‘At last – I’ve been trying to get you all day. Are we friends again?’ she asked cautiously.
‘We were never that, but I’m prepared to put up with you for your father’s sake – or I will if you stop telling Justin that there’s the remotest possibility that I’ll ever take him back.’
‘Oh, good,’ she said, ignoring the proviso, ‘Daddy’s really cut up about Rae, which means I’m the blue-eyed girl at the moment, so
something
good has come out of it!’
‘Every cloud has a silver lining,’ I agreed drily.
‘Did he tell you he’s selling the London house? It’s a bit of a bummer, because I need somewhere to stay when I’m in town, but I think I’ve persuaded him to buy a small flat instead.’
‘Well, I’m sure that’s really riveting, Marcia, but I’ve had a long, busy day –’
‘Yes, Daddy said you were making a big success of the shop. I’ve dropped in to see Ivo a couple of times, but I didn’t think you’d be pleased to see me, so I haven’t called in. I will next time, though, so we can kiss and make up,’ she promised.
I sighed. ‘I’ll count the seconds.’
‘Ivo’s really missing theatre life, I can tell, because he’s always happy to hear any gossip. I didn’t think he’d like being in a backwater like this for long, so it’s a pity he and Kate didn’t buy a place over in Middlemoss, where most of the
Cotton Common
cast are. Has he told you the Management are coming up on Monday, hoping to persuade him to go back early? He’s looking much better and doesn’t seem to mention Kate at all now, so he probably will.’
‘I knew they were coming up, but not when,’ I said, ‘and I expect he
is
missing his old life by now.’
Just as I would miss his companionship after he’d gone, especially now that Bella and Neil were an item. Bella would always be my best friend, but things were bound to change. Even now, I realised that there were confidences I’d shared with Ivo, instead …
But his time here was running out, and I knew that he was nearing the end of his wife’s diaries, too, just as I was almost on the brink of hearing Aunt Nan’s confession about what really happened just after the war.
It looked like Bella’s would be the only truly happy ending.
Ivo and I went for one of our Sunday afternoon walks with Flash, and I told him an edited version of what Lars had said.
‘So now I’m having to be friends with Marcia, who I’ve never got on with, even if you two are best buddies, and she’s threatening to drop in next time she comes to see you.’
‘Not best buddies, she was just very kind after Kate died, which makes it hard to avoid inviting her in when she sneaks up the lane and catches me in the garden,’ he said gloomily. ‘And she always brings some nasty shop-bought cakes with her, not a patch on anything you make.’
I felt a warm glow of something or other in my stomach – and no, it wasn’t indigestion, because this was before we went back for high tea.
‘She means well,’ he continued. ‘She thinks I want to know all the acting world gossip but actually, I don’t … but she does genuinely seem to have
your
interests at heart.’
‘If you mean she’s still trying to get me and Justin back together, then I told Lars I wished she wouldn’t give him false hope. He’s determined to move up here now!’
Ivo gave me a searching look from his lovely, smudgy-edged grey eyes and I wasn’t entirely sure he believed me …
or
why it was so important to me that he did.
Once Flash had happily rendered himself wet, muddy and rank with river weeds we turned for home and walked back in companionable silence. We were halfway before I’d realised I’d slipped my arm through his and I left it there, feeling suddenly and quite unreasonably happy and content.
Today’s high tea included sherry trifle, which Ivo had let fall was a secret weakness of his – and it was true, I’d never seen anyone eat so much in one go. In fact, he seemed happy to eat anything I put in front of him these days, so it was no wonder he looked so much better! He would always have a bony, hollow-cheeked face with deep-set eyes, but at least he wasn’t gaunt any more.
I gave him two kinds of cake to take back, ready for his Management visit the following day: a Dundee and a Victoria sponge. That should refuel them during their pit stops.
Next morning, while I was working on my latest illustration, I could hear loud male conversation through the adjoining wall, so even though I couldn’t make out any of the words, the Management must know how to project their voices like actors.
I looked out later, just before I went down to cover for Bella’s lunch break, and caught sight of a large, dark car reversing out from the parking space next to Ivo’s Jaguar. I expect they were all off somewhere swish to get their trotters in the trough.
