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I’ve had my share of sorrows, of course, but I’ve never been one to dwell on them. Mother always said we should strive to be like the words carved around that old sundial in the courtyard, remembering only the happy hours, though I think being so old it actually says ‘hourf’ and not ‘hours’. The courtyard used to belong to a house that was where the Green Man is now, but lots of houses went to rack and ruin after the Great Plague visited the village, because it wiped out whole families. and there’s nothing of it left now bar the sundial. You know about the Lido field turning out to be a plague pit, don’t you, dear? It was quite providential in a way, because it stopped those developers building on it.
Middlemoss Living Archive
Recordings: Nancy Bright.
I had my recurring dream that night – or nightmare, I was never sure which. It was a Cinderella one, featuring Justin as the handsome prince and with Rae and Marcia, my wicked stepsisters from my mother’s second marriage, as the Ugly Sisters, though actually they’re only ugly on the inside.
The dream ran its usual course, with the prince looking up at me just as he was fitting the glass slipper onto my foot, at which point Justin’s leonine good looks would morph disconcertingly into the darker, somewhat other-worldly features of my first, brief love, Ivo Hawksley.
Weird, and strangely unsettling for an hour or two after I woke up …
So I was up early, and when I looked out of the kitchen window, Aunt Nan’s herbal knot garden was prettily frosted with snow and the spiral-cut box tree in the centre looked like an exotic kind of ice lolly.
Knot gardens have low, interwoven hedges forming the pattern or ‘knot’. When I was a little girl Aunt Nan used hyssop and rosemary bushes to make the outline, in the old way, but since this made a rougher effect than box hedging and also had to be renewed from time to time, a few years ago she bought a whole load of little box plants from Seth Greenwood, who is the proprietor of Greenwood’s Knots as well as being head gardener at Winter’s End, and replaced the hedging with that.
That’s when Seth started to take an interest. He helped her to pull out the old hedging and replace it with the new, in a slightly more intricate design, and then afterwards just kept dropping in and doing a bit of garden tidying.
Sometimes he sent one of the three under-gardeners instead, and I expect they were glad of the break, since Seth was so passionate about the garden restoration at Winter’s End he seemed to have become a bit of a slave-driver. Aunt Nan would be trotting out with hot tea and Welshcakes for her helpers every five minutes, too.
Each segment of knot was filled with fragrant herbs: lovage, fennel, dill, thyme, several types of mint, clumps of chives and tree onions, sage and parsley. She used several of them in the Welsh herbal honey drink, made from an old family recipe passed down from her mother, that she brewed as a general cure-all. The recipe calls it Meddyginiaeth Llysieuol, Welsh for ‘herbal medicine’, but we always referred to it just as Meddyg – much less of a mouthful!
The gardens behind this and the adjoining cottage were very long, and divided by a wall topped with trellis, while our other boundary was the high wall of the Green Man’s car park.
The two seventeenth-century cottages formed an L shape fronting onto a little courtyard accessible only by foot from the High Street via the narrow Salubrious Passage. Both had been extended to provide bathrooms and kitchens, and also, in our case, an anachronistic little three-sided shop window pushed out of the cottage front, like a surreal aquarium. I had to park my car right at the further end of the garden, where a lane turned up behind the pub and ended just beyond the cottages.
I finished my coffee, then put on my coat and boots and went out. Aunt Nan had always been a haphazard kind of gardener, mixing fruit, vegetables and flowers together in chaotic abundance, but most of the beds had been turfed over when it all got too much for her, so by then it looked a little too neat and tidy.
I walked to the far end and on through the archway cut into a tall variegated holly hedge, to let out the hens. Cedric the cockerel, who’d been emitting abrupt, strangulated crows for at least the last hour, ceased abruptly when I opened the pop-door. He stuck his head out and gave me one suspicious, beady glance, but then when I rattled the food bucket his six wives jostled him out of the way and came running down the ramp.
Bella had been letting them out and feeding them lately, when she came to open the shop, but since she had to take her little girl to school first, that could be quite late.
I looked for eggs, more out of habit than expectation since the hens generally stopped laying in winter, and found a single white freckly one.
When I went back in, Aunt Nan told me she’d discovered an early Christmas present left outside the front door when she’d gone to get the milk in.
‘Two of them, in fact!’
‘What, on the doorstep?’
‘No, next to it, one either side. This was attached.’ She handed me a card threaded with red ribbon.
‘“A Happy Christmas from Seth, Sophy and all the Family at Winter’s End,”’ I read.
‘They’re still out there – go and have a look, while I put some eggs on for breakfast,’ she urged me.
