The Haak Society

“Does it need to be so dark in here?”

“We need to be serious.”

“And having dim lighting means being serious?” questioned Julie Lions. She adjusted her peach cardigan pulling the open halves taut over her large bosom. Just as she was about to address Marjory Crump, President of the Haak Society, the doorbell sounded. Dull thuds crossed above them ebbing towards the right-hand corner of the basement room.

Jack Crump pulled open the front room door. A glint of desire sparked in his eyes as he greeted the woman standing on the stoop.

“Well, hello there,” he almost leered. With a head of more salt than pepper hair, Jack believed he was still a catch. He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let the expected guest in. “Grab your coat for you?”

Poppy Reese quickly glanced at Jack and back down to the golden hardwood floors, embarrassed to see his attraction. She had hoped he wouldn’t be home. The last time they held a meeting at the Crump household, he had more than once during the evening caressed some part of her body – hand, hip, shoulder. It made her shudder each time. And after his pudgy finger suggestively stroked a platter of canapes, well, she could never look at a skewered cube of pineapple and cheese in the same way.

“Everyone here?” Poppy asked as she relinquished her paisley coat to Jack. She looked around the hall, peering into the open doorway that led to the living room. Poppy glanced back at him, waiting for an answer.

“Marj wanted you gals to meet in the basement. We just finished it. This way.” He walked off towards the staircase to a door left slightly ajar beneath it. Jack stopped and opened the thick wooden door with a flourish. His smiled, almost beckoned sinisterly, for Poppy to walk down the carpeted stairs.

Marjory adjusted her top, one that she had made using a fan stitch in a deep coral and in a style that added more oomph to her sadly sagging bust. She delicately sniffed, “here she comes,” she whispered to Julie and patted, pushed and prodded the bottom of her brown, greying curls.

Julie looked with indifference at the stairs, watched as a pair of cream-colored pumps made their way down. The middle-aged woman turned back to her WIP that she had bought to the evening - although she didn’t use the acronym as the other society members did. Were they all so busy that they couldn’t say ‘work in progress’ rather than ‘WIP’? Julie also wondered why they were having this impromptu meeting without the other members. True she was Society Secretary, but surely any concerns with another member should be discussed openly?

Glancing at Marjory, self-appointed Chairperson of the Haak Society (after the previous chair Kay, upped and left), she wondered at the woman’s need for showing authority every five minutes. Julie stopped her work putting it away in a flowery tote and smiled at Poppy. She also gave a quick once over to the woman standing in front of them who wore a hand-crocheted skirt and top. Julie pondered over the color and wool type thinking it was an Amethyst colored, medium weight, worsted wool. The stitching was most unusual. About to ask what the name of the stitch was, the question was stemmed as Marj cleared her throat.

“Good of you to join us Poppy…on such short notice.” Marjorie squared her shoulders and sat back on the beige colored banqueting chair, her ample bottom squashing the cushion even more. As Chairperson, it was her job to keep everyone on the even keel. Many may laugh at the idea of crocheting, but it was a hobby that, if carried out correctly, could be rewarding spiritually and financially. Whilst she watched Poppy sit on another banqueting chair directly opposite, Marj leant sideways and dipped her hand into her Gucci tote bag and pulled out a little black book. Pursing her lips, Marj held the object with an air of reverence.

Julie refrained from rolling her eyes. What was with all this drama? She knew that (oddly familiar) book of Marj’s was the woman’s secret weapon for dominating the society. Once, whilst out having afternoon tea, curiosity got the better of Julie and when Marjorie rushed off to adjust her Tena pad, she had peaked Marj’s bag to look at the black book. Julie had spent years refraining from frowning to stop any lines forming. But as she flicked through the pages, years of discipline flew out of the window as she wondered at what went through her friend’s mind. The pages were filled with stitches, reference to stiches, a page entitled and dedicated to ‘trending’ stitches (whatever that meant, mused Julie at the time) and new patterns that popped up. However, as Julie was about to put the book away, the last few pages caught her attention. But she couldn’t investigate further as Marj, post adjustment, was striding back to their table.

Also, Marj didn’t like Poppy very much because her boobs weren’t going to gravitate towards her bellybutton any time soon.

“How are you both then?” smiled Poppy looking from Marj to Julie and back again. Her voice, light and slightly nervous.

“Fine, thank you,” sniffed Marj. And before Julie could respond, the Chairperson continued to talk. “We’ve called this meeting to discuss a very serious issue with you.”

“Oh,” said Poppy, bewilderment crossing her pretty features.

“It seems that the pattern you submitted to the Haak Society Newsletter included a knit stitch.”

“Is that not allowed?

Julie wondered the same thing herself. But then she had never read the guidelines of submission as she had no desire to write articles.

“No,” replied Marj with derision and a look of shock.

“It’s a fairly new technique. I haven’t…”

“A new technique?” interrupted Marj. She wiggled her shoulders and twitched her nose. She didn’t like the idea that she didn’t know about something that involved crochet.

Julie bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Marjorie Crump not being in the know. This was going to be an interesting meeting after all.

