Free Chocolate Shoes and Wedding Blues by Trisha Ashley Page A

that Charlie, whom he adored, was Justin’s, could I?
    I felt a pang in my heart at the thought of the sweet little boy, who seemed by nature to be taking after Lars rather than his mother, which was a blessing. In features and colouring he looked just like the Andersons, very fair and with bright blue eyes, rather than with Justin’s Viking tawny hair and ruddy complexion.
    Ruddy Justin!
    No, I couldn’t face phoning Lars up and lying about my reasons for leaving Justin – not right now. Perhaps I’d feel braver later and think up a good story, or edit Rae out, or something.
    I was overcome with hunger – emotion gets me like that usually; it was surprising it hadn’t happened earlier – so I stopped for a carbohydrate-packed lunch, then called Timmy from the car afterwards and told him what had happened.
    ‘Well, I can’t say I’m really surprised, because we never liked him,’ he said. ‘He simply wasn’t good enough for you, darling, but I’m terribly sorry you found that out in such a horrible way. Those stepsisters of yours were a pair of bitches to you, right from the moment you moved into their father’s house. Bit like Cinderella, really, but without a prince to whisk you away.’
    ‘I was thinking that, though at least I didn’t have to clean and cook, or sleep in the ashes. In fact, my stepfather was quite hurt that I wouldn’t take an allowance from him! And you were my prince, letting me share the flat with you.’
    ‘No, I was your fairy godmother!’ he said, and laughed.
    ‘I’m going to ask you a favour now,’ I said. ‘I’ve managed to cram most of my stuff in the Mini, but I had to leave my small drawing desk and a couple of portfolios stacked in the boxroom of Justin’s flat. Could you possibly collect them in your van sometime, and then bring them with you next time you’re up here? The desk legs unscrew, so it’s not too bulky.’
    Timmy’s parents had moved out of the village to Ormskirk a few years ago, but it was only a few miles away, and he and Joe often visited.
    ‘Of course I will, but it might be a couple of weeks because the van’s in for repairs and it’s going to be very expensive. But as soon as I get it back, I’ll ring Justin and see when will be convenient to get them, shall I?’
    ‘That would be great, thanks, Timmy. I’ll tell him you’re going to fetch them at some point. He keeps trying to call me and he sent me three texts while I was eating lunch, but I haven’t read them. I just … can’t face it at the moment, it’s all like some dreadful nightmare. I’m all cried out and my eyes are so puffy I look grotesque.’
    ‘I don’t suppose you feel at all forgiving. This is not something you can just get over and carry on after, is it?’
    ‘No, it’s the end of that part of my life – but a new beginning back with Aunt Nan. She’s got really keen on the idea of turning Bright’s into a wedding shoe shop and I think it will give both of us a whole fresh interest in life.’
    ‘It certainly will. It’s a wonderful idea! And I can be your scout at all the vintage fashion fairs, looking for wedding shoes,’ he offered, because we often went to them together. ‘You can give me a budget and I’ll buy anything I think you’ll like or can sell.’
    ‘Thank you, Timmy, that would be great – and you know what to look for,’ I said gratefully, because some of the vintage shoes I bought hadn’t been specifically designed as wedding shoes, but were pretty enough to be used for the purpose. ‘You’re a wonderful friend – and Joe and Bella, too – What would I do without you?’
     
    It was mid-afternoon by the time I turned off the motorway into the tangle of narrow country lanes that eventually brought me to Sticklepond High Street.
    I drove past Gregory Lyon’s Museum of Witchcraft (I remembered the days when it was still a dolls’ hospital and museum, owned by two elderly sisters, the Misses Frinton). Attached to it was the artisan