‘Here’s a fresh one.’ I handed her my booty, then went out to admire two perfect little ball-shaped box trees in wooden tubs on either side of the shop door. Seth must have carried them down Salubrious Passage in the night!
It had been lovely to see Bella again when I came home, but we’d postponed our catching-up until that evening, because it was Christmas Eve the next day, and Aunt Nan was fretting about the state of the house. I needed to embark on the sort of major clean she would have already done herself in times past, until everything sparkled, while Bella minded the shop.
When that was done we decorated the sitting room with paper garlands and put up the ancient and somewhat balding fake tree, made from green bristles on twisted wire branches. I left her hanging glass baubles on it while I went to start off the sherry trifle and bake mince pies and other goodies.
This year’s Meddyg, which Nan made in summer and autumn, was long since bottled and stored away, for it was best at least a year after brewing – pale yellowy-green and aromatic. I made it in London too, fermenting it in the airing cupboard, much to Justin’s disgust, since he couldn’t even stand the smell of it.
It must be an acquired taste. Like Aunt Nan, I always had a glass of it before bedtime … and whenever I felt in need of a pick-me-up, for, as she said, ‘A glass of the Doctor always does you good!’ She also insisted she never drank alcohol, so clearly Meddyg, which packs a powerful punch, didn’t count.
After supper I left Aunt Nan comfortably established in front of the TV in the parlour and popped next door to the Green Man to meet Bella. Her parents were babysitting, which was not exactly an arduous task, since they only had to leave the door to the annexe open to hear if Tia woke up, but she’d rarely had a night out since she’d moved back home.
‘They love Tia, but they don’t like it when they have to alter their plans to look after her,’ Bella said glumly. ‘At least now she’s turned five and at school, working is easier, but if I had to pay a childminder in the holidays it wouldn’t be worth my while working.’
‘I know, it must be really difficult,’ I said sympathetically. ‘How is everything going? You look tired.’ Bella has ash-blond hair and the sort of pale skin that looks blue and bruised under the eyes when she is exhausted.
‘I must need more blusher,’ she said with a wry smile, though having been an air hostess, she made sure her makeup and upswept hairdo were immaculate. Old habits die hard!
‘And I am tired, but at least my office skills evening class has finished for Christmas, and there’s only a few weeks more of it next term,’ she added. ‘I’m going to advertise my secretarial services and see if I can get a bit of extra work to do at home.’
‘It’s been a godsend having you helping in the shop and keeping an eye on Aunt Nan for me now she’s got so frail, but we’d both understand if you took up a better-paid full-time job offer.’
‘I couldn’t fit in a full-time job around Tia, but Nan’s let me close the shop just before school finishes so I can pick her up, which has worked very well. Plus I love working in the shoe shop and I love Nan too. The holidays and Saturdays are a bit of a problem, though, because unless I can arrange a playdate, or Robert’s mother comes over from Formby to take her out for the day, Mum has to mind her again.’ Her face clouded.
‘Not good? How are things going with you and your parents?’ I asked.
‘Oh, Tansy, it’s horrible living in the annexe!’ she burst out. ‘I know I should be grateful we’ve got a roof over our heads and no rent to pay, because goodness knows, Mum and Dad tell me that often enough, but when you’re used to having your own house and suddenly you’re crammed with a small child into a flat the size of a garage, it’s not that easy!’
‘No, I can imagine,’ I said sympathetically. ‘It seemed so unfair that you lost everything.’
Bella’s partner had been an airline pilot, several years older and separated from his wife when they met. Bella was an air hostess on one of his flights and they got to know each other on a stopover in some exotic location. He’d been handsome and charming, and swept her off her feet, but though their life together had seemed idyllic, and he’d adored Tia, it had all gone pear-shaped after he’d died suddenly from a heart attack and she’d discovered his debts.
‘There was very little left to lose. He’d already gambled us deep into debt, though I didn’t know it. And he’d never got round to divorcing his wife like he said he would, so she got whatever was left. I even had to sell my car to cover our moving expenses and a lot of our belongings, because we couldn’t fit them in and I couldn’t afford storage,’ Bella said bitterly.
‘But coming back home was the only thing you could do, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, and although Mum and Dad have been very kind, letting me have the annexe, you know what they’re like, especially Mum. I’m sure she’s getting worse.’
I nodded. Bella’s mother was super-house-proud, to the point where it was becoming an illness. She swept up every microscopic particle of anything that fell in or outside her house with manic fervour, and polished every surface that would take it to a burnished, mirrored sheen.
