A Vintage Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

territorially. ‘They’re better than a crystal ball. See how the cut of your shoe shows your elegant instep and enhances your slim ankles?’ David says, dropping down and running his finger along the shoe. ‘That shows consideration, thought and good self-awareness. I can also see you are hardworking and driven because these are a well-kept but well-loved pair of shoes.’ He points his finger at the back of the shoe and I twist my foot so I can see it. ‘See the scuffs on the back and the worn down heel? That tells me you’re often running about, that you have chosen this low-heeled pump as much for practicality as for style. However, the colour and the detailed embellishment on the upper shows that you have a creative mind. You love details. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I think you are a lady full of imagination and talent.’ I laugh bashfully and Sam raises an eyebrow.
    ‘And finally,’ David says, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at me. ‘I see loyalty, because this is the style of shoe that comes in many colours – and these gold ones are not worn down enough to have been worn every day. I’m sure you have a pair of these in a scarlet, an everyday black, and a classic French navy, as well as this more unusual gold colour.’
    ‘He’s spot on!’ Sam gasps, gazing at David in awe. ‘You really know your stuff, mate.’
    David smiles modestly and smoothes his hair. ‘Thanks. I hope so. I come from a long lineage of stellar shoemakers who believe that it is a philosophy, a religion, a duty as much as a craft.’
    I, meanwhile, am trying to close my mouth, but I can’t. I’m baffled, bewitched, bedazzled. And I’ve only seen one pair of shoes. My mind is whirring with possibilities for David Angelo and his shop.
    David turns his back on me and starts leading us through the empty shop. There are some old shoe boxes on the floor, printed with the same logo as the shoes in the window. Shelf displays have been taken down so that the space is a mere shell. I see David Angelo glance around and then shake his head sadly. My heart bleeds for him and I want to find out more but I can’t help asking one personal question first.
    ‘David?’ I say shyly.
    He turns around and looks at me and Sam in surprise, as if he’s forgotten we’re here. I glance at Sam, he’s busy trying to pick up a broken display, always trying to be helpful.
    ‘Sorry,’ I murmur shyly, ‘but you also said that I’m loved and I have to ask–’ I glance at Sam who is still keeping himself busy and so can’t hear my needy question. ‘How can you tell that by my shoes?’
    David throws his head back and roars with laughter. Sam looks around in surprise. David wipes his eyes and shakes his head. ‘What do you think I am, some sort of a magician? I can’t tell that you’re loved from your shoes !’ he says loudly, I blush as I look at Sam, who is looking quizzically at us. ‘I can tell it just by looking at the dopey expression on both your faces!’ Sam grins and looks at the floor, as do I. ‘Plus, I know all the signs well.’ He smiles and points at his wedding ring and then ushers us further into the shop.
    ‘So this is it,’ he says sadly. ‘Over a hundred years of a family business reduced to this.’
    ‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘I mean, the problem clearly didn’t lie with your designs.’ I open up one of the shoe boxes and pull out a pair of shoes. Granite black heeled courts this time with a hint of sparkle underneath and a delicate silver butterfly sewn over the front of the shoe. ‘These are exquisite.’
    He bows and smiles, but it fades quickly. ‘We were a casualty of the times – and our surroundings. My father warned me that my designs had become to decorative, too ambitious for the folk around here, but I ignored him. I thought I knew better with my degree from Central St Martins and experience working with some of the best shoe designers in the world. I became arrogant and