Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues by Trisha Ashley

Author:Trisha Ashley [Ashley, Trisha]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780007478408
Google: pMwzYdmmeg0C
Amazon: 1847562779
Publisher: Avon Books
Published: 2012-05-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20: Sister Act

I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again like I had with my Jacob, but after a couple of years I did start to go out with my friends once more, to the cinema or to dances, and even walked out with a young man once or twice. But there was nothing serious on my side, and it never seemed fair to go on letting them get fond of me if I couldn’t return their affection.

Middlemoss Living Archive

Recordings: Nancy Bright.

One night’s instalment of Aunt Nan’s memoirs wandered off into a description of how she’d made her friend Florrie a wedding cake during rationing, but then suddenly, just when I was about to turn off the CD, she switched to a tantalising bit about how she’d eventually resumed her social life and even gone out with other men, though her heart wasn’t in it.

I switched it off there, but I kept mulling over it next morning while I was working on an illustration. She’d been so young during the war, and it was just a pity that she didn’t get a second chance at love. But then, so many others didn’t either …

I went downstairs around ten thirty to let Flash out and make Bella some coffee, and as I was carrying both cups through on a tray, I heard the pealing of wedding bells, so knew we had another customer.

‘Good morning, can I help you, or would you just like to browse?’ I heard Bella ask brightly. Then she added in surprise, ‘Oh, but it’s Marcia, isn’t it – or Rae? I’m afraid I never did learn to tell you two apart when I came down to stay with Tansy that time.’

‘You were right first time, I’m Marcia – the actress,’ said my elder stepsister in her familiar, slightly husky voice.

And there she was – tall, thin as a rack of ribs and very elegant, her skirt short and her white-gold hair long and loose, though she was well the wrong side of forty. She had on a military-style winter jacket and high black patent Louboutins – you can always tell by the red soles.

She hadn’t seen me yet because her attention was fixed on a pair of cream sandals with criss-cross straps and high heels. ‘These are nice! I wonder if I get a family discount …?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘and those are vintage and size five, so they won’t fit you anyway.’

She spun round. ‘Oh, there you are, Tansy! Your big sister’s come to say hello.’

‘Hello,’ I said discouragingly.

‘Well, actually, I came to call on that dishy actor you’ve got living next door, but he must be out because there was no answer.’

I was quite sure Ivo wasn’t out, since to my knowledge he hadn’t yet been further than the garden in daylight, and that generally in the afternoons (presumably he wrote in the mornings – or in the evenings after he got back from his walk, while playing that miserable music), so he’d meant it when he said he didn’t want to see her.

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