Page 1 of A London Little's Pom Pom

Chapter One

Craft fairs were Rosie’s happy place.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite as true as she’d like it to be.In theorythey were her happy place: lots of new crafting styles and hobbies to check out; new equipment to buy; what was not to love?

Only there were also people.

A lot of people.

She fished her earplugs out of her handbag, and hurriedly stuffed them in her ears, trying not to drop the myriad of different wools, threads and yarn that she balanced under one arm.

“You okay there?”

A tall woman with messy cropped hair and large round glasses smiled at her as Rosie looked around, startled.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, are you okay there? Would you like a hand?”

Rosie stared at her for a moment. Most people didn’t offer to help her out. She looked too well put together, too smartly dressed to need help; and most of the time, that’s how she liked it. But today… Today she really could do with a hand.

“Yes please,” she said, ready to explain what it was she needed, but she didn’t get the chance to, because as soon as she’d said yes, the other woman took all that Rosie was carrying,without dropping even so much as a skein of embroidery thread, and then led Rosie to where she could sit down.

Then she found a bag, and put all of Rosie’s purchases in it, placed it by Rosie’s feet and then sat in a chair herself.

“Hi, I’m Eloise. Do you want me to ignore you for a bit, or would talking help?” Eloise looked at Rosie. Rosie looked back. This was…different.

“Maybe not ignore me completely, but no talking just this minute?”

A nod, and then Eloise picked up some crochet hooks, and continued on with her crochet project.

That was it.

No prying. No continuous questioning. No demanding to know what was going on. It meant that Rosie had the space to actually try and get a handle on her overwhelm.

When Rosie got hit with the overwhelm in public, earplugs were her first port of call; then closing her eyes and shutting the world out; then, if she could get away with it without anyone seeing, stimming.

She had a variety of different stims, some more socially acceptable than others. She usually left the vocal stims at home, if she could—people had a tendency to get a bit weird if you started making cooing noises next to them on the train—but she had little physical ones that she could do when she was out, that didn’t attract any attention. Wiggling her toes in her shoes, that was a happy stim. And having an acupuncture ring on her finger that she could play with, that also helped. But when it was really bad, she ducked her head, avoided eye contact, and rocked back and forth ever so slightly.

Rosie wanted to rock back and forth now, only the booth that Eloise had brought her to sit in was pretty open and she didn’t want people to look at her.

There was a tap on her shoulder and when she looked up, worried brown eyes met hers. “There’s a beanbag on the floor behind the till. If you move there, people won’t be able to see you.”

How did she…?Rosie nodded, and allowed Eloise to hustle her round and onto what was a very brightly coloured and very comfortable beanbag. She wriggled around until she found the comfiest spot and then she looked up at Eloise and smiled. “Thank you,” she said in her littlest Little voice. It wasn’t intentional, she hadn’t meant to but somehow, when she was overwhelmed, it kind of slipped out.

Eloise blinked rapidly. “You’re welcome.” Then, before she went back to her crochet, Eloise reached into her bag and pulled out the cutest orange crocheted stuffie Rosie had ever seen. “Maybe you can look after Pom Pom for me?”

Eyes wide, Rosie nodded eagerly, gathered Pom Pom up in her arms, and then rocked back and forth on the beanbag.

Eloise went back to her crochet, and pretty much left Rosie alone after that. Although, at one point, when pausing to take a gulp of water from a water bottle, Eloise flickered her eyes over to where Rosie was sat, and then produced a spare, filled it, and handed it to Rosie. Without a word.

But she didn’t look away until Rosie had had some to drink.

It was cool, refreshing, and a really good reset.

And then, with Pom Pom under one arm, Rosie curled up on the beanbag and fell asleep.

“Eloise!” The unfamiliar voice woke Rosie, and she blinked blearily around. “There’s a strange woman asleep behind the till.”

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