Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues (33 page)
‘Well, it’s not original; lots of places have them. We could make it a circular walk, starting at Winter’s End and the big car park, through the fields to the village, taking in the Witchcraft Museum, then back by way of the Lido field, with its new Plague Pit Tourist Information board, and the church, to the path again. But they could start at any point on the circle.’
‘Stirrups is a little too far from the village to walk to,’ Janey put in.
‘But it could be marked on the map, with information about it and contact details,’ Laurence suggested, busily making notes. ‘In fact, every point of interest within, say, a five-mile radius, could be numbered and information displayed about them on the back of the leaflet. It would all add interest.’
‘I think it is an idea of great possibility,’ Gregory Lyon said, ‘and if we all share the costs of the printing it will not be a huge expense. The local printer who does my pamphlets for sale in the museum is very reasonable.’
So that was agreed, and also that Hebe would convene further meetings of the Chamber of Commerce as and when needed.
I left for London early next morning in smart black jeans teamed with a bright red and black ikat-weave jacket and my hair pinned up high and secured with colourful butterfly pins. Flash looked anxious and even though I told him he wouldn’t have long to wait before Bella would be in to talk to him, I still felt very mean driving off to the station.
I’d forgotten what London was like. I enjoy the museums and the bustle and buzz of the city, but I love the peace and quiet of my home a lot more. I went to the RubyTrueShuze showroom first, where I finally got to meet Ruby herself briefly and then was handed over to an assistant who helped me order a scary amount of wonderful new stock.
I think I got a bit carried away, so I felt excited, nervous and a bit wrung out by the time I arrived at Timmy and Joe’s tiny terraced house in Battersea. Joe was at work, but Timmy had taken the day off in my honour and cooked me lunch.
‘An omelette and a glass of wine,’ he said. ‘Very Elizabeth David!’
Timmy admired my red and black jacket and the pins I’d secured my hair up with … or maybe unsecured it with, since the whole bird’s nest seemed to be unravelling as the day went on.
‘Do you think it’s a bit much? People were staring at my head on the tube.’
‘No, it looks as if a cloud of butterflies has landed on your hair. You be yourself – you can get away with it,’ he assured me.
We settled down for a good catch-up over lunch, and I told him how well the shop was doing. ‘There’s a steady stream of brides-to-be of all ages and I try to find them the shoes of their dreams. Luckily, there seems to be a style of RubyTrueShuze for practically everyone! One or two have gone for real vintage shoes, and I’ve promised to buy them back later if they’re still in very good condition.’
‘Trade sounds flourishing!’
‘I hope it’ll do even better after the article and my advert come out in
Lively Lancashire
. That should be any minute now.’
‘Brides will be beating a trail to your door,’ Timmy assured me. ‘We’ll be up again soon and we’ll come over and visit.’
‘I seem to be selling lots of odds and ends to visitors. I think I ought to go to some trade fairs next year, in search of more shoe-shaped trinkets … But one step at a time.’
After lunch Timmy showed me the vintage shoes he’d bought on my behalf: a pair of unworn palest pink linen platform shoes dating from the seventies, still in their original box, which were very wearable; and a pair of early nineteenth-century white satin shoes, which would be for display only.
‘Too lovely to resist!’ he said, pointing out the fine silk flowers hand-stitched to the front. ‘They have obviously been worn, so you couldn’t sell them.’
‘No, they are a bit too fragile, anyway, but they will look lovely on display.’
‘Wait till you see what else I’ve got for you!’ he said mysteriously, producing a plain white shoe box. ‘I’m not sure that you could really describe them as wedding shoes, and they really blew the budget, but if you don’t want them, I’ll keep them myself.’
He opened the lid with a flourish, revealing a pair of see-through pumps with black patent toe-and-heel detail, and I gasped:
‘Aren’t those Chanel? I’ve seen them only in pictures!’ I picked one up, admiring the transparent Lucite heels. You really would look as if you were wearing glass slippers in those.
‘Yes, though the original box is missing.’
