Whatever Next? Chapter 17 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

“What sort of thing were you looking for?” Maddy asked Jules as they entered the shop.

“Something like this,” she replied, holding up a pink backpack, “she’ll need one for school, won’t she?”

“Dunno, Drew will have one she could use.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same is it, an’ she will need one, won’t she?”

“I s’pose, yeah why not?”

“Well I’d rather buy her something that she’d use than just something pretty and useless.”

“Yeah, that would be pretty useless, wouldn’t it?” agreed Maddy.

“What, this bag would be?”

“No, buying something for the sake of it.”

“But I’m not, am I?” said Jules feeling very confused.

Maddy put her hand over her face and shook her head, “Just buy it and let’s go get a sandwich somewhere.”

“Alright, alright, keep yer ‘air on.” So saying, she took the bag to the counter and paid for it.

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At Harry’s house, he was trying to explain to his mother why his face was bruised, his bike was wet and scratched, and his shirt had two small tears in it.

“Ever since you’ve known that girl, you seem to be in trouble. I’ve a good mind to stop you seeing her.”

“But, Mum, it wasn’t her fault, I overshot and ended up going through the hedge.”

“I suppose she stopped safely herself, while goading you into suicidal actions.”

“It wasn’t like that, Mum. She beat me fair and square, I was trying to like beat her at the last minute, an me brakes like, couldn’t stop me.”

“If she beat you, how could you then beat her?”

“We were coming down the hill, and she overtook me, like a rocket, then she eased off at the bottom, an’ I like, thought I could sneak past at the end. But I couldn’t, well, I couldn’t stop.”

“You foolish boy. Why is it so important to beat her?”

“Because she tells me I should keep trying.”

“To make you look stupid?”

“No, to make me a better racer. If you want to win, you have to really want it.”

“That sounds like double Dutch to me. Come on, get yourself changed for lunch and hurry.”

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At the cottage, Drew was putting his bike away. “Ah, there you are, Gaby.”

“Hi, Gran.” He locked his bike to a bar holding up a shelving unit.

“It’s just the three of us for lunch, Carol’s doing jacket potatoes for a change.”

“I love jacket spuds, ‘specially cheesy ones,” beamed our ‘heroine’.

“I think Carol already knows that, she’s had me grating cheese half the morning,” complained Josie, “Look at my fingers—all sore.” She waved her hands about, but Drew didn’t really want to see them, except to count the fingers—they all seemed to be present. Just imagine half-way through a cheesy jacket an’ you find part of a finger! Gross!

“Mum buys it already grated, they do it in the supermarket.”

“I know that, Gaby, please don’t get all smart-arsed with me, I have spent ages grating cheese for your lunch, so don’t push it.”

“I’m not Gran, thanks for making me some cheese to put on my spud.”

“Oh, alright, luvvie, come on, wash yer ‘ands and come to the table.”

“Be there in a tick.” He dashed inside to the cloakroom and after hanging up his helmet, washed his face and hands, leaving oily marks on the small towel. Somehow, this would have to migrate unseen to the washing machine, and he hoped the stains would wash out. If not, he was for the high jump—oil was as good as fingerprints in this house, he was the only one likely to be near it.

As he walked into the kitchen, he casually said, “The towel in the cloakroom needs changing.”

“I only changed it this morning,” Carol challenged.

Drew threw it in the machine. “Is there a clean one?”

“On top of the laundry basket, it doesn’t need ironing, so take that one.” He did and took it to the cloakroom before coming back to sit at the table.

“Maybe Gaby could do some ironing for you this afternoon,” Josie suggested to Carol.

Drew swallowed hard, ironing? He had done a little in his young life, but it was only his football kit, and a little of his Gaby stuff when Maddy wasn’t available to do it.

“It’s something all girls should know about, after all,” continued Josie. Drew eyed the pile on the worktop, it was nearly as big as him.

“I don’t know if I can,” he squeaked. Josie looked hard at him, “I mean, I don’t know how to iron everything.”

“I think we can help you there,” smirked Carol, “all it takes is a bit of practice, and I think we can provide that. Isn’t that right, Aunt Josie?”

“Absolutely,” she replied grinning.

