A Candy-Candy Vignette By Josephine Hymes I wrote this vignette on a sleepless night many years ago. I shared it with a small group of fellow-fans at the time and then forgot about it. If you stumble with it as you visit my site and decide to read it, bring your tissue, your favorite drink, and play the music linked below: The light fingers of the pianist seemed to glide over the ivory keys, as if caressing the slow melody he was playing . A young woman rested her golden head on the back of her wheelchair as in a sleep-like state, half bliss, half spleen. Her sweet-pea blue eyes swept across the room in search of the one object that her heart was always prone to seek. He was just a few feet away from her, silently standing by the mantel piece. There,  as a marble statue both equally immobile and impossibly overpowering to the eye, a young man of no more than twenty-five years was following the musician’s execution with upmost attention. She wondered once again at his keen passion for music. She could not relate well to that, since her education had not been quite complete on that quarter. In a way, she always felt a bit left out every time they attended one of those musical soirees, for he seemed to escape to a private world out of her reach. Moreover, there was something in that blank expression he wore that made her suspect he was lost in his memories of the one they would never speak of.  Her undying jealousy began to eat her insides with a biting pang. Nevertheless, experienced actress as she was, the young woman kept her reactions in check and pretended to listen to the piece with undivided attention. She wished for him to be closer to her, so that at least she could hold his hand to make her presence known to him. Unfortunately, just a few minutes before the performance started, he had moved to another spot of the room to talk to one of his colleagues and had remained there ever since. In a more focused effort to keep control of her reactions, the young woman moved her sight away from him and directed her attention to the pianist. The gathering was intimate, a special treat from a well-to-do art patron for a selected group of intellectuals, artists, and other bohemian New Yorkers. The atmosphere was relaxed, unlike a formal concert, hence the absence of more orthodox seating arrangements. He enjoyed those occasions immensely because they allowed him to retreat to a partly secluded corner of the room, and when the dimmed lights permitted it, he could even flee from the salon to the shelter of an adjacent room or a balcony. So far, he had remained civilly integrated to the rest of the bunch, in his place by the mantel piece. However, when the first tearful notes of Nocturne No. 8 in D flat major started, he eyed the corner of the room where his fiancée was seated. She seemed to be absorbed in the music, or at least pretended to be so. At that cue, he quietly opened the door behind him, managing at last to steal a moment of utmost privacy. He simply welcomed the partial darkness of the room to which the door led. Only the October moon timidly illuminated the darkened shapes of the small seating room. He quietly moved towards the window, reaching with his fingers to feel the cold surface of the glass. It was a gelid fall evening, and the chill of the night had already crept to the window panes. “ Where are you tonight ?” He asked in a silent, painful sigh, which only his mind could hear. “ Are you by chance sad or lonely, perhaps missing someone just as much as I miss you? Or is that unforgettable smile of yours lighting up the evening for him ?” His breathing stopped for a fraction of a second, “ That unknown man whose existence I only suspect . . . fear . . . perhaps even hate against my better judgment ?” Unconsciously, his brows frowned in discomfort, while his fingers tips felt the freezing cold even more acutely.    “ . . . or is it, that by an unfathomable coincidence,  you are thinking . . . thinking of me? ” His eyes lifted to contemplate the crescent moon above, “ . . . and if so, is that memory pleasant to you . . . or painful . . . or unwelcomed . . .  