"Tiffany's Talent"

Copyright Francis Blow, 1991.

CHAPTER 4
The room was filled with a light that left Tiffany spellbound with what she saw. A young dressmaker's dream lay before her. Sewing machines, bolts of cloth, two adjustable models, one adult sized, one child sized; there were boxes of buttons and other accessories, and shelves of patterns, magazines and books.
"What do you think, Tiffy?" Mrs. Coober asked, with pride in her voice.
"It's... magic! Oh, how wonderful!" Tiffany was delighted, and stepped inside.
A thin layer of dust lay over everything.
"When I got stuck in this infernal wheel chair, I stopped coming in here," Mrs. Coober explained, by way of apologising for the dust. "If you like, I'd be very happy to teach you all I know about dressmaking."
 
Tiffany laughed with joy. It was all so fantastic!
"You know, I think I've got something that... Open that bag, Tiffy."
"This one?" Tiffany pointed to a cotton sack; it bulged softly.
"Yes. Can you find a white dress? That's it! Hold it up in front of you. It's a Confirmation dress someone cancelled, and I never finished it. With a little work, it will be beautiful on you. Hmm. Go and have a shower, first, and we'll do a fitting."
 
Tiffany ran for the bathroom, scrubbed herself almost red-raw. Wrapped in a towel, she went to her room to find her other knickers, before returning to the sewing room.
"Don't you have something lighter coloured, Tiffy?"
"I'm sorry, Daisy, I've only got two pairs." Tears began to well in Tiffany's eyes.
"Oh, child, I'm the one who should be sorry. Come here."
Tiffany hid her face in her hands; her shoulders shook, as she sobbed quietly.
Mrs. Coober wheeled herself to Tiffany, and took the girl in her arms. "Shh. Shh. There's no need to cry, little one. You've had hard times in your young life, haven't you? That's over now. Let old Daisy dry your tears, and see how this dress fits you."
 
It took a few more minutes before Tiffany was composed enough to slip the lacy creation over her head, and turned around for the old dressmaker.
"It won't need much adjustment. A little letting out here, and here. Yes, I think this will do nicely, Tiffy," Mrs. Coober helped Tiffany out of the dress, taking care that none of the pins stuck the girl. "You brought those extra bedsheets to practice your sewing on, did you, Tiffy?"
"Yes, Daisy."
"The very first thing you're going to make is new lingerie. It won't be easy, so it's good you've got so much linen to practice on," Mrs. Coober gave Tiffany her notebook. "Here, open to a clean page, and put your name at the top, with a subheading of 'Lingerie at Age Twelve'."
 
Reaching for a tape-measure Daisy called out the measurements. "Waist, sixty. Bust, seventy. Hips, seventy two. Now, let's see how tall you are. Go stand against that wall. See that sliding bar? Pull it down, so it touches your head. Up straight, now. What does it say?"
Tiffany stepped aside and looked at the numbers. "A hundred and thirty five."
When Tiffany finished writing, Mrs. Coober told her to find a certain pattern from the shelves. Tiffany gave it to her.
"Just the thing. I'll start you off with these. What do you think? Not too hard?"
"They look wonderful!" Tiffany gazed at the pictures of pretty underthings.
"Very good. Go get dressed, and bring the thinnest sheet back here, while I work out the patterns."
 
Tiffany kneeled on the flat, vinyl floor, where she copied the patterns under Mrs. Coober's critical gaze. Once the pattern was transferred to the linen, Tiffany cut the material, and pinned it together.
"Put that aside, for now, Tiffy, and bring your scraps over to this machine. You'll need a lot of practice, before you try machine sewing on that garment."
"Can't I do it by hand?" Tiffany wondered.
"Of course you can. You can do that any time, but if you want to get the same quality of work, in less time, then you need to know how to use a sewing machine."
The lesson continued until evening, when Mrs. Coober told Tiffany it was time to prepare dinner. There were vegetables to peal and dice, meat to cut small, and then it all had to be cooked in the right order, before being combined into a tasty stew.
Once more, Mrs. Coober showed Tiffany how to set the table. They said Grace, and Tiffany thought she was in Heaven, the meal tasted so good. Best of all, she cooked it herself!
"What do you normally do after dinner, Tiffy?" Mrs. Coober asked, while Tiffany cleared the table.
"Not much. Sometimes there might be a good programme on TV, but those soaps are a load of rubbish. Can I try to sew those knickers, now?"
"Off you go, child. Call me when you're ready to do the elastic."
"I will," Tiffany grinned. "I'll do the washing up later, okay?"
"Don't worry about the washing up. That's one job I can still do myself. When's your bedtime?"
"Oh, about ten o'clock."
"I want you in bed by eight thirty. A child your age needs lots of sleep. You mind what I say, now."
"I will, Daisy." Tiffany ran to the sewing room, where she worked on her first garment, tried it for fit, changed it, tried again, and continued, until it felt comfortable. Satisfied, she called Mrs. Coober.
"I'm ready to put the elastic in, Daisy."
"Are you, now? Have you looked at the time? Why don't you call it a night, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed?"
"Eight o'clock, already? Wow. It didn't seem so long."
Tiffany cleaned her teeth, and returned to where Mrs. Coober was in front of the TV. Shyly, she kissed the old lady.
"Thanks so much, for everything. Good night, Daisy."
"Sweet dreams, Tiffy. What time will I wake you in the morning?"
"I'll get up early and do a load of washing. I always get myself up." Tiffany went to her room, turned down the sheets, hung her clothes up, and slid into bed.
She surveyed her little room, the curtains and simple furnishings, which, all together, made her feel cosy and safe.
There was something missing. Where was Missy?
Tiffany sprang out of bed, searched her bag, and cuddled the rag doll. She was in bed, with Missy pressed to her cheek, and starting to drift off to sleep, when Mrs. Coober wheeled herself into the room.
"I thought you'd be asleep by now," Mrs. Coober said, from beside the bed. She tucked the covers around Tiffany, brushed the blond hair away from Tiffany's eyes, and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Tiffy. Finding you has renewed my faith in miracles."
 
Tiffany woke in a strange bed, in a strange room, with sun beams streaming past her face.
She remembered. A home, at last! And the wonderful Mrs. Coober to teach her how to make beautiful clothes.
Clothes. She had laundry to do.
Tiffany got up and dressed for school. She tip-toed, barefoot, across the narrow hall, and worked out how to use the washing machine.
She had just turned the machine on, when Mrs. Coober appeared at the laundry door, dressed and smiling.
"Morning, Tiffy. I see you're an early riser, too."
"Hello, Daisy. I have to get up early, if I'm to get my chores done before school."
"In that case, we'll have plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast. If you're ready, how about putting on eggs and sliced ham to fry? I think you need a little fattening up."
"I'm not skinny! Am I?" Tiffany felt unsure of herself.
"No, child. You're not skinny. I should have said, you're a developing young lady. A girl your age has to have certain things in her diet, if she's to grow the way God intended."
Tiffany left her new home in plenty of time to walk to school. In her schoolbag was an orange and banana for morning recess, and a lunch box, full of salad, as well as a small carton of fruit juice.
 
It started as the happiest school day of her life. Until she was called to Mr. Harding's office, to meet a woman from the Child Welfare Department.

 
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