Miss Moonshine's Emporium of Happy Endings: A feel-good collection of heartwarming stories

by Helena Fairfax

  *

  The village of Shawton lay beneath a blanket of cloud, and the rain poured down steadily, turning the roads into muddy rivers and keeping all but the hardiest souls indoors. Late one afternoon, anyone peeping out of their window might have seen a solitary traveller walking along the high street, a knapsack thrown over one shoulder. The collar of his greatcoat was turned up, his hat was pulled low to keep off the worst of the rain and he walked slowly, leaning heavily on a rugged stick. At the corner of Church Lane he hesitated, looking towards the church and the rectory beyond it, then he settled his knapsack more securely on his back and continued on his way to the little house with grey shutters, between the basket-makers and the general store. He beat out a firm tattoo on the locked door.

  It was opened by a stooped gentleman with white hair and tired blue eyes set in a gaunt, lined face.

  The traveller took off his hat and smiled.

  ‘Father.’

  *

  Half an hour later, Andrew Sturton was seated at the table with a bowl of broth before him and his outer clothes spread around the fire to dry. His parents had joined him at the table, gazing at him as if he might disappear in a puff of smoke at any moment.

  ‘But how? When?’ His mother stopped and began again, saying simply, ‘We had given you up for dead.’

  ‘I know, and I am very sorry for it.’ He reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘It was a tragic, most unfortunate mistake. My comrade James Illingworth – you will remember I mentioned him several times in my letters to you – he was mortally wounded, but before he died he asked me to take charge of a letter he had written to his wife. I put it in my pocket and thought no more of it, for the shells were raining down upon us thick and fast. We had formed square and stood firm, but the bombardment was terrible.’ He frowned, almost wincing at the painful memories. ‘I cannot describe it to you; indeed, I am glad you cannot know the awfulness of that day. All clamour and stench and carnage! But the noise. The noise was the worst. It was almost unbearable, as if all the monsters of hell were shrieking at once, and it left one’s head ringing for days, weeks, after. One shell exploded so close it killed those nearest to me and knocked me clean out of the square.’ He drew in a ragged breath. ‘I was one of the lucky ones, because I was taken to a field hospital. Unfortunately, I was too ill to tell them who I was, but they found the letter and thought I was James. When I came to, I was so confused I could not deny it. I began to recover, and although I could not remember my name, I became convinced of one thing, that I was not James. I was shipped back to England and spent the winter in Portsmouth. I was in a truly sorry state and too sick in my mind to do any more than get through one day at a time. Spring was well advanced before I was sure of who I was, and it took some time to get that little matter sorted out, I can tell you. The army discharged me, but before I could think of coming home, I had to deliver James’s letter to his wife. Poor woman, when I met her she had heard nothing from the regiment and was still hoping James might return.’ He finished his broth and pushed the bowl away. ‘So, I am come home at last, Mother, Father, and apart from a few scars and this damned stiff leg, I am well enough.’

  ‘Aye, and I thank God for it,’ declared his father, his eyes unnaturally bright.

  ‘So, too, do I.’ Andrew pushed himself to his feet and reached for his stick. ‘Now, I must go to the rectory.’ He frowned when he saw the look that passed between his parents. ‘What is it?’ A cold hand clutched at his gut. ‘Has something happened to Diana?’

  *

  The route up the hill to Lomax House was now familiar to Diana, as was the sight of the morning sky, heavy with the promise of rain. So far this year there had been little warm summer weather, and along with worries about a poor harvest, Diana knew the townspeople were anxiously watching the river that ran through the town. She was dismayed, therefore, when the rain began in a steady, relentless downpour soon after she sat down with Edwin. She had moved the schoolroom table to the window to take advantage of what little daylight there was, and, as she listened to Edwin reading, she glanced frequently at the rain lashing the glass.

  By the time Diana returned to Market Street the river was already a torrent, thundering between its banks and creeping ever higher. She hurried to the shop and helped Miss Moonshine to move as much stock and furniture as she could upstairs. As dusk fell, they stood on the staircase and watched the first floodwater trickle under the door.