or only a passing, random thought that you sweep away in the blink of an eye? He nodded in the darkness, reproaching his outlandish, selfish thoughts. “ There is no use ,” he chastised himself, “ why wasting the music in such a way, when I could simply enjoy her memory, that piece of her that is only mine to the end of times ?” He left his place at the window, plunging himself on a nearby armchair, his eyes closing as if cued by his more relaxed position. It was easy then to conjure her image. The door suddenly opened and summer-like light seemed to irrupt into the room. A well-known feminine laughter followed suit when her sunny presence invaded his musings. “ What are you doing there, you bore !” She chided him jokingly, “ Will you lie on that chair the whole evening? It is not bedtime yet.” “ Will you scold me now, Candy ?”, he asked smiling back in his reverie. “ Come with me, will you? ” he asked, and in his imagination, he extended his hand inviting her to sit by his side. “ There’s only place for one in that chair, silly man, ” the imaginary woman retorted with a giggle. “ You can sit here ,” he replied with a roguish smile as he tapped his right leg. “ Goodness gracious! You’re such a scoundrel, Terry.  I will do as if I hadn’t heard that preposterous suggestions and sit here instead, ” she said pretending indignation while seating on the couch in front of his chair, “ You can always sit by me, if you wish, ” she added as she busied herself taking off her long evening gloves. “ No, I will not do so. You don’t deserve it, ” he said faking indignation. “ As if I were going to take offense because a boor does not want to keep me company ,” she riposted, “ anyway, you know well we cannot be here for too long. She´s going to be searching for you as soon as the nocturne ends ,” she added in a whisper, and he observed that her eyes had been suddenly clouded. Were those tears? Not able to resist her, he stood up and moved by her side. Immediately, he was rewarded by one of those smiles that made his head reel. Once next to her, he relaxed his shoulders and leaned on the back of the loveseat. “ You look tired ,” she whispered, looking at him intently, concerned drawn in her eyes. “ It’s been a busy season ,” he avowed, matching the hushed tone of her voice. “ You should take care of yourself, Terry ,” she replied, moving to brush away and errant bang of dark hair that fell on his forehead. The caress was light as feathers, but it burned his skin. “I know it, Freckles, ” he replied looking at her adoringly, “ But the pain is less if I work until I feel numb . . .  it is safer than drinking, you know ?” “It is not so safe if you work to the point of exhaustion, Terry ,” she insisted, her now naked fingers slowly sliding across his cheek, until her index reached his chin and rested there for a brief, delicious instant. He would have moved to trap that little hand in his, but he knew too well that, had he dared to touch her, his imagination would not cease at that point. He would entangle himself in a tormenting dream, led by his frustrated lust for her, to a point where his most excruciating desire demanded to be satisfied. It was useless to let those hidden passions awake in him, when he could only aspire to a meager fulfillment of his own doing  . . . to wake up later to the bitter reality of his loneliness, in a dark corner of his bedroom. There was no use to taint such idyllic moment in that way. So, he remained motionless as he drowned in her eyes lit by the moonlight.  “ I wish we could stay like this forever,” he told her huskily. “ You always say that, Terry, ” she replied with a new smile, “ but you really shouldn’t be disappearing in such an uncivil way from your party. Really, Terry, mingling with real people cannot be that bad.” “ I only want to indulge here with you ,” he pleaded a bit childishly, “ just a little bit longer . . . if only we could . . . ” “ Hush! ” She interrupted him, putting her finger on her lips, “You hear those chords? It´s coming.” He knew the Candy of his dreams was right. In just a few more bars Chopin’s music and his fleeting fantasy were going to dissipate in thin air. So, he didn´t say more. He just kept quiet, looking at her with his eyes closed, until her image began to vanish. When the last chord languidly died and he opened his eyes again, he was back in the dimmed, lonely room, still sitting on the same chair he had chosen since the beginning of his fantasy. The moonlight had suddenly been eclipsed by a passing cloud, and the brief silence after the last note had been baffled by the audience’s applause. She was gone . . . NOTE A translation to Italian of this vignette is available at the following forum: Gli Amici di Candy Candy, Terence's Angels

This is just a quick update for all subscribers. If you have some time to spare re-reading an old tale, you might want to check the revised version of TSOTD Chapter 7: White Daffodils and Red Tulips

