Chapter 31
For Peaches, it had been a long summer of waiting, accompanied by the slow realisation that no fashion scout was going to reach out to her, no internship land in her lap, and no dazzling future open up for her without some kind of readjustment.
Willie had gone back to uni to restart his showcase year, now that he’d finally fought off the glandular fever, and Peaches had been starting to feel like the world was moving on without her.
The last straw had been her mum, who’d absolutely tried her best to hold fast to her boundaries, even welcoming Euan round for Sunday lunches every week, and movie nights on Wednesdays with Clyde Forte in tow.
She’d stood firm about her no-smoking rules, but they’d all gathered on the white sofas in the white lounge and been introduced to all manner of old movies with expert commentary from Euan’s grandad, and it had been lovely, actually.
But now, Carenza was gone. Off on a solo travellers’ coach trip round Italy.
Three weeks of wine tasting, sea swimming and pasta eating.
The postcards had been arriving for days.
She was making girlfriends, she’d said, and she was getting a bit of a tan, and she was happy, and she wasn’t thinking about work at all.
She’d stood down in her committee roles, taking lower positions and allowing other townsfolk to try their hand at being the big boss, and this new pace of life, it turned out, rather suited her.
Peaches could tell from the slope of her pen on the postcards that her grip was loosening; she was learning how to flow through life once more, rather than clasping at it.
Yet this had left Peaches in more of a quandary than she’d anticipated.
Yes, it was nice not to have a watchful, fretful mother making her anxiety, guilt, and shame spike on a daily basis, and it was divine to have Euan sleep over in the big empty townhouse most nights, and they’d definitely proven themselves a solid, gentle sort of couple, but there was something a bit directionless about it all now. Not something she was used to.
Round about the time she was realising her dreams for fashion world domination were stalling, and that maybe that wasn’t what she wanted at all, she’d seen the advert appear on social media and it had stood out to her like a Walpurgisnacht fire beacon against a dark sky.
Want to work with us?
Love sustainable slow fashion?
Join the Glasgow Clothing Collective
Repairing and reselling fashion
Saving quality clothes from landfill
In our affordable clothes workshop and outlet store
Living wage, full time hrs, click link to apply.
The profile picture showed a bunch of people of all ages, all dressed in interesting stuff. They were working at sewing machines and sitting on beanbags, some crocheting, some stitching, all looking like they were having a blast.
She’d applied, interviewed, sent them over samples from her showcase collection, and she’d got in, and today was the day they were leaving.
Euan slammed shut the Transit van doors. Four months apprenticed to Carenza’s usual electrician had helped swell his bank account and he’d found just the right van; granted, it was pre-owned and had plenty of miles on the clock, but it was his and it did the job perfectly.
The repair shop had helped with the painting on its sides where now in thick black type (that you really wouldn’t know was hand-painted unless you looked up close), read the words FORTE ELECTRICAL REPAIRS with his mobile number and website.
The van meant he could set himself up anywhere and since Glasgow was his hometown in ways Cairn Dhu hadn’t quite managed to become, and now that Peaches was heading there for her new beginning, he was going too. There’d been no doubt about that.
‘You’ll call me, if there’s any trouble, of any kind?’ Clyde said at the van window.
Euan squeezed his hand in answer.
‘And you’ll tell your mum I’ll be visiting in a fortnight, aye?’
‘She knows. She’s got my old room ready for you.’
‘And if you’re needing anything for your new flat, just shout…’
‘We’ll be all right,’ Peaches said from the passenger seat.
‘We’ve all this stuff.’ She looked back at the boxes and cases of things, some their own, some leaving gifts from the locals: her sewing machines, all of Euan’s electrical tools, lots of them having belonged to his grandad, as well as tubs of tablet and sweeties and scones from the Gifford women, enough to keep half of Glasgow going, she’d told them, but still they were gratefully received.
The flat they’d paid the holding deposit on would need warming and they’d already invited all her new Clothing Collective colleagues and Euan’s mum and little sister for a party tomorrow.
What better way to get to know each other than breaking out the chocolate rum balls together?
‘See you soon,’ Euan told him. ‘And thank you.’
‘Ach!’ Clyde swept this away, like these last few months opening up his home to Euan had been the least he could do. In fact, it had been the happiest time of his life since Rosie died.
‘See you in Glasgow!’ Euan said, fighting off tears and letting down the handbrake.
They waved from the windows as they pulled out onto the main road through Cairn Dhu, finding to their surprise there were others out to see them off too.
The school kids, just coming out to play, spotted them through the fence, and Shell and Jolyon and Mrs McIntyre waved in big rainbow arcs, and all the repair experts were clustered at the edge of the town by the mill house, McIntyre, Rhona and Senga chief amongst them and flapping besoms in the air by way of a travel blessing.
They shouted their goodbyes from the windows and Peaches slipped a cassette into the old deck Clyde had helped them install and hit play on the ‘long road mix tape’ she’d carefully compiled in readiness for the drive.
‘Thank you for visiting Cairn Dhu’ the road sign said, and the music and the warm summer breeze filled the van.
Reaching for Peaches’ hand and checking she was definitely still smiling – she was – Euan Forte pressed his foot to the accelerator. They fixed their eyes on the road ahead and the little town grew smaller in the rearview mirror.