‘They’re wonderful, and I’ll have to have them – but I don’t think I could bear to sell them, so they will have to be display only, too.’
We packed the shoes back into their boxes and a sturdy paper carrier bag and then I brought Timmy up to speed on what was happening in Sticklepond: Bella and her resistance to Neil’s advances, Tia’s riding lessons, which had totally diverted her mind from ballet and given her a new circle of little pony-mad friends, and what happened at the Chamber of Commerce meeting. I’d already told him about the retail park.
‘But what about you – are you getting pally with the handsome actor next door, yet? I’m assuming you’ve forgiven him for dumping you first time round?’
‘Yes, especially after I found out that was really Marcia and Rae’s doing. He’s not quite as tense and bad-tempered these days, so I suppose you could say we’re becoming friends.’
‘
Only
friends?’
‘You’re as bad as Bella!’ I felt my face going pink. ‘There’s nothing more and never will be, because not only is there no spark between us now, he’s still coming to terms with his wife’s death – and when he does, he’ll be off back to the stage again! But Bella thinks Marcia’s afraid I will snap him up, when she wants him herself!’
I told him about Marcia’s meddling visit to Justin. ‘She’s really put the spanner in the works. Justin called me late the night before, drunk and hinting he’d found something out that would change everything, which must have been after Marcia suggested Charlie might not be his son. But he’d have to be
really
drunk if he thought that would make any difference to the way I felt about him cheating on me with Rae!’
‘Have you spoken to him since then?’ asked Timmy. ‘Go on, this is just like a soap episode!’
‘He texted me next day to say he was sorry for waking me up, but other than that there have been only the usual random texts and emails about what he’s doing and how his mother is driving him mad – which serves him right!’
‘I’m assuming you didn’t tell him you were coming down today?’
‘No, or he’d have wanted to see me. I’m only hoping he didn’t take Marcia seriously when she assured him I was desperately missing him and sorry we had broken up, because I’m finding it very hard to hammer into his thick skull that there is no going back!’
I travelled back feeling tired but happy, and with two of Timmy’s cinnamon and raisin loaves in my folding silk shopping bag. I was so hungry that when I found there was no buffet car and a promised trolley failed to materialise, I ate the better part of one of the loaves, tearing off great soft, fresh and delicious chunks.
The fat businessman opposite me watched in fascinated horror, as if I were some feral scavenging creature. Or maybe that was my ensemble? Timmy might have thought I looked wonderful, but I was still turning heads, so I dare say it wasn’t to everyone’s taste.
Flash was still out with Ivo when I got back, though they returned soon afterwards and Flash seemed very relieved to see me.
‘You’ve been cruel and mean to him, haven’t you?’ I asked, as the dog held up a beseeching paw.
‘Yes: first I tried to get him to eat his dinner, and then I dragged him round the lanes for miles. Or maybe he dragged me? Nice outfit, by the way – and I like the little butterflies in your hair.’
‘Really? You don’t think they’re a little too over the top?’
‘No. In fact, the whole ensemble is quite restrained for you. I like all the bright things you wear.’
Ivo was obviously sincere, so in reward I buttered some of Timmy’s lovely bread and we toasted my return with Meddyg while Flash devoured his neglected dinner.
I could hear him playing miserable music later, even though I’d picked out a CD of
The Rite of Spring
in London in the hope it would give his musical tastes – and his thoughts – a bit of a lift, so I expected he was back to his diary reading. It’s as if he is punishing himself for something, but I have no idea what: loving not wisely, but too well, perhaps?
If so, I too have been guilty of that.
You’ve no idea how long rationing went on for after the war and when bananas suddenly appeared, some of the younger children had no idea what they were! Father and I were always partial to a banana custard, but when we got our first ones after the war, we gave them to a family in the village – their baby was ill, and the doctor said bananas would be excellent for her. Everyone did it – there’s always been a sharing spirit in Sticklepond.
Middlemoss Living Archive
Recordings: Nancy Bright.
I’d enjoyed my day in London, but the way my spirits lifted with every passing mile bringing me nearer to Sticklepond had made me realise even more clearly that my heart – and my life – now lay there.