The Ardlay's family is very dear to Keiko Nagita, who imagined this family as a young girl, trying to evade herself from the harsh realities of life. Understandably, the Ardlays became her friends as she gradually imagined each one of their members and their individual stories. It is only logical that these characters changed many times in her mind as she grew up, until she was able to introduce us to them back in the 1970s. However, I don’t think she told us everything about them. Even in Candy Candy: Final Story , we only get a glimpse at the tragic history of this wealthy American family. It is only natural to feel curious about this topic. If you ever felt like that, you’re not alone! Guessing that the young Japanese fans who were following the publication of the manga were craving for more details about the Ardlays, the Nakayoshi magazine published a family tree as an appendix, back in the day the story was still being published. Years later, other versions of the family tree appeared in non-authorized merchandise. Although these family trees are not approved by the author, fans have always fantasized with the relations expressed in those graphic representations. You can still find some version of the same idea all over the internet if you care to explore a bit using your favourite search engine. In this “rambling”, I will elaborate on the canonical information about the Ardlay’s family, and add a few unofficial details found in other sources (manga, anime, merchandise). Let’s begin with the information available in CCFS: 1.      The Ardlays are Scottish immigrants. 2.      Albert’s father, William C. Ardlay was the head of the family and died when Albert was only 8 years of age. 3.      The family leadership was expected to go from father to son (“from William to William”), which may only refer to William C. Ardlay and his son William A. Ardlay. However, it may also refer to more than two generations. This last possibility is just speculation as no direct evidence is given in the novel. 4.      Aunt Elroy was Mr. Ardlay’s elder sister. The name Elroy is both a masculine name and a last name. For that reason, one can suspect that Elroy it is not the lady’s first name, but possibly her married family name. 5.      Besides Aunt Elroy, there are several elderly members that somehow become key supporting Aunt Elroy as she leads the family while William Albert becomes of age. 6.      William C. Ardlay and his wife had two children: Rosemary and William Albert. 7.      Albert’s mother died when he was born. 8.      Albert’s sister was already married when Albert was little. Albert confirms this fact in one of his letters, in which he asserts that there was an important age difference between them. 9.      Women tend to die young in this family, according to Albert. 10. Rosemary felt in love with a naval captain, Mr. Vincent Brown, and eloped with him when the family objected to the relationship. It is likely that the family’s opposition declined after her marriage because we are told she lived with Anthony in the Lakewood mansion and not at the Browns’ household. 11. Rosemary and Vincent had an only child, Anthony, who is Albert’s nephew. 12. Rosemary died while Anthony was little (perhaps 4 to 6 years of age, as he is able to remember her and retell memories of one important conversation with her). 13. Alistair and Archibald Cornwell are cousins to Anthony. Since their last name is Cornwell, one can guess that they are related to Anthony (and Albert) by their maternal side. 14. Alistair resembled his father, Mr. Cornwell Senior, and they also shared an interest in engineering. He had a business in Arabia that kept him and his wife away from the United States. His name and that of his wife are not mentioned in the novel. 15. Raymond and Sarah Lagan’s relationship to the Ardlays is not clear, but Eliza and Neil are said to be relatives to Archibald and Alistair. The exact connection is not revealed but it is likely that it comes from Mrs. Lagan, whose maiden name is not revealed in the novel. 16.  There is a distant relative named Mr. Winston, in whose home Patty stays during her time in Chicago, prior Alistair’s death. 17. Georges Villers was a young French orphan that Mr. William C. Ardlay took under his protection, giving him instruction and a place as his right-hand man and protector of his son. He was never adopted but became an important player in the family.   This information does not necessarily contradict the family tree published in the Nakayoshi magazine which provides other names and details: 1.      The family tree starts with Mr. William Ardlay the First (father to William C. Ardlay). The name of his wife is not revealed. 2.      Mr. William C. Ardlay (second in line) was married to a lady called Priscilla. 3.      Mr. William C. Ardlay and Mrs. Elroy are siblings, but they also had a younger sister, Janet. 