The Master Tailor – Part 2: Selvedge

The fitting went on for hours, and it was the most thorough attention he had ever received. She pinned a length of dark cloth along his sleeve and unpinned it, and pinned it again. She made him stand in the mirror with his arms out until they ached, then lower them, then lift them again. She walked behind him and tapped a single pin against the back of his collar, and he straightened without being told. Each time he drifted, a quiet word brought him back. Chin. Shoulders. Breathe.

She told him, in a low, even voice, precisely what was wrong with him. His carriage. His haste. His habit of apologising before anyone had accused him. It was never an insult. It was inventory. And after each item she paused, looked at him in the glass and said, "That can be corrected."

"Do you wish to continue, Mr Callum?" she asked, at every half hour.

"Yes, Madam."

"Say it clearly."

"I do. Thank you."

"Do not thank the Master. Stand still."

He stood still. The old shop ticked and sighed. Steam hissed in the pressing room. Somewhere in the last hour the voice in his head that never stopped, the long list of the day's decisions, went quiet and did not come back. He stood in the lamplight, held by her instructions, as safe as a coat on a hanger.

At one she took the last pin from the cloth.

"Selvedge," said Henrietta, softly.

It was her word, and she said it for them both. She stripped off the gloves, hung the apron on its peg and sat down on the little stool at the foot of the block, and he stepped down and sat on the floor beside her, and she put her arm round him.

"How are you?"

"Altered," said Callum, with a rueful laugh that shook a little. "Rather well-fitted, actually."

"You were exemplary." She kissed his forehead. "I have been wanting to say it all evening."

"Will there be another fitting?"

"Of course." She stood, put the kettle on the little gas ring and took two mismatched cups from the shelf. "The pattern is complicated. It will take at least six sessions. Perhaps a lifetime."

"I will clear my diary," said Callum.

"You will clear your mind," said Henrietta. "That is what the tea is for."

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