Wish Upon a Star

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Yes, but your mother’s cottage is quite secluded, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You have to go up a narrow, dark lane to get to it.’

  ‘It is a bit, though it’s not isolated, because the lane leads to the Ormerods’ farm, and her friend Hal lives right opposite. There’s a converted barn just beyond Ma’s, too. Ma likes to be quiet and her own company, though actually lately she’s been coming out of herself a bit, which I think is all due to Hal. She’s joined the Gardening Club and even goes to the Green Man for the occasional game of darts in the evening.’

  ‘A riot of dissipation,’ he observed, grinning.

  ‘Ottie Winter from the hall pops in sometimes too. She’s older than Ma and a well-known sculptor, and she was instrumental in Ma going to art college in London. They’ve been friends ever since.’

  ‘Ottie Winter?’

  ‘Hebe Winter’s identical twin sister, I told you earlier.’

  ‘You mean there are two of them?’ he demanded, looking alarmed.

  ‘Ottie’s not at all scary,’ I assured him. ‘She lives part of the year in Cornwall and the rest of the time in a converted coach house up at Winter’s End, so she wasn’t there tonight.’

  ‘There seemed to be enough Winters without her.’

  ‘I suppose there are,’ I said, thinking about it. ‘As well as Ottie and Hebe, there’s Sophy, their great-niece. She inherited the estate fairly recently and then married Seth Greenwood, the head gardener. He wasn’t there tonight, but Sophy was. Seth also runs his own gardening company; he’s a knot garden specialist.’

  ‘I have only the vaguest idea what a knot garden is,’ Jago confessed.

  ‘I’ll have to take you up to Winter’s End one of these days and show you the famous knot garden terraces then. And things get even more complicated with the Winter family relationships, because Seth Greenwood is Ottie’s stepson. The other Winter there tonight was Sophy’s daughter, Lucy. I haven’t actually met her, but Ottie’s told us a lot about her. She’s taking over the management of the Winter’s End estate and she lives in one of the lodges.’

  ‘How do you know all these things?’

  ‘I know all about the Winters because of Ottie being Ma’s friend – and I did mention that Hal is under-gardener at Winter’s End, didn’t I?’ I asked, and he groaned.

  ‘Please, no more! Is everyone in the village linked in some way?’

  ‘It does seem like it sometimes,’ I admitted. ‘I’m surprised how many people in the area I actually know, or know about, considering I’ve only been here on holidays and the occasional weekend, till I moved in. But people do talk to you when you have a dog or a child with you, especially in the local shops.’

  By now we were walking up the main street and fewer people were about. Ahead of us were Ivo Hawksley and his wife, Tansy, and beyond them the unmistakable figure of Gregory Lyon escorted Florrie Snowball up the stone step of the Falling Star and then turned and crossed the road to the square-fronted Victorian house attached to the Witchcraft Museum, where he lived. The door opened and shut twice, letting out a bright pool of light, because I think he’d got a fold of his long velvet cloak trapped in it.

  Ivo and Tansy entered a patch of dense darkness between the sparse streetlights and suddenly vanished.

  ‘Hey, where did they go?’ demanded Jago, puzzled.

  ‘Up Salubrious Passage. It leads to a little courtyard where they live behind Tansy’s specialist wedding shoe shop, Cinderella’s Slippers – see, there’s the sign over the passageway,’ I pointed out as we got near enough to make it out. ‘Ivo used to live next door but once they married, they made it all into one cottage. She has lovely shoes,’ I added wistfully.

  ‘Did you say she specialised in wedding shoes? Sticklepond seems a small village to support a wedding shoe shop, not to mention a specialist chocolate shop,’ Jago commented thoughtfully.

  ‘I suppose so, but people will come for miles to a specialist wedding shop. And anyway, Sticklepond is booming like a gold rush town. Ever since they found evidence that Shakespeare was connected to Winter’s End, the village is a tourist hotspot, especially in summer.’

  I told him the story of all the exciting discoveries that Sophy Winter had made and that there was a history of witchcraft in the area. ‘So now, more and more of the old shops are reopening – and then there’s Gregory Lyon’s Witchcraft Museum, and a tourist trail leaflet called the Sticklepond Saunter.’