4.      Janet Ardlay married (husband’s name unknown) and had a daughter: Janice, who was first cousin to Rosemary and Albert. 5.      Janice is Alistair and Archibald’s mother. We know her husband is Mr. Cornwell, but the first name of this man is not revealed. 6.      According to one family tree, Aunt Elroy married a widower who already had a daughter of his own. This daughter, whose name is not revealed, eventually married in turn and had a daughter, named Sarah. This Sarah would become Mrs. Lagan. So, in this family tree, the Lagans are not related to the Ardlays by blood. They are only related through legal connections from Aunt Elroy’s deceased husband. 7.      In a second family tree, Sarah appears as Aunt Elroy’s daughter, but that would not make much sense, since in the novel, Sarah never calls her mother.   So, considering this information (both factually stated in the novel and also speculations derived from the non-canonical family trees) one could elaborate the following theories about the Ardlay’s family. Let’s start by establishing Albert’s age and possible year of birth. Please, be patient as I take you though my reasoning. 1.      Candy is about to become 13 years old when she is hired by the Lagans. 2.      According to the novel, Albert was 17 when he met Candy, when she was 6. So, there is a difference of 11 years between the two of them. 3.      There is not much information about Candy’s age at different stages of the story in the novel, but let’s follow a hint in the anime in which she says to be 15 when she and Cookie meet as stowaway passengers. 4.      The following year, WWI starts, when she is already studying nursing at Mary Jane’s school. So, if we follow this logic, she is 16 years of age when the war started. 5.      Nakayoshi magazine published a character profile in which Candy’s birthday is placed in May 1898. This matches the anime timeline that places Candy at 16 years of age in July 1914 (when the WWI started). 6.      So, considering Albert’s age in relation to Candy, he must have been born 11 years before Candy. This would place his year of birth in 1887. 7.      Since there is a great difference of age between Albert and Rosemary, let’s imagine Albert’s father was no so young when Albert was born. 8.      So, let’s say Mr. William C. Ardlay was 35 when Albert was born. So, William C Ardlay could have been born in 1852 (subtract 35 from 1887, year of Albert’s birth). 9.      If we imagine that Mr. William C. Ardlay’s father was 25 years of age when his heir was born, then the first Mr. William Ardlay could have been born in 1827 in some place in Scotland. His family was very likely poor since William felt the need to migrate in search of opportunities. 10. Mr. William Ardlay, as the first of his dynasty, should have immigrated to the US alone but while still young, or perhaps with some younger siblings of whom we don’t know anything (maybe these are the elders referred in the novel). Let’s say that Mr. Arday the First was 18 years of age when he got to the US. So, his arrival to the country that saw him become rich could be hypothetically placed in 1845. 11. If we consider that amassing a fortune takes time, let’s imagine that it took him 20 years to become wealthy. This places the dawn of the Ardlay’s fortune at perhaps 1865, after the Civil War, when the country was in the midst of heavy industrialization and crucial political and social changes. It was certainly a time for new business ventures and the generation of new wealth. If we develop this theory further, we can suggest the following possible interpretations: Mr. Ardlay the First started his family while still working hard to become rich. His children (Aunt Elroy, William C, and perhaps Janet) saw their family go from rags to riches. William C. consolidated his father’s legacy being the second in line. Albert received a legacy of only two generations before him. Aunt Elroy is perhaps so snobbish because she has tried hard to distant herself from her poor origins, which she can still remember from her youth. ·By the beginning of the century, when Albert is 13 years of age, the Ardlays are still considered new money, as only families that had been part of the elite for multiple generations (100 years or more) were consider true old money. Please remember that these conclusions require a bit of interpretation on the part of the reader. The only facts we can considered canon are those that appear in the novel, as mentioned above. However, I have done my best to apply common sense and bit of historical knowledge to make this theory plausible.