Drew swallowed hard and wondered how this always seemed to happen to him? His forthcoming ordeal didn’t suppress his appetite and he soon scoffed all his potato complete with cheese and a big dollop of Branston pickle. Then he drank his cuppa and waited for the two women to instruct him on the ironing. At least he got out of doing the dishes, Carol did them while Josie told him where to set up the ironing board and fill the iron with water from the filter jug.

The water in Dorset is hard, which means it has quite a bit of calcium carbonate dissolved in it. This means it furs up water pipes and appliances like kettles and irons. There are various ways of avoiding it, one of these is to use a filter jug, which takes out much of the dissolved salts, which is what Drew did. He then plugged in the iron and waited for it to heat up.

After he was shown about the temperature guides on clothing labels, and given a few tips, he got started on some cottons—it’s difficult to scorch those! They do, however, tend to get dry, so Drew enjoyed squirting water from the iron on them as well as listening to the hissing of the steam.

Two pairs of jeans later, he was wishing he’d stayed out on his bike. Then he did his denim skirt, which was quite easy. Under Josie’s tutelage, he learned how to adjust the temperature and avoid marking a garment by testing a little on the hem, and then how to press a shirt, ironing in from the points of the collar, and so on. He had no idea there was so much involved, but after he hung it up, it looked so much better than all creased and wrinkled.

An hour later, he’d made quite a dent in the pile and was getting much more confident, he’d also had to fill the iron twice. Josie had shown him how to spray starch on things too, so they kept a crispness. He was tempted to starch some of Jules panties until they were rigid, which would serve her right after what she said about him, but he relented. However, it was something he could keep in reserve if ever she annoyed him again—he’d starch all of them, until they were more rigid than a carbon fibre frame!

It was all going too smoothly, and Josie was more interested in chatting with Carol than supervising her charge, Drew, a little over-confident, picked up a skirt and drawing it over the pointed end of the ironing board plonked the iron on it and promptly melted the lining on the skirt, which stuck to the iron.

“Erm, Gran—help!”

That it was one of her skirts didn’t help her annoyance. First, they had to clean up the iron, and getting melted nylon off the foot of it. It is not a fun job. Then, she made Drew cut out the affected piece of lining and sew in a new piece—by hand.

He felt frazzled when he’d finished and his fingers were all pricked by the pins and needle; however, he’d learned quite a lot about hand stitching. He’d barely finished when Harry arrived with his cycling shirt.

“My mum said that we’d better repair this because she isn’t going to buy me a new one.” He showed Drew and Josie the tears in it, one on the seam which was fairly straightforward, and the other a flap rip which would be more difficult.

“How on earth did you do that?” asked Josie.

“He tried to ride through a hedge,” smirked Drew.

“Just as well he’s got a girlfriend who can sew, isn’t it?” Josie smiled at Drew, who pointed at himself and she beamed and nodded.

Oh poo! Drew thought to himself, that idiot did it why can’t he sew it? However, he said nothing, sighed, and sat down. Josie busied herself matching the colours to her box of cottons, Harry sat down and watched in awe of his super-capable girlfriend.

Josie watched as Drew blanket stitched the broken seam pieces and then sewed it together. “Good girl, now it won’t run and will be as strong as before,” Josie congratulated her younger ‘granddaughter’.

Next, she showed Drew how to almost darn the flap cut back onto the fabric. This was much harder and he was still at it when the girls came back. Jules saw what he was doing and sighed with admiration. Maddy was suitably impressed but said very little.

“Your gran’s so clever to teach you things like that,” commented Harry.

“Be careful or she’ll be teaching you too!” said Drew quietly, at which everyone chuckled.

“Quite right too,” said Carol. “Boys, as well as girls, should be taught to sew.”

“Absolutely!” agreed Maddy smirking at Drew. He said nothing, but quietly fumed, another for the starched knickers, next time he ironed! “Oh thanks, Auntie Josie, for doing my ironing.”

“That was Gaby, dear, not me.”

Maddy looked at it more critically, but it was fine. “Thanks, Gabs.” Drew nodded, then handed the shirt to Josie to check.

“That is really good for a novice, you know, Gaby, you have the makings of a good dressmaker. Next time we go into town, we’ll get a pattern and some material and you can make yourself a dress or skirt.”

Drew groaned quietly.

Harry examined his repaired shirt, “Oh wow, Gabs, that’s like totally fantabulistic! I can barely see the mark. Wow, my mum’s gonna, like be so impressed.”

