Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues

Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues Trisha Ashley Stocking everything a bride would want to walk down the aisle in, Tansy’s shop soon expands to carry shoe-themed wedding favours, bridesmaid gifts and even delicious chocolate shoes. It’s the dream destination for any shoe-lover!If only everything in her personal life could be as heavenly – but with a fianc? trying to make her fit into a size 8 wedding dress, not to mention the recent discovery of disturbing family revelations, Tansy takes refuge in the shop’s success.But one man isn’t thrilled by the stream of customers hot-footing it to Cinderella’s Slippers… Actor Ivo Hawksley, resident of the cottage next to the shop, is troubled by a dark secret in his past and has come to the village to nurse his broken heart.However, Ivo realises that he and Tansy have a link in their past and soon, they both find out how secrets shared can make a very strong bond indeed…Forget the Jimmy Choos, Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues is the only accessory you need… TRISHA ASHLEY Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues Copyright AVON An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2012 Copyright © Trisha Ashley 2012 Trisha Ashley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © May 2012 ISBN: 9780007478408 Version: 2016-03-12 Dedication This one is for my friend Nora Neibergall, distant only in miles. Contents Cover (#u5591823a-6d70-5527-9b56-f415ba1b1202) Title page (#u6225775d-b768-52d3-b7ff-fddb757f1272) Copyright (#uf5be6c1d-99c7-5fac-a3bc-7930d4fd668a) Dedication (#ue5db9534-c10e-56b3-8870-b36df174118e) Prologue: June 1945 (#u6d68a2f8-0ccc-5952-951b-5cee624aff77) Chapter 1: Christmas Present (#uf39fbbc8-a4d3-5b02-aa4a-184a9c4bbee1) Chapter 2: Frosted Knots (#ub4253e22-8184-55fd-b8a8-c4f9b079c29f) Chapter 3: Trashed (#ucf241ff4-203f-5a89-aff9-844d43bd59d3) Chapter 4: Philtred Out (#u7527437d-9d05-55a3-bbcf-d93c97aeb662) Chapter 5: Charlie’s Aunt (#u0bc69897-ef06-573a-b384-25762040f9fc) Chapter 6: True Lovers Not (#uc2b4316b-b6ad-5244-a731-11e5012be620) Chapter 7: Old Valentines (#ufb7f0164-baa5-5cb7-b017-02483d765b5a) Chapter 8: Amazing Grace (#u950f94bc-7fbf-599e-8488-5f5afc7ba657) Chapter 9: Barking Mad (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 10: Cat Flap (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 11: Cross Patch (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 12: Summoned by Bells (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 13: Fresh as Paint (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 14: Bell de Jour (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 15: Luscious (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 16: Blessed (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 17: Typecast (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 18: Dead as my Love (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 19: Overtures (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 20: Sister Act (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 21: Fat Rascals (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 22: April Fool (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 23: Well Knotted (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 24: Sweet Music (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 25: Good in Parts (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 26: The Birds and the Bees (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 27: Late Calls (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 28: Mixed Messages (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 29: Describing Circles (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 30: Bananas (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 31: Lovers All Untrue (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 32: Chicken Run (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 33: Mayday! (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 34: Porkers (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 35: Shared (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 36: Wishes (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 37: Wrecked (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 38: Uninvited Guests (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 39: June Bug (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 40: A Delightful Plot (#litres_trial_promo) Exclusive Recipes from Trisha Ashley (#litres_trial_promo) Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo) Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Prologue: June 1945 Nancy had to walk quite a way to the red call box near the village green, then stand in an unseasonably cold wind waiting for a large woman in a spotted headscarf tied turban-fashion round her head to stop talking and come out, before she could place the call to her sister. ‘At last! What kept you?’ Violet exclaimed. ‘Never mind that now,’ Nancy said tersely. ‘I’m in the phone box, so call me back. You’re the one with all the brass.’ She dropped the black phone back onto its rest, thinking that brass was something her sister had never been short of. But her latest scheme – well, that really took the biscuit … The phone rang almost immediately. ‘I was starting to wonder if you’d got my letter,’ Violet said. ‘Oh, I got it all right – and Mother and Father got theirs, too. But what on earth are you thinking of, Violet? This mad plan of yours will never work!’ ‘Viola,’ her sister corrected her automatically. ‘And of course it will – why shouldn’t it?’ ‘I can think of at least five reasons off the top of my head. And you might have asked me first.’ ‘We’re sisters, so why wouldn’t we help each other out of a sticky spot? And I’ve got it all planned. I’m going to rent somewhere quiet, where no one knows us, and in a couple of months you’ll be home again as if nothing had ever happened and can put it right out of your head.’ ‘But something will have happened. And if I suddenly vanish like that, then reappear, don’t you think there’ll be talk? You know how rumours get around in the village.’ ‘Oh, probably no one will notice,’ Violet said optimistically, ‘and if they do, they won’t know, that’s the main thing.’ ‘Vi, I can’t let you do this – and don’t you think your husband might have something to say about it, when he finds out? No, we’ll have to find another way.’ ‘Too late, because I’ve already written to Peter explaining everything, though goodness knows when he’ll get the letter,’ Violet said triumphantly. Despite the recent VE Day celebrations, many men were still fighting out in the Far East, Violet’s husband among them. ‘You’ve actually sent it? Without asking me first?’ ‘Of course, because it was obviously the only way out of the situation. So you see, we’ll have to go through with it now. Peter will be fine about it when he comes home. I can twist him round my little finger,’ Violet added. ‘There’s no fool like an old fool.’ ‘You shouldn’t speak like that about your husband. You chose to marry a much older man when you were barely in your twenties, Violet, no one forced you!’ Nancy could almost see her sister shrug her thin shoulders. ‘So, when are you coming?’ ‘Violet, we can’t possibly do this. You’re quite mad to even think it!’ ‘You mean you won’t come, Nancy? You’ll just tell Mother and Father the truth? Mother will probably have another stroke from the shock and shame.’ ‘You’ve got Mother upset already, telling her you’d been ill again and were going to convalesce somewhere quiet and wanted me to keep you company. She was all set to come down herself and look after you, but Father wouldn’t entertain the idea for a minute,’ Nancy said. Their mother had suffered a mild stroke the previous year and, though she had made a good recovery, she was still not fully fit. ‘Thank goodness for that! But I didn’t think he’d let her. I take it they’re OK about you coming, though?’ ‘Yes, in fact they’re so worried about you they want me to go at once. They think you’re a frail little flower since the pneumonia, though you only got that from gallivanting about in flimsy clothes in the evening with your fast friends, drinking too much.’ ‘Honestly, Nan, you sound more like twenty years older than me, than two! But the sooner you come down the better, because it’s lucky no one’s noticed anything yet. There’s nothing to keep you there now, is there? I mean, you’re not still seeing that American pilot?’ ‘No, he’s gone home and, anyway, we were just friends, really,’ Nancy said. Her fianc? had been killed in the early days of the war and there hadn’t been anyone serious since then. Not that Violet was likely to believe that. ‘Tell that to the marines!’ she said now, rudely. ‘But I have started seeing someone recently,’ Nancy confessed. ‘This is certainly not the time to get involved with another man!’ Violet said severely. ‘Who is he?’ ‘The new curate. He’s been round to tea at our house once or twice and we’ve been for walks. Mother and Father like him and … well, he’s a good, decent man. I know I’ll never love anyone like I did Jacob, but I don’t really want to spend the rest of my life alone, either.’ ‘A curate? Good grief!’ Violet exclaimed. ‘He was an army chaplain.’ ‘Honestly, what a moment to pick to go out with a curate! Let’s just hope he never gets wind of this, because I don’t suppose he’d be very forgiving.’ ‘Amen to that!’ Nancy said devoutly. ‘And I wouldn’t have encouraged him if only I’d known …’ ‘Well, you didn’t, and with a bit of luck you’ll be back home before long, and can pick up where you left off.’ ‘I don’t think I could – not without telling him the truth.’ ‘You can never tell anyone the truth. And it’s not like you can back out of the situation now, Nan, is it? It would finish Mother off if it all came out, and as for Father …’ ‘You don’t think that they’ll suspect anything eventually?’ ‘They might guess, but that’s not the same as knowing – and everything will be nicely sorted out by then, no scandals. But you must keep it secret …’ Violet paused then asked, ‘You haven’t already told Florrie, have you?’ She knew Florrie was Nancy’s best friend and there were few secrets between them. ‘No, no one knows but you and me.’ Nancy sighed. ‘It suddenly feels as if I’m trapped in a horrible nightmare, but I can’t see anything else I can do, so I’ll be down on Monday afternoon.’ ‘I don’t know about nightmare, but it’s all a damned nuisance,’ Violet said. ‘Tell me which train, and I’ll meet it.’ A woman walked up to the phone kiosk and stood shifting her feet restlessly outside. ‘Look, I’ll have to go – there’s someone waiting for the phone,’ Nancy said. Stepping out of the booth Nancy pulled her warm coat around her against the chilly evening breeze. It was made of good but well-worn pre-war tweed with a little fur collar, and was now getting tight over her waist and tummy – but then, Nancy was a typical Bright, like her father, small and dark, and the womenfolk did tend to put on weight in their late twenties. Her sister, Violet, in contrast, was tall and fair like their mother, and stayed slim no matter what she ate. Normally, the thought of the carrot cake her mother had made earlier would have hastened Nancy’s steps home, but now the heavy burden of lies, secrets and subterfuge she was shouldering made her feel distinctly queasy. Chapter 1: Christmas Present My name is Nancy Myfanwy Bright. My father liked the name Nancy and I was called Myfanwy after my mother. I’m ninety-two years of age and I’ve lived quietly in this cottage behind Bright’s Shoes in Sticklepond all my life, so I don’t really know why you want to record my memories for your archive, because it isn’t going to be very interesting, is it, dear? Do help yourself to a slice of bara brith – it’s a sort of fruit loaf made to my mother’s recipe. There’s another kind they call funeral cake in the part of Wales Mother’s family came from, because it was always served to the mourners after an interment. I’ve told Tansy – that’s my great-niece – that she should do that when I pop my clogs, too. I’ve taught her all Mother’s old recipes … Now, where were we? Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. As I drove out of London and headed north for Christmas my heart lifted with each passing mile. It always did, because West Lancashire – and, more specifically, the village of Sticklepond – was always going to feel like home to me. You can take the girl out of Lancashire, but you can’t take the Lancashire out of the girl … I would have moved back there like a flash, if it weren’t that my fianc?, Justin, was an orthopaedic consultant whose work was in London, not to mention his being so firmly tied to his widowed mother’s apron strings that he spent more time with Mummy in Tunbridge Wells than he did with me. And even when he wasn’t with Mummy Dearest, I still came second to his latest passion – golf. Justin’s mother was only one of the many things weighing on my mind – the sharp, pointy tip of the iceberg, you might say. She’d be staying at the flat in London while I was away and I knew from past experience that by the time I got back she would have thoroughly purged my unwanted presence from it by dumping all my possessions into the boxroom I used as a studio to write and illustrate my popular Slipper Monkey children’s books. I’d tried so hard to get on with her, but I was never going to be good enough for her beloved little boy. In fact, I once overheard her refer to me as ‘that bit of hippie trash you picked up on the plane back from India’, and though it’s true that Justin and I met after I was unexpectedly upgraded to the seat next to his in Business Class, I’m a couple of decades too young to have been any kind of hippie! I suppose many people did still go to India to ‘find themselves’, whatever they mean by that. In my case I’d gone to find my father. Now, he was an old hippie, if you like … Still, at least I’d tried with Justin’s mother, which is more than he did on his one and only visit to Aunt Nan in Sticklepond, when he’d made it abundantly clear that he thought anything north of Watford was a barbaric region to be avoided at all costs, full of howling wolves, black puddings and men in flat caps with whippets. He did condescendingly describe Aunt Nan’s ancient stone cottage. set in a stone-flagged courtyard just off the High Street, its front room given over to a tiny shoe shop, as ‘quaint’. But then, that was before Aunt Nan made him sleep downstairs on the sofa in the parlour. I told him she disapproved of cohabitation before marriage so strongly that he was lucky she hadn’t taken a room for him at the Green Man next door, but he failed to see the funny side. Still, you can see why we’d spent our Christmases apart during our long engagement, not to mention many weekends too, what with him in Tunbridge Wells with Mummy (and a convenient golf course) and me heading home at least once a month – and more often than that, as Aunt Nan got frailer … Aunt Nan was actually my great-aunt, aged ninety-two, and as she kept reminding me, wouldn’t be around for ever. She’d brought me up and I adored her, so obviously I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, but I also wanted her to see me married and with a family of my own, and so did she. And if I didn’t get a shift on, that last option would be closed to me for ever, another thing weighing on my mind. I knew it could be more difficult to get pregnant after thirty-five, so without telling Justin I’d booked myself into a clinic for a fertility MOT and the result had been a real wake-up call. The indication was that I had some eggs left, but probably not that many, so I needed to reach out and snatch the opportunity to have children before it vanished … if it hadn’t already. When Justin and I had first got engaged we were full of plans to marry and start a family, yet there we were, almost six years down the line, and he seemed to have lost interest in doing either. In fact, I could see that he was totally different from the man I fell in love with, though the change had happened so slowly I just hadn’t noticed. Perhaps it’s like that with all relationships and it takes a sudden shock to make you step back and take a good clear look at what’s been happening. I mainly blamed Mummy Dearest for poisoning Justin’s mind against me, dripping poisonous criticisms into his ear the whole time, though she hadn’t been so bad the first year – or maybe I’d been so in love I simply hadn’t registered it. Justin and I were such opposites, yet until the golf mania took hold, we used to love exploring the London parks together, and before he became such a skinflint, we used to go to a lot of musical theatre productions, too. When I first found out about Justin’s secret passion (we must have seen We Will Rock You five or six times!) I found it very endearing … As the radio cheered me on my way north with a succession of Christmas pop songs, I knew that when I got back to London we would need to do some serious talking. Aunt Nan’s mind seemed to have been running along the same lines as mine, because she decided it was time for us to have a little heart-to-heart chat the very day after I arrived. My best friend, Bella, was looking after the shop and Aunt Nan had spent the first part of the morning shut away in the parlour with Cheryl Noakes, the archivist who was recording her memoirs for the Middlemoss Living Archive scheme. This seemed to perk up my aunt no end, despite awaking bittersweet memories, like the loss of her fianc? during the war. I’d shown Cheryl out and returned to collect the tray of coffee cups and any stray crumbs from the iced fairy cakes that she might have overlooked, when Aunt Nan said suddenly, ‘What will you do with the shop when I’m gone, lovey?’ She was still sitting in her comfortable shabby armchair, a gaily coloured Afghan rug over her knees (she believed overheated houses were unhealthy, so the central heating, which I’d insisted she had put in, was always turned down really low), crocheting another doily for my already full-to-bursting bottom drawer. With a pang I realised how little room her once-plump frame took up in the chair now. When had she suddenly become so small and pale? And her curls, which had been as dark as her eyes, just like mine, were now purest silver … ‘Shouldn’t you leave it to Immy, Aunt Nan?’ ‘No,’ she said uncompromisingly. ‘Your mother hates the place and she’s got more money than sense already, the flibbertigibbet! Anyway, she seems to be sticking with this last husband and making her home in America now.’ ‘That’s true! Marrying a Californian plastic surgeon seems to have fulfilled all her wildest dreams.’ Aunt Nan snorted. ‘She’s probably more plastic by now than a Barbie doll!’ ‘Her face was starting to look a bit strange in that last picture she emailed me,’ I admitted. ‘All pulled up at the corners of her eyes, so they slanted like a cat’s. I hope she doesn’t overdo it. I didn’t realise you could have your knees lifted, did you? But she says you can and your knees show your age.’ ‘She shouldn’t be showing her knees to anyone at her age. But there, that’s Imogen all over, shallow as a puddle from being a child. Except that she’s the spitting image of her mother, you’d think there wasn’t a scrap of Bright blood in her …’ She paused, as if at some painful recollection, and then said firmly, ‘No, I’m passing on the shop and cottage to you, because you’re a true Bright and you come back every chance you get, like a homing pigeon.’ ‘I do love the place, but I come back because I love you, too,’ I said, a few tears welling, ‘and I can’t bear to think of you gone.’ ‘You great daft ha’porth,’ she said fondly. ‘You need to be practical about these things, because I’m ninety-two and I’ll be ready to go soon, like it or not!’ ‘But do we have to talk about it now?’ ‘Yes.’ She nodded her head in a very decided manner, her silver curls bobbing. ‘I’m not flaming immortal, you know! I’ll soon be shuffling off this mortal coil, as I told the vicar last time he called.’ ‘Oh, Raffy Sinclair’s gorgeous!’ I sighed, distracted by this mention of our new ex-rock star vicar. ‘He’s also very much married to Chloe Lyon that has the Chocolate Wishes shop, and they’ve got a baby now,’ Aunt Nan told me severely. ‘I know, and even if he wasn’t married, he’d still be way out of my league!’ ‘No one is out of your league, Tansy,’ she said. ‘The vicar’s a decent, kind man, for all his looks, and often pops in for a chat. And that Seth Greenwood from up at Winter’s End, he’s another who’s been good to me this last couple of years: I haven’t had to lift a hand in the garden other than to pick the herbs from my knot garden, and he or one of the gardeners from the hall keeps that trim and tidy, and looking a treat.’ ‘Seth’s another big, attractive man, like the vicar: you’re a magnet for them!’ I teased. ‘I was at school with his father, Rufus, and I’ve known Hebe Winter for ever – has a hand in everything that goes on in Sticklepond, she does, despite her niece inheriting the hall.’ ‘And marrying Seth. In fact, marrying the head gardener seems to be becoming a Winter tradition, doesn’t it?’ ‘He and Sophy have got a baby too. There’s so many little ’uns around now, I’m starting to think they’re putting something in the water.’ I felt a sudden, sharp, anguished pang, because when you’re desperate to have a baby, practically everyone else seems to have one, or be expecting one. But Nan had switched back to her original track. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll want to keep the shop open. Goodness knows, it’s been more of a hobby to me than a business the last few years, and I’d have had to close if Providence hadn’t sent Bella back to the village, looking for a job. The Lord moves in mysterious ways.’ ‘He certainly does,’ I agreed, though I wasn’t sure that losing both her partner and her home in one fell swoop, and then being forced to move into the cramped annexe of her parents’ house with her five-year-old daughter, Tia, was something Bella saw in the light of Providence. But it had been a huge relief to me when she started working in the shop, because she could keep an eye on Aunt Nan for me too. ‘There’s been a Bright’s Shoes here since the first Bright set up as a cobbler and clog-maker way back, so I feel a bit sad that it’ll end with me. But there it is,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘Perhaps you and Justin could use the cottage as a holiday home – assuming you ever get round to marrying, that is, because I wouldn’t like to think of any immoral goings-on under this roof!’ ‘Having the cottage as my very own bolthole in the north would be wonderful,’ I agreed, ‘but I really don’t want to see Bright’s Shoes close down! Do you remember when you used to take me with you to the shoe warehouses in Manchester in the school holidays? You’d be searching for special shoes for some customer, or taking bridesmaids’ satin slippers to be dyed to match their dresses …’ I could still recall the heady smell of leather in the warehouses and then the treat of tea in one of the big stores before we came back on the train. Not many shopkeepers nowadays would go all that way just to find the exact shoes one customer wanted, but then again, nowadays anyone but my aunt Nan would be tracking them down on the internet. That, together with vintage clothes fairs, was how I was amassing an ever-expanding collection of wedding shoes – or vintage shoes so pretty they oughtto be wedding shoes. I was collecting them just for fun, but I only wished I had somewhere to display them all. ‘When you were a little girl you wanted to run the shop when you grew up and find the right Cinderella shoes, as you called them, for every bride.’ ‘I remember that, and though I’m still not so interested in the wellies, school plimsolls and sensible-shoe side, I do love the way you’ve expanded the wedding shoe selection. I’ve wondered about the possibility of having a shop that specialises in bridal shoes.’ ‘Would there be enough custom? It’s only been a sideline,’ Aunt Nan said doubtfully. ‘You don’t get much passing trade here either, being tucked away down Salubrious Passage, as we are.’ ‘Oh, yes, because people will travel to a specialist shop once they know you’re there. I could advertise on the internet, and my shop would stock some genuine vintage bridal shoes as well as vintage-styled ones, so that would be a fairly unusual selling point,’ I enthused. ‘That would be different,’ Aunt Nan agreed. ‘But wouldn’t you have the bread-and-butter lines still, like purses and polish and shoelaces?’ ‘No, not unless I could find shoe-shaped purses! In fact, I could sell all kinds of shoe-shaped things – jewellery, stationery, wedding favours, whatever I could find,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘because I’d be mad not to tap into the tourist trade too, wouldn’t I? I mean, the village has become a hotspot between Easter and autumn, since the discovery of that Shakespeare manuscript up at Winter’s End. The gardens are a draw too, now Seth has finished restoring the knot gardens on the terraces, and then you get the arty lot who want to see Ottie Winter’s sculpture in the garden and maybe even a glimpse of the great artist herself!’ Aunt Nan nodded. ‘Yes, that’s very true. And when they’ve been to Winter’s End, they usually come into the village, what with the Witchcraft Museum and then the craft galleries and teashops and the pubs. The Green Man still does most of the catering for lunches and dinners, but Florrie’s installed a coffee machine in the snug at the Falling Star and puts out a sign, and she says they get quite a bit of passing trade. You’d be amazed what people are prepared to pay for a cup of coffee with a bit of froth on it.’ Florrie Snowball was Aunt Nan’s greatest friend and, although the same age, showed no signs of flagging. Aunt Nan said this was because she’d sold her soul to the devil, involved as she was in some kind of occult group run by the proprietor of the Witchcraft Museum, Gregory Lyon, but it doesn’t seem to have affected their friendship. ‘I’m sure I could make a go of it!’ I said, starting to feel excited. Until all these plans had suddenly come pouring out, I hadn’t realised just how much I’d been thinking about it. Aunt Nan brought me back to earth with a bump. ‘But, Tansy, if you marry Justin, then you’ll make your home in London, won’t you?’ ‘He could get a job up here,’ I suggested, though I sounded unconvincing even to myself. Justin could be transferred to a Lancashire hospital, but I was sure he wouldn’t want to. And even if he did want that, Mummy Dearest would have something to say about it! ‘I can’t see Justin doing that,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘Even if he won’t, Bella could manage the shop for me and I could divide my time between London and Sticklepond,’ I suggested, though suddenly I really, really wanted to do it myself! ‘Anyway, we needn’t think about that now, because you’re not going to leave me for years yet, and until then, Bella can run things just the way they’ve always been.’ ‘I keep telling you I’m on the way out, and you’re not listening, you daft lump,’ my aunt said crossly. ‘After that rheumatic fever I had at eleven they said I wouldn’t make old bones, but they were wrong about that! But now I’m wearing out. One day soon, my cogs will stop turning altogether and I’ll be ready to meet my Maker. I’d hoped to see you married and with a family by then, though.’ ‘Yes, me too, and it’s what Justin seemed to want when we got engaged … yet we haven’t even tied the knot yet!’ ‘That’s what comes of living with a man before the ring’s on your finger,’ Aunt Nan said severely. ‘They’ve no reason to wed you, then.’ ‘Things have changed, Aunt Nan – and I do have a ring on my finger.’ I twiddled my solitaire diamond. ‘Things haven’t changed for the better, and if he wants a family he should realise that time’s passing and you’re thirty-six – starting to cut it close.’ ‘I know, though time has slipped by so quickly that I’ve only just woken up to the fact.’ ‘I don’t know why you didn’t marry long since.’ ‘Neither do I, though Justin does seem to have a thing about my weight. I thought he was joking when he said he’d set the wedding date when I was a size eight, but no, he was entirely serious! Only my diets always seem to fail, and then I put a few more pounds on after each attempt.’ ‘He should leave well alone, then,’ she said tartly. ‘You’re a small, dark Bright, like me, and we plumpen as we get older. And, a woman’s meant to have a bit of padding, not be a rack of ribs.’ ‘It’s not just my weight, but everything about me that seems to irritate him now. I think his mother keeps stirring him up and making him so critical. For instance, he used to say the way I dressed was eccentric and cute, but now he seems to want me to look like all his friends’ wives and girlfriends.’ ‘There’s nowt wrong with the way you look,’ Aunt Nan said loyally, though even my close friends are prone to comment occasionally on the eccentricity of my style. ‘He can’t remodel you like an old coat to suit himself, he needs to love you for what you are.’ ‘If he does still love me! He says he does, but is that the real me, or some kind of Stepford Wife vision he wants me to turn into?’ I sighed. ‘No, I’ve been drifting with the tide for too long and after Christmas I’m going to find out one way or the other!’ ‘You do that,’ Aunt Nan agreed, ‘because there are lots of other fish in the sea if you want to throw him back.’ I wasn’t too sure about that. I’d only ever loved two men in my life (if you count my first brief encounter as one of them) so the stock of my particular kind of fish was obviously already dangerously depleted. ‘If I want to have children, I’ve left it a bit late to start again with someone else,’ I said sadly, ‘and although Justin’s earning a good salary he’s turned into a total skinflint and says we can’t afford to have children yet – they’re way too expensive – but then, I expect he thinks our children would have a nanny and go to a private school, like he did, and of course I wouldn’t want that.’ ‘He doesn’t seem much of a man to me at all,’ Aunt Nan said disparagingly. ‘But I’m not the one in love with him.’ ‘He has his moments,’ I said, thinking of past surprises, like tickets to see a favourite musical, romantic weekends in Paris, or the trip to Venice he booked on the Orient Express, which gave me full rein to raid the dressing-up box … But all that was in the first heady year or so after we fell in love. Then the romance slowly tailed off … How was it that I hadn’t noticed when the music stopped playing? Chapter 2: Frosted Knots I’ve had my share of sorrows, of course, but I’ve never been one to dwell on them. Mother always said we should strive to be like the words carved around that old sundial in the courtyard, remembering only the happy hours, though I think being so old it actually says ‘hourf’ and not ‘hours’. The courtyard used to belong to a house that was where the Green Man is now, but lots of houses went to rack and ruin after the Great Plague visited the village, because it wiped out whole families. and there’s nothing of it left now bar the sundial. You know about the Lido field turning out to be a plague pit, don’t you, dear? It was quite providential in a way, because it stopped those developers building on it. Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. I had my recurring dream that night – or nightmare, I was never sure which. It was a Cinderella one, featuring Justin as the handsome prince and with Rae and Marcia, my wicked stepsisters from my mother’s second marriage, as the Ugly Sisters, though actually they’re only ugly on the inside. The dream ran its usual course, with the prince looking up at me just as he was fitting the glass slipper onto my foot, at which point Justin’s leonine good looks would morph disconcertingly into the darker, somewhat other-worldly features of my first, brief love, Ivo Hawksley. Weird, and strangely unsettling for an hour or two after I woke up … So I was up early, and when I looked out of the kitchen window, Aunt Nan’s herbal knot garden was prettily frosted with snow and the spiral-cut box tree in the centre looked like an exotic kind of ice lolly. Knot gardens have low, interwoven hedges forming the pattern or ‘knot’. When I was a little girl Aunt Nan used hyssop and rosemary bushes to make the outline, in the old way, but since this made a rougher effect than box hedging and also had to be renewed from time to time, a few years ago she bought a whole load of little box plants from Seth Greenwood, who is the proprietor of Greenwood’s Knots as well as being head gardener at Winter’s End, and replaced the hedging with that. That’s when Seth started to take an interest. He helped her to pull out the old hedging and replace it with the new, in a slightly more intricate design, and then afterwards just kept dropping in and doing a bit of garden tidying. Sometimes he sent one of the three under-gardeners instead, and I expect they were glad of the break, since Seth was so passionate about the garden restoration at Winter’s End he seemed to have become a bit of a slave-driver. Aunt Nan would be trotting out with hot tea and Welshcakes for her helpers every five minutes, too. Each segment of knot was filled with fragrant herbs: lovage, fennel, dill, thyme, several types of mint, clumps of chives and tree onions, sage and parsley. She used several of them in the Welsh herbal honey drink, made from an old family recipe passed down from her mother, that she brewed as a general cure-all. The recipe calls it Meddyginiaeth Llysieuol, Welsh for ‘herbal medicine’, but we always referred to it just as Meddyg – much less of a mouthful! The gardens behind this and the adjoining cottage were very long, and divided by a wall topped with trellis, while our other boundary was the high wall of the Green Man’s car park. The two seventeenth-century cottages formed an L shape fronting onto a little courtyard accessible only by foot from the High Street via the narrow Salubrious Passage. Both had been extended to provide bathrooms and kitchens, and also, in our case, an anachronistic little three-sided shop window pushed out of the cottage front, like a surreal aquarium. I had to park my car right at the further end of the garden, where a lane turned up behind the pub and ended just beyond the cottages. I finished my coffee, then put on my coat and boots and went out. Aunt Nan had always been a haphazard kind of gardener, mixing fruit, vegetables and flowers together in chaotic abundance, but most of the beds had been turfed over when it all got too much for her, so by then it looked a little too neat and tidy. I walked to the far end and on through the archway cut into a tall variegated holly hedge, to let out the hens. Cedric the cockerel, who’d been emitting abrupt, strangulated crows for at least the last hour, ceased abruptly when I opened the pop-door. He stuck his head out and gave me one suspicious, beady glance, but then when I rattled the food bucket his six wives jostled him out of the way and came running down the ramp. Bella had been letting them out and feeding them lately, when she came to open the shop, but since she had to take her little girl to school first, that could be quite late. I looked for eggs, more out of habit than expectation since the hens generally stopped laying in winter, and found a single white freckly one. When I went back in, Aunt Nan told me she’d discovered an early Christmas present left outside the front door when she’d gone to get the milk in. ‘Two of them, in fact!’ ‘What, on the doorstep?’ ‘No, next to it, one either side. This was attached.’ She handed me a card threaded with red ribbon. ‘“A Happy Christmas from Seth, Sophy and all the Family at Winter’s End,”’ I read. ‘They’re still out there – go and have a look, while I put some eggs on for breakfast,’ she urged me. ‘Here’s a fresh one.’ I handed her my booty, then went out to admire two perfect little ball-shaped box trees in wooden tubs on either side of the shop door. Seth must have carried them down Salubrious Passage in the night! It had been lovely to see Bella again when I came home, but we’d postponed our catching-up until that evening, because it was Christmas Eve the next day, and Aunt Nan was fretting about the state of the house. I needed to embark on the sort of major clean she would have already done herself in times past, until everything sparkled, while Bella minded the shop. When that was done we decorated the sitting room with paper garlands and put up the ancient and somewhat balding fake tree, made from green bristles on twisted wire branches. I left her hanging glass baubles on it while I went to start off the sherry trifle and bake mince pies and other goodies. This year’s Meddyg, which Nan made in summer and autumn, was long since bottled and stored away, for it was best at least a year after brewing – pale yellowy-green and aromatic. I made it in London too, fermenting it in the airing cupboard, much to Justin’s disgust, since he couldn’t even stand the smell of it. It must be an acquired taste. Like Aunt Nan, I always had a glass of it before bedtime … and whenever I felt in need of a pick-me-up, for, as she said, ‘A glass of the Doctor always does you good!’ She also insisted she never drank alcohol, so clearly Meddyg, which packs a powerful punch, didn’t count. After supper I left Aunt Nan comfortably established in front of the TV in the parlour and popped next door to the Green Man to meet Bella. Her parents were babysitting, which was not exactly an arduous task, since they only had to leave the door to the annexe open to hear if Tia woke up, but she’d rarely had a night out since she’d moved back home. ‘They love Tia, but they don’t like it when they have to alter their plans to look after her,’ Bella said glumly. ‘At least now she’s turned five and at school, working is easier, but if I had to pay a childminder in the holidays it wouldn’t be worth my while working.’ ‘I know, it must be really difficult,’ I said sympathetically. ‘How is everything going? You look tired.’ Bella has ash-blond hair and the sort of pale skin that looks blue and bruised under the eyes when she is exhausted. ‘I must need more blusher,’ she said with a wry smile, though having been an air hostess, she made sure her makeup and upswept hairdo were immaculate. Old habits die hard! ‘And I am tired, but at least my office skills evening class has finished for Christmas, and there’s only a few weeks more of it next term,’ she added. ‘I’m going to advertise my secretarial services and see if I can get a bit of extra work to do at home.’ ‘It’s been a godsend having you helping in the shop and keeping an eye on Aunt Nan for me now she’s got so frail, but we’d both understand if you took up a better-paid full-time job offer.’ ‘I couldn’t fit in a full-time job around Tia, but Nan’s let me close the shop just before school finishes so I can pick her up, which has worked very well. Plus I love working in the shoe shop and I love Nan too. The holidays and Saturdays are a bit of a problem, though, because unless I can arrange a playdate, or Robert’s mother comes over from Formby to take her out for the day, Mum has to mind her again.’ Her face clouded. ‘Not good? How are things going with you and your parents?’ I asked. ‘Oh, Tansy, it’s horrible living in the annexe!’ she burst out. ‘I know I should be grateful we’ve got a roof over our heads and no rent to pay, because goodness knows, Mum and Dad tell me that often enough, but when you’re used to having your own house and suddenly you’re crammed with a small child into a flat the size of a garage, it’s not that easy!’ ‘No, I can imagine,’ I said sympathetically. ‘It seemed so unfair that you lost everything.’ Bella’s partner had been an airline pilot, several years older and separated from his wife when they met. Bella was an air hostess on one of his flights and they got to know each other on a stopover in some exotic location. He’d been handsome and charming, and swept her off her feet, but though their life together had seemed idyllic, and he’d adored Tia, it had all gone pear-shaped after he’d died suddenly from a heart attack and she’d discovered his debts. ‘There was very little left to lose. He’d already gambled us deep into debt, though I didn’t know it. And he’d never got round to divorcing his wife like he said he would, so she got whatever was left. I even had to sell my car to cover our moving expenses and a lot of our belongings, because we couldn’t fit them in and I couldn’t afford storage,’ Bella said bitterly. ‘But coming back home was the only thing you could do, wasn’t it?’ ‘Yes, and although Mum and Dad have been very kind, letting me have the annexe, you know what they’re like, especially Mum. I’m sure she’s getting worse.’ I nodded. Bella’s mother was super-house-proud, to the point where it was becoming an illness. She swept up every microscopic particle of anything that fell in or outside her house with manic fervour, and polished every surface that would take it to a burnished, mirrored sheen. ‘She’s in my flat cleaning all the time too. There’s no privacy! Even Tia’s toys are all clean, disinfected and lined up on shelves by order of size or colour or whatever.’ ‘Not an ideal atmosphere to bring up a small child in – it’s surprising you turned out relatively normal,’ I teased. ‘Thanks,’ she said with a wry grin, ‘but then, neither of us had ideal parents, did we? Your mother dumped you with Aunt Nan soon after you were born and you’ve hardly seen her since, and your father was a passing fancy who went off to India and addled his brains with drugs.’ ‘He was quite good-natured about having a daughter when I tracked him down, though,’ I said, ‘even if had to keep reminding him who I was every time he saw me, because he forgot. What about your father, Bella? Doesn’t he think your mum’s gone a bit over the top with the house-proud bit?’ ‘He likes a neat house and no fuss too, so he wouldn’t understand what I was talking about. They love Tia – don’t get me wrong – but they’ve got even more inflexible in their ways and habits since I was last living at home. But perhaps I can rent somewhere soon, if I get lots of typing work,’ she said optimistically. ‘I wonder if the cottage attached to yours will come up for rent. It’s been empty for months. Still, even if it does, I expect it would be more than I could afford.’ ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to it. It might even become a holiday let again. That was what the owner bought it for. She was an actress, and then Aunt Nan heard that she’d been killed in a traffic accident just after being offered a part in Cotton Common,’ I said, mentioning the popular TV soap that was shot locally. ‘Yes, she told me – and your stepsister Marcia’s already got a part in Cotton Common, hasn’t she? She must be living up here too, at least some of the time.’ ‘She is. She’s got a flat in the old Butterflake biscuit factory in Middlemoss. Lars said he hoped we’d manage to see a bit of each other, but I would so much rather not get together with either of my wicked stepsisters! I don’t know how such a nice man came to have such horrible daughters.’ Lars was my mother’s second husband – she was now on to number three – and much the nicest of any of them. He’d rung me just before I left London to wish me happy Christmas. There was a large parcel from him awaiting me when I got here, which I knew would be a very lavish present. ‘I thought you were getting on slightly better with Rae?’ Bella said. ‘Not really, it’s just she comes round to the flat occasionally if it’s the nanny’s day off and Charlie isn’t at school, because I don’t think she has any idea what to do with him. He’s a nice little boy, about Tia’s age, and he loves my Slipper Monkey books – his nanny has to read them to him at bedtime every night. I always make him a pipe-cleaner monkey to take home, too. I wish Rae wouldn’t keep dropping in, though, because Justin doesn’t like her. He’s quite rude to her sometimes.’ ‘At least there’s one of your boyfriends who doesn’t find your stepsisters irresistible,’ Bella offered. ‘True. It was a huge relief when he met Rae and Marcia and didn’t get on with either of them. In fact, I’m starting to think that’s the main reason I’m staying with him,’ I said gloomily. ‘I thought you loved him?’ ‘I do … I did … I … well, we were in love. It’s totally unmistakable, isn’t it? That eyes-meeting-across-the-room thing – or across a plane seat, in our case. It was a real case of opposites attracting, and the first year it was all wonderful: we got engaged, I moved in, we were going to get married and start a family right away … as soon as I lost a couple of stone.’ ‘I still can’t believe he was serious about that!’ ‘No, I thought he was joking for ages, but he was deadly serious. And I’ve put on another stone since then,’ I said sadly. ‘You’re still only nicely covered. I could do with a bit of that.’ Bella had the opposite problem, for despite eating healthily she stayed almost painfully thin. People thought she had an eating disorder, but it wasn’t that. She always looked very striking and elegant, though, even in jeans and a cardi – a real yummy mummy. ‘The only time I looked really healthy and had boobs was when I was expecting Tia. I liked being pregnant, but Robert thought I looked gross, a total turn-off.’ ‘Yes – babies … that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about, but somehow I couldn’t do it on the phone.’ Her face lit up. ‘You’re not, are you?’ ‘No, I’m not – it’s the opposite problem, in fact.’ And I told her about my fertility MOT and the iffy result. ‘Basically, my chances of conceiving naturally are limited to a pretty narrow window of opportunity and diminishing rapidly, so I should get a move on.’ She hugged me. ‘Oh, Tansy, I’m so sorry! But surely when you told Justin he must have –’ ‘He doesn’t know yet,’ I broke in. ‘I wanted to think things through over Christmas first, because when they gave me the results, it made me look at the last few years with clear eyes and realise how different our relationship has become. Opposites attract, but maybe we’re just too unlike each other, and if it isn’t going to work out then I can’t stay with him just because I’m desperate to have a baby, can I?’ ‘I suppose not,’ she agreed. ‘How have things changed between you, then?’ ‘Well, all the things about me he used to say were cute or quirky, like my clothes, for instance, now seem to embarrass or annoy him.’ ‘Your clothes are often unusual,’ she admitted, ‘but they suit you. I mean, that’s just the way you are.’ I was dressed in wine-coloured corduroy jodhpurs and a Peruvian jumper covered in green, red and blue llamas. I had a matching Peruvian hat with ear flaps and tassels, but of course it was too hot to wear that in the pub. On my feet were blue Birkenstock clogs. ‘In fact, I’m the only one of your friends who wears boring clothes,’ she said. ‘Not boring, understated,’ I corrected. Muted colours and quiet elegance really suited her. ‘Justin says you always look nice.’ ‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment, from him,’ she said dubiously. ‘What does he think about Timmy? His clothes are even weirder than yours, not to mention the hats!’ ‘Oh, well, being a hat maker, he uses his head as a marketing tool. But Justin’s made it clear he doesn’t like him and he wouldn’t even come with me to Timmy and Joe’s civil partnership ceremony.’ ‘That spotted prom dress with the red underskirt you wore to the wedding looked lovely in the pictures.’ ‘Timmy made the dress and the hat – he is so clever!’ ‘I wished I could have been there,’ Bella said wistfully. Timmy, Bella and I had been friends since infants’ school, and while Bella had trained to be an air hostess, Timmy and I had headed down to London, to art school – fashion in his case, graphic design in mine. ‘Justin’s become such a skinflint too. He wasn’t like that at first, but suddenly he started saying we had to economise and couldn’t afford to get married, couldn’t afford to move to somewhere out of town, couldn’t afford to have children … I mean, he earns a big salary – he’s a hospital consultant!’ ‘And you aren’t doing too badly with the Slipper Monkey books either, are you?’ ‘No, I’m doing really well. I tried to aim the mix of words and pictures at early readers in the five-to-eight-ish age range, but they seem popular now even with adults. They may even be a minor cult!’ ‘I’m not surprised. The illustrations are lovely,’ Bella said loyally. ‘It’s the way you use spiky ink lines to suggest the wiriness of the little monkeys and bright watercolour wash for the soft fuzziness of the fur. They’re quite magical.’ ‘It’s nice when your best friend is your biggest fan!’ I said. ‘My agent says there’s talk of spin-off items, like toys and games now. In fact, I don’t really need to do the foot modelling any more. I could give that up and wear decent shoes.’ Despite the success of the books I still did a little foot modelling for adverts and catalogues. Immy got me into it when I was a student – she said the only beautiful bit of me was my feet – and I signed up with a specialist agency. It was quite lucrative, but I had to take real care of my feet. ‘I’m not sure I can imagine you in anything other than Birkenstock clogs and sandals,’ Bella said honestly. ‘Do you still secretly wear your wedding shoes?’ Apart from Aunt Nan, Bella was the only person who knew that the first thing I’d done when I’d got engaged was splash out hundreds on the ivory satin wedding shoes of my dreams, really girlie ones, with thin crossed straps over the instep, trimmed with lace and crystals … And yet several years later, the wedding was still just a dream. ‘Yes, when Justin’s out – he has no idea! I suppose it’s a family tradition, in a way, what with Aunt Nan always taking afternoon tea on Sundays in her wedding dress, like a latter-day Miss Havisham.’ ‘She looks very pretty in it,’ said Bella loyally, long acquainted with the vagaries of the Bright household. ‘My wedding shoes are getting a bit worn,’ I said gloomily, ‘but it’s not looking like they’re going to be carrying me up the aisle any time soon.’ ‘So, Justin’s penny-pinching, critical of your clothes, appearance and friends, has gone off the idea of marriage and children …’ summed up Bella. ‘Mummy Dearest doesn’t help, pouring poison into his ear all the time. She seemed to loathe me even more about the same time Justin went all skinflint. And Justin doesn’t even respect my work; he always talks about it as if it’s a hobby, rather than my job.’ My compulsive habit of twisting colourful fuzzy monkeys out of pipe cleaners and leaving them hanging about all over the flat also seemed to be driving him mad. ‘Well, that’s the minus side,’ Bella said brightly. ‘What’s he got going for him?’ ‘Apart from being tall, charismatic and handsome? Aunt Nan always said he was like Dr Kildare from some old TV series, and when I looked it up on Google I could see what she meant. Only she also said she’d never trust a man who looked like that!’ ‘So he’s tall, handsome and also a well-paid young orthopaedic consultant – which probably means he can delegate evenings and weekends to some lesser doctor, doesn’t it?’ ‘Yes, it’s not really the sort of thing you get called out in emergencies for. But he’s actually not so young any more, he’s about to hit forty. I do wish he wouldn’t go on as if we’re practically living on the breadline. He was even miffed when I wouldn’t accept an allowance from Lars, though I don’t see why the poor man should pay out for me, when my mother was married to him for only a couple of years.’ ‘Nice of him to offer.’ ‘Lars keeps trying to persuade me to change my mind, but I won’t. I do accept his lovely presents, though.’ ‘So come on, what other good points does Justin have?’ ‘Charm – though he doesn’t often direct it at me these days. And he can be very affectionate and persuasive. He says he wants me to lose weight only for my own health, for instance …’ ‘Yeah, right.’ ‘But then, he loves my baking and sulks if there’s nothing in the cake tin, or I haven’t made a fresh bara brith loaf.’ ‘All that baking’s not exactly going to help you with the weight loss, is it?’ Bella pointed out. ‘No, not really,’ I sighed. ‘He does think the foot modelling is a good thing. He’s quite proud of my doing that, oddly enough, and tells everyone I have beautiful feet. He doesn’t even object to my slathering my feet in Vaseline each night and then wearing cotton socks in bed.’ ‘Secret foot fetishist?’ she suggested doubtfully. ‘Maybe … but you can’t build a relationship on that! No, I think we’ve been drifting slowly further and further apart and perhaps he doesn’t really love me any more – or not the real me. And I want the Justin I fell in love with, not this version,’ I said sadly. ‘Maybe there’s an “IOU a wedding” voucher in your Christmas present from him?’ she suggested. ‘I doubt it. I know he gets the wife of his best friend to buy my presents because they’re always the caramel-coloured cashmere jumpers she wears herself – the ones I pass on to you, because that’s the last colour that suits me.’ ‘I love them, but it would be nicer if you had a present that suited you instead,’ she said. ‘Did you leave Mummy Dearest a present? I take it she’s moving in for Christmas as usual?’ I grinned. ‘Yes, and her present is a plastic cactus plant in a pot. It flashes on and off and plays “La Cucaracha” if you go near it.’ ‘Justin used to buy you flowers and chocolates all the time, didn’t he, and book expensive seats for musicals? Robert didn’t do any of that so I was terribly envious!’ ‘He’s stopped that, and though he did give me perfume for my birthday, it was the flowery sort I don’t like. I’m strictly a spicy, mellow sort of girl.’ ‘Flowery sounds like the sort of thing Mum gives me, too.’ ‘I think your parents would get on like a house on fire with Justin. He’d live in a minimalist, clinical white box if he could, though you’d think he’d have had enough of that in the hospital during the day.’ ‘His mother sounds almost as bad as mine, the way you told me she clears your things away whenever she comes to stay in your absence. I never feel the flat is really my home when I can never have things the way I want them, and Mum walks in and out tidying things away and rearranging everything.’ ‘She should respect your privacy a bit,’ I replied sympathetically. ‘Apart from the intrusion when Mummy Dearest messes about with my belongings, the worst thing is that Justin lets her do it! Every last book, ornament, fuzzy monkey, even my shoes and clothes, will be in the boxroom when I get back after Christmas.’ ‘That’s so hurtful!’ ‘Yes, but Justin can’t really seem to see it, and when I lose my temper, he’s the one who goes all hurt!’ I then looked at her and said gratefully, ‘Oh, Bella, it’s been so good to talk it all through with you, because I feel I’m sort of coming to a crisis point, wondering if Justin is the right man for me after all, especially when my heart is up here in Sticklepond. Aunt Nan is worrying about the same thing, going by what she said yesterday. She agrees with me, that I need to have it out with Justin when I get back, not let our relationship drift any further. And that’s what I’m going to do.’ ‘I think you’re right. And I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t talk things through with you either. I really need to find an escape route so Tia and I aren’t living in Mum and Dad’s granny flat for ever. But meanwhile, let’s try and put our problems out of our heads for the moment and get as much enjoyment out of Christmas as we can,’ she suggested bravely. ‘After all, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!’ Chapter 3: Trashed My mother’s family moved to Southport from Wales when she was a child. A lot of people think all the Welsh are small and dark, don’t they? But that’s not so, and Mother was tall, fair and very pretty, with a smile like liquid sunshine, while my Lancashire father was the small, dark one! A big store in Southport employed Mother as a mannequin when she left school. Twice a day she was dressed in the latest fashions and driven along Lord Street in an open carriage as an advertisement, and then she would model clothes and hats in the shop, too. This would be some time in the 1880s, I expect. Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. We had a wonderful Christmas, quiet and peaceful, with the world and its worries firmly shut out. At the back of my mind lurked the fear that this might be my last one with Aunt Nan, and I wanted to enjoy each precious moment just in case … I had some lovely presents. Aunt Nan had knitted me a zipped cardigan in rainbow stripes, Lars sent me a richly coloured carpet bag (something I had always longed for) filled with goodies like chocolates, a purple silk scarf covered in butterflies, and a long string of chunky beads made from semiprecious stones. I don’t know how he can judge what I will like so exactly, and yet Justin, who is supposed to love me, gets it so wrong. I mean, I never wear matching anything, even a cashmere twinset, and certainly not in taupe, a colour that makes me look like a dead frog. Lars rang me from New York, where his daughters and grandson, Charlie, were staying with him, to wish me and Aunt Nan Happy Christmas. Then I rang my mother in California, a token gesture Aunt Nan always insisted on, even though I’m not sure Immy remembers who I am half the time. I suppose I should be grateful my name is on her Christmas card list! I left Justin to ring me, rather than the other way round, since I didn’t want to get Mummy Dearest, but it was so late when he did that I’m sure he had almost forgotten me, which was hurtful … and he’d certainly forgotten what it was I’d given him until I asked him if he liked his white silk aviator scarf and the enormous box of Turkish delight, a particular favourite of his. Luckily he didn’t ask me if I’d liked the taupe twinset and he didn’t mention the plastic cactus I’d given Mummy Dearest, either … ‘Miss you, darling,’ he said in a perfunctory sort of way, before ringing off. ‘Me too,’ I said, though really I just missed the warm place in my heart where I felt loved and wanted by the old Justin, rather than this new, critical one – and anyway, by then I was talking to empty air. Timmy who, along with his partner, Joe, was staying with his parents in Ormskirk for Christmas, visited on Boxing Day. He’s a firm favourite of Aunt Nan’s. She says he has funny little ways, but he’s a kind, good-hearted lad. He’d hand-quilted her a rose-pink bed jacket, though she said it was too nice to wear to bed and promptly put it on over her skirt and cardi. I wore the hat he’d made me, too – I’m not sure how he managed to knit it into a twisted spiral ending in a tassel, but it looked stunning. Bella popped in with Tia, who wanted to show us some of her presents. She was wearing mine, a lilac fairy dress with matching wings, and since she has Bella’s slender build, ash-blond hair and pale blue eyes, she looked as if she’d just escaped from A Midsummer Night’s Dream and might fly away at any moment. I gave Bella Justin’s present. ‘It’s a cashmere twin set, and though it says taupe on the label, it’s more of a snotty grey-green really,’ I said, ‘so I don’t know if it will do anything for you, either.’ ‘I see what you mean,’ she said, pulling a corner out and looking at it doubtfully. ‘Mum might like it, though.’ ‘If not, it can go to a charity shop,’ I said. ‘It’s a good label, so I expect someone will be glad of it.’ We all (except Tia, and Joe, who was driving) had a generous glass of Aunt Nan’s Meddyg and got quite merry and Aunt Nan told them all about my plans for turning the shop into a wedding shoe emporium. The idea really seemed to have captured her fancy now she’d had time to think about it. Everyone was enthusiastic and had various suggestions to make though, after a second glass of Meddyg, some of those were not entirely sensible. I mean, there can’t be that many tall, handsome princes looking for shoe-fitting jobs, can there? I set off back to London on the Monday after Christmas, resolutely intending to have things out with Justin, but also secure in the knowledge that if it all went pear-shaped I could move back to Sticklepond. Perhaps that was part of the problem? I’d been constantly torn two ways, between Justin and home, but if we couldn’t resolve our differences and rekindle our love, then I would have to abandon my hopes of a happy-ever-after and a family, which would be a hard thing to do … Bella had suggested going it alone, with a sperm donor, but I didn’t feel that route was for me: I wanted any child of mine to be brought up in a loving family relationship. Even though Justin knew when I was returning, he wasn’t there when I arrived at our basement flat near Primrose Hill, but out playing golf. I suppose I should have been grateful he’d remembered to leave me a note. Even if I hadn’t known that Mummy Dearest had spent Christmas there, I’d have quickly guessed, because the flat was back to arid white minimalism, and all the homely touches I’d added, like the brightly coloured throws and the rainbow of fuzzy pipe-cleaner monkeys hanging from every possible place had vanished. This time she hadn’t just pushed them all into the boxroom, but right out of the house and into the wheelie bin, among a lot of expensive discarded gift-wrap and the flashing cactus I gave her! She hadn’t touched my work for the current Slipper Monkey book, of course, because I’d started locking everything personal or precious in a tin trunk when I was away, after the first time I’d returned to find everything jumbled about and was sure she’d had a jolly good rummage through my stuff. But even so, she’d gone way too far this time! The flat might belong to Justin, but it was also my home – and he’d just let her do this? My blood boiling, I rang him on his mobile, golf or not. ‘Oh, you’re back, darling! I didn’t think you’d be home until later this afternoon,’ he said. ‘I told you I’d be back just after lunch, but from the look of the flat you’d think I’d never lived here!’ I told him furiously. ‘And this time your mother’s not just hidden my belongings away, she’s put half of them out with the rubbish!’ Justin disclaimed any knowledge of this. ‘I realise she tidies the place up, and she knows I don’t like clutter, but I’d no idea she’d actually thrown anything out.’ ‘Well, she has, and this time she’s gone way too far. You’ll have to tell her so.’ ‘Look, it’s my shot so I’ll have to go. We’ll talk about this later,’ he said soothingly. ‘And the rest,’ I snapped. ‘We need to talk about much more than your mother, Justin!’ ‘Later,’ he assured me, though I’m sure he hadn’t taken in what I’d said. ‘Bye, darling!’ I’d simmered down slightly by the time he’d got home, and he’d stopped on the way to buy flowers, wine and chocolates, so clearly it had finally penetrated his thick skull that I was just a trifle upset about Mummy. As always, I’d forgotten just how stunningly attractive he was, with his tawny hair and bright blue eyes, and my resolve wavered slightly for a moment when he kissed me … Then he apologised for his mother and I pulled myself together and said resolutely, ‘It’s not just your mother that’s the problem, Justin. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been away and we have several issues we need to resolve.’ ‘Issues?’ he echoed, blue eyes wary. ‘Yes. We seem to be drifting along, never discussing anything important, and I’m not prepared to carry on the way we are now.’ I ran my fingers through my hair, which I’d piled up loosely secured with two pink chopsticks, and it promptly came undone and fell in long, ravelled dark curls down my back. ‘I popped down to the shops after I rang you, and I ran into Rae with Charlie – it was the nanny’s day off – and we had coffee together,’ I added, which might have seemed irrelevant, except that seeing little Charlie had really brought it home to me that I should have had a family by now, just like we’d planned when we fell in love. The fact that he didn’t like Rae or Marcia had always been one of the best things about Justin and now a cloud seemed to pass across his sunny, good-humoured face at the mention of my younger stepsister’s name. ‘I’d have thought you’d have run a mile at the sight of either of your stepsisters. You’re always telling me how mean they were to you after your mother married Lars and you came to London to stay with them.’ ‘Yes, they were, but I was probably too sensitive and should have stuck up for myself more.’ I’d always lived up in Lancashire with Aunt Nan. I don’t even remember my grandmother, Nan’s sister, Violet, because she’d died when I was only two, but she didn’t sound any more maternal than my mother and, goodness knows, I’d seen little enough of Imogen over the years! But Immy’s second husband, Lars, was such a sweet, kind man that he wanted me to be part of the family unit and insisted I stayed in his London house (he has a home in New York too) while I studied graphic design. But his two daughters, both older than me, were tall, slim and blondly attractive, just like Lars and my mother, so I felt like an ugly little dark goblin child foisted into the family. They made my life absolute hell too, from criticising my clothes (quirky, black and a bit Goth) to stealing my boyfriends. Lars didn’t know the half of it and he was quite hurt when I quickly moved out into a rented flat with Timmy. ‘Rae hasn’t been so bad since she got divorced and had Charlie – and at least you don’t find her irresistible, like every other man!’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘I think you know the sort of woman who appeals to me by now, Tansy!’ ‘Charlie’s lovely,’ I said wistfully. ‘He’s started school full time and he’s very chatty. He looks just like Rae, too. No clues to who the father is there!’ Rae got pregnant about a year after her divorce, simply because all her friends were, I felt sure. She wouldn’t say who the father was, though she hinted he was a wealthy married man. Someone must have been subsiding her lavish lifestyle, because I knew for a fact that Lars gave both his daughters moderate allowances and expected them to earn the rest themselves. He was easy-going to a point, but totally inflexible in other ways, as my mother found when she decided to move on to husband number three. Marcia, the older sister, earned her living as an actress of course, but apart from a little modelling when she was younger (like Imogen) Rae had lived an expensive life of leisure. Someone must have been paying for it. I sighed. ‘Justin, time’s passing and I never thought I’d get past thirty-five and still not be a mother! When we got engaged, we were going to get married and have a family within a few months. What’s happened to us?’ ‘Children are expensive,’ he said defensively. ‘But you’re earning loads and I’m doing really well with my books. Other people raise families on much less,’ I pointed out. ‘You seem to have turned into a total skinflint over the last few years.’ ‘I’ve had other commitments – in fact, I’ve been helping Mummy out with a bit of a loan from time to time,’ he admitted. I stared at him. ‘What? But your father left her loaded!’ ‘Nothing’s worth as much as it used to be, is it? Some of her investments haven’t been doing well and she’s not very good at living within her means.’ ‘Can’t you tell her to draw her horns in a bit?’ I asked. Not that I was suggesting she really had a devilish little pair of horns, you understand, though sometimes I’d suspected there might be, under that bouffant beige-blond hair. And maybe there was even a hint of a forked tail under her cocktail frocks. … ‘I’m doing my best,’ he protested. ‘No, you’ve been putting her before me and any chance of a family,’ I pointed out bitterly, a bit stunned by this revelation. ‘Anyway, children aren’t that expensive. They don’t have to go to private nurseries and prep schools, or expensive boarding schools. We could manage. Assuming I can still get pregnant, of course.’ ‘Oh, come on, Tansy,’ he said impatiently, ‘of course you can get pregnant!’ ‘Justin, I’m serious: I went to a private clinic and had a fertility MOT and it wasn’t the best result possible.’ ‘You did that, without telling me?’ he said, looking taken aback. ‘I tried to discuss it, but you kept shying away from the subject. Anyway, I did it, and although it showed I still had some eggs, I’m running out of time.’ He came over and sat next to me on the sofa, putting his arm around me. ‘I’m sure they were just erring on the side of caution, Tansy, and things aren’t that bad,’ he suggested. ‘You’re only thirty-six, after all.’ I turned to him. ‘Justin, what’s happened to us? When we got engaged there wasn’t any talk about waiting for children. We were going to start a family as soon as we got married. Not that we’ve got married, either, have we? I thought you were joking when you said we’d set a date for the wedding as soon I got down to a size eight, but you weren’t!’ ‘I just want you to slim down for your health’s sake. You’re carrying a bit too much weight … though sometimes it’s hard to tell under all those weird outfits you wear,’ he added, eyeing today’s bright pink and orange ensemble critically. ‘Isn’t it time to stop dressing like an art student and smarten up a bit? Mother said you would look quite chic with a decent haircut and in the right clothes.’ ‘I’m surprised she remembers what I look like at all!’ I said tartly. ‘And she wouldn’t like me even if I’d been gilded by Cartier and dressed by Gucci. But you used to say my clothes were zany and fun, just like me, and you didn’t like skinny women.’ ‘There’s something between skinny and overweight, though,’ he said. ‘Well, whatever I am, Aunt Nan says I look fine to her. And goodness knows, dieting never works – it just makes me hungrier, so I go off the rails and eat much more. It’s a vicious circle.’ ‘Your aunt Nan doesn’t like me. I think she’s been poisoning your mind about me over Christmas and getting you all upset,’ he said, which was pretty rich when Mummy Dearest must have spent the entire Christmas season pointing out all my shortcomings! ‘Aunt Nan expected us to get married long before this. She doesn’t believe in living together beforehand; it’s not how she was brought up and it upsets her. But at least she wants us to get married – your mother’s desperate to get rid of me.’ ‘Of course she isn’t,’ he insisted unconvincingly. ‘You have to admit, though, that we don’t have a lot in common, so naturally she’s worried that things wouldn’t work out. Perhaps you could try to win her round a bit – wear something a little more ordinary when you see her next.’ ‘I don’t have anything more “ordinary”, and the way I dress expresses the inner me – so if you don’t like that, or my weight, then maybe you don’t really like me either?’ ‘Of course I do – I love you!’ he protested. ‘And if you lost a stone, not only would you be healthier, but it would increase your chances of getting pregnant too – and you wouldn’t want to start a pregnancy overweight, would you? You’d never get the excess off afterwards. Look at Leonie!’ Leonie, one of his friends’ wives, had gone from being a bonily chic woman, all knobbly joints and neck tendons like a chicken, to a plump, dishevelled mother in the space of a year. ‘She looks fine to me, better than she did before the baby,’ I said. ‘Do you think so?’ He smiled at me ruefully with a sort of boyish charm and I remembered Aunt Nan’s Dr Kildare remark. When Justin looked most trustworthy, was he really the opposite? ‘Let’s not argue about it any more now, Tansy. I can see what the clinic said upset you, though I’m sure they were being alarmist. And Mother really has been insensitive about your things, so I promise I’ll speak firmly to her about it. We can sort things out.’ ‘Do you still love me, Justin?’ I asked curiously, half-afraid of the answer. ‘Of course I do,’ he assured me, giving me another hug. ‘Look, perhaps we just haven’t spent enough time together lately. I’m working all hours, and what with you off to Lancashire a couple of times a month and Mother wanting to see as much of me as she can, the opportunities have been few and far between.’ ‘And the golf, don’t forget – you weren’t addicted to that when we first met!’ ‘It’s healthy to get out and about. You should try it.’ ‘I don’t think so,’ I said firmly. We used to get out and about together, taking walks in the park, but it was a long time since we’d done that, and even our social lives had been becoming increasingly separate. I didn’t much care for his friends and their wives, and he loathed my more bohemian circle. He wasn’t even that keen on Bella, who wasn’t arty in the least! ‘I can see we both need to make some changes – and some plans. I’ll tell Mother I can’t keep helping her out financially, for a start,’ he promised, a new light of determination in his eyes. He gave me another, enveloping hug and kissed me. ‘We’ve been drifting apart, and we mustn’t let that happen. Let’s go away after the New Year on our own and have a romantic break – talk things through and make some decisions about our future.’ ‘Not at your mother’s or somewhere near a golf course?’ I asked suspiciously. ‘No, some little country hotel we’ve never been to before.’ I relaxed, feeling that perhaps there was hope of rekindling our love after all. ‘Sounds perfect!’ Chapter 4: Philtred Out My youngest sister Violet – or Viola, as she called herself later, when she turned into little Miss Fancy Pants – was tall and fair like Mother, and so was her daughter, Imogen. She and her husband adopted Imogen, but she was a Bright all right – I’ll get to that later, dear. I’m not ready to talk about it just yet. You let me work up to it in my own time. And I’m afraid it’s all going to come as a bit of a shock to my niece, Tansy … Now, wet the tea leaves and we’ll have another brew, because my throat’s that parched from all this talking! Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. We saw in the New Year with the promise of our romantic weekend to come. Justin was much more his old self, but still dropping hints that if we set a date for the wedding, it might inspire me to lose weight, so he hadn’t entirely changed back! But when he was being warm, charming and affectionate it was hard to resist him. Even so, my heart longed to be up in Sticklepond with Aunt Nan. I was worried about how frail she’d become, as if a brisk breeze would blow her away. Just as well I had Bella to keep an eye on her! I rang her every day for an update – and to exchange thoughts on turning Bright’s Shoes into a wedding shoe shop. The shop had been closed for a week after Christmas and now, according to Bella, Aunt Nan had entirely relinquished the day-to-day running of the shop to her and just happily pottered about, chatting to customers and holding a sort of court in the kitchen with an endless succession of visitors, from the vicar to most of the Sticklepond Women’s Institute. Of course I spoke to her every day, too, and she told me that Hebe Winter had been to see her. ‘Doing the Lady Bountiful, as usual, even though her great-niece Sophy’s the one in charge now up at Winter’s End, with her daughter, Lucy, learning to manage the estate. She was trying to find out what I put in my Meddyg again, but I’m not telling anyone – well, apart from you, lovey. And you mustn’t reveal it, either.’ ‘Oh, no, I’ll keep it secret,’ I assured her. ‘I’ve got some fermenting in the airing cupboard now, though it always tastes better made in summer with fresh herbs rather than dried, doesn’t it?’ ‘It works just the same, though, that’s the thing,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘I credit my daily tot of Meddyg with my getting to this age at all. I’ve had a good innings … That Cheryl Noakes has been again, too. I’ve told her we need to get a shift on with the recording sessions. I won’t be around for ever.’ ‘Aunt Nan!’ I hated it when she alluded to a time when she wouldn’t be here any more, however cheerfully she seemed to be looking forward to going, as if it was some sort of extended holiday. ‘Now, our Tansy, there’s no point in not being ready when you can see your time is nearly up,’ she said practically. ‘But when you hear the recordings, lovey, I hope you won’t think too badly of your great-aunt Nan. Things were different in the war.’ ‘What things?’ I asked, puzzled, and wondering if Aunt Nan had a skeleton in her cupboard – though if she had I was sure it would only be a tiny one, because she couldn’t have done anything very bad! ‘Have you thought any more about the shop, Tansy? I liked the idea of it becoming a wedding shoe shop, if you think it would work in such an out-of-the-way place.’ ‘All the time,’ I admitted. ‘I can’t seem to stop thinking about it and I’ve even worked out a business plan. I’ll tell you all about it when I come up the weekend after next. I wish it was this weekend, but Justin’s booked us in somewhere for that romantic break he promised me, and we’re going to have a real heart-to-heart discussion about everything. I think he understands a bit more how I’m feeling now, and that we can’t go on like this. We need to set a wedding date and start a family soon, if we’re going to do it at all.’ ‘I should think so! And I’m glad you and Justin are getting along better, even if it means you won’t be moving back home.’ ‘Sticklepond will always be my real home, and if I took over the shop I’d have to spend a lot more time up there, even more than I do now … but then, Justin’s forever at his mother’s house or out all day playing golf, so I expect it would work out.’ ‘It’s a funny old world,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘But if you’re sure he’s the right man for you …’ ‘Of course I’m sure,’ I said, though deep inside there were still sometimes niggles of doubt. He hadn’t yet explained to his mother that he couldn’t carry on giving her financial support, for a start, but he insisted he would do it after we’d been away for the weekend. He did sound resolute about it, though, which was surprising considering he was generally like butter in her little red-tipped talons. But the romantic break never happened, because Bella called me the very day after Hebe Winter’s visit to say that Aunt Nan had fallen in the night, bruising herself, though fortunately not breaking anything, and she’d found her when she went to open the shop. ‘I called an ambulance and they think she’s had a mild stroke,’ she said, and I told her I’d be on my way within the hour. Justin was at work, so I left him a note explaining and then a text on his mobile – but I knew he would understand. He’d have to. Unfortunately, he’d have to cancel our hotel booking … Aunt Nan looked frail and small in the hospital bed, but after a couple of days she was well enough to sit up, attired in Timmy’s lovely rose-coloured quilted bed jacket, and criticise the thoroughness of the cleaning and the quality of the food. Then she insisted on coming home, aided and abetted by her friend Florrie, who was constantly to be found by her bedside, eating grapes and picking the pips out of her dentures. ‘Don’t make a fuss, lovey,’ she told me when I suggested she shouldn’t discharge herself. ‘I’ve got the medicine, though I doubt it’ll cure anything that Meddyg can’t, and in any case, my heart’s wearing out and there’s no medicine to stop that.’ ‘I can’t bear it when you talk like that, Aunt Nan. What would I do without you?’ ‘Daft ha’porth,’ she said fondly. Once she was home she seemed to pick up and was adamant that she wasn’t going to take to her bed all day until she had to, even if she did need help with the stairs. One of Florrie’s daughters was a retired nurse, and came every morning to help Aunt Nan to wash and dress. Then she installed Nan in her comfortable chair in the kitchen by the stove, from where she could hear what was happening in the shop if Bella left the door open, or hold court with her friends. I offered to pay for the nurse, but she insisted she had a little nest egg put by for emergencies. ‘And for my funeral, of course: that’s all planned.’ Seeing my face, she added, ‘Now, don’t look like that, lovey, because my heart’s failing. It’s tired, and so am I. I’m wearing out and I’m ready to go.’ ‘Yes, but I’m not ready to let you go.’ ‘You’ll have to. I’d have liked to have lived long enough now to see this wedding shoe shop of yours get off the ground, that’s the only thing – but then, when you’re called, you’re called.’ She seemed quite happy about the thought of her imminent demise, giving me cheerful directions for her disposal: there was room in her parents’ grave and she wanted to be buried in her wedding dress and veil, which was touching: her heart had always remained loyal to her fianc?, Jacob, killed in the early years of the war. The dress, which was of white silk-satin, simply cut on the bias and with a modest sweetheart neckline, was looking fairly worn by now, since of course she put it on every Sunday afternoon for high tea. Originally it had had a lovely lace coat to go over it which ended in a train, with leg-of-mutton sleeves that buttoned tightly at the wrist and satin inserts to match the dress, but this was now much shorter, since Aunt Nan had at some time let the dress out considerably by using part of the train to make extra panelling in the bodice. But the veil was pristine. ‘I’d no ring of my own – we hadn’t much brass for a fancy engagement ring – but I’ve got Mother’s Welsh gold wedding ring.’ She told me where she’d hidden what good jewellery she had – a small gold locket and one or two other family bits and bobs. ‘Just in case I leave the scene suddenly,’ she explained. I opened my heart to Raffy, the vicar, about how upset it made me that she seemed to want to leave me like this, and he said I must respect her wishes and that sometimes the elderly had just had enough. Then he said her firm belief in God and the hereafter was a huge comfort to her. ‘Yes, she seems to be positively looking forward to “getting to the other side” and meeting up with her family, friends and fianc? again, even if it does mean leaving me behind.’ ‘I think she’ll always be with you in spirit,’ he consoled me gently, but I was sure Aunt Nan would be good for a few more years yet, if only she hadn’t got it into her head that her time was up! Having got to ninety-two, why shouldn’t she make her century? I simply found it impossible to accept that there was nothing to be done, so one evening I decided desperate measures were called for and I’d go up to Winter’s End and consult Hebe Winter. Hebe’s reputed to dabble in the Dark Arts, though that doesn’t seem to stop her being a keen churchgoer. But actually, Aunt Nan always said she was more of a herbalist than a witch, unlike Florrie. (And I was sure she must be wrong about Florrie, and Gregory Lyon was really just running some kind of witchcraft folklore group, not a coven at all!) Anyway, many people made the trip at twilight up to the side door of Hebe’s still room at Winter’s End and came back with a potion or lotion – love philtres in some cases, I’d heard! Perhaps I should have tried one of those on Justin, who’d said it was too late to cancel the hotel for the previous weekend and had taken Mummy Dearest instead! I’d told Aunt Nan I was going out to meet Bella, but instead I walked up the back way to Winter’s End, cut across the bottom terrace and knocked at the side door to Hebe’s stillroom, which she opened as if she’d been waiting for me. She was not at all surprised at my request, either. ‘I understand what you want,’ she said, ‘but if I knew of something that would prolong your aunt’s life, I would already have given it to her. There are things that can help with the pains and aches of old age, but nothing that can cure it.’ She herself was no spring chicken, but still tall, beaky-nosed and upright; I didn’t think death would be creeping up on her any time soon. ‘That Meddyg, as she calls it, is probably what has kept her going this long. I’d love the recipe …’ hinted Hebe, when I asked her about payment for the consultation. ‘I can guess what several of the herbs she uses are – like mint, for instance – but there’s a little extra something in it?’ ‘I’m sworn to secrecy,’ I told her firmly. ‘But perhaps I could do with a love philtre to make my fianc? love me for what I am,’ I half-joked, ‘rather than all the things he would like me to be.’ She looked searchingly into my eyes. ‘But would you want the love of a man who cannot see your finer points and with whom you cannot be your true self?’ she said acutely and accurately, then insisted on mixing up a bottle of greenish fluid for me, because she said I needed a special tonic and I was to take four drops in a glass of water every morning. Then she charged me a huge amount for that and sent me on my way. I’d told Immy (via email, the main way I communicated with my mother) about Aunt Nan being ill, but she’d shown little interest. Lars, who heard the news when he phoned the flat and Justin told him what had happened, was much more concerned and sent a huge basket prettily planted with pink hyacinths in moss. Aunt Nan said he was a great daft lump, wasting his brass like that, but I could tell she was delighted and the flowers perfumed the whole house with the promise of spring to come. I started taking Hebe’s tonic, because it was kind of her to give it to me, but it tasted quite foul and I didn’t feel any different, so I quickly gave it up. I’d dashed up to Sticklepond without much thought about how long I would be there, but with Nan fading gently by the day, I soon knew I wanted to stay with her. I explained this to Justin when I rang him and he was very understanding, though he said he missed me and this time actually sounded as if he meant it! Since I’d explained to him how I was feeling, I thought that he’d stopped taking me for granted quite so much. Then I asked him if he’d told his mother yet that he wouldn’t be funding her extravagant lifestyle any more and he said no, he’d found it impossible face to face, so he’d sent her a letter, instead! Honestly! Still, at least he had done it. ‘I’ll try and get back for a night soon to see you,’ I promised. ‘I need to pick some more clothes up and the stuff for the latest book, if I’m going to be here for a while.’ Justin was amazingly quiet for a few days – not even firing off texts asking where his favourite socks were, or his best silk tie, or that kind of thing – so I assumed that Mummy Dearest was giving him a bit of trouble over the letter. I hoped he wouldn’t buckle under like he always had in the past, especially without me to give him support, so, since Aunt Nan insisted that she could manage for a night without me, I decided to dash down the very next weekend. It was, in any case, the anniversary of our engagement – not that he would remember that, without prompting! ‘You do right to get back and see what that man of yours is doing,’ Aunt Nan urged me. ‘It’s fatal to leave them on their own for too long.’ ‘I think what with his work, his mother, and his golf, his time is pretty well occupied,’ I said. ‘I’m going down more because I need to fetch all the stuff for my new Slipper Monkey book than anything, but I still don’t like leaving you, even for one night.’ ‘Florrie’s Jenny will be in as usual, and then Florrie herself is coming to spend the night, so you’ve no need to worry about me.’ ‘I’m sure that will be lovely,’ I said a bit doubtfully, because Florrie was even older than Aunt Nan, though amazingly spry and active. ‘And Bella will be in to mind the shop on the Saturday, though she will have to bring Tia with her, if you don’t mind, because her parents are off to some function or other.’ ‘Not at all: Tia’s a sweet little thing, and Florrie and I will amuse her in the kitchen. That’s settled, then. In fact, I will enjoy the weekend, because Florrie and I have no secrets and it’s good to share memories of when we were girls. Mind you,’ she added with grim humour, ‘I’ve not many secrets left from that Cheryl Noakes now, either! She’s a good listener, I’ll say that for her, and she’s promised to give you a set of the archive recordings when I’m gone.’ ‘I’m really looking forward to listening to them, Aunt Nan.’ ‘I hope you think the same after you have,’ she said enigmatically. ‘Now, the sun would be over the yardarm if we had one, so why don’t we have a nice glass of Meddyg? Cocktail frock optional,’ she added with one of her sudden grins. ‘I think this dress I’m wearing probably was a cocktail dress once,’ I said, looking down at my gold chiffon layers, ‘only the original owner wouldn’t have worn it with a tapestry waistcoat, striped tights and Birkenstock clogs!’ ‘Oh, I thought it was one of those Gudrun Sodastream ones you get from that catalogue.’ ‘Sj?d?n,’ I said, and went to fetch the Meddyg. Chapter 5: Charlie’s Aunt My sister Rosina, who died of diphtheria as a toddler, had black curly hair and dark eyes like Father and me, and though she didn’t grow up enough to tell, I expect she’d have been a bit on the short side, too. Tansy now is very much what I was at her age, so clearly the darker Bright genes are reasserting themselves, just like they said in a telly programme I watched, when they were going on about that monk. No, I don’t mean Rasputin, lovey – he was a Russkie. It was Mendel, and he worked something out about genes by looking at his pet rabbits. Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. There were no parking spaces near Justin’s flat, so I had to leave the Mini round the corner and hope to move it closer when I loaded my things up next day. Justin seemed pleased to see me, sweeping me off my feet and giving me a big hug and kiss, and then he pretended he hadn’t forgotten it was the anniversary of our engagement when I mentioned it. He said he’d booked a table at our favourite local Greek restaurant already, which I expect he had once he knew I was going to be home that night, because we often went there on a Saturday anyway. ‘And since you’ve had things out with your mother, we can celebrate being rid of one financial burden, too,’ I suggested. ‘Yes … she’s gone a bit quiet since I wrote to her explaining, but I’m sure she’ll realise why I can’t carry on helping her out to such an extent when she’s thought it over,’ he said optimistically. ‘But you mustn’t even hint that you knew about me lending her money, Tansy – promise?’ ‘Of course I won’t. Not that I’ll ever get the opportunity anyway,’ I said, because Mummy Dearest always puts the phone down without speaking if I answered it and she never visited the flat when I was there. In fact, it had been lovely to come back and not find all my belongings in the boxroom! Justin had tidied things away a bit, so no brightly coloured pipe-cleaner monkeys swung from any of the shelves or light fittings, but it was a definite improvement. This flat had always been his rather than ours, so setting up home together somewhere else would, I thought, be so much better. I could assert my love of colour a bit more and Justin would just have to get used to it. When I went into the kitchen to make coffee, I thought how little of me there was in this flat even when Justin’s mother hadn’t been here hiding any sign of my existence. Most of my belongings and the majority of my shoe ornament and vintage wedding shoe collections were stored in my bedroom in Sticklepond. I was dreamily conjuring up a mental picture of a little country cottage in the Home Counties somewhere, roses round the door and maybe a baby buggy in the hall, when the doorbell pealed, breaking my reverie. I put another cup on the coffee tray in case we had a visitor and took it through into the living room – just in time to hear the unmistakable high-pitched voice of my stepsister Rae exclaiming furiously from the direction of the hall. ‘Justin, you bastard! I’ve only just got your message because I’ve been away – and if you think I’m going to let you shirk your responsibilities and cut my maintenance payments just so you can swan off and marry Tansy, you’ve got another think coming!’ I stopped dead, ice trickling down my spine, and then carefully put the tray on the table. ‘Quiet!’ hissed Justin urgently. ‘Are you mad, coming round here like this?’ ‘Oh, come on, Daddy told me that Tansy’s up in Lancashire with the old bat, so you don’t get rid of me thateasily.’ She must have barged past him because suddenly she was in the room. She caught sight of me, frozen to the spot, and her jaw dropped. ‘The “old bat” was well enough to leave overnight,’ I said evenly, in a voice that didn’t sound in the least like my own. ‘What did you mean, Rae, about Justin paying you maintenance money?’ Justin, who’d followed her into the room, flushed angrily. ‘It’s nothing, Tansy. You misheard,’ he said quickly. ‘I’d loaned your sister some money and told her I needed it back, that’s all.’ ‘As well as your mother? Have you taken up moneylending as a sideline?’ I suggested acidly, while my mind whirled and computed and came up with an almost unbelievably horrible possibility … ‘No – actually, I only lent money to Rae; Mother’s got plenty of her own. But I didn’t like to tell you, because I know you two don’t really get on.’ I suppose doctors often have to think on their feet, but it wasn’t good enough to fool me. Anyway, both their faces gave the game away. Justin looked angry and guilty in equal measure, while Rae looked guarded and slightly worried, creases sharply pointing downwards on her usually smooth forehead. ‘Whoever’s been doing your Botox, I’d ask for your money back,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Tansy, but it’s true about Justin giving me a loan, when I got into a financial scrape,’ she said quickly, backing him up. ‘I couldn’t ask Daddy because you know what he’s like – thinks we should stand on our own two feet and earn anything above the allowance he gives us. He’d be furious if he knew how much I’d got into debt. But now Justin’s suddenly demanded it back without warning, because you two are finally getting married.’ ‘That’s not going to wash – do you think I’m stupid? Rae, you said “maintenance”and that Justin was trying to shirk his responsibilities. What responsibilities?’ Rae threw herself down on the cream leather sofa and sighed. ‘Well, it was worth a try, but I can see that the game’s up. The truth is, Tansy, that we had a teensy weensy little affair a few years ago.’ ‘How many years ago?’ I demanded. ‘You’d never met until you came back over here to live after your divorce and I was engaged to Justin by then!’ ‘That’s right, it was just after I came back.’ My head and my heart struggled to take this in. That first year after I’d got engaged to Justin, the time I remembered as full of sunshine, love, happiness and promise for the future, had in reality been just a sham … ‘Tansy, I can explain,’ Justin said desperately. ‘I’m so sorry. But it wasn’t an affair, just a mad impulse, and it was always you I loved.’ ‘But you said you didn’t even like her!’ ‘I don’t. In fact, I think I hate her. I don’t know what got into me.’ ‘I think I can guess,’ I said. ‘But Rae, how could you do that with my fianc??’ She shrugged. ‘Justin was so indifferent to me when we met, making him change his mind was too much of a challenge to resist.’ My world was rocking, shifting onto a different axis, and things were clicking into place with the sound of deadlocks slamming shut. ‘So, this maintenance you mentioned …?’ ‘Justin’s paying for the resultof his little mistake,’ Rae said silkily. ‘Charlie.’ ‘Charlie is Justin’s?’ Now my suspicion was finally confirmed, I felt truly sick. ‘He certainly is – and it’s only right he should support his son, isn’t it?’ ‘And the rest,’ Justin said bitterly. ‘You wanted extra to keep your mouth shut about who Charlie’s father was and you’ve got increasingly greedy.’ ‘It’s not greed – it’s necessity. Charlie needed a nanny, and then private nursery school wasn’t cheap …’ ‘And he’s at private pre-prep school now, isn’t he?’ I said slowly. ‘No wonder you were always moaning about economy and saving money, Justin, and stopped talking about us getting married and starting a family. You already had one!’ ‘No, Tansy, it’s not like that –’ he began, coming towards me with the evident intention of taking me in his arms. I backed away. ‘Don’t you come near me! Everything – every single thing I thought we had together – has been one big lie, practically from the moment Rae came back to the UK!’ Rae stood up and slung her Mulberry satchel over one thin, angular shoulder. ‘I’ll be off and leave you two to kiss and make up,’ she said. ‘But don’t think you can stop paying for Charlie now that Tansy knows, Justin, because if you do I’ll take you to court for maintenance.’ ‘Just get out, Rae,’ I said. ‘I never want to see you again.’ ‘How many years have you been saying that?’ She sauntered elegantly to the door and turned. ‘Ever since you turned up in our midst like a little, ugly dark goblin, and Daddy insisted we treat you as a sister. As if!’ Then she slammed the door behind her, leaving a silence you could cut with a knife. Justin attempted to justify himself and talk me round, but there were no words that could get him out of this fix. He might look like a big, guilty schoolboy, but this was slightly more serious than who scrumped all the apples out of the orchard, so saying it was me he’d loved all the time, and he’d let Rae bleed him dry so she didn’t tell me what he’d done, just wasn’t good enough. ‘I was doing it to protect you – us!’ ‘If you hadn’t slept with her in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to,’ I pointed out. ‘And because she had Charlie, you put off marrying me and starting a family all this time … right to the point where it might even be too late for me to have a baby!’ I didn’t see how I could ever forgive either of them for that. ‘I’m sure it isn’t too late, Tansy darling. Look, I know I’ve been stupid, but now that you know – if you can forgive me – there’s nothing to stop us. I don’t need to pay her through the nose any more and everything’s changed.’ ‘It has – changed irrevocably,’ I said. ‘I thought you were the only man immune to my stepsisters – the only one who truly loved me.’ Despite myself, my voice wobbled a little. ‘I do,’ he insisted. ‘Justin, I’m not sure you even know the meaning of the word, but even if you do, then you don’t love me the way I am, or you wouldn’t keep going on about my weight, and the way I dress and the things I say, as if I’m suddenly not good enough – just like Mummy Dearest always tells you.’ ‘Leave Mummy out of this. She’d love to see me married.’ ‘Yes, to anyone except me!’ At this inopportune moment the phone on the table between us rang. ‘Answer it, why don’t you? It’s bound to be Mummy Dearest herself!’ I said bitterly. He snatched it up and from his side of the conversation I’d clearly guessed right. ‘Mummy, can I call you back? This is a really bad time and – no, of course I care that you’re having a heart attack! Listen, Mummy, don’t –’ He paused and I could hear high-pitched and imperative quacking coming from the receiver. ‘Yes, all right, I’m on my way,’ he said resignedly, and put down the phone. ‘Summoned to Tunbridge?’ ‘She’s feeling really ill. I’m sure it’s nothing but indigestion as usual, but I’d better go. I’ll be back later tonight and then we can talk things through.’ ‘I don’t think we’ve anything further to discuss, Justin!’ ‘Look, I know you’re upset –’ ‘That’s the understatement of the year!’ ‘But you must understand it was just a moment of madness – weakness, vanity – call it what you like.’ He ventured one of his persuasive, glowing smiles, the one most women found irresistible. ‘I’ve been a fool, but I don’t want to lose you, darling, and I hope you’ll be able to forgive me. I’ll ring you when I know what time I’m coming back.’ ‘Don’t bother!’ I said tersely, then locked myself into the boxroom and cried until I heard him leave the flat. When I went out again, the place seemed even colder and emptier than ever and I felt much the same. I was shivering, though that was probably just with shock. I washed my swollen red eyes with cold water, then went round the flat collecting everything that was mine and stowing it all away in whatever bags, boxes and suitcases I could find. Then I brought the Mini round to a handy space near the front door and packed as much as I could into it. I suppose it was lucky I’d always stored most of my stuff up in Lancashire in my old bedroom, as if subconsciously I’d known my stay here was temporary. Only my little drawing desk and a couple of large portfolios remained, and I left those in the boxroom, with a note asking him not to let his mother throw them out until I’d got Timmy to come round with his camper van to pick them up for me. I took one last look round at the sterile rooms, which resembled a minimalist stage set without all my brightly coloured bits and pieces, and then I was off – straight back north like a homing pigeon. I could have stayed the night with Timmy and Joe, though they’re the other side of London, but I didn’t think of that until I was well on the way to Sticklepond, when it suddenly occurred to me that I couldn’t just turn up early – it would be a shock to Aunt Nan – so I stopped at a motel chain for the night. I was in no fit state to drive any further that night anyway, really, because I don’t think I’d stopped crying since Justin had left the flat and everything just kept playing over and over in my mind. Justin texted me on my mobile several times, presumably after he returned and found me gone, but I deleted his messages unread. There wasn’t anything he could say that could make this better. Chapter 6: True Lovers Not As well as the bara brith and Welshcakes, Mother taught me how to make Meddyginiaeth Llysieuol, which is Welsh for herbal medicine, though really it’s a sort of honey mead with herbs and very good for you. I still make it and I’ve shared the recipe with Tansy, though I’m not giving it to anyone else. I’ve been asked for it time and again, and that Hebe Winter up at the manor would love to get her hands on it. She fancies herself as a herbalist but even she can’t guess what the special ingredient is that Mother put in! Meddyg, as we call it in the family, cures most things except old age, though I expect a glass or two will help to ease me out of this world and into the next. Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. As I drove back towards Sticklepond I thought I should never, ever have left there in the first place. After all, I could have done my graphic design course somewhere close, like Liverpool. Justin had so not been worth the years in London, which I could have spent with Aunt Nan instead … though she’d been the first to urge me to spread my wings and see a bit of the world. And if I’d never gone to London I’d probably be happily married to someone local by now, and not even known my wicked stepsisters existed. I meanly wished I could say they were as ugly as the ones in Cinderella, but they weren’t, though Rae had certainly done a mean and ugly thing. I hoped I’d never have to see either of them again, even if Marcia, the older one, was living up here since she’d got that regular part in the cast of Cotton Common. But Lars had said her flat was in Middlemoss, a few miles away, so with a bit of luck, our paths were unlikely to cross. Lars himself was on my mind because he was bound to find out I’d left Justin at some point and ask me why. I was fond of him, so I couldn’t tell him what Rae had done, or that Charlie, whom he adored, was Justin’s, could I? I felt a pang in my heart at the thought of the sweet little boy, who seemed by nature to be taking after Lars rather than his mother, which was a blessing. In features and colouring he looked just like the Andersons, very fair and with bright blue eyes, rather than with Justin’s Viking tawny hair and ruddy complexion. Ruddy Justin! No, I couldn’t face phoning Lars up and lying about my reasons for leaving Justin – not right now. Perhaps I’d feel braver later and think up a good story, or edit Rae out, or something. I was overcome with hunger – emotion gets me like that usually; it was surprising it hadn’t happened earlier – so I stopped for a carbohydrate-packed lunch, then called Timmy from the car afterwards and told him what had happened. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m really surprised, because we never liked him,’ he said. ‘He simply wasn’t good enough for you, darling, but I’m terribly sorry you found that out in such a horrible way. Those stepsisters of yours were a pair of bitches to you, right from the moment you moved into their father’s house. Bit like Cinderella, really, but without a prince to whisk you away.’ ‘I was thinking that, though at least I didn’t have to clean and cook, or sleep in the ashes. In fact, my stepfather was quite hurt that I wouldn’t take an allowance from him! And you were my prince, letting me share the flat with you.’ ‘No, I was your fairy godmother!’ he said, and laughed. ‘I’m going to ask you a favour now,’ I said. ‘I’ve managed to cram most of my stuff in the Mini, but I had to leave my small drawing desk and a couple of portfolios stacked in the boxroom of Justin’s flat. Could you possibly collect them in your van sometime, and then bring them with you next time you’re up here? The desk legs unscrew, so it’s not too bulky.’ Timmy’s parents had moved out of the village to Ormskirk a few years ago, but it was only a few miles away, and he and Joe often visited. ‘Of course I will, but it might be a couple of weeks because the van’s in for repairs and it’s going to be very expensive. But as soon as I get it back, I’ll ring Justin and see when will be convenient to get them, shall I?’ ‘That would be great, thanks, Timmy. I’ll tell him you’re going to fetch them at some point. He keeps trying to call me and he sent me three texts while I was eating lunch, but I haven’t read them. I just … can’t face it at the moment, it’s all like some dreadful nightmare. I’m all cried out and my eyes are so puffy I look grotesque.’ ‘I don’t suppose you feel at all forgiving. This is not something you can just get over and carry on after, is it?’ ‘No, it’s the end of that part of my life – but a new beginning back with Aunt Nan. She’s got really keen on the idea of turning Bright’s into a wedding shoe shop and I think it will give both of us a whole fresh interest in life.’ ‘It certainly will. It’s a wonderful idea! And I can be your scout at all the vintage fashion fairs, looking for wedding shoes,’ he offered, because we often went to them together. ‘You can give me a budget and I’ll buy anything I think you’ll like or can sell.’ ‘Thank you, Timmy, that would be great – and you know what to look for,’ I said gratefully, because some of the vintage shoes I bought hadn’t been specifically designed as wedding shoes, but were pretty enough to be used for the purpose. ‘You’re a wonderful friend – and Joe and Bella, too – What would I do without you?’ It was mid-afternoon by the time I turned off the motorway into the tangle of narrow country lanes that eventually brought me to Sticklepond High Street. I drove past Gregory Lyon’s Museum of Witchcraft (I remembered the days when it was still a dolls’ hospital and museum, owned by two elderly sisters, the Misses Frinton). Attached to it was the artisan chocolate shop, Chocolate Wishes, owned by Gregory’s daughter, Chloe, who had married the vicar … Then, just before the Green Man, I turned right and then immediately left up the unmade lane to the space at the back of the cottage, behind the henhouse, where I usually parked the car. It was quiet back there, just the ticking of the engine as it cooled and the crooning of hens. This end of the garden beyond the holly hedge arch was not so neat, and I noticed that the trellis along the top of the low wall dividing it from that of the neighbouring cottage was broken away from its post in the middle and sagged down. I paused for a minute before collecting the first armful of my belongings and going up to the kitchen door where Bella, who had kindly popped round to see that Aunt Nan was all right, spotted me through the window while she was filling the kettle and opened the door to let me in. I told Bella and Nan everything over a cup of hot tea and the last of the cherry scones Florrie had brought round with her when she came to spend the night. It seemed easier to tell both at once and get it over with. ‘… So I just put all my stuff in the car and came back. And that’s it, Aunt Nan,’ I said, when I’d poured out the whole sorry tale. ‘I’m finished with him. In fact, I’m finished with love. There’s going to be no Cinderella ending to my story.’ ‘That stepsister of yours is evil!’ Bella declared. ‘Yes, that’s what Timmy said, when I rang him to ask him to collect the rest of my stuff.’ ‘She’s behaved very badly, but Tansy’s fianc? could have said no,’ pointed out Aunt Nan. ‘It takes two to tango.’ ‘I desperately wanted children and all the time he was saying we couldn’t afford it, he already had Charlie!’ ‘He’s shown himself to be a man of no character whatsoever – and as for that stepsister of yours, she’s a slut, there’s no two ways about it,’ Aunt Nan said forthrightly. ‘I don’t know what the world is coming to. It’s more like Sodom and Gomorrah every day!’ ‘I’d pay good money to see Rae turn into a pillar of salt,’ I said with a watery smile. ‘So, you’re home for good?’ Aunt Nan asked. ‘What about the foot modelling? And your books?’ ‘I don’t need to be near the publishers, I can write the books anywhere, and I can always go down if they want to see me. Timmy’s going to bring my desk and the rest of my art materials up eventually, but I can manage without it for a while. As to the foot modelling, I’d been turning down more and more assignments and I told the agency I was retiring when I got back after Christmas. I did tell you I was going to, because I’d had enough. It’ll be lovely not having to put Vaseline on my feet and wear cotton socks in bed, or worry about bashed toenails and stuff like that.’ ‘Oh, yes, you did tell me,’ she agreed. ‘I’d forgotten.’ ‘After all these years of having to wear sensible shoes, well, I may go a little wild occasionally with the frivolous footwear, but I think I’m addicted to my Birkenstocks, really.’ ‘And you’ll take over the shop now, so Bright’s will still be here long after I’m gone, even if it has been transformed into a wedding shoe shop?’ ‘Of course. And I think it should be called Cinderella’s Slippers!’ I assured her, giving her a kiss. Even in so short an absence I could see that she’d faded – or perhaps she’d been steadily fading before and I had only just seen then, with fresh eyes? ‘I just want to settle down quietly here with you now, Aunt Nan.’ ‘That reminds me: we’ve had a bit of excitement up here while you were away, so it’s not been that quiet,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘You know I told you about the cottage next door being sold about a year ago as a holiday home to an actress and her husband, though they’d not finished doing it up before she was killed in an accident?’ I nodded. ‘She’d just got a part in Cotton Common.’ ‘So the papers said. Well, now her husband’s moving in.’ ‘How do you know?’ ‘There was a huge removal van blocking the lane most of yesterday and we could hear them – you know the dividing wall’s not that thick,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘I took the removal men some tea and biscuits round so I could try and find out what was happening,’ Bella confessed. ‘I sent her,’ Aunt Nancy explained. ‘I may be on the way out, but I’m still curious.’ ‘They said he’s an actor too and he sold the house he shared with his wife down south after the accident, rented a flat and put most of their furniture into storage,’ Bella went on. ‘But now he’s moving up here.’ ‘If he’s an actor, then perhaps he’s got a part in Cotton Common too?’ I suggested. ‘They do seem to have a large cast.’ ‘The men said he’d told them he needed peace and quiet and that he’s an edgy, abrupt sort of man, so maybe he’s been ill and is just moving here temporarily till he’s better,’ Bella said. ‘What’s he like?’ I asked her. ‘I dunno, he hasn’t arrived yet. The removal men are still in there unpacking, but they’ve moved the van to the pub car park now. I suppose they got permission, because the people in the houses at the back were complaining that it was blocking the lane and they couldn’t get their cars in and out.’ ‘I did see him briefly when he came to look at the cottage with his wife just before they bought it,’ Aunt Nan said, ‘but I can’t remember his name. I do recall he asked me how long I’d lived here and seemed surprised when I said there’d been Brights living on this plot since records began, but really she was the lively, talkative one, and very pretty. Tragic she died so young.’ ‘If he’s only seen it out of season, then Sticklepond may not be the quiet backwater he expects,’ I said. ‘He did remark how quiet it was, now I come to think of it, and that you wouldn’t know there was a shop here if you missed the sign on the wall at the High Street end of Salubrious Passage, so I couldn’t have many customers.’ ‘Of course you have lots of customers! Everyone knows you’re here,’ Bella said. ‘Yes, that’s what I told him.’ ‘What does he look like?’ I asked. ‘I can’t really remember, lovey, except that he was a bit older than his wife and pleasant-spoken.’ I pictured some silver-haired, elderly and irascible thespian, retiring to live out his days in the quiet backwater that was Sticklepond … except, of course, that lately it was less and less of a quiet backwater. A couple of years earlier, when that alleged Shakespeare manuscript had been discovered up at Winter’s End, visitors had started flocking there in droves, and there were other attractions in the village as well, like the Museum of Witchcraft, the chocolate shop, a bookshop called Marked Pages, two pubs, and a whole raft of gift shops, craft galleries and caf?s that had opened to cater to the tourist boom. Sticklepond had once been a much larger and more important place, before the Black Death decided to cull so many of its inhabitants, but it was now firmly back on the map. ‘It’ll be odd having a neighbour after so long,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘The cottage has been empty since last year and just holiday lets for ages before that. But I’ll be happier for knowing there’s someone the width of a wall away when I’m gone and you’re here on your own at nights, Tansy.’ ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep saying things like that, Aunt Nan! I’m not going to be here on my own for a long, long time,’ I told her firmly. ‘Well, when you are, I’ll still be watching over you – your guardian angel! That Chloe from the chocolate shop was telling me all about those yesterday afternoon. The vicar came to visit first, and then his wife came afterwards with the baby and brought me a chocolate angel. But we ate it.’ ‘Didn’t you save me a bit? Her chocolate is supposed to be wonderful!’ ‘I’m afraid we ate every last morsel – and it was wonderful,’ Bella said guiltily. ‘There was a message inside it,’ Aunt Nan told me. ‘A Wish, I suppose,’ I said, because Chloe specialised in making hollow chocolate shells in various shapes, with messages or ‘Wishes’ inside, like a sort of yummy fortune cookie. ‘What did it say?’ ‘That imminent meetings with loved ones would give me much joy.’ ‘It probably meant Tansy coming back,’ Bella said. ‘No, I think it meant heavenly meetings with Mother, Father and little Rosina, not to mention Jacob,’ Nan said thoughtfully, ‘though perhaps it meant Tansy as well.’ ‘It meant just me,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m back and I’m here to stay – and if we’re to transform Bright’s Shoes, I’m going to need your help!’ ‘Well, I can’t say I’m not glad to have you home, but I’m sorry it’s turned out like this, lovey, because I’d have liked to have seen you married and with little ones. But at least you found out he was the wrong man for you before it was too late, that’s the main thing.’ ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Bella agreed. ‘It would have been much worse to have found out about Charlie after you were married!’ ‘You two should get to work on the plans for the new shop right away,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘Because if you’re going to do it, then there’s no time like the present, and it’ll keep you both out of mischief.’ Working out the plans for the shop kept Aunt Nan amused too. Florrie’s daughter, Jenny, the retired nurse, continued to help Nan to wash and dress in the mornings, before she went downstairs to sit in her big shabby, comfortable chair in the kitchen, by the stove in its inglenook fireplace. Here she received a steady stream of visitors, including the vicar, Florrie, her friends from the Women’s Institute and even Felix Hemming from Marked Pages, who brought her a gift of one of the sweet, old-fashioned romances of the type she had often bought from him in the past. Hebe Winter took to dropping in on her way to her Elizabethan re-enactment meetings, too, an alarming sight in full Virgin Queen rig-out, right down to the wig and huge ruff. Aunt Nan said she kept coming only because she liked playing the Lady Bountiful, and was also trying to wheedle the recipe for the Meddyg out of her, but I think they both enjoyed the visits really. I left most of the shopkeeping to Bella, so I could be with Aunt Nan, because even though I tried to convince myself differently, I could see that my time with her was limited. I baked lots of cakes and biscuits for the stream of visitors, and ate a fair amount of them myself … One afternoon, while Florrie was with her, Bella and I began a complete stocktake in the storeroom that had been partitioned off from the shop. It was cramped and cluttered, lit by one dim bulb, which I quickly replaced with something a bit brighter. ‘I’ll pull things out and you write them down,’ suggested Bella. ‘Looking at the dust, I don’t think some of the stuff at the back has been moved for about half a century!’ Bella had to answer the shop bell once or twice, leaving me to rummage alone, and I turned up ancient treasures like plastic overshoes and old-fashioned court shoes made for fairy-sized feet. Aunt Nan herself had tiny feet which, like people, seemed to have got bigger over the years. I might take after the small, dark Bright side of the family, but I was still several inches taller than Aunt Nan and my feet were size five. ‘She really let the stocktaking slide for a few years,’ I told Bella when she came back. ‘She’s seemed interested in the wedding shoes lately, but I think the shop was getting a bit much for her before I started working here and she just kept it open out of a sense of duty. She’s so much happier about it now that she can see that it has a future.’ ‘I hoped involving her in the plans would give her a new lease of life, but … well, even I can see she’s fading day by day,’ I said sadly. ‘I know it’s upsetting, but she’s in her own home, which is what she wants,’ Bella said. ‘She’s happy enough.’ ‘I just can’t bear the thought of being without her,’ I sighed. ‘I’m so glad you’re living in Sticklepond too, Bella.’ ‘My course starts again tomorrow night. There’s only another couple of weeks to go and then I’ll get my certificate, though much good it will do me in the current job market! Just as well I’ve already found work.’ The course aimed to update office skills, though, as Bella pointed out, she didn’t really have any to start with, except she liked playing with computers. ‘I’ve just put a card up in the Spar window, offering to do anything at home like typing or spreadsheets or inputting data, so maybe I’ll be able to earn a little extra money.’ ‘I’m sorry we can’t give you more – or not yet, anyway,’ I said guiltily, because she wasn’t getting much above than the minimum wage. ‘It’s all right. The shop’s barely been ticking over and the short opening hours suit me, so I can spend lots of time with Tia. I’m not going to have any more children so I’d like to enjoy her childhood with her.’ ‘At least you got to have one child, which is more than I managed,’ I said sadly. ‘You’re not that old yet – you could still find someone else.’ ‘What, and then have one of the wicked sisters come and snatch him away before I could get him to the altar? I don’t think so!’ ‘I don’t suppose Rae would ever dare to show her nose up here, would she?’ ‘Probably not, but Marcia’s in Middlemoss, don’t forget. Still, I don’t expect our paths will cross, and if Lars tries to persuade me into one of his happy family gatherings next time he’s over here, I’ll be sure and have a good excuse ready!’ ‘What’s happening with Justin? Is he still trying to ring you?’ Justin had spent the first few days trying my mobile and Aunt Nan’s phone, but I’d either ignored him or put the phone down on him each time. ‘No, he’s given that up, but he’s still texting and emailing me, and I wish he’d stop. It only just seems to have dawned on him that I’ve left him for good and he’s finding it hard to accept that I won’t eventually forgive him and go back. I don’t think Mummy Dearest is having that problem, though, because when Timmy collected my desk and portfolios, he said she was in residence and the whole flat looked so sterile you could eat your dinner off the floor. She watched him the whole time, too, as if he might load the Conran sofa into the van, when she wasn’t looking.’ ‘Justin must still miss you, if he’s constantly trying to persuade you to take him back,’ Bella said. ‘But you couldn’t forgive him for something like that, could you?’ ‘No, of course not! I don’t know why he thinks he can talk his way out of it, but all his attempts to contact me just upset me even more. That’s it – I’ve given up on love.’ ‘Me too,’ Bella agreed. ‘Robert might have betrayed me in a different way by running up huge gambling debts, but I’ve had enough. He seemed so solid and dependable that I trusted him totally, but I’ve learned my lesson. No, I’ll concentrate on being a mum and you can be Tia’s favourite auntie – which you already are – and we’ll turn Cinderella’s Slippers into an astounding success!’ ‘I only hope you’re right,’ I said fervently. Chapter 7: Old Valentines Another Welsh delicacy is laver bread, which isn’t bread at all, but a sort of stewed seaweed. Mother used to say how wonderful it was fried up in a bit of bacon fat for breakfast, but when she brought some back from a trip to see her relatives – well, it was such a disappointment! Father said it looked like seagull droppings, and to be honest it tasted the way it looked. Not that I’ve ever tasted seagull droppings, of course, dear,that goes without saying … Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. Justin’s emails and texts had started out all apologetic, persuasive and loving, upsetting me and making me miss him … or the man I’d once thought he was. But then his missives slowly turned sulky and indignant, which was easier to deal with and just strengthened my resolve. He was so used to getting his own way that it must have been quite a shock to his system to find I wasn’t going to go running back to him. I shouldn’t think any woman had ever turned him down before! Unfortunately, both he and my first love were still regularly featuring in my recurring Cinderella dream, which was definitely a nightmare now that one prince had dumped me and the next dumped on me by making out with my stepsister! I supposed the whole Cinderella thing was going through my head all the time because I was working on ideas for the new shop, but it’s a pity you can’t turn your subconscious off at night. Timmy and Joe came up to spend the weekend with Timmy’s parents in Ormskirk, and brought my desk and portfolios over early on the Saturday evening. Aunt Nan had quickly become fond of Timmy’s partner, Joe, so their visit perked her up no end, especially discussing the design, layout and colour scheme of Cinderella’s Slippers. Timmy had a really good eye for colour and ambience and Joe was good on practical matters, especially lighting, since theatrical lighting was what he did for a living. Aunt Nan retired to bed early, as she often did, and when I’d seen her comfortably settled the boys and I went to the Green Man to meet Bella, whose mother was baby-sitting Tia. ‘How do you think Aunt Nan is looking?’ I asked Timmy hopefully. ‘Quite perky?’ ‘Frail,’ he said frankly. ‘She does love the idea of you and Bella making over the shop and keeping it going after she has gone, though. You can tell she’s tickled pink.’ ‘She was knocked back a bit by the stroke, but she’s made a good recovery,’ I insisted. ‘But she often goes to bed in the late afternoon now, and she wouldn’t do that before,’ Bella said gently. ‘You have to accept that she’s fading away, Tansy.’ ‘She’ll pick up again when spring arrives,’ I said stubbornly. ‘It’s only that she’s convinced herself her time is up, but if she gets really interested in Cinderella’s Slippers, I don’t see why she shouldn’t make her century.’ ‘Well, we’ll all drink to that,’ Timmy said, but I could see they were just being kind. Deep down, I knew they were right: I was whistling in the wind. We updated Bella on the ideas we’d discussed earlier with Aunt Nan and Joe said, ‘So now we’re all excited about the shop too!’ ‘And I’ve just found a great designer online called RubyTrueShuze, who does lots of vintage-style wedding shoes. Some of them have really interesting trimmings made out of lace, feathers, pearls or crystals. They’re lovely and very different,’ I enthused. ‘I forgot to tell you about her. I’ve emailed her, to see if we can stock them.’ ‘And you’re going to sell actual vintage wedding shoes too, aren’t you?’ asked Timmy. ‘Or vintage shoes suitable for a wedding.’ ‘Yes, I thought they’d make a good publicity angle, though I don’t suppose I’ll sell that many of them.’ ‘I know someone who makes lovely embroidered satin bridesmaid’s slippers for children, from toddler size upwards,’ Joe said. ‘She can match them to the colour of the dresses.’ ‘That sounds interesting. I do need to stock bridesmaid’s shoes.’ ‘She has a website – here’s her business card,’ he said, passing it across. ‘I brought it, in case.’ ‘Things are really starting to come together,’ Bella said. ‘I can’t wait to open the new shop!’ ‘We have to have a big closing-down sale and then a total redesign and restock, before then,’ I said, but I felt excited about it too – and it was a distraction from my broken heart. Seth Greenwood and Sophy, who had been playing darts with the other Winter’s End gardeners, kindly stopped on their way out to ask how Aunt Nan was doing. Sophy looked pregnant again to me, so maybe Aunt Nan was right about there being something in the water in Sticklepond! But if so, it was probably already too late for me, even if I tried to find someone else … which I wasn’t going to do. Then all our plans for the new shop had to go on hold, because Aunt Nan had another small stroke and then went quickly downhill. She seemed to have suddenly released her grip on life and was preparing to coast down into death quite cheerfully. I had to concede defeat. I let my mother know that if she wanted to see Aunt Nan, she’d better plan a trip very soon, but the only reply was a get-well-soon e-card via my email address. I displayed it on the screen to Aunt Nan as she lay propped up in bed, but with the jingly music turned down. ‘Well, I’m underwhelmed, to say the least, lovey! But I suppose it’s something that Immy managed to get her mind off herself for five minutes to send it,’ she said sardonically, then shut her eyes and went back to sleep again. Aunt Nan no longer left her bed and Florrie’s daughter, Jenny, kept popping in to keep her comfortable, while the doctor, an old friend, came daily. Towards the end she dozed most of the time while I sat by the bed, holding her hand. She woke occasionally, murmuring a few random comments, as though she’d been mentally running through a final to-do list while asleep. You’d have thought she was going on a long cruise, rather than leaving life for uncharted territory! Well, uncharted to me: Aunt Nan seemed pretty clear what was on the other side. ‘Remember that I’ve always been proud of you, lovey, and I’ve been that pleased about your children’s books being such a success.’ ‘I know, and they’ve certainly turned into a good little earner, providing I keep two new ones a year coming out.’ ‘Money isn’t everything, but I’ve put a bit by for you. You’ll need something to live on while you get the new shop going.’ ‘It could take a while to build up the new business,’ I admitted. ‘But I have some savings too, because I’ve always invested the foot modelling fees.’ ‘Very sensible. But you want to keep that for a rainy day.’ ‘I don’t think it can get much rainier,’ I said sadly, feeling the tears spring to my eyes. ‘Promise me two things, lovey,’ Aunt Nan said next time she woke up, after a tiny sip or two of Meddyg. ‘Anything!’ ‘Bury me in my wedding dress and veil.’ I nodded, mutely. ‘And those wedding shoes you showed me, that you bought when you got engaged – wear them to the funeral.’ I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Aunt Nan, I’d probably fall over in heels!’ ‘And you go on with your plans to turn Bright’s Shoes into Cinderella’s Slippers as soon as you can. What was that last advertising slogan you and Bella came up with?’ ‘“Don’t trip down the aisle, float down it”?’ I suggested. ‘Or Joe’s: “If the shoe fits …” – That’s a good one and really ties in with the name of the shop.’ ‘Cinderella’s Slippers …’ she murmured. ‘Well, I hope one day your prince will come to find you, Tansy. Not a tarnished one like that Justin, but a good honest man with a true heart, who’ll appreciate you.’ ‘I’m not sure they exist any more, or not outside the pages of novels, anyway,’ I said sadly. ‘They do. My Jacob was one, and soon I’ll see him again,’ she said confidently. And in fact at the last, though her eyes were open on this world, she seemed to be seeing some other, more wondrous place than the little bedroom over the shop where she was born, for she whispered, ‘Beautiful!’ Then she sighed happily and my beloved aunt Nan was gone. But then, it was Valentine’s Day, and time for lovers’ trysts. Chapter 8: Amazing Grace We grew up happily enough in this cottage and Father ran the shoe shop. Some people still wore clogs then, and he would mend those and repair shoes, harnesses or anything made of leather, as well as selling work boots, Wellingtons, shoelaces, polish and so on. We’re a bit out of the way, tucked in off the High Street down Salubrious Passage, but everyone for miles around knows about Bright’s. Middlemoss Living Archive Recordings: Nancy Bright. We closed the shop for over a week – I don’t think it had ever been shut for more than a day before that. Aunt Nan’s friends rallied round, especially Florrie, and so did mine, but it was a dreadful, bereft time in which I didn’t see how I could go on, without my great-aunt. Having my heart broken, and then losing the person who had been mother, grandmother and great-aunt all rolled into one in such a short space of time … well, it was almost too much to bear, and I felt consumed by a black hole of unhappiness. Lars sent a wreath and would have come over for the funeral with the least encouragement, despite only having met Aunt Nan once or twice. He assumed Justin would be there to support me, though, and I didn’t disabuse his mind of this idea. I couldn’t face telling him the truth just then. Of course, I’d also let my mother know, though, true to form, Immy made a weak excuse and stayed away. Word somehow also got round to Justin and he emailed and texted sympathetically, wanting to come and support me at the funeral. That just made me cry and feel even more bereft and alone than I had before, because Aunt Nan wouldn’t have wanted him there and, when it came down to it, neither did I. Everything was all done exactly as she had planned it, right down to the rich bara brith I baked, the funeral version that’s more like a cake, for the small gathering in the Green Man’s function room afterwards. I wore my ivory satin wedding shoes, which probably looked a little incongruous with my dark tapestry coat, and they got so muddy that that was the end of them: I took them off and tossed them into the grave. It seemed fitting. I’d almost worn them out while waiting for the wedding, anyway. When the vicar called a couple of days afterwards he commented on what a joyous occasion it had been, with practically the entire village turning out for the service. I was running on empty by then, not being able to face food (highly unusual), but alleviating my sorrow with Meddyg. I offered him some, but he settled for a cup of tea instead. Being a relative newcomer, Raffy didn’t know all the ins and outs of my upbringing, but enough to be deeply sympathetic. ‘This must have hit you extra hard, Tansy, because I’m told you’ve always lived here with Nan.’ ‘Yes, Aunt Nancy brought me up, though she was my great-aunt really.’ ‘So you’re an orphan? I noticed there weren’t any other members of your family at the funeral. But of course your friends were there, and your aunt’s closest friends, like Florrie.’ I only hoped he hadn’t noticed Florrie making some obscure, furtive and presumably pagan sign over the grave at the end, but I had a suspicion he had. And goodness knows what was in that bunch of greenery she’d tossed in after my shoes! ‘Oh, no, I’m not an orphan,’ I said. ‘But my mother was a young, unmarried model when she had me and I was an encumbrance, so she parked me with Aunt Nan and that was that. I used to spend some of the school holidays with my mother later, but I was always glad to come home again.’ ‘What about your father?’ ‘Apparently he was quite a well-known pop artist in his time and did a record sleeve for some group that’s now a collector’s item. He’s way older than Immy – my mother – and he lives in India. I went out there to find him a few years ago, but though he was kind enough, he wasn’t terribly interested, and drink and drugs had addled his brain to the point where he kept forgetting who I was.’ ‘That must have been disappointing.’ ‘Not really. I’d heard a bit about him before I went and I was just curious. I met my ex-fianc? on the plane coming back …’ Raffy didn’t comment on this obviously thorny subject. ‘I can see that your aunt was your rock.’ ‘Yes, I don’t know what would have happened to me if she hadn’t taken me on. I’d probably have ended up in care, because my grandmother died when I was two and Immy’s first husband didn’t want to know about me.’ ‘Your mother’s married more than once?’ ‘Oh yes, three times. The second one was a rich American manufacturer called Lars Anderson, who was totally different from the first husband and wanted me to make my home with them and his two daughters by his first marriage. But I didn’t want to leave Sticklepond and Aunt Nan, especially after I met my stepsisters.’ I smiled wryly. ‘They certainly weren’t going to welcome me into the family.’ ‘Wicked stepsisters?’ ‘Yes, but not ugly ones … that was partly the problem.’ Suddenly I found myself pouring out to him a part of my past I normally preferred not to dwell on. ‘I did stay in Lars’ London house with them all when I went down to start my graphic design course, but my stepsisters made my life such hell that I moved into a flat with some of my college friends instead. Lars was quite hurt, but he didn’t understand what the girls were like when he wasn’t there. He’s always been a bit blinkered about them, though he can be very firm too, especially about them earning their own money rather than relying on him.’ ‘So, your mother divorced him?’ ‘Yes, but Lars still takes an interest in me and looks me up when he’s in London – he’s a lovely man. Both daughters have made their homes over here now. The elder, Marcia, is an actress living in Middlemoss, but Rae is living in the London house with her little boy …’ I felt another pang and added, ‘Lars is always trying to get me and the girls together for a big family reunion, but sometimes I wish he’d just let me go.’ ‘So where’s your mother now?’ Raffy asked. ‘Immy married her plastic surgeon a few years ago and moved out to California, where she seems to be trying to turn herself into a Barbie doll. That was another thing with the stepsisters,’ I added bitterly. ‘They were tall, fair and pretty – much more like my mother than I was, because I take after the darker side of the family – and they all shared the same interests: men, fashion, clothes and gossip. They were like three sisters and she sided with them even when they were bullying me. She was my mother, yet it was me who felt like the cuckoo in the nest! Rae and Marcia called me an evil little goblin.’ ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘That must have really endeared them to you.’ ‘They stole my boyfriends when they could, too. Recently I discovered that Rae, the younger one, had an affair with my fianc?, and that her son is his. That’s why he is my ex and I’ve moved back here.’ ‘Poor Tansy, you have been having a time of it,’ Raffy said sympathetically, his lovely turquoise-green eyes sincere. I managed a wavering smile. ‘I feel better for having unburdened myself – that was quite unintentional!’ ‘That’s what vicars are for. Chloe says she’d love to pop in and see you, too, if you felt up to visitors?’ ‘Of course,’ I said, thinking that if Raffy, ex-rock star, was the unlikeliest vicar you ever saw, then his wife, daughter of the pagan and somewhat eccentric proprietor of the Museum of Witchcraft (who was not only a self-confessed warlock but the author of many lurid black magic thrillers), was an even more unlikely vicar’s wife. But then, her artisan chocolates were heavenly! My spirits rose slightly as my mind took a new tack. ‘Actually, I wanted to ask her if she might make a special line of chocolate shoes for me to sell in the shop when it goes totally bridal.’ ‘I’m sure she’d be delighted. And I’m glad you’ve started thinking about the new shop, because your aunt was really keen that you should get on with it, she told me so.’ ‘Yes, she made me promise I’d carry on, so I must … and a Chocolate Wishes shoe would be the perfect wedding favour, wouldn’t it?’ ‘It certainly would. I’ll tell her to pop round.’ As he shrugged himself into a very un-vicar-like long black leather coat he asked, ‘Any sign of your new neighbour yet?’ ‘No, so perhaps he’s changed his mind, or his health took another turn for the worse, or something,’ I said. ‘Nan said he was an elderly actor.’ When Chloe came she brought her baby, Grace, with her, who has the same amazingly greeny-blue eyes and dark hair as her father. Chloe’s even smaller than I am and very pretty, with a slightly elfin face, a bit like Kate Bush. I didn’t say so, though, because she was probably just as fed up with people saying that as I was with being likened to Helena Bonham Carter, just because we both liked to dress a little differently from everyone else. Chloe’d brought me a chocolate angel and a geranium in a pot. ‘It’s scented and has red flowers. Red geraniums are for protection,’ she told me. ‘Against what?’ ‘Sadness, bad vibes,’ she shrugged. ‘I just felt it was what you needed.’ Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/trisha-ashley/chocolate-shoes-and-wedding-blues/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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