In an online conversation shared on " Sinceramente Apasionadas " YouTube channel, a fellow CC fan asked me if there was music that inspired my writing of TSOTD. I answered that music is always part of me and, of course, there are actual pieces mentioned in the fic as well as music that I love that sort of kept me company while I was writing. So, I promised to share with everyone a playlist with such music and here it is for everybody to have a good time (in case you share my music taste). Click on the link below to take you to my YouTube playlist:

This is a short story that recreates a scene from CC-Final Story. You can read the story here

If you have reached this site, it is very likely you are trapped in the world created by the Japanese writer and poet, Keiko Nagita. Among her many works, there is one that tells the adventures of an endearing character, Candice White Ardlay. This site pays homage to that story and the tales it has inspired. You may also know that Ms. Nagita first wrote the story line for a manga in the 1970s, which reached international fame among young readers all around the world. Fast forward 33 years after, Nagita translated her story into an mixed-genre book in which she blends traditional narrative with epistolary novel style. In it, she takes us to the home of our dear friend Candy, who is now an adult, living with her husband at a delightfully idyllic cottage near the Avon river. Fortunately for us, the story does not tell everything about Candy and her friends, leaving several blank pages in which devoted fans can dream and imagine new stories. As an attempt to do that, I first wrote a fanfiction entitled " The Season of the Daffodils " between November 2010 and May 2011. This year, I have decided that it was time for me to revise the story making minor cosmetic changes, polishing certain passages that have bothered me through the years, and making minor additions (don't get too excited with this. There will only be a few passages here and there to give a fuller picture of a few scenes, but the story will remain basically the same). As I revise, I will be modifying certain names, places, and details to make them coincide with the translated versions of CCFS. However, whenever it suits my preference, the story will keep details from the Manga and/or Anime. I do not pretend this to be a canonical fanfiction in the strictest sense, as I do this to please myself more than anyone else. Writing and revising can be a difficult but also fun process. So, please excuse me if I seek to make my experience as fun as possible and in doing that I use names, spellings, events, or the like in ways that are not 100% faithful to CCFS. For instance, I will keep spelling the name Grandchester with a / d/ , just because I love how the name looks like that, being as " grand " as I imagine this old family could have been. At the same time, I am a sucker for historical and geographic details. So, in my mind certain places are not exactly where Nagita says they are in her novel (e.g. Pony's Home being in the State of Michigan). So, I will keep taking these liberties in my revision of the story. I will be slowly working my way through the English version first and later follow with the Spanish translation that also needs editing. If you are interested in reading this revised versions, you can access the chapters by clicking on the image below:

My old friend Candice has been visiting me for the last few months. She is as engaging and persuasive as she has ever been and is up for some major convincing. For you see, she knows I have been keeping a small collection of stories hidden in an old hard drive. She is now insisting that I share them with some of my old friends and perhaps with others that could become new friends. I have tried my best to explain that these stories are just a pile of unfinished drafts, some of them only a couple of sentences outlining a possible plot. However, Candice has told me that our mutual friend, Nagita-sensei is too busy with other things to take the time and energy needed to share her stories. "Perhaps, you should give it a try" Candice has suggested with that smile of hers that she knows I can't resist, "There is so much music, poetry, funny moments, and even some tears that would be great to share with our friends all over the world. Why wouldn't you tell the tales that bloom in my garden?" So she kept nagging me in the midst of my busy professional life, during my latest spring trips, and even during my sleepless hours. Therefore, this page has been born.

What is between the lines of the Season of the Daffodils' epilogue? Well, there is actually a great deal of stories that I could no afford writing in 2011. At that time, I was starting my doctoral studies and living on a grant. So, I did my best to pour my love for Candy and her friends in a compact story that would merely focus on the reencounter of Candy and Terrence as I imagined it. While this experience was as liberating as rewarding, it did not allow me to tell other stories that I have kept in my heart for the last 13 years or so. In those years, I finished my graduate studies, navigated a couple of non-permanent academic jobs, and moved around the three countries of North America until I finally settled in my current dream job a few years ago. Now is the time to catch up with the Grandchesters, the Ardlays, the Cornwells, and the O'Briens, for they have still a great deal to say. The first of the Tales of an English Garden will be published here by the end of the summer of 2024. Hopefully, this project will take me a year, culminating in Fall 2025, on time for the 15th anniversary of CCFS. Keep yourself posted!