us in somewhere for that romantic break he promised me, and we’re going to have a real heart-to-heart discussion about everything. I think he understands a bit more how I’m feeling now, and that we can’t go on like this. We need to set a wedding date and start a family soon, if we’re going to do it at all.’
‘I should think so! And I’m glad you and Justin are getting along better, even if it means you won’t be moving back home.’
‘Sticklepond will always be my real home, and if I took over the shop I’d have to spend a lot more time up there, even more than I do now … but then, Justin’s forever at his mother’s house or out all day playing golf, so I expect it would work out.’
‘It’s a funny old world,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘But if you’re sure he’s the right man for you …’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ I said, though deep inside there were still sometimes niggles of doubt.
He hadn’t yet explained to his mother that he couldn’t carry on giving her financial support, for a start, but he insisted he would do it after we’d been away for the weekend. He did sound resolute about it, though, which was surprising considering he was generally like butter in her little red-tipped talons.
But the romantic break never happened, because Bella called me the very day after Hebe Winter’s visit to say that Aunt Nan had fallen in the night, bruising herself, though fortunately not breaking anything, and she’d found her when she went to open the shop.
‘I called an ambulance and they think she’s had a mild stroke,’ she said, and I told her I’d be on my way within the hour.
Justin was at work, so I left him a note explaining and then a text on his mobile – but I knew he would understand. He’d have to.
Unfortunately, he’d have to cancel our hotel booking …
Aunt Nan looked frail and small in the hospital bed, but after a couple of days she was well enough to sit up, attired in Timmy’s lovely rose-coloured quilted bed jacket, and criticise the thoroughness of the cleaning and the quality of the food.
Then she insisted on coming home, aided and abetted by her friend Florrie, who was constantly to be found by her bedside, eating grapes and picking the pips out of her dentures.
‘Don’t make a fuss, lovey,’ she told me when I suggested she shouldn’t discharge herself. ‘I’ve got the medicine, though I doubt it’ll cure anything that Meddyg can’t, and in any case, my heart’s wearing out and there’s no medicine to stop that.’
‘I can’t bear it when you talk like that, Aunt Nan. What would I do without you?’
‘Daft ha’porth,’ she said fondly.
Once she was home she seemed to pick up and was adamant that she wasn’t going to take to her bed all day until she had to, even if she did need help with the stairs. One of Florrie’s daughters was a retired nurse, and came every morning to help Aunt Nan to wash and dress. Then she installed Nan in her comfortable chair in the kitchen by the stove, from where she could hear what was happening in the shop if Bella left the door open, or hold court with her friends.
I offered to pay for the nurse, but she insisted she had a little nest egg put by for emergencies. ‘And for my funeral, of course: that’s all planned.’ Seeing my face, she added, ‘Now, don’t look like that, lovey, because my heart’s failing. It’s tired, and so am I. I’m wearing out and I’m ready to go.’
‘Yes, but I’m not ready to let you go.’
‘You’ll have to. I’d have liked to have lived long enough now to see this wedding shoe shop of yours get off the ground, that’s the only thing – but then, when you’re called, you’re called.’
She seemed quite happy about the thought of her imminent demise, giving me cheerful directions for her disposal: there was room in her parents’ grave and she wanted to be buried in her wedding dress and veil, which was touching: her heart had always remained loyal to
‘I should think so! And I’m glad you and Justin are getting along better, even if it means you won’t be moving back home.’
‘Sticklepond will always be my real home, and if I took over the shop I’d have to spend a lot more time up there, even more than I do now … but then, Justin’s forever at his mother’s house or out all day playing golf, so I expect it would work out.’
‘It’s a funny old world,’ Aunt Nan said. ‘But if you’re sure he’s the right man for you …’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ I said, though deep inside there were still sometimes niggles of doubt.
He hadn’t yet explained to his mother that he couldn’t carry on giving her financial support, for a start, but he insisted he would do it after we’d been away for the weekend. He did sound resolute about it, though, which was surprising considering he was generally like butter in her little red-tipped talons.
But the romantic break never happened, because Bella called me the very day after Hebe Winter’s visit to say that Aunt Nan had fallen in the night, bruising herself, though fortunately not breaking anything, and she’d found her when she went to open the shop.
‘I called an ambulance and they think she’s had a mild stroke,’ she said, and I told her I’d be on my way within the hour.
Justin was at work, so I left him a note explaining and then a text on his mobile – but I knew he would understand. He’d have to.
Unfortunately, he’d have to cancel our hotel booking …
Aunt Nan looked frail and small in the hospital bed, but after a couple of days she was well enough to sit up, attired in Timmy’s lovely rose-coloured quilted bed jacket, and criticise the thoroughness of the cleaning and the quality of the food.
Then she insisted on coming home, aided and abetted by her friend Florrie, who was constantly to be found by her bedside, eating grapes and picking the pips out of her dentures.
‘Don’t make a fuss, lovey,’ she told me when I suggested she shouldn’t discharge herself. ‘I’ve got the medicine, though I doubt it’ll cure anything that Meddyg can’t, and in any case, my heart’s wearing out and there’s no medicine to stop that.’
‘I can’t bear it when you talk like that, Aunt Nan. What would I do without you?’
‘Daft ha’porth,’ she said fondly.
Once she was home she seemed to pick up and was adamant that she wasn’t going to take to her bed all day until she had to, even if she did need help with the stairs. One of Florrie’s daughters was a retired nurse, and came every morning to help Aunt Nan to wash and dress. Then she installed Nan in her comfortable chair in the kitchen by the stove, from where she could hear what was happening in the shop if Bella left the door open, or hold court with her friends.
I offered to pay for the nurse, but she insisted she had a little nest egg put by for emergencies. ‘And for my funeral, of course: that’s all planned.’ Seeing my face, she added, ‘Now, don’t look like that, lovey, because my heart’s failing. It’s tired, and so am I. I’m wearing out and I’m ready to go.’
‘Yes, but I’m not ready to let you go.’
‘You’ll have to. I’d have liked to have lived long enough now to see this wedding shoe shop of yours get off the ground, that’s the only thing – but then, when you’re called, you’re called.’
She seemed quite happy about the thought of her imminent demise, giving me cheerful directions for her disposal: there was room in her parents’ grave and she wanted to be buried in her wedding dress and veil, which was touching: her heart had always remained loyal to
Similar Books
