Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 2: The House on Willow Street, The Honey Queen, Christmas Magic, plus bonus short story: The Perfect Holiday

‘Of course,’ Danae had said, thinking this was a great idea and what a lovely girl Mara was, always thinking of others, so kind and generous and always happy.

Plus it would be nice to have a night on her own again.

And then this morning Morris had phoned. Even before he said anything, she’d had the strangest prickling of anxiety that something wasn’t quite right. Morris almost never rang on the private line in the post office.

‘Hello, love,’ he said.

‘Hello, Morris,’ she’d replied. ‘Why do I feel this isn’t just a social call?’

‘Oh, well, it’s not,’ he said. ‘Mara’s here, as you know, and she’s been asking questions about you. Nothing horrible – you know she loves you, worships the very ground you walk on, Danae – but she knows there’s something not quite right and she wants me to tell her.’

Danae closed her eyes and leaned against the wall for strength, because otherwise she might have sunk on to the carpet in the back office. ‘Oh, Morris, I suppose she has to know, but I wish she didn’t, I wish nobody ever had to know.’

‘You did nothing wrong,’ Morris said. ‘You did the only thing you could, Danae. Nobody could blame you for that.’

‘But they do,’ she said quickly, ‘they do. His brothers. His mother. She blamed me until the day she died. She never forgave me. And his brothers – they hate me, hate the sight of me. And him … Oh, Morris, I don’t want Mara to know, I really don’t. And if she has to be told, I should be the one to tell her.’

‘Well, you should have thought of that before she set off all the way up here. Now she’s determined to get the information out of myself or Elsie.’

‘Did you tell her you were going to ring me?’ Danae asked quickly.

‘No, I didn’t. I’m not that much of an eejit,’ said her brother spiritedly. ‘It’s your secret, it’s your story to tell.’

‘Oh heck,’ said Danae. ‘Let me think about it. Can you put her off for a little while?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Morris.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring back.’

And then she’d rung Belle.

Belle greeted her in the front lobby of the Avalon Hotel and Spa, looking resplendent in her normal hotel outfit of crisp black suit, cream silk shirt and a large flower brooch pinned to one lapel. Even this bit of girlish femininity couldn’t detract from the steeliness behind Belle’s smile.

‘Come on, into the bar with you,’ said Belle, and marched her through.

Coffee arrived, filter coffee, in a beautiful silver pot.

‘I didn’t think you’d be wanting a shot of espresso or anything like that,’ Belle said. ‘Certainly given that I’ve never seen you touch a drop of the stuff in all the years I’ve known you.’

‘No,’ said Danae, ‘I don’t normally. But I feel so shaken now and this might help.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ said Belle. ‘It might give you the jitters. You could be climbing the walls in five minutes with all the extra caffeine in your system … but I suppose you know what you’re doing.’

Belle busied herself pouring coffee, leaving Danae to add a drop of milk to hers.

‘Right – spill,’ said Belle. ‘I’ve only got fifteen minutes. There’s a couple coming in who want to talk about their wedding in two years’ time. The function manager is off today with a sore throat. I’ll give her a sore throat when I see her! But anyway, we don’t have long. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Mara,’ said Danae slowly. ‘You know I love her, and it’s been wonderful having her around but—’

‘But difficult,’ interrupted Belle. ‘Of course it’s been difficult! Sure, you’ve been living on your own up the side of a hill for donkey’s years. Of course it’s going to be difficult to have another human being there with you. Is that what this is about? Do you think it would be easier if she didn’t live with you? If she went somewhere else in Avalon? I’m sure we could sort something out.’

‘No, that’s not it at all,’ said Danae. ‘Granted, it is tricky living with someone when you’ve been living on your own for so long, but Mara’s so easy-going and lovely. She keeps trying to bring me tea in bed, and in the evening she cooks and insists on doing all the washing up. I feel quite spoiled. It’s strange.’

‘Course it’s strange,’ said Belle, ‘when no one has looked after you in a very long time. So if it’s not Mara, what’s the problem?’

Despite her anxiety, Danae grinned. No matter what the situation, Belle could be relied upon to get straight to the point. There was no going off on tangents for her.

‘She wants to know about Antonio.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Belle slowly. She looked carefully at her friend’s face. ‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘I don’t want her to know,’ said Danae, as if this was perfectly obvious. ‘I don’t like anybody knowing.’