  ‘Tourists won’t impulse-buy wedding shoes, though, will they?’

  ‘Perhaps not, but there are an awful lot of weddings held at All Angels church. Apart from it being a beautiful old building, I think the idea of being married by Raffy Sinclair is quite an attraction.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that would be something special in the wedding album.’

  ‘Tansy sells vintage shoes and all kinds of shoe-shaped gifts, too, not to mention the Slipper Monkey children’s books she writes, which Stella adores. I’ve chatted to her quite a bit when I’ve looked around the shop and she said she advertises in all the wedding magazines and also on the internet. She’d started going to wedding fairs too, before she had Prospero.’

  ‘Prospero?’

  ‘Their baby. Unusual name, isn’t it? It’s from The Tempest, and since Ivo was a Shakespearian actor, I suppose that had something to do with it. You know, Prospero is one of the few boy babies I’ve seen around the village; they mostly seem to be girls.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s the start of a whole run of boys, then?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘So, the wedding shoe business is doing well?’ Jago said, reverting to the topic.

  ‘Yes. Brides will travel for miles for the right shoes, and they can buy wedding favours there too, because she stocks specially made Chocolate Wishes shoes from Chloe Lyon’s shop next to the Witchcraft Museum.’

  ‘That’s the vicar’s wife, did you say?’

  ‘Yes, and she’s very nice, though since her grandfather is an avowed pagan and warlock, not to mention being the author of a lot of lurid Dennis Wheatley-style black magic novels, their engagement apparently caused a bit of a kerfuffle.’

  ‘I expect it did,’ Jago agreed, fascinated.

  ‘Her Chocolate Wishes always have special messages in them, like a sort of lovely fortune cookie, and she does special chocolate angels to order with an angel card reading inside. She gave me one at Christmas and the message was very positive and uplifting.’

  ‘I must go there and buy one: I’ve never heard of them before. In fact, I’d like to see both shops. They sound very enterprising.’

  ‘Tansy has some really sweet little enamelled silver bluebirds, to sew inside wedding dresses for luck: for something blue,’ I explained wistfully, because when I’d seen them I’d really wanted one. ‘A bluebird means happiness too, so they’re extra special. I think all the shoe-related odds and ends pull in any passing trade but most of her customers find her through the bridal magazines and the internet.’

  ‘Yes, that’s how I thought I’d get orders for my croquembouche, so I don’t need to be in a town and I really don’t want to have a shop too, like David. There’s no one making them in the North-west and though I could only deliver them within about four hours’ travelling time, maximum, that’s still a wide catchment area.’

  ‘So you could be based anywhere? It would be lovely if you were not too far away,’ I added.

  ‘Would it?’ he asked, seriously.

  ‘Of course, because without you there would be no one to talk serious cake with,’ I said lightly, but truthfully. It was amazing how quickly I’d come to rely on both his friendship and support …

  ‘That’s true,’ Jago agreed. ‘I feel just the same and I can’t believe I’ve only known you for less than a fortnight.’ He slipped his arm through mine companionably and smiled down at me as we passed one of the sparse streetlights.

  ‘What sort of premises are you looking for?’ I asked, smiling back.

  ‘I need a large preparat
ion area for baking and creating the cakes, and a separate packing room would be good, too. I don’t need a shop front, though if there was one I could use it for display purposes. Oh, and ideally I’d like to live on the premises. Those early morning starts are so much easier if you’re already on the spot.’

  ‘That’s true! Has no local property caught your eye yet?’

  ‘I haven’t seriously looked so far, because I’ve been too busy helping David with the Happy Macaroon. The plan was that his fiancée would give up her job in a London hair salon and move up here to help him as soon as the business seemed to be taking off, by which time I should have found my own place and moved out – but it took off like a rocket so Sarah’s already handed in her notice.’

  ‘So you need to get a move on and find somewhere quickly?’

  ‘Even more so now, because David’s mother, who’s worked as a shop assistant in a bakery in Southport for more than thirty years, has just been told they’re closing down and all the staff will be made redundant. So she’s going to be working in the shop full time soon and they really won’t need me any more.’