  ‘Now we must sit and wait,’ said Miss Moonshine, tucking Napoleon more securely under her arm. ‘The rain has eased, thank goodness, and once the water stops running from the hills into the streams that feed the river, the level will begin to drop. I am hopeful that by the morning we shall be clear.’

  ‘You are very cool about it,’ remarked Diana, following her landlady up the stairs.

  ‘It is not the first time the river has burst its banks, and it will not be the last. We shall come about. Now, I have a good fire in my sitting room; we shall have a supper of toasted muffins.’

  As Miss Moonshine had predicted, by the following morning the floodwaters had receded, but they had left their mark, a dark stain six inches deep around the walls and a noisome smell. Diana wanted to stay and help clean away the silt and mud but Miss Moonshine sent her off, saying she could cope perfectly well alone, and indeed, by the time Diana returned from her teaching duties the only sign of flooding was a shadow on the walls and a faint mustiness in the dank air.

  ‘But that is nothing,’ said Miss Moonshine airily. ‘We shall leave the windows open, light a good fire in the hearth and it will be as good as new. Let us instead go and attend to our neighbours. Some of them fared much worse than this.’

  By the end of the day, Diana was exhausted and could only marvel at Miss Moonshine’s energy. They had spent the afternoon scouring out the room of a widow with two young babes to care for and had used the last of the daylight helping a fellow shopkeeper to restock his shelves ready for the morning. Diana retired to her room, almost too tired to undress, but as she slipped between the sheets she could hear Miss Moonshine still pottering around below. Despite her age and diminutive size, the lady appeared to have boundless energy.

  The following days took on a pattern as Diana worked with the townspeople to help those who had suffered most in the flood. She was shocked to discover that some houses along the riverbanks had been washed away. She went to see Mrs Lomax, who rallied her wealthier friends to provide extra food and dry clothing, while the vicar toiled to find shelter for the homeless. The hard work and long hours took their toll, and each night Diana dropped into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  *

  It was the end of August, and Diana was in the little room set aside for the Sunday School, tidying up, when Mr Booth came in and greeted her cheerily.

  ‘Another busy afternoon, I believe,’ he remarked, looking about him.

  ‘Yes, sir, the class was full again.’ She placed the last of the slates on a shelf and began to collect up the chalks. ‘The parents are eager for their children to attend.’ She placed the chalks in their box. ‘I am particularly pleased with the number of girls who come to class. Some of them are very bright, and all of them eager to learn. It is most satisfying.’

  ‘You are a very able teacher, Miss Riston. You have done very well with the children, and the success of our Sunday School is in no small part due to your skills. And the numbers continue to grow, which convinces me we are right to expand.’ He picked up a stray piece of chalk from the floor and turned it between his fingers. ‘You will be pleased to know that the committee has now raised by subscription sufficient funds to set up a proper school for the poor, rather than merely a Sunday class.’

  ‘Why, that is excellent news,’ replied Diana, even though she knew it would mean the end of her time here.

  ‘It is indeed. I have been considering John Hesland’s cottages, next to the church. You will have seen them, of course. They are in a parlous state and Hesland i
s looking to sell, as he does not have the funds to restore them. One is already empty, and the other will be free at Michaelmas. They could be knocked into one to make a suitable schoolroom –’

  ‘But there is no land with the cottages,’ said Diana, frowning. ‘I thought the committee had decided upon Lees Hall.’

  ‘We had, but I thought, perhaps, a farm might not be necessary.’ He stopped and cleared his throat. ‘I thought you might like to continue, as teacher for the poor school.’

  ‘I?’ she looked up at him, startled. ‘I wish it were possible, Mr Booth. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy my work here, but you said yourself the salary would be low. Certainly not enough to live on.’