And speaking of trotters, Neil’s declared interest in keeping pigs had endeared him to Bella even more, so that she’d allowed herself to fall properly in love. The brakes were off and she’d plummeted headlong as a teenager … like I once fell for Ivo.
Only, of course, Neil wouldn’t dump Bella and break her heart – he wasn’t like that. And if he was, I’d go round there and break his legs.
No, they’d get married, raise Tia and a family of pigs, and live happily ever after.
I wasn’t sure if Ivo would be able to take Flash out that evening, or still be occupied with his visitors, but he showed up at dusk as usual, though in a very quiet and thoughtful mood. He wouldn’t come in when he returned either, saying it had been a long day, but I made him hang about while I put some cheese scones in a box, in case he felt peckish later, though he said there was a bit of Victoria sponge left. The remains of the Dundee cake had apparently gone back to London with the Management.
Ivo didn’t volunteer any information about his meeting and I didn’t like to ask … except for suggesting that the Management probably wanted him to go back early from his six-month sabbatical, that is.
‘They do – but I’m not going to.’
‘Oh, good!’ I exclaimed unguardedly and he shot an inscrutable look at me from his clear grey eyes before turning to go.
Next afternoon I began filling the first fermenting jars of Meddyg of the year, using a mix of fresh and dried herbs, green speckles swirling in the green-gold honey. The rate Ivo and I were knocking it back in the evenings, my stock was dwindling rapidly: it had become our comfort drink of choice.
I wondered if Aunt Nan’s secret ingredient was addictive? Or maybe it’s the
combination
of all those herbs that was addictive, even though they are strained out after a few days.
The May weather continued warm and fine, an idyll, and when Ivo and I were both working on our gardens in the late afternoons, the gate between the two was open so that Flash could come and go between us. It was much more peaceful now he and Toby were pretending they couldn’t see each other. The hens, too, loved to range beyond their own garden when they got the chance and Ivo has now stopped looking measuringly at Cedric and muttering about
coq au vin.
As the month progressed Ivo seemed to do more and more of the work in my garden, for since the big article and photographs of the opening of Cinderella’s Slippers finally appeared in
Lively Lancashire
magazine, business was booming. And then, of course, it
was
peak wedding time.
I was forever ordering new stock from RubyTrueShuze – and at a better rate, now I could buy more at a time – and even the vintage shoes Timmy found for me were vanishing quite quickly. Then there were all the tourists doing the Sticklepond Saunter and buying up trinkets, which helped the bank balance, too.
Bella was wonderfully happy and I found myself feeling quietly content. Although I still missed Aunt Nan, life suddenly seemed almost perfect. I was living in the place I loved most in the world, an idyllic existence divided between the shop, my writing and illustrating, gardening and cooking, with Ivo to chat to, to stop me feeling lonely … Or it
would
seem idyllic, if I didn’t have to keep reminding myself that Ivo would vanish back to his old life when his six-month sabbatical was up, except perhaps for brief weekend visits. I was like a butterfly dancing in the last days of summer, except that
I
was aware that winter would come one day, while the butterfly was not.
Marcia, who was no Cabbage White but merely the fly in the ointment of my life, popped in and out, though it was Ivo she really came to see, of course. He was never visibly cheered by her visits, and seeing her must have rubbed salt into his wounds, for he was still punishing himself for goodness knew what by rationing out Kate’s diaries each evening, inch by inch …
Not that he said much about them … but when we’d had a drink and a bite to eat in the evenings and he got up to go, a mask seemed to fall across his face.
‘“Once more into the breach …”’ he muttered the other night, which gave me some idea of his state of mind.
Meanwhile, Justin had gone totally silent. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, but I relished his absence from my life and hoped it was permanent.
Harmony was shattered one morning when Hebe called me early, before the shop opened, and announced that Ivo was a major Grocergo shareholder!
‘Oh, no, I’m sure you must be mistaken,’ I said, stunned.
‘Not at all. Laurence found out and Ivo Hawksley is not exactly an ordinary run-of-the mill name, is it?’ she pointed out. ‘No, it is your neighbour – and I do recall that he has more than once suggested that the retail park might be a good idea.’