  ‘We’d better get looking quickly then, and find you somewhere of your own!’

  ‘I think I’d like to be in a village,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘David will keep my model in his window and take any orders, so I’ll still have that connection when I start up, and if he is run off his feet with macaroon orders, I can help him. In fact, he’s been asked so many times if he does traditional iced wedding cakes, he’s thinking of offering those, too, so he probably will still need a hand with the baking from time to time.’

  ‘Perhaps you should look here in Sticklepond,’ I said, half joking, because it would be nice to have him nearby. ‘Only I’m not sure there’s much for sale here.’

  He nodded ahead. ‘I can see a For Sale sign right over there … though what it’s selling is a mystery,’ he continued, because we’d now left the last lamppost behind us and the sign was pointing to a tall and very narrow slice of building set well back in the dense darkness between two much taller and more substantial ones.

  Jago had taken out a thin, credit-card-sized torch and the pale beam roamed over a minute shop front overhung by an upper storey set with a very Dickensian diamond-paned window.

  ‘You know, I’ve never even noticed that was here before,’ I exclaimed. ‘Maybe it just sprang up this minute, like something in Harry Potter?’

  ‘“Honey’s Haberdashers”,’ he read, moving the torch beam over the faded shop board. Even in that weak light the paint around the door and windows was clearly peeling and the place looked as if it had been sleeping, or perhaps rotting, undisturbed for a century.

  ‘Whatever it was, it doesn’t look like the sort of place you need. It’s a tiny frontage.’

  ‘No, I expect you’re right, but I’ll see if there’s anything else for sale in Sticklepond tomorrow.’ He switched off the torch and put it back in his pocket. ‘After all, if there’s so much already going on in Sticklepond, it seems the ideal spot, doesn’t it? I think I’m sold on the idea. And Aimee would hate it …’ he added thoughtfully.

  ‘Is that good?’ I questioned cautiously.

  ‘Oh, yes, because when she turned up yesterday she seemed to think she and I could just pick up where we left off, and I’d hightail it back to London. Once I’ve bought a place up here, she’ll see that I’m making a new life without her.’

  ‘Doesn’t she like the North?’

  ‘No – not that it matters what she likes or not, because there’s no way we’re getting back together, even if she cries over me for a week.’

  He sounded pretty definite, and from what David had said, I found myself hoping he meant it and wouldn’t fall for this Aimee’s charms all over again.

  ‘She used to be big on the London party scene, but since her father’s cut off most of her allowance she’s had to take a job with a London-based corporate events firm now – all the more reason for me to stay up here in Lancashire,’ he added lightly, though I still wasn’t sure quite how he really felt about the sudden reappearance of his lost love.

  We were walking up the dark lane now, nearly home, and I said gratefully, ‘Thank you again for all you’ve done, Jago. You gave me hope and started the ball rolling with the fundraising.’

  ‘The only thanks I need is for you to meet me for lunch in the Blue Dog next Saturday,’ he suggested.

  ‘I will if Ma and Hal will keep an eye on Stella,’ I agreed. ‘We’ll probably come to Ormskirk for the market on Thursday too, even though the hospital don’t want to see Stella till the following week. We like having a wander round it and she’s bound to want to come and get another gingerbread pig.’

  ‘The hospital must have been pleased with her, if they don’t want to see her for a fortnight?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m sure the country air is doing her good. She’s even put on a little weight.’

  ‘It’s bound to be better for her, though you must miss the bright lights?’

  ‘Oddly enough, not at all! I suppose since Stella arrived my life had entirely changed anyway. Even Toto’s a lot happier here, with a big garden and lots of long walks.’

  We’d arrived at the garden gate by then and he would have declined my invitation to come in, because he said he could see I was tired and drained after the evening’s events, except that Ma opened the door before he could get away.

  ‘If that’s this Jago you keep on about, then bring him in,’ she ordered.

  In the sitting room she subjected him to one of her penetrating though abstracted stares, as if he was a possible subject for one of her paintings, which he withstood pretty well.

