The idea came to her that next morning as she mended one of her husband’s shirts in the sewing room. A book of patterns had arrived in the mail the previous week and one of the patterns for a blouse had caught her eye because it was a good copy of a blouse worn by Greta Garbo. As she stared at the blouse she recalled the outburst in Harriet’s hotel room when she was getting changed for their daily visit to the souk.
“I really need to buy some new clothes. I packed for a month and I have been here nine months.”
“I could make you some,” Helga found herself saying without thinking.
“Please be my guest,” Harriet sighed.
The result hung from a hanger on the other side of the bedroom and it filled her with a mixture of excitement and fear. She’d told Harriet that she had indeed made somethin