It had crystallised my feelings for Justin too. Somewhere deep inside, part of me had still been mourning and missing the man I’d loved, yet that man hadn’t ever really existed – or not after the first few months together. It was the attraction of opposites, and perhaps we were too different for it ever to have worked out anyway, but our life together was built on a shaky foundation of lies once Rae came back from America and settled in London.
Bella said if I felt like that I should stop answering his texts and emails altogether, because even my occasional brief replies might give him false hope, and I could see she was right. So after some deliberation I sent him one last email spelling out exactly how I felt and telling him in the plainest terms that there was no possibility of us ever getting back together and I didn’t want him to contact me any more.
However, he came bouncing right back with a long, long email saying he knew he had betrayed my trust and understood how hurt that had made me, but he hoped to win my forgiveness eventually and would in any case always be my friend.
Bella said it looked like the message that he’d done the unforgivable would
never
filter through his thick skull, and I was inclined to agree with her. I suspected I’d have to continue deleting all his texts and emails unread.
Life settled into a pleasant routine, my tranquillity only occasionally slightly disturbed by messages arriving from Justin, like brief flashes of lightning far away – vaguely troubling but not of any great importance.
Each morning I let out the hens, walked Flash and worked in my studio (unless Bella needed me), conscious that Ivo too would be working away next door on his novel. Then in the afternoons I would take over the shop once Bella had gone, and for the occasional evening opening by appointment. Saturdays were always busy, especially after my advert appeared in
Bonnie Brides
magazine, so we were both usually needed in the shop.
In the late afternoons I often gardened, and Ivo, who now obviously had the gardening bug, would be there too and would open the gate between our plots so Flash could come and go. Luckily he and Toby seem to have decided they can’t see each other at all, even when only feet apart, so life is much quieter!
Though Ivo complained about the withering effect of dog pee on plants, I’m sure he enjoyed Flash’s company, and that of the hens, which I sometimes let out in the afternoon for an hour or two. They loved to forage in Ivo’s freshly dug garden.
Although naturally pale, Ivo was looking much healthier, which I put down entirely to my food and exercise, but I couldn’t do much about the haunted look in his eyes or his state of mind …
But when he brought Flash back from his evening walk he came in for a glass of Meddyg, a bite of whatever I’d been baking, and a companionable chat, and I found myself looking forward to this quiet hour or so … And now we’d both opened up a little about the discoveries we’d made about our loved ones, the shared secrets had made a bond.
I was still spinning out Aunt Nan’s memoir, as Ivo was with Kate’s diary, though in his case it seemed to be more of a dogged determination to punish himself; I didn’t know why, or what for. Perhaps grief can take you like that?
That Sunday afternoon, Ivo and I took Flash for another long walk together and then he came back for high tea – even higher than usual, since I’d embarked on a sudden frenzy of both sweet and savoury baking early that morning.
We’d almost finished when Bella and Tia unexpectedly arrived the back way, with Neil in tow, having been to a car-boot sale where Bella had bought me a hardy bay tree to replace one in Aunt Nan’s garden that had not survived the winter.
‘I got a riding hat of my own, so I don’t have to borrow one from the riding school,’ Tia said.
‘Yes, I noticed you were wearing one,’ I said, since she’d arrived with it jammed firmly over her long, floss-fine pale hair. ‘That was a good find!’
‘Yes, it was a bargain,’ Bella agreed. ‘It didn’t look as if it had been worn at all.’
They didn’t linger, but after they’d gone, Ivo raised one dark eyebrow and asked, ‘Is that Bella’s boyfriend?’
‘
Friend
, certainly. I’m sure he’d like to be more, but Bella’s been through a lot so she’s a bit wary.’
‘“He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells of April and May”,’ Ivo said.
‘You think he’s got it
that
badly?’
‘It’s unmistakable. I couldn’t make out how your friend felt, though.’
I explained how Bella’s partner had run up such huge gambling debts, unbeknown to her until after his death.