‘She’s in my flat cleaning all the time too. There’s no privacy! Even Tia’s toys are all clean, disinfected and lined up on shelves by order of size or colour or whatever.’
‘Not an ideal atmosphere to bring up a small child in – it’s surprising you turned out relatively normal,’ I teased.
‘Thanks,’ she said with a wry grin, ‘but then, neither of us had ideal parents, did we? Your mother dumped you with Aunt Nan soon after you were born and you’ve hardly seen her since, and your father was a passing fancy who went off to India and addled his brains with drugs.’
‘He was quite good-natured about having a daughter when I tracked him down, though,’ I said, ‘even if had to keep reminding him who I was every time he saw me, because he forgot. What about your father, Bella? Doesn’t he think your mum’s gone a bit over the top with the house-proud bit?’
‘He likes a neat house and no fuss too, so he wouldn’t understand what I was talking about. They love Tia – don’t get me wrong – but they’ve got even more inflexible in their ways and habits since I was last living at home. But perhaps I can rent somewhere soon, if I get lots of typing work,’ she said optimistically. ‘I wonder if the cottage attached to yours will come up for rent. It’s been empty for months. Still, even if it does, I expect it would be more than I could afford.’
‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to it. It might even become a holiday let again. That was what the owner bought it for. She was an actress, and then Aunt Nan heard that she’d been killed in a traffic accident just after being offered a part in Cotton Common,’ I said, mentioning the popular TV soap that was shot locally.
‘Yes, she told me – and your stepsister Marcia’s already got a part in Cotton Common, hasn’t she? She must be living up here too, at least some of the time.’
‘She is. She’s got a flat in the old Butterflake biscuit factory in Middlemoss. Lars said he hoped we’d manage to see a bit of each other, but I would so much rather not get together with either of my wicked stepsisters! I don’t know how such a nice man came to have such horrible daughters.’
Lars was my mother’s second husband – she was now on to number three – and much the nicest of any of them. He’d rung me just before I left London to wish me happy Christmas. There was a large parcel from him awaiting me when I got here, which I knew would be a very lavish present.
‘I thought you were getting on slightly better with Rae?’ Bella said.
‘Not really, it’s just she comes round to the flat occasionally if it’s the nanny’s day off and Charlie isn’t at school, because I don’t think she has any idea what to do with him. He’s a nice little boy, about Tia’s age, and he loves my Slipper Monkey books – his nanny has to read them to him at bedtime every night. I always make him a pipe-cleaner monkey to take home, too. I wish Rae wouldn’t keep dropping in, though, because Justin doesn’t like her. He’s quite rude to her sometimes.’
‘At least there’s one of your boyfriends who doesn’t find your stepsisters irresistible,’ Bella offered.
‘True. It was a huge relief when he met Rae and Marcia and didn’t get on with either of them. In fact, I’m starting to think that’s the main reason I’m staying with him,’ I said gloomily.
‘I thought you loved him?’
‘I do … I did … I … well, we were in love. It’s totally unmistakable, isn’t it? That eyes-meeting-across-the-room thing – or across a plane seat, in our case. It was a real case of opposites attracting, and the first year it was all wonderful: we got engaged, I moved in, we were going to get married and start a family right away … as soon as I lost a couple of stone.’
‘I still can’t believe he was serious about that!’
‘No, I thought he was joking for ages, but he was deadly serious. And I’ve put on another stone since then,’ I said sadly.
‘You’re still only nicely covered. I could do with a bit of that.’
Bella had the opposite problem, for despite eating healthily she stayed almost painfully thin. People thought she had an eating disorder, but it wasn’t that. She always looked very striking and elegant, though, even in jeans and a cardi – a real yummy mummy.
‘The only time I looked really healthy and had boobs was when I was expecting Tia. I liked being pregnant, but Robert thought I looked gross, a total turn-off.’
‘Yes – babies … that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about, but somehow I couldn’t do it on the phone.’
Her face lit up. ‘You’re not, are you?’
‘No, I’m not – it’s the opposite problem, in fact.’ And I told her about my fertility MOT and the iffy result.
‘Basically, my chances of conceiving naturally are limited to a pretty narrow window of opportunity and diminishing rapidly, so I should get a move on.’
She hugged me. ‘Oh, Tansy, I’m so sorry! But surely when you told Justin he must have –’
‘He doesn’t know yet,’ I broke in. ‘I wanted to think things through over Christmas first, because when they gave me the results, it made me look at the last few years with clear eyes and realise how different our relationship has become. Opposites attract, but maybe we’re just too unlike each other, and if it isn’t going to work out then I can’t stay with him just because I’m desperate to have a baby, can I?’