  ‘Tell Ma all about the meeting, Jago, while I go and make us some tea – unless you’d like something stronger?’

  ‘No, tea would be fine. I have to drive back.’

  I looked in on Stella on the way, who was fast asleep clutching Bun, as usual.

  When I went back with the tea and some garibaldi biscuits I’d made earlier to a slightly different recipe, Ma seemed to be getting on well with Jago – this, with Ma, being measured by the fact she didn’t immediately head for her garden room when I came back, but took a cup of tea and a biscuit.

  So I asked her if she knew about the shop for sale we’d seen and she said she remembered it open in her childhood, but had no idea what had happened to the last of the Honeys.

  She seemed a little perturbed by the question, murmuring, ‘And is there Honey still for tea?’ as she drifted out of the room carrying her tea, with the garibaldi balanced on the saucer.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Jago said, taking this as his cue to leave. ‘Perhaps I’d better go.’

  ‘It’s all right, Ma prefers to go and watch TV on her own in the other room, and I watch TV or work in here in the evenings. Unless you have to rush away we could put a film on? That’s what I’d do tonight anyway, because I’m too tired to do any work. I could make popcorn.’

  ‘That’s the clincher,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘It would give David and Sarah a bit more time together, too.’

  We decided on Love Actually, though he said he always felt so sorry for Emma Thompson he wanted to hit her screen husband.

  ‘That secretary who seduces him reminds me of Aimee,’ he said.

  ‘Why, is she dark and pretty?’

  ‘No, she’s tall, very slim and fair. I meant the amoral bit,’ he said slightly morosely.

  After we’d watched the film, sitting cosily together on the sofa with the bowl of popcorn between us, he said he’d better go since I was pretty sleepy by then: it had been a busy and quite emotional day.

  ‘That Winter’s End you mentioned, with the knot gardens – I’d love to see it. I don’t suppose you fancied going with me tomorrow?’

  ‘I would have, but it doesn’t open on Sundays.’

  ‘Oh? They must lose a lot of trade closing then.’

  ‘I expect so, but that’s how they like it. They’re closed Mondays too, unl
ess it’s a Bank Holiday. Do you like visiting old houses?’

  ‘Yes, very much – and gardens, though I know nothing about them.’

  ‘So do Stella and I. But tomorrow I was thinking of taking her to see the new Hemlock Mill nature reserve over towards Ormskirk that everyone keeps telling me about. I don’t suppose you’d like to come with us there instead?’

  ‘I’d love to. Shall I pick you both up?’

  ‘Better if you leave your car here and come in mine, because otherwise we’ll have to move the child seat, which is fiddly.’

  ‘Good thinking.’

  We arranged a time and then, with a jaunty, ‘See you tomorrow,’ he kissed my cheek and walked off into the starry night.

  Jago

  Walking back, the village silent under the dark, velvety, star-studded night sky, Jago felt he would have sensed the sparkle of magic in the air even if Cally hadn’t told him the history of the place was bound up with witchcraft.

  It certainly wasn’t the kind of village he could imagine Aimee living in, so perhaps it would protect him from falling under her spell again? Though actually, that didn’t seem possible any more, since that moment in the café when he’d suddenly lost the rosy-tinted glasses of love and seen her as she really was, an ageing, petulant Daddy’s princess. It had been a bit of a shock.

  It was all very well for David to tell him to give her her marching orders, but he felt sorry for her and he just didn’t have it in him to be that brutal. No, he’d try and let her down gently, while hoping she found someone else, someone more on her wavelength.

  He’d never been to Sticklepond before, but even after only a couple of months in the area he’d certainly heard a lot about it, some of it a little odd … and now he’d observed some of the villagers in action, he was more inclined to believe the rumours.

  The place was undeniably attractive and would be great to live in, but if it was an up-and-coming tourist hotspot, then he might already be too late to find the right property at a price he could afford.

  He was level with that For Sale sign again and on impulse stopped and sent the small beam of his torch searching out Honey’s Haberdashers. He half-expected the narrow, bow-windowed frontage beneath an overhanging upper storey, set slightly back between the large windows of a café and the Witch Craft Gallery, to have vanished again.