“Yes. I was looking for a reminder on how to do the suzette stitch,” Poppy pointed to her skirt to highlight what she had looked for. “And I saw a reference to 'knooking'.”

Silence radiated around the room.

Julie, to stop herself from laughing out loud, nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, eyes flitted from Poppy to Marjorie. It was obvious that Marj had never come across the term ‘nookie’. How will she react to a crochet term that sounded slightly carnal? Marjorie was not sexual in the slightest. It was no wonder Jack had roving hands.

“Knooking is not an acceptable form of crochet for the Haak Society and especially not for the sacred pages of the Haak Society Newsletter.

Julie turned her laugh into a cough and reached for her lemonade after Marj glared at her uncalled-for interruption. The newsletter was hardly sacred. One member used it for the lining of her guinea-pig’s pen. (Well-hidden by straw should Marj deign to look in the direction of the animal).

Marjorie opened her black book towards the back and took out a slimline blue pen. “You are no longer a welcome part of the society. You have violated far too many rules.”

“What?” spluttered Poppy. “What violations?”

“You haven’t created any new patterns for three months; you haven’t reviewed any new wool. And now this…this knooking?”

“Well, I’m sure Poppy can rectify all of these things Marj. And as for this knooking…” started Julie but became quiet as Marjorie glared at her.

“I’ve been lenient Poppy. You’re no longer welcome.” Marj sniffed as she dramatically made a line in her book shifting in her seat.

Poppy glared at her. “I know all about you Marjorie Crump. And I’m going to tell the Society.” She stood up and snatched the black book out of the woman’s hand. She flicked through the pages and smirked when she came across the page she sought.

Marj jumped up to try and grab her possession but as Poppy stood a foot above her, it became a farcical scene of Marj jumping and grasping whilst Poppy held the book above and at an arm’s length away. “Let’s see here,” started Poppy.

Marjorie stopped and stared venomously at the woman.

“A few months back you said you won 20,000 grand on the lottery. Just like that? I remember you being so shocked. Funny how it happened after you started using this book. Furtive looks in it every five minutes. Asking more questions from us ladies. So, I sneaked a look at your precious little black book and…” here, Poppy turned to look at Julie. “What do I find? She’s been taking people’s patterns and selling them. Yes, little Miss Chairperson makes a couple of things to help sell ‘em, but that’s about it, keeps the profits. She sold Felicity’s pattern – you know the one, The Cherry Blossom Doll – to a Japanese crochet group. They wanted sole rights to the pattern and paid her $20,000. What’s that, 15 grand in pounds?” Poppy glared at Marj.

Just as astounded, Julie gawped at the woman too. “Marj…” she breathed out. “You never?”

“Give me that book back!” snarled Marj.

“Where d’you get the book Marj? You’re not clever enough to make these notes.” sneered Poppy.

“None of your goddamn business,” Marj hissed and made another feeble attempt to take the precious item away from Poppy.

Julie stopped her impersonation of a guppy but still frowned. How did Marj get this black book? She jostled on her chair as she thought back over the last few months. A sharp intake of breath from the middle-aged woman had Poppy and Marj turning to look at her. “Marjorie Crump,” she gasped.

“What?”

Shock and realization appeared across Julie’s face. “Why did Kay suddenly resign as Chairperson? And why haven’t we seen hide not hair of her since?” She crossed her arms and stood up, “because you had something to do with it. I thought that book looked familiar. What have you done?”

Looking like she smelled something rotten, Marj lifted her nose in the air. “Nothing the old bat didn’t deserve. She showed me the book,” the older woman gave a scornful laugh. “She didn’t even know she was sitting on a gold mine! All those patterns that people, people devout to the craft of crochet,” she turned and spat the sentence at Poppy, “would pay to have. And they did.” She smiled smugly at Julie.

“What have you done?” repeated Julie.

“Just a bit of belladonna in her joint cream. How was I to know she’d react the way she did?” muttered Marj.

“I…is...she…d…dead?” Julie covered her mouth, her hands softening the sound of her gasp.

“Don’t be daft,” scoffed Marj. “Hardly. She’s down in Cornwall. The belladonna caused some breathing problems and constipation.”

“That’s never good,” grimaced Julie. “Give me the book Poppy.”

“Hang on that’s mine!” shrieked Marj.

“No, it bleedin’ ain’t! You’re a thief and thankfully Kay is still alive. All this for crochet? It’s supposed to be a calming and relaxing hobby Marjorie!” Julie took the little black book and stuffed it into her bag. “We will decide what to do about this at the next meeting. In the meantime, I suggest you give that money to Felicity. So, God help me if you don’t!” threatened Julie.

Marjorie looked shocked. The normally timid Julie Lions was making demands of the Chairperson of the Haak Society, how dare she.

As if she read her mind, Julie continued, “and if you think you’re still chairing the society, dream on. We’ll vote for someone new. I’m thinking Poppy will be perfect.”

Marjorie scowled at Poppy. “She’d be useless,” she sneered.

“No, she won’t. She’s won ribbons for her crochet. That’s more than you can say. So, that’s that,” sniffed Julie.