Chapter 5Get cracking, Gran did. She measured and calculated, assessed and imagined. It seemed none of her expertise had been forgotten in the years when she’d thought she was past making pretty dresses and nobody needed her talents anymore.
She chatted while stitching. “It’s more about belief than anything else. Who wants to dream of polyester and too many buttons? No. Enough of that muck in the world. Let’s have moonlight and dancing and crafty kissing round the back of the chip shop. Eh? What about a dress with opportunities? Eh? Slits and zips, flaps and cheeky pleats.”
“Mm,” Cindi said, with an eye on the plunging neckline. “Don’t forget it’s still winter. I don’t want my chest on show. Not sure Tara’s ready.”
Gran ignored her, and the neckline disappeared in a haze of green sequin
