Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues. Trisha Ashley
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a twisted spiral ending in a tassel, but it looked stunning.
Bella popped in with Tia, who wanted to show us some of her presents. She was wearing mine, a lilac fairy dress with matching wings, and since she has Bella’s slender build, ash-blond hair and pale blue eyes, she looked as if she’d just escaped from A Midsummer Night’s Dream and might fly away at any moment.
I gave Bella Justin’s present. ‘It’s a cashmere twin set, and though it says taupe on the label, it’s more of a snotty grey-green really,’ I said, ‘so I don’t know if it will do anything for you, either.’
‘I see what you mean,’ she said, pulling a corner out and looking at it doubtfully. ‘Mum might like it, though.’
‘If not, it can go to a charity shop,’ I said. ‘It’s a good label, so I expect someone will be glad of it.’
We all (except Tia, and Joe, who was driving) had a generous glass of Aunt Nan’s Meddyg and got quite merry and Aunt Nan told them all about my plans for turning the shop into a wedding shoe emporium. The idea really seemed to have captured her fancy now she’d had time to think about it. Everyone was enthusiastic and had various suggestions to make though, after a second glass of Meddyg, some of those were not entirely sensible. I mean, there can’t be that many tall, handsome princes looking for shoe-fitting jobs, can there?
I set off back to London on the Monday after Christmas, resolutely intending to have things out with Justin, but also secure in the knowledge that if it all went pear-shaped I could move back to Sticklepond.
Perhaps that was part of the problem? I’d been constantly torn two ways, between Justin and home, but if we couldn’t resolve our differences and rekindle our love, then I would have to abandon my hopes of a happy-ever-after and a family, which would be a hard thing to do …
Bella had suggested going it alone, with a sperm donor, but I didn’t feel that route was for me: I wanted any child of mine to be brought up in a loving family relationship.
Even though Justin knew when I was returning, he wasn’t there when I arrived at our basement flat near Primrose Hill, but out playing golf. I suppose I should have been grateful he’d remembered to leave me a note.
Even if I hadn’t known that Mummy Dearest had spent Christmas there, I’d have quickly guessed, because the flat was back to arid white minimalism, and all the homely touches I’d added, like the brightly coloured throws and the rainbow of fuzzy pipe-cleaner monkeys hanging from every possible place had vanished.
This time she hadn’t just pushed them all into the boxroom, but right out of the house and into the wheelie bin, among a lot of expensive discarded gift-wrap and the flashing cactus I gave her!
She hadn’t touched my work for the current Slipper Monkey book, of course, because I’d started locking everything personal or precious in a tin trunk when I was away, after the first time I’d returned to find everything jumbled about and was sure she’d had a jolly good rummage through my stuff.
But even so, she’d gone way too far this time! The flat might belong to Justin, but it was also my home – and he’d just let her do this?
My blood boiling, I rang him on his mobile, golf or not.
‘Oh, you’re back, darling! I didn’t think you’d be home until later this afternoon,’ he said.
‘I told you I’d be back just after lunch, but from the look of the flat you’d think I’d never lived here!’ I told him furiously. ‘And this time your mother’s not just hidden my belongings away, she’s put half of them out with the rubbish!’
Justin disclaimed any knowledge of this. ‘I realise she tidies the place up, and she knows I don’t like clutter, but I’d no idea she’d actually thrown anything out.’
‘Well, she has, and this time she’s gone way too far. You’ll have to tell her so.’
‘Look, it’s my shot so I’ll have to go. We’ll talk about this later,’ he said soothingly.
‘And the rest,’ I snapped. ‘We need to talk about much more than your mother, Justin!’
‘Later,’ he assured me, though I’m sure he hadn’t taken in what I’d said. ‘Bye, darling!’
I’d simmered down slightly by the time he’d got home, and he’d stopped on the way to buy flowers, wine and chocolates, so clearly it had finally penetrated his thick skull that I was just a trifle upset about Mummy.
As always, I’d forgotten just how stunningly attractive he was, with his tawny hair and bright blue eyes, and my resolve wavered slightly for a moment when he kissed me …
Then he apologised for his mother and I pulled myself together and said resolutely, ‘It’s not just your mother that’s the problem, Justin. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been away and we have several issues we need to resolve.’
‘Issues?’ he echoed, blue eyes wary.
‘Yes. We seem to be drifting along, never discussing anything important, and I’m not prepared to carry on the way we are now.’
I ran my fingers through my hair, which I’d piled up loosely secured with two pink chopsticks, and it promptly came undone and fell in long, ravelled dark curls down my back. ‘I popped down to the shops after I rang you, and I ran into Rae with Charlie – it was the nanny’s day off – and we had coffee together,’ I added, which might have seemed irrelevant, except that seeing little Charlie had really brought it home to me that I should have had a family by now, just like we’d planned when we fell in love.
The fact that he didn’t like Rae or Marcia had always been one of the best things about Justin and now a cloud seemed to pass across his sunny, good-humoured face at the mention of my younger stepsister’s name.
‘I’d have thought you’d have run a mile at the sight of either of your stepsisters. You’re always telling me how mean they were to you after your mother married Lars and you came to London to stay with them.’
‘Yes, they were, but I was probably too sensitive and should have stuck up for myself more.’
I’d always lived up in Lancashire with Aunt Nan. I don’t even remember my grandmother, Nan’s sister, Violet, because she’d died when I was only two, but she didn’t sound any more maternal than my mother and, goodness knows, I’d seen little enough of Imogen over the years! But Immy’s second husband, Lars, was such a sweet, kind man that he wanted me to be part of the family unit and insisted I stayed in his London house (he has a home in New York too) while I studied graphic design. But his two daughters, both older than me, were tall, slim and blondly attractive, just like Lars and my mother, so I felt like an ugly little dark goblin child foisted into the family. They made my life absolute hell too, from criticising my clothes (quirky, black and a bit Goth) to stealing my boyfriends. Lars didn’t know the half of it and he was quite hurt when I quickly moved out into a rented flat with Timmy.
‘Rae hasn’t been so bad since she got divorced and had Charlie – and at least you don’t find her irresistible, like every other man!’
He looked uncomfortable. ‘I think you know the sort of woman who appeals to me by now, Tansy!’
‘Charlie’s lovely,’ I said wistfully. ‘He’s started school full time and he’s very chatty. He looks just like Rae, too. No clues to who the father is there!’
Rae got pregnant about a year after her divorce, simply because all her friends were, I felt sure. She wouldn’t say who the father was, though she hinted he was a wealthy married man. Someone must have been subsiding her lavish lifestyle, because I knew for a fact that Lars gave both his daughters moderate allowances and expected them to earn the rest themselves. He was easy-going to a point, but totally inflexible in other ways, as my mother found when she decided to move on to husband number three.
Marcia, the older sister, earned her living as