Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 2: The House on Willow Street, The Honey Queen, Christmas Magic, plus bonus short story: The Perfect Holiday. Cathy Kelly
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of a woman who knew that minions would do her bidding in her absence. ‘I’ll drop over, will I?’
‘No, not here,’ said Danae.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Belle suspiciously.
‘I’m fine, but I need to talk to you.’
‘You sound rattled,’ said Belle, her suspicions growing. ‘Are you sure something’s not wrong?’
‘No,’ said Danae.
‘Oh, right,’ said Belle. ‘Something is wrong, but you’re not going to tell me over the phone. Fine, when can you come over?’
‘I was thinking of shutting the post office now,’ said Danae.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the saints!’ said Belle in alarm. ‘It must be something very serious. We’ll go into a corner of the coffee shop – no, better yet, the bar. I’ll have a big pot of green tea ready. No one will disturb us in there.’
‘Actually, I think I might have a strong coffee,’ said Danae.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Belle said again. ‘I’ve never seen you drink coffee in your life.’
‘Today is one of those days.’
Danae felt nothing like her normal self. She hurriedly shut the post office. It was half ten in the morning, hours away from her normal half-hour lunch break. She didn’t think she’d ever done anything like this in all the years she’d been postmistress; not even that time when she had the terrible flu and had to keep rushing in the back to go to the bathroom. No, nothing stopped her doing her duty. But today, she simply couldn’t cope. Not after the phone call from Morris.
She’d had an inkling of what Mara was up to when she’d casually said, ‘I’m going to set off for Dublin today, drop in and see Mum and Dad, stay overnight. I feel a bit guilty, you know, ’cos I did come straight to you from Galway, and you know my mam, she worries, she needs to see me.’
‘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