‘Well, yes,’ I conceded, ‘but surely he wouldn’t be so devious as to have had a hand in the proposals and not have told me?’
‘He’s certainly kept the shares secret,’ Hebe pointed out, which was undeniable.
I was shaken: I’d thought we’d become such good friends that he totally understood how important it was for me to keep the tradition of Bright’s Shoes going in the form of Cinderella’s Slippers, and how worried I was that the advent of the One Stop Bridal Shop might stop my fledgling business in its tracks …
Furiously I marched off through the garden gate and burst through the back door into his kitchen without even knocking.
He was sitting at the pine table over a croissant and
The Times
. ‘Come in, why don’t you?’ he said mildly.
‘I know!’ I cried accusingly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘“Her voice was ever soft, gentle and low, an excellent thing in a woman,”’ he said with mild sarcasm, putting his croissant down. ‘Are you all right, Tansy? Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘No, I don’t want a cup of tea! I want you to explain how you happened to forget to mention that you’re a major shareholder in Grocergo! Slipped your mind, perhaps?’
He stared at me blankly, then said slowly, ‘
Am
I? How do you know?’
‘Laurence Yatton found out and told Hebe, and she’s just rung me up. She thinks you’re a mole.’
‘I feel more of a rabbit in the headlights at the moment,’ he said. ‘Look, If this is true, then I think I can explain.’
‘I
trusted
you!’ I said accusingly. ‘I told you how worried I was about the retail park, and you kept arguing for the other side!’
‘No, I just wanted to consider it fairly,’ he insisted. ‘And I had no idea I was a Grocergo shareholder until you told me.’
‘Tell that to the marines!’
‘No, really. I inherited a load of shares from my father, but his financial advisor kept on handling all that for me, and I left him to it. I did say I only wanted shares in ethical companies.’
‘I wouldn’t call the plans for the retail park ethical.’
‘I think that’s going a bit too far, but I really had no idea – honestly, Tansy. I mean, do I look like a mole?’
I stared at him and he looked back at me from clear, challenging grey eyes.
‘No, I suppose not. So – you really had no idea all this time?’
‘No, none. But I have to go down to Stratford soon for a few days, so I’ll make an appointment with the financial advisor and talk to him about it.’
Now the shock and my temper had calmed down a little, I could see he was telling me the truth.
‘I’m sorry,’ I apologised, ‘it was a bit of a bombshell, hearing that from Hebe and I didn’t stop to think about it.’
‘Yes, you were a bit quick to judge me, weren’t you? I thought you knew me better – that we’d become good friends.’
He sounded hurt and I said hastily, ‘I do, really … it’s only that I’ve had one or two knocks in the trusting-men department lately.’
I sank onto the nearest kitchen chair and he got down a cup and poured me some tea.
‘Croissant? I have another one without a bite out of it.’
‘No, thanks, I’ve eaten – and you ought to have something more solid in the mornings.’
‘I can’t even manage a whole croissant most days, not after the supper you give me!’ he said. ‘The birds get at least half my breakfast. I must have the fattest sparrows in Sticklepond.’
I sipped my tea and eyed him over the cup and he suddenly smiled at me, like the sun coming out from behind a darkly watercolour cloud.
‘Will
you
try to persuade Hebe that I’m not subverting her campaign before she has me run out of the village on a hurdle, or must I?’
I called Hebe right back and did my best, though I’m not sure her suspicions were entirely allayed. She said
someone
locally was still stirring up pro-retail park support, and if it wasn’t Ivo, then who was it?
‘I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s not him,’ I assured her, and she made a
harrumph
noise and rang off.
I wondered why Ivo was going down to Stratford? Had he changed his mind, so wanted to arrange about his return to the stage now, before his six-months sabbatical was even up? I knew he’d go eventually, but I’d prefer it later rather than sooner.
Aunt Nan had been on the point of winding up her narrative for ages in the penultimate archive CD, but each time she approached some kind of conclusion she would suddenly about-turn and vanish into a cloud of anecdotes.