  ‘I did say that, but I have another plan now that I would like to put to you.’ He held out the chalk to her, and as she took it he grasped her hand between both of his own. ‘Miss Riston – Diana – I thought, hoped, that you might consider. That is, I would be honoured if you would consent to be my wife.’ He fixed his eyes upon her and continued eagerly, ‘The living here is sufficient to support a married man, but from what I know of you, I do not believe you would wish to be idle. If we bought the cottages, you might run the school while I continue with my parish duties. I would not ask this of you if I did not think it would be to our mutual benefit. After all, you are a clergyman’s daughter, and as such I believe we are ideally suited.’

  ‘Wait, wait,’ she cried, pulling free and pressing her hands to her burning cheeks. ‘Mr Booth, this … this is most unexpected. I had not thought, had not considered such a thing.’

  ‘And that is part of your charm,’ he told her, smiling. ‘You are intelligent, accomplished and any man would be proud to call you his wife. And there is no doubt that my parishioners would approve. Your efforts after the flood were much appreciated, but even before that you had gained their respect by your diligence and hard work.’ He paused. ‘So, what do you say, Diana, will you throw in your lot with me?’

  Her head reeling, Diana turned and walked to the window. ‘This is all so sudden and … and unexpected. I must have time to think.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘No.’ She turned towards him. ‘No, I have thought, and I regret that I cannot marry you. You see, much as I esteem and respect you, Mr Booth, I do not love you. Perhaps I should explain. You know of course that my dear father died last year, but there is more. I have told no one of it, save Miss Moonshine, but I was betrothed, you see. To a young man, a soldier, who perished at Waterloo. I think my heart died with him.’

  Diana twisted her hands together nervously, waiting for his reaction. She had said much the same to Mr Moulton, the churchwarden at Shawton, when he had proposed. He had responded by trying to take her in his arms, thinking he had only to kiss her and she would submit. Now she glanced towards the door, planning her escape, but it was not necessary. The vicar made no move to approach her, he merely nodded.

  ‘I am very sorry for your loss. So many good men have died in the recent wars, it is quite, quite tragic. But you must believe me, my dear, I have seen other young women in a similar case and I know you will recover. Many marriages begin with nothing more than esteem and respect; mutual affection and even love can follow.’ He smiled, nothing in his face but understanding and compassion. ‘Of course, there is plenty of time for you to fall in love again, so perhaps you would rather not tie yourself to a humble vicar. You need not give me your answer now. Think it over. I hope you will not think me arrogant when I say I can offer you a comfortable, fulfilling life, Diana. And you would make me the happiest of men if you would marry me.’

  She looked at him, at his cheerful countenance and smiling blue eyes. There was no doubt he was a very personable man, with a good and kindly nature. But he was not Andrew.

  ‘I see you are going to refuse me,’ he said, putting up one hand. ‘I beg you will say nothing yet. Instead, promise me you will at least consider my offer. The committee does not have to make a decision on which of the properties to buy until Michaelmas, so there is a little time.’

  ‘Very well, Mr Booth.’

  ‘Call me Philip, please.’

  But that she could not do. To use his name would be too intimate and perhaps raise hopes that might not be fulfilled. That she was almost sure could never be fulfilled. Instead she gave a little shake of her head, smiling. Then she picked up her shawl and left him.

  *

  As the summer waned, so did the numbers in the Sunday School, every child being needed to fetch in the harvest, such as it was. Diana knew they would be back after Michaelmas, and Mr Booth would require an answer. She observed the vicar as he delivered his sermon at the Sunday service, although she was too distracted to pay heed to his message. His manner towards her had not changed at all since he had surprised her with his proposal. There had been no sly looks, no sighs or attempts to win her sympathy. He had continued to be his usual, amicable self, treating her in a respectful and friendly manner that set her at her ease. In so many ways it would be easy to accept the safe, comfortable life he was offering. She must make a decision, and soon, for it was but three weeks to Michaelmas.

  Michaelmas. One of the Quarter Days, when rents were due and servants were hired. And yesterday she had learned it would be the end of her employment with Mrs Lomax.