‘I can vouch for that,’ Belle said grimly. ‘How many years did I know you before I managed to drag the truth out of you?’

‘It’s so painful, and people are bound to think worse of me. It’s easier if nobody knows.’

‘Of course,’ said Belle with an edge to her voice, ‘it’s much easier if your friends haven’t the slightest clue as to what your life has been like and what you’ve suffered and how difficult it is to live with it every single day of your life. Oh sure, much better if nobody knows. I agree with you there. In fact, I would say there are psychologists as we speak saying, “Oh yes, vitally important and painful things in people’s lives should remain buried for ever, then we’d all be much better off.”’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Belle, don’t go off on one,’ said Danae. She added a teeny bit of sugar to her coffee and took another sip.

She’d forgotten how nice coffee tasted. The richness on her tongue. Antonio, being typically Italian or half-Italian and half-Irish, had loved his coffee. They’d been drinking espressos and Americanos long before the rest of the country got round to finding them fashionable.

‘The thing is,’ Danae said, choosing to ignore her friend’s mild sarcasm, ‘Mara has now hightailed it off to Dublin to get the truth out of her father, and I don’t want him to tell her. Before I came to see you, Morris rang me to say that Mara wanted to know what had happened. It’s all my fault, I should never have let her come to stay here, I should never have suggested it.’

‘I’ll tell you what you should do,’ said Belle firmly. She reached out and took one of Danae’s slim hands in hers. Belle’s hands were big and strong and there was a pearl ring on one of them, her engagement ring and a wedding ring from her last husband. Her first marriage had been a disaster – hence her slightly cynical views on young love and early marriage. But she’d loved Harold, her second husband, dearly, even though rumour had it in the town that he’d died under mysterious circumstances – a rumour that enraged Belle every time she heard it. ‘Cancer’s very mysterious all right,’ she used to say grimly. Anyone who mentioned the rumour in her hearing never repeated it again; Belle made sure of that. She held on to Danae’s hand tightly.

Danae’s hands were long and slender and her jewellery was of a totally different type. On one hand, she had a strange silver ring with a beautiful turquoise stone in the middle of it. Her nails were never painted, merely filed short. She had sensible, workmanlike hands, and they were cold. Bad circulation, some might have said. Belle preferred the old adage of ‘cold hands, warm heart’, because she knew her friend had one of the warmest hearts ever. And yet it had been frozen for so many years because of the past.

‘What I want you to do is ring Morris, get him to put Mara on the phone, then say that when she comes back, you’ll tell her the whole thing.’

‘I can’t,’ protested Danae.

‘Yes, you can. It’s about time you shared the load. I knew it would be good to have Mara living with you. I knew she’d not rest till she found out.’

‘You’re like a bloody witch,’ said Danae crossly.

‘You’re calling me a witch?’ laughed Belle. ‘You with the long, streaky hair with the grey bits in it and the mad jewellery! You do realize that half the aul fellas up the mountains think you’re the witch, living on your own up there with that wolf-like dog and all the hens.’

For the first time Danae roared with rich, true laughter.

‘Oh Lord,’ she said, ‘wouldn’t it be great to be a witch if you could cast spells to make yourself happy and spells to make other people happy. Sadly, no, I’m no witch, as you well know. Just a little sad right now.’

‘You know the old saying, “A problem shared is a problem halved”? There’s a lot of truth in it. You’ve been keeping people out for a very long time, Danae. Now you need to let Mara in. What do you think she’s going to do? Hate you? Think any less of you? Course she’s not! She knows who you are. And if you tell her the whole story, the whole, truthful, painful story, trust me, she’ll understand.’

Danae nodded. She pulled her hand away and started searching in her handbag for a tissue. She almost never cried any more. She didn’t know how: it was as if all her tears had been cried out years before.

Belle handed her a tissue. ‘I’ve got a box of them on standby for the engaged couple. You’d be surprised at how many brides-to-be start weeping when they think about the wedding day. The grooms generally start to weep at the price of the wedding day, but the brides get all moony and delirious once they see the ballroom and we talk about the whole thing. Then, when I show them the wedding suite, well, it’s a toss-up between tears and swooning in ecstasy. Most of them want to book in there and then, stay the night and have a go at everything. That Jacuzzi bath is a brilliant thing; I’m so glad I got it installed. Anyway, you’ve got your orders. I know what’s good for you, even if you don’t. So you’re going to take my advice, aren’t you?’