Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues (10 page)
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.
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-fiancé 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 fiancé, 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.