Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues. Trisha AshleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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-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