‘Quite like old times,’ said Bertie, laughing out loud.
‘Don’t let Daisy eat those roses.’ Sally rescued the bouquet, and the three of them stood together laughing and making a fuss of the dear old horse who had been part of their happy family.
‘I’d have had a bouquet of carrots if I’d known.’ Kate laughed. ‘And LOOK at this carriage she’s pulling! Is this yours, Joan? It’s magnificent. I’ll feel like a queen!’
‘Are you ready, Miss Kate?’ Charlie appeared in his band uniform, a trombone shining in his hands. ‘Got the town band here to escort you. And the music is what Freddie wanted.’
He got the smile he’d been hoping for. Kate and Bertie climbed into the highly polished carriage and the procession began. The band started its music with a drum roll, then marched forward to the tune of ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’. Daisy loved music. She arched her neck and stepped out majestically, her hooves clopping time to the music. She was an old horse now, too old to work, but today she was full of life and pride.
Left alone in the bakery, Annie squeezed her feet into some new shoes. She trimmed her posh hat with a few flowers and put it on in front of the mirror. Then she pushed her face up close to the mirror and looked into her own eyes.
‘You,’ she said, pointing at herself, ‘are going to your son’s wedding.’
She opened the door and went out. In the distance she could hear the town band and the clip-clop of Daisy’s hooves. Straightening her back proudly, Annie walked confidently down the road and into the church.
A Note From the Author
THE BOY WITH NO BOOTS is fiction, but it is based on the true stories my late father told us about his early life. The stone angel and many of his carvings are in homes and churches around Somerset, some of them still in the family. Monterose and Hilbegut are fictitious places, typical of towns and villages in my home county of Somerset. If you’re good at anagrams, you could work them out! You might even discover a small grey village church where Dad’s statue of St Peter still stands in the porch.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Barbara Large and the Winchester Writers Festival, my amazing agent, Judith Murdoch, my wonderful editor, Jo Dickinson and all the team at Simon and Schuster UK. A special thank you to my local writers group, my husband, Ted, and my family for their kindness and support.
The Boy with No Boots Page 24
