Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues. Trisha Ashley

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      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 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 СКАЧАТЬ