‘I suppose not,’ she agreed. ‘How have things changed between you, then?’
‘Well, all the things about me he used to say were cute or quirky, like my clothes, for instance, now seem to embarrass or annoy him.’
‘Your clothes are often unusual,’ she admitted, ‘but they suit you. I mean, that’s just the way you are.’
I was dressed in wine-coloured corduroy jodhpurs and a Peruvian jumper covered in green, red and blue llamas. I had a matching Peruvian hat with ear flaps and tassels, but of course it was too hot to wear that in the pub. On my feet were blue Birkenstock clogs.
‘In fact, I’m the only one of your friends who wears boring clothes,’ she said.
‘Not boring, understated,’ I corrected. Muted colours and quiet elegance really suited her. ‘Justin says you always look nice.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment, from him,’ she said dubiously. ‘What does he think about Timmy? His clothes are even weirder than yours, not to mention the hats!’
‘Oh, well, being a hat maker, he uses his head as a marketing tool. But Justin’s made it clear he doesn’t like him and he wouldn’t even come with me to Timmy and Joe’s civil partnership ceremony.’
‘That spotted prom dress with the red underskirt you wore to the wedding looked lovely in the pictures.’
‘Timmy made the dress and the hat – he is so clever!’
‘I wished I could have been there,’ Bella said wistfully.
Timmy, Bella and I had been friends since infants’ school, and while Bella had trained to be an air hostess, Timmy and I had headed down to London, to art school – fashion in his case, graphic design in mine.
‘Justin’s become such a skinflint too. He wasn’t like that at first, but suddenly he started saying we had to economise and couldn’t afford to get married, couldn’t afford to move to somewhere out of town, couldn’t afford to have children … I mean, he earns a big salary – he’s a hospital consultant!’
‘And you aren’t doing too badly with the Slipper Monkey books either, are you?’
‘No, I’m doing really well. I tried to aim the mix of words and pictures at early readers in the five-to-eight-ish age range, but they seem popular now even with adults. They may even be a minor cult!’
‘I’m not surprised. The illustrations are lovely,’ Bella said loyally. ‘It’s the way you use spiky ink lines to suggest the wiriness of the little monkeys and bright watercolour wash for the soft fuzziness of the fur. They’re quite magical.’
‘It’s nice when your best friend is your biggest fan!’ I said. ‘My agent says there’s talk of spin-off items, like toys and games now. In fact, I don’t really need to do the foot modelling any more. I could give that up and wear decent shoes.’ Despite the success of the books I still did a little foot modelling for adverts and catalogues. Immy got me into it when I was a student – she said the only beautiful bit of me was my feet – and I signed up with a specialist agency. It was quite lucrative, but I had to take real care of my feet.
‘I’m not sure I can imagine you in anything other than Birkenstock clogs and sandals,’ Bella said honestly. ‘Do you still secretly wear your wedding shoes?’
Apart from Aunt Nan, Bella was the only person who knew that the first thing I’d done when I’d got engaged was splash out hundreds on the ivory satin wedding shoes of my dreams, really girlie ones, with thin crossed straps over the instep, trimmed with lace and crystals … And yet several years later, the wedding was still just a dream.
‘Yes, when Justin’s out – he has no idea! I suppose it’s a family tradition, in a way, what with Aunt Nan always taking afternoon tea on Sundays in her wedding dress, like a latter-day Miss Havisham.’
‘She looks very pretty in it,’ said Bella loyally, long acquainted with the vagaries of the Bright household.
‘My wedding shoes are getting a bit worn,’ I said gloomily, ‘but it’s not looking like they’re going to be carrying me up the aisle any time soon.’
‘So, Justin’s penny-pinching, critical of your clothes, appearance and friends, has gone off the idea of marriage and children …’ summed up Bella.
‘Mummy Dearest doesn’t help, pouring poison into his ear all the time. She seemed to loathe me even more about the same time Justin went all skinflint. And Justin doesn’t even respect my work; he always talks about it as if it’s a hobby, rather than my job.’
My compulsive habit of twisting colourful fuzzy monkeys out of pipe cleaners and leaving them hanging about all over the flat also seemed to be driving him mad.
‘Well, that’s the minus side,’ Bella said brightly. ‘What’s he got going for him?’
‘Apart from being tall, charismatic and handsome? Aunt Nan always said he was like Dr Kildare from some old TV series, and when I looked it up on Google I could see what she meant. Only she also said she’d 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.’
