‘I’m going to ask you a favour now,’ I said. ‘I’ve managed to cram most of my stuff in the Mini, but I had to leave my small drawing desk and a couple of portfolios stacked in the boxroom of Justin’s flat. Could you possibly collect them in your van sometime, and then bring them with you next time you’re up here? The desk legs unscrew, so it’s not too bulky.’
Timmy’s parents had moved out of the village to Ormskirk a few years ago, but it was only a few miles away, and he and Joe often visited.
‘Of course I will, but it might be a couple of weeks because the van’s in for repairs and it’s going to be very expensive. But as soon as I get it back, I’ll ring Justin and see when will be convenient to get them, shall I?’
‘That would be great, thanks, Timmy. I’ll tell him you’re going to fetch them at some point. He keeps trying to call me and he sent me three texts while I was eating lunch, but I haven’t read them. I just … can’t face it at the moment, it’s all like some dreadful nightmare. I’m all cried out and my eyes are so puffy I look grotesque.’
‘I don’t suppose you feel at all forgiving. This is not something you can just get over and carry on after, is it?’
‘No, it’s the end of that part of my life – but a new beginning back with Aunt Nan. She’s got really keen on the idea of turning Bright’s into a wedding shoe shop and I think it will give both of us a whole fresh interest in life.’
‘It certainly will. It’s a wonderful idea! And I can be your scout at all the vintage fashion fairs, looking for wedding shoes,’ he offered, because we often went to them together. ‘You can give me a budget and I’ll buy anything I think you’ll like or can sell.’
‘Thank you, Timmy, that would be great – and you know what to look for,’ I said gratefully, because some of the vintage shoes I bought hadn’t been specifically designed as wedding shoes, but were pretty enough to be used for the purpose. ‘You’re a wonderful friend – and Joe and Bella, too – What would I do without you?’
It was mid-afternoon by the time I turned off the motorway into the tangle of narrow country lanes that eventually brought me to Sticklepond High Street.
I drove past Gregory Lyon’s Museum of Witchcraft (I remembered the days when it was still a dolls’ hospital and museum, owned by two elderly sisters, the Misses Frinton). Attached to it was the artisan chocolate shop, Chocolate Wishes, owned by Gregory’s daughter, Chloe, who had married the vicar …
Then, just before the Green Man, I turned right and then immediately left up the unmade lane to the space at the back of the cottage, behind the henhouse, where I usually parked the car.
It was quiet back there, just the ticking of the engine as it cooled and the crooning of hens. This end of the garden beyond the holly hedge arch was not so neat, and I noticed that the trellis along the top of the low wall dividing it from that of the neighbouring cottage was broken away from its post in the middle and sagged down.
I paused for a minute before collecting the first armful of my belongings and going up to the kitchen door where Bella, who had kindly popped round to see that Aunt Nan was all right, spotted me through the window while she was filling the kettle and opened the door to let me in.
I told Bella and Nan everything over a cup of hot tea and the last of the cherry scones Florrie had brought round with her when she came to spend the night. It seemed easier to tell both at once and get it over with.
‘… So I just put all my stuff in the car and came back. And that’s it, Aunt Nan,’ I said, when I’d poured out the whole sorry tale. ‘I’m finished with him. In fact, I’m finished with love. There’s going to be no Cinderella ending to my story.’
‘That stepsister of yours is evil!’ Bella declared.
‘Yes, that’s what Timmy said, when I rang him to ask him to collect the rest of my stuff.’
‘She’s behaved very badly, but Tansy’s fiancé could have said no,’ pointed out Aunt Nan. ‘It takes two to tango.’
‘I desperately wanted children and all the time he was saying we couldn’t afford it, he already had Charlie!’
‘He’s shown himself to be a man of no character whatsoever – and as for that stepsister of yours, she’s a slut, there’s no two ways about it,’ Aunt Nan said forthrightly. ‘I don’t know what the world is coming to. It’s more like Sodom and Gomorrah every day!’
‘I’d pay good money to see Rae turn into a pillar of salt,’ I said with a watery smile.
‘So, you’re home for good?’ Aunt Nan asked. ‘What about the foot modelling? And your books?’
‘I don’t need to be near the publishers, I can write the books anywhere, and I can always go down if they want to see me. Timmy’s going to bring my desk and the rest of my art materials up eventually, but I can manage without it for a while. As to the foot modelling, I’d been turning down more and more assignments and I told the agency I was retiring when I got back after Christmas. I did tell you I was going to, because I’d had enough. It’ll be lovely not having to put Vaseline on my feet and wear cotton socks in bed, or worry about bashed toenails and stuff like that.’
‘Oh, yes, you did tell me,’ she agreed. ‘I’d forgotten.’
‘After all these years of having to wear sensible shoes, well, I may go a little wild occasionally with the frivolous footwear, but I think I’m addicted to my Birkenstocks, really.’
‘And you’ll take over the shop now, so Bright’s will still be here long after I’m gone, even if it has been transformed into a wedding shoe shop?’
‘Of course. And I think it should be called Cinderella’s Slippers!’ I assured her, giving her a kiss. Even in so short an absence I could see that she’d faded – or perhaps she’d been steadily fading before and I had only just seen then, with fresh eyes? ‘I just want to settle down quietly here with you now, Aunt Nan.’
‘That reminds me: we’ve had a bit of excitement up here while you were away, so it’s not been that quiet,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘You know I told you about the cottage next door being sold about a year ago as a holiday home to an actress and her husband, though they’d not finished doing it up before she was killed in an accident?’
I nodded. ‘She’d just got a part in Cotton Common.’
‘So the papers said. Well, now her husband’s moving in.’
‘How do you know?’
‘There was a huge removal van blocking the lane most of yesterday and we could hear them – you know the dividing wall’s not that thick,’ Aunt Nan said.
‘I took the removal men some tea and biscuits round so I could try and find out what was happening,’ Bella confessed.
‘I sent her,’ Aunt Nancy explained. ‘I may be on the way out, but I’m still curious.’
‘They said he’s an actor too and he sold the house he shared with his wife down south after the accident, rented a flat and put most of their furniture into storage,’ Bella went on. ‘But now he’s moving up here.’
‘If he’s an actor, then perhaps he’s got a part in Cotton Common too?’ I suggested. ‘They do seem to have a large cast.’
‘The men said he’d told them he needed peace and quiet and that he’s an edgy, abrupt sort of man, so maybe he’s been ill and is just moving here temporarily till he’s better,’ Bella said.
‘What’s he like?’ I asked her.
‘I dunno, he hasn’t arrived yet. The removal men are still in there unpacking, but they’ve moved the van to the pub car park now. I suppose they got permission, because the people