Читать книгу Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues - Trisha Ashley - Страница 10

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 fiancé, 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 fiancé 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 fiancé 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.’

‘Sjödén,’ I said, and went to fetch the Meddyg.