“Yeah, well if she sends up any more mending, I’m gonna send her the bill!” Drew scowled back, which made everyone laugh loudly.

Harry left to get his tea, and Jules took the opportunity to give Drew the pink backpack. “This is a prezzie to make up for my being horrid to you.”

“You didn’t need to buy something, an apology would have done,” retorted the wunderkind.

“Well, I’m like sorry, an’ I hope you like it.”

Drew took the parcel and opened the paper wrapping it. He pulled out the small rucksack. He already had one so didn’t quite understand why she’d bought another.

“I thought you could use it for school, to carry your books and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, thanks.” He hugged his sister and kissed her on the cheek.

“You do like it?” she asked nervously.

“Yeah, it’s great, just what I needed.” He was telling fibs, but at least she’d thought about the offence she’d created and this was likely to have cost her enough to hurt. Drew wasn’t so sure about the dancing teddy bears pattern all over the bag, but as Gaby, it would do.

“Auntie Carol, I’ve found a job,” beamed Jules.

“A job? But you’re still in school!”

“A Saturday one, in Dorchester.”

“Where?”

“In a clothes shop.”

“I think we’d better check with your dad a bit later before I agree. How are you going to get there?”

“The buses will be okay, I checked the timetable.”

“You’ll still have to do all your homework.”

“Yeah, I like know that.”

“I don’t know, Jules, you’ve got a lot going on.”

“It’ll keep me out of mischief and get me some pocket money.”

“An’ we’ll be able to get discounts too,” said Maddy looking at Drew, “well, if we ask Jules to get it for us.”

“I think I have enough clothes,” Drew offered meaning every word of it.

“Well, you must be about the only female in history to think so,” said Carol.

Everyone laughed, Jules however, felt a little guilty about it. “They have shoes too, Gabs.”

As if realising he’d dropped his guard and almost exposed his real self, Drew thought he’d better minimise his losses as best he could. “Shoes, that’s like different, can’t have too many of them.”

“I think you mean, those, Gaby,” corrected Carol.

Drew looked at his aunt’s feet, “Nah, I prefer me own.”

Later that afternoon, Jules, Maddy and Drew were sitting in the garden talking. “Is that bag like, really alright?” asked Jules.

“It’s a bit girly, and I do have one already,” Drew felt he could tell the truth now without hurting his sister’s feelings.

“Yeah, but so are you, little sister,” retorted Jules.

Maddy giggled and nearly fell off her deck chair, “She’s got you there, Gabs.”

“Okay, I surrender. I mean I do like it, but I wouldn’t have like chosen it myself.”

“So how can you like it then, I’ve still got the receipt if you like, wanna change it.”

“Nah, I’ll use it on Tuesday,” Drew decided he was outgunned and settled for an unconditional surrender.

“There’s a new pencil case inside,” offered Maddy.

“I didn’t see that,” he went and got the bag and opened it, taking out the paper they use to help keep its shape, he found a matching pencil case inside. “Erm, thanks.”

“It came with the bag,” said Jules.

“Your old one has your old name all over it, might give the game away,” Maddy informed him.

“Oops! I hadn’t thought of that, thanks, Mad, and thanks, Jules, I do appreciate it.”

“We can do a sort-out later, transfer your pens over and so on,” suggested Maddy, “better get your gym kit ready too.”

“You gotta be jokin’! I can’t strip off in front of a pile of girls, they’d lynch me!”

“They have cubicles and the showers are in cubicles too. You’ll have to wear your thingy holder though.”

“What?” said Jules.

“Her thingy for holding her wotsit out of the way.”

“Speak English, why don’t you?” said Jules none the wiser.

Maddy gestured to her groin, “Her thingy, out of the way, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah yes, now I get you, her jockstrap thingy?”

“Exactly, that’s what I was saying.”

“It’s called a gaff,” said Drew blushing, "and it is unbelievably uncomfortable, makes a racing saddle seem like bliss.”

“I should think wearing it while riding a bike is pretty uncomfortable,” said Jules, wincing.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“No wonder you speak with a high-pitched voice,” laughed Jules. “You’ve probably squashed ‘em.” Maddy actually did fall off her chair at this. Drew blushed like a furnace, and wondered if she was right.