  ‘I am well enough to take over Edwin’s tutoring again now,’ she had told Diana, adding, with genuine regret in her voice, ‘For myself I would very much like to retain you, but we have had the new steam engine installed in the mill, you see, and with the continuing decline in trade, Mr Lomax is anxious that we should economise…’

  Diana quite understood, but she was well aware that there was no other work for her locally. She would have to advertise for something farther afield.

  Or you might marry Mr Booth.

  She glanced up at the pulpit, where the vicar was coming to the end of his sermon. Why not? Why should she struggle to support herself when he was offering to look after her? Philip Booth was a kind man, a good man. He would take care of her, and she would not need to move away from the friends she had made in the town. Perhaps she should accept his offer. Perhaps it was meant to be.

  The vicar was waiting for Diana as she came out of the church. One word from her, one hint, and she could be his wife. She would be safe, secure. Comfortable. But something told her it was not enough, and now she could only bring herself to throw him an apologetic glance.

  She would have hurried past but he stopped her with a word. He said quietly, ‘I would not for the world have you avoid my company, Miss Riston. If you do not want to accept my offer, then so be it. But believe me when I say that I shall honour your decision and not hold it against you.’

  She looked up at him, thinking how different he was from Mr Moulton, who had hounded her mercilessly.

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, Mr Booth. I hope we can always be friends.’

  ‘Indeed, I hope so,’ his eyes twinkled. ‘But I have not yet given up hope that you will change your mind by Michaelmas Sunday.’

  *

  Andrew sat down at the table and looked at his parents.

  ‘I do not know what else to do, Mother. We have advertised as far afield as the Leeds Intelligencer and the Manchester Mercury, all to no avail. There is no word of Diana.’ He dropped his head in his hands. ‘It is as if she never existed.’

  ‘I am sorry, my son.’ His father patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘I wish to heaven she had never left us, but she gave us no notice, just disappeared one day.’

  ‘She did it for our sake,' his mother was quick to add. ‘She knew Mr Moulton would be asking, nay, demanding that we tell him where she had gone.’

  ‘And all the money I have spent on notices to the newspapers has done no good at all,’ muttered Andrew. ‘Money we can ill afford.’

  ‘You must not think we begrudge a penny of it,’ his mother told him. ‘Diana was like a daughter to us.’

  ‘But we cannot continue like this, can we?’ Andrew
rubbed his eyes. ‘I must get work, Mother. I have tried everywhere in Shawton and there is nothing for an able-bodied man, let alone a cripple.’

  ‘You are not a cripple,’ replied his mother fiercely. ‘Your leg is getting stronger with every day that passes.’

  ‘It makes no odds, if there is no work.’

  For a while they remained wrapped in the gloomy silence. Then his father stirred.

  ‘There is one thing we have not tried. I have an old school friend in Halifax. He has a business and might be prepared to take you on. As a clerk, perhaps. Your bad leg would not matter if you were sitting at a desk.’

  ‘Halifax!’ Andrew exclaimed. ‘But that is so far away from Shawton.’

  So far away from Diana.

  The heavy band of iron about his heart tightened. He exhaled slowly. ‘I beg your pardon, I am being foolish. This is an opportunity that must be pursued. Thank you, Father, I would be obliged if you would write to your friend. Any work is better than none.’

  In truth Diana could be anywhere, so what did it matter where he went?

  *

  ‘Goodness, it is Michaelmas in a se’ennight.’ Miss Moonshine poured tea into one of her pretty porcelain cups and handed it to Diana. ‘Where has this year gone?’

  ‘The time has flown past,’ Diana agreed. She bit her lip. ‘And I must make a decision.’

  ‘Perhaps I can help you.’ There was understanding in Miss Moonshine’s delicate features, and sympathy in her hazel eyes. When Diana hesitated, she said softly, ‘Tell me.’

  And Diana told her all about the vicar’s proposal.

  ‘He has been all kindness, ’ she ended, putting down her cup. ‘And patient, too. He has given me until Michaelmas to decide.’

  ‘From what you tell me, Mr Booth is offering you a comfortable home and a worthwhile life as his helpmeet.’