disaster the last time I suggested you do some sewing with me …’ Izzie said cautiously. ‘But I’ve got lots of little offcuts from my bags. How about making purses for the girls?’

  I didn’t really fancy the idea at all, but I agreed to give it a go because Izzie was trying so hard to be kind to me. She spread out all the odd pieces of suede and leather and gave me a special needle and thread. She showed me how to make a simple fold-over purse. It was actually a bit too simple.

  ‘Could I perhaps design my own?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said Izzie, though she looked a little sceptical.

  It was a piece of green suede that had set me thinking. I sketched out a design on a piece of paper first, not wanting to cut into the suede and muck it up. Izzie watched me drawing four loops and looked interested. I pinned the paper to the suede and cut round it carefully twice.

  ‘Oh, I get it!’ said Izzie. ‘It’s a four-leaf clover!’

  ‘Do you think Clover might like it?’

  ‘I think she’ll love it!’ said Izzie. ‘What a great idea.’

  It was hard work stitching round the loops and I had to do it very carefully to make the stitches even. I wanted a little zip inserted in one of the loops, and that was way beyond me, so Izzie stitched it for me on her machine.

  ‘There!’ she said, giving it to me. ‘One present solved.’

  ‘I’ll start on Elsie’s purse next,’ I said. I thought hard. What on earth would Elsie like? I sifted through the offcuts. There was a piece of white leather and a little scrap of pink suede. I had a sudden idea. I started another drawing and then started cutting out a white shape.

  ‘OK, I’m guessing again,’ said Izzie.

  ‘It’s going to be a daisy with a pink centre,’ I said.

  ‘I love the way you’re cutting the petals out so carefully,’ said Izzie.

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t go too wonky. I want it to be special for Elsie.’

  ‘Katy, she’ll love it,’ said Izzie. ‘She’ll especially love it because you’ve sewn it for her.’

  I didn’t have time to finish Elsie’s purse that morning. I worked on my purse project every Saturday morning after that. Jonnie was next. I used more of the white leather and stuck some narrow black strips on it.

  ‘Zebra stripes!’ said Izzie, laughing. ‘A perfect choice for Jonnie.’

  I knew Dorry would like a purse too. It was easy to make a design for him. I used yellow leather and the white, and then a piece of red suede, and fashioned a cake with a lot of cream and a cherry on the top. Philly wouldn’t want to be left out, so I made him a yellow duck purse with an orange beak.

  I had to make Cecy a purse as well. I used pale blue suede, fashioning her a high-heeled shoe with a crystal button sewn on the front.

  I needed to send Helen a present too. As soon as I picked up a scrap of silver leather I knew what I was going to make: a seahorse purse. I copied the design from my necklace and stitched the little face very carefully, giving him a green glass eye.

  I wanted to make a proper wallet for Dad. Izzie had to help me a lot, especially with the complicated folds inside. I stitched Dad’s initials on the front piece of leather. They went a little bit wobbly, but I hoped Dad would think it was just an artistic style of writing.

  That left Izzie. I didn’t want her to see what I was making. I collected up various scraps of lilac and grey suede and purple leather and made her own purse in secret in my room. It was a miniature handbag, copying her most popular style, the bag she used herself: a deep purple leather with lilac and grey suede roses appliquéd on the front. Of course I couldn’t make it look totally professional, and I didn’t attempt the little pockets or the grey silk lining, and I had to fasten it with four little buttons cut off an old baby dress of Jonnie’s because I couldn’t manage to sew in a zip, but I was still pleased with the way it turned out. I hoped Izzie would be too.

  She was certainly very complimentary about my other purses.

  ‘They’re brilliant, Katy! I know you’ve always rather despised my handbags but if you ever wanted to do something similar in the future I’m sure you’d be a great success,’ she said.

  ‘A suitably genteel occupation for a poor little crippled girl,’ I said. I meant it as a silly joke, but Izzie winced.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Katy,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean that at all. And you know you can do just about anything if you set your mind to it. Look at Helen.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ I said – but I couldn’t do anything I wanted. I couldn’t be a sporting champion, playing football or running or racing cars.

  There was something else I couldn’t do. Dance. Well, I’d never really been much cop at dancing, but I’d been able to jig about to pop music. There was a Springfield Christmas disco for all the Year Sevens and Eights. Mr Myers was arranging it in the gym and it was already a big talking point.

  ‘Don’t get too excited, folks. It’s not a prom, so keep your fancy dresses in your wardrobes, girls. It’s going to be very low-key. A good old-fashioned school disco like you had at primary school, with fruit punch and crisps and chipolata sausages, and I’ll be the DJ playing the sort of Dad music to make you groan. OK? But it’ll be fun, I promise you.’

  Cecy certainly thought it would be fun. She was so thrilled that the Year Eights were going to be there too.

  ‘Do you think Richie will ask me to dance?’ she asked for the hundredth time.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, shrugging. ‘Why don’t you ask him to dance?’

  ‘I’d never dare! What if he said no?’ said Cecy. ‘I’d feel such a loser.’

  ‘Well, I think you should sort it out with him before the disco to make sure you’ve got someone to be with,’ I said.

  Cecy stared at me. ‘Well, I’ll be with you, won’t I?’

  ‘I’m not coming,’ I said.

  ‘But you’ve got to. Everyone’s coming. Even the truly geeky boys who can’t dance for toffee.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I can’t dance for toffee either, can I?’

  ‘I talked about it with my mum and my nan, and Nan said when she was young she used to do this hand jiving. She showed me how to do it. Look.’ Cecy waggled her hands in the air as if she were wearing invisible puppets. ‘Shall I teach you, Katy?’

  ‘Cecy, I dare say you and your nan mean well, but I’d sooner gnaw my own fingers off than do a hand jive,’ I said. ‘I’m not coming to the disco, full stop.’

  ‘But it won’t be any fun if you’re not there,’ said Cecy. ‘Please come. Oh Katy, please. You liked the leavers’ disco, didn’t you?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said – although that dance with Ryan had meant a lot. Fat chance of that happening again.

  I wouldn’t go, even for Cecy. Very weirdly, it was Maddie who made me change my mind.

  I was stuck with her and Sarah and horrible Eva one English lesson, when we were supposed to be making up a play together set in the First World War. They were all three hopeless, without an original idea in their heads, though Eva acted like she was Shakespeare.

  ‘I’ll be one of those valiant Red Cross nurses, saving all the wounded soldiers,’ she said. ‘And the really dramatic scene will be me holding the hand of a dying soldier and comforting him.’

  ‘While he sp