Tess put the silver-grey top on inside out because Rachel wanted to see the seams, then refused to turn it back until she'd had the pleasure of making her look at it.
“It's an improvement.”
“It has a label on your stomach.”
“People pay more for that.”
Rachel sat on the low stool with the pin cushion around her wrist. The fabric caught the light differently when Tess moved. From the hanger it had looked pale; on her skin it became almost dark.
“Show me what you do.”
“Which bit?”
“The bit where it hurts.”
Tess lifted both arms, reaching as if the drums surrounded the changing room. The seam pulled hard under one arm.
“There.”
Rachel marked it.
“Again.”
Tess reached farther. Rachel watched the movement, altered the chalk line and asked her to sit.
“On that?”
“Please.”
Tess pulled the stool closer and sat. The hem rose.
“I'd shorten it a little,” Rachel said.
“No.”
“It will catch.”
“I tuck this bit.”
She demonstrated, pulling the front into her waistband while leaving the back loose.
“It won't sit flat.”
“I know.”
Rachel stood behind her, looking in the mirror. Tess's shoulders moved under the cloth.
“What do you want it to do?”
“Not hurt. Not look like a school thing somebody's made formal by accident.”
Rachel laughed.
“That specific?”
“I have experience.”
“The green dress was very good.”
“It was. Then you put the little bit across the front so nobody could be anxious about my chest.”
“You were twelve.”
“I had a chest.”
“You had opinions as well.”
“I've kept both.”
Rachel leaned against the edge of the changing room. Tess looked at her in the mirror, smiling, expecting the argument to remain pleasurable.
“All right,” Rachel said. “We'll soften the binding and give you a little more room there. The hem stays.”
Tess nodded. Rachel wanted to add that the hem would catch and held the thought back long enough to see the line she'd made was already enough.
Tess took the top off and put her T-shirt on. Rachel carried the garment to the table.
“How was yesterday?”
“Good.”
“Was Anna all right?”
“Yes.”
“Did she enjoy it?”
“I think so.”
Tess sat beside the worktable. Her legs swung slowly, the right heel knocking against the stool.
“You'd know,” Rachel said.
Tess looked at her.
“Not always.”
Rachel opened the seam.
“Did she have things to say?”
“She had a few.”
“About you going?”
Tess's heel stopped.
“How did you know?”
“I thought it might be difficult.”
“She was upset for a bit. Then she stayed.”
Rachel looked down at the open stitching.
“That's good.”
“Yes. It was.”
Tess reached for the chalk, tested its point against the scrap paper and made a little white mark. Rachel let her.
“Ruby tried to play everything too fast. Mum said there should be a limit on what we can ask her ears to do on the first day.”
Rachel smiled at the word mum. Tess hadn't used it with her for years, except in sentences which required someone to explain an absence.
“Did Ruby take it well?”
“She pretended not to, then asked if she liked the other song.”
Tess looked pleased remembering it. She rolled the chalk between her fingers while Rachel found a loose thread, pulled it gently and cut it.
The shop phone rang. Rachel answered, glad of the interruption until it was a woman asking for an alteration they couldn't do at the price she expected.
Tess kept working on the scrap paper while Rachel explained. The woman described a zip as if the difficulty ought to decrease with every additional sentence. Rachel offered a time to look at it. The woman said she would think.
After the call, Tess handed Rachel the chalk.
“Did you want to say something worse?”
“Several things.”
“You were lovely.”
“I have training.”
Tess smiled. The easy teasing restored the room.
They worked until midday. Rachel cut a strip of soft binding, pinned it beneath the armhole and asked Tess to try the top again. This time the reaching was easier.
“Still a bit there,” Tess said.
Rachel marked another small change.
“Now?”
Tess moved. Her face opened.
“Yes.”
They were both pleased. Rachel liked this moment more than selling things: a person recognizing comfort, a movement restored by something she'd done with her hands. She kept Tess in the top a little longer than she needed, checking the other seam, admiring the way the cloth moved when the shoulders relaxed.
Leonard appeared at the door carrying a brown envelope.
“Morning,” he said, then looked at the time. “Afternoon.”
Tess came out of the changing room.
“Is that for Ruby?”
“Yes. I found the other papers.”
He set the envelope on the counter. Tess opened it enough to check, then put it in her bag.
“Thank you.”
“Tell her to ring if she needs the details.”
“She will.”
“Not just agree to things she hasn't understood.”
Tess looked at him.
“Ruby's twenty-six.”
“I understand dates.”
Rachel smiled. The same defensive sentence had belonged to Anna last week.
Leonard saw the silver-grey top and frowned.
“Is that warm enough?”
“Onstage? More than warm enough.”
“What about afterwards?”
“I'll use the ancient practice of putting a coat on.”
He nodded reluctantly. Rachel could see the urge to insist, then the memory of having made the van promise. Leonard liked helping when the help let him imagine he had sent Tess into a world he understood.
“Do you want tea?” Rachel asked.
“I can't stay.”
He stayed anyway. Tess went to the back to change, and Rachel took a cup from the shelf.
“How was Anna?” he asked quietly.
“Tess said the rehearsal went well.”
“She hasn't said much to me.”
“About which part?”
“Any of it.”
Rachel poured water.
“She may still be working out what she thinks.”
“I know. I don't want to press.”
Yet he had come to her.
“She told Anna about the tour,” Rachel said.
Leonard's mouth tightened.
“How did that go?”
“A little upset. Then better.”
“I can imagine.”
Rachel held the cup out. He took it with both hands.
“You've been good to both of them,” he said.
She almost asked which two. Her throat had closed around the question.
“They're doing some of it themselves.”
“That would be nice.”
“It would.”
Tess returned, holding the top on a hanger. She gave it to Rachel and joined Leonard at the counter.
“Ruby needs to know whether you can leave the van with us the evening before.”
“Why?”
“So she can load without having to fit around everything Monday.”
“You can load here. Or at home.”
“At the rooms, Granddad. All the gear's there.”
“Some of it is at home.”
“My stuff. We'll move it.”
Rachel watched them negotiate a vehicle already promised. Leonard had all the objections of a man who expected each practical question to offer him another reason to keep Tess nearby.
He said Sunday evening would be possible. Tess thanked him and wrote to Ruby at once.
“She has her driving and insurance things sorted,” Tess said. “She won't touch it until she knows where she stands.”
“I like that.”
“She'll be delighted.”
“She knows I said she could drive.”
“Yes.”
Leonard drank the tea. Tess waited until he finished, then took his cup and washed it without being asked. Rachel could hear the domestic competence Leonard raised, the movement Tess would carry to another kitchen.
After he left, Tess put the cup on the rack.
“I might ask Mum to something before we go.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Not sure yet.”
She looked at the cup.
“I'd like it to be good.”
Rachel wanted to protect her from the wish and from the person who would answer it.
Tess lifted her bag.
“I need to get this to Ruby.”
“Your top will be ready.”
“Thank you.”
Rachel touched the soft binding where it waited beneath the pins. Tess bent to examine it, trusting the hands which made the change.
“I couldn't have done that,” she said.
Rachel smiled. She took out the pins one by one after Tess left, careful not to lose the shape they'd agreed.