Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues. Trisha Ashley
Читать онлайн книгу.
never trust a man who looked like that!’
‘So he’s tall, handsome and also a well-paid young orthopaedic consultant – which probably means he can delegate evenings and weekends to some lesser doctor, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s not really the sort of thing you get called out in emergencies for. But he’s actually not so young any more, he’s about to hit forty. I do wish he wouldn’t go on as if we’re practically living on the breadline. He was even miffed when I wouldn’t accept an allowance from Lars, though I don’t see why the poor man should pay out for me, when my mother was married to him for only a couple of years.’
‘Nice of him to offer.’
‘Lars keeps trying to persuade me to change my mind, but I won’t. I do accept his lovely presents, though.’
‘So come on, what other good points does Justin have?’
‘Charm – though he doesn’t often direct it at me these days. And he can be very affectionate and persuasive. He says he wants me to lose weight only for my own health, for instance …’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘But then, he loves my baking and sulks if there’s nothing in the cake tin, or I haven’t made a fresh bara brith loaf.’
‘All that baking’s not exactly going to help you with the weight loss, is it?’ Bella pointed out.
‘No, not really,’ I sighed. ‘He does think the foot modelling is a good thing. He’s quite proud of my doing that, oddly enough, and tells everyone I have beautiful feet. He doesn’t even object to my slathering my feet in Vaseline each night and then wearing cotton socks in bed.’
‘Secret foot fetishist?’ she suggested doubtfully.
‘Maybe … but you can’t build a relationship on that! No, I think we’ve been drifting slowly further and further apart and perhaps he doesn’t really love me any more – or not the real me. And I want the Justin I fell in love with, not this version,’ I said sadly.
‘Maybe there’s an “IOU a wedding” voucher in your Christmas present from him?’ she suggested.
‘I doubt it. I know he gets the wife of his best friend to buy my presents because they’re always the caramel-coloured cashmere jumpers she wears herself – the ones I pass on to you, because that’s the last colour that suits me.’
‘I love them, but it would be nicer if you had a present that suited you instead,’ she said. ‘Did you leave Mummy Dearest a present? I take it she’s moving in for Christmas as usual?’
I grinned. ‘Yes, and her present is a plastic cactus plant in a pot. It flashes on and off and plays “La Cucaracha” if you go near it.’
‘Justin used to buy you flowers and chocolates all the time, didn’t he, and book expensive seats for musicals? Robert didn’t do any of that so I was terribly envious!’
‘He’s stopped that, and though he did give me perfume for my birthday, it was the flowery sort I don’t like. I’m strictly a spicy, mellow sort of girl.’
‘Flowery sounds like the sort of thing Mum gives me, too.’
‘I think your parents would get on like a house on fire with Justin. He’d live in a minimalist, clinical white box if he could, though you’d think he’d have had enough of that in the hospital during the day.’
‘His mother sounds almost as bad as mine, the way you told me she clears your things away whenever she comes to stay in your absence. I never feel the flat is really my home when I can never have things the way I want them, and Mum walks in and out tidying things away and rearranging everything.’
‘She should respect your privacy a bit,’ I replied sympathetically. ‘Apart from the intrusion when Mummy Dearest messes about with my belongings, the worst thing is that Justin lets her do it! Every last book, ornament, fuzzy monkey, even my shoes and clothes, will be in the boxroom when I get back after Christmas.’
‘That’s so hurtful!’
‘Yes, but Justin can’t really seem to see it, and when I lose my temper, he’s the one who goes all hurt!’ I then looked at her and said gratefully, ‘Oh, Bella, it’s been so good to talk it all through with you, because I feel I’m sort of coming to a crisis point, wondering if Justin is the right man for me after all, especially when my heart is up here in Sticklepond. Aunt Nan is worrying about the same thing, going by what she said yesterday. She agrees with me, that I need to have it out with Justin when I get back, not let our relationship drift any further. And that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘I think you’re right. And I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t talk things through with you either. I really need to find an escape route so Tia and I aren’t living in Mum and Dad’s granny flat for ever. But meanwhile, let’s try and put our problems out of our heads for the moment and get as much enjoyment out of Christmas as we can,’ she suggested bravely. ‘After all, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!’
Chapter 3: Trashed
My mother’s family moved to Southport from Wales when she was a child. A lot of people think all the Welsh are small and dark, don’t they? But that’s not so, and Mother was tall, fair and very pretty, with a smile like liquid sunshine, while my Lancashire father was the small, dark one! A big store in Southport employed Mother as a mannequin when she left school. Twice a day she was dressed in the latest fashions and driven along Lord Street in an open carriage as an advertisement, and then she would model clothes and hats in the shop, too. This would be some time in the 1880s, I expect.
Middlemoss Living Archive
Recordings: Nancy Bright.
We had a wonderful Christmas, quiet and peaceful, with the world and its worries firmly shut out. At the back of my mind lurked the fear that this might be my last one with Aunt Nan, and I wanted to enjoy each precious moment just in case …
I had some lovely presents. Aunt Nan had knitted me a zipped cardigan in rainbow stripes, Lars sent me a richly coloured carpet bag (something I had always longed for) filled with goodies like chocolates, a purple silk scarf covered in butterflies, and a long string of chunky beads made from semiprecious stones.
I don’t know how he can judge what I will like so exactly, and yet Justin, who is supposed to love me, gets it so wrong. I mean, I never wear matching anything, even a cashmere twinset, and certainly not in taupe, a colour that makes me look like a dead frog.
Lars rang me from New York, where his daughters and grandson, Charlie, were staying with him, to wish me and Aunt Nan Happy Christmas. Then I rang my mother in California, a token gesture Aunt Nan always insisted on, even though I’m not sure Immy remembers who I am half the time. I suppose I should be grateful my name is on her Christmas card list!
I left Justin to ring me, rather than the other way round, since I didn’t want to get Mummy Dearest, but it was so late when he did that I’m sure he had almost forgotten me, which was hurtful … and he’d certainly forgotten what it was I’d given him until I asked him if he liked his white silk aviator scarf and the enormous box of Turkish delight, a particular favourite of his.
Luckily he didn’t ask me if I’d liked the taupe twinset and he didn’t mention the plastic cactus I’d given Mummy Dearest, either …
‘Miss you, darling,’ he said in a perfunctory sort of way, before ringing off.
‘Me too,’ I said, though really I just missed the warm place in my heart where I felt loved and wanted by the old Justin, rather than this new, critical one – and anyway, by then I was talking to empty air.
Timmy who, along with his partner, Joe, was staying with his parents in Ormskirk for Christmas, visited on Boxing Day. He’s a firm favourite of Aunt Nan’s. She says he has funny