The House On Willow Street (61 page)

Kitty’s class in school were making Valentine cards. There was much giggling whenever Kitty’s classmate, Julia, came around to play, much muttering about big red hearts and crepe paper and what they were going to say.

“They’re supposed to be secret, you know. You don’t write who it’s from,” Tess overheard them saying and then they shut up and giggled frantically when she came back into the kitchen.

“I didn’t hear anything,” said Tess, “not a thing.”

“Mum,” said Kitty, “do you think Zach will get lots of Valentine’s cards, because all the girls really like him even though he’s going out with Pixie?”

“I’d say Pixie will carve their hearts out with a spoon if they do,” said Suki, who was cooking dinner.

Tess glared at her.

“Sorry,” said Suki. “I forget sometimes . . .”

“How do you carve someone’s heart out with a spoon?” asked Kitty, interested.

“I was joking!” said Suki. “I meant carve the way you carve a name on a tree with something, perhaps a spoon . . . ?”

“Nice save,” said Tess, grinning.

It was definitely interesting, having Suki around.

Suki adored spending time with Zach: the two of them had always shared a special closeness. And she loved to babysit Kitty, encouraging Tess to “go out and date people!”

“I don’t want to date people,” Tess told her.

“Well, go out anyhow,” Suki said. “I’ll be heading back to the States for my book tour soon enough. Take advantage of free homegrown babysitting while you still have it.”

Suki’s book was brilliant, Tess thought—and so did everyone at Box House Publishing. The reception had blown Suki away—and Melissa, who was honest enough to admit it. Somehow, through all the tough months, Suki had written some of her best prose, and she’d managed to strike a topical note that captured everyone’s interest.

They’d already lined up a twenty-city tour for Suki, and all the major chat shows wanted to book her.

Suki was jogging every day to get in shape.

“Television adds pounds,” she said. “I need to get my waist back—I can’t be seen on TV without a waist!”

“Hey,” said Tess, “
hello
! Haven’t you recently written a book about how it should be okay for a woman to age in a womanly manner and not in the manner of a fifteen-year-old model?”

“Yes,” Suki said. “I have. It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime, though.”

“You look beautiful, Sis,” said Tess, smiling at her sister with love.

Suki smiled. “And so do you, honey.”

The best news of all had been the spate of deals with foreign publishers, which had meant that she’d been able to lend Tess the money to keep Something Old going.

“You’ve always been there for me,” Suki said. “It’s nice to be able to do something for you for a change.”

“My sister got five Valentine’s cards last year. She’s thirteen,” said Julia thoughtfully. “I hope when I’m thirteen I get six, so I can beat her because she was boasting and I didn’t get any . . . well, except for that one from my mum and dad, and that doesn’t count.”

“My dad always gives Mum one,” said Kitty, “and he gives me one too. I like that. It must be horrible to get none.”

“Oh, I think we’ll all survive if we don’t get Valentine’s cards,” Tess said, smiling. “Now girls, have you done your homework?”

“Nearly everything, Tess,” said Julia. “Except sums. I hate sums.”

“Me too,” said Kitty, anxious not to be left out. If hating sums was where it was at, she was going to hate sums too.

“Girls, you’re both fabulous at sums! Honestly, you’re so clever,” Tess said, automatically going into the “tell children how wonderful they are and then they’ll like schoolwork” mantra.

Eventually the girls settled down to do their sums while Tess checked the rest of their homework, her mind half on the subject of Valentine’s cards. Back when they were at school, Suki used to get scores of them. Some would be stuffed into her school bag when she wasn’t looking. Or left in her desk in her form room. She’d been so blithely uninterested in them, whereas Tess, who’d never got any except from her father—one he’d signed—would have loved to get Valentine’s cards.

“Suki’s seven years older, so she’s bound to get more cards than you,” Anna Reilly had explained to her. “Don’t worry, pet. When it’s your turn, you’ll be getting tons of them. You’re going to be beautiful. You
are
beautiful.”

“Thanks, Anna,” said Tess, although she didn’t really believe her. Suki, with her full cheekbones, her pillowy lips and that slanted way she had of looking at people, was beautiful. Men flocked to her. Men and boys. Tess didn’t have that. She knew. Even at twelve, she knew.

After dinner, Suki tidied up and Tess drove Julia home. The two little girls sat in the back of the car and chatted
nineteen to the dozen, as if they had to stretch out these last few minutes of being together. “Thanks for having her,” Julia’s mother said when they dropped her off. “Was she good?” she added, ruffling Julia’s short, dark hair.

“She was fabulous, as usual,” said Tess. “They’ve both done their homework—you need to sign her homework notebook—and they ate their dinner too, although not much of the cauliflower.”

“Bleuch,” said Julia.

“Bleuch,” agreed Kitty.

“No, cauliflower doesn’t go down too well here, either,” said Julia’s mum.

“Can I stay up a bit late and watch telly, Mum?” wheedled Kitty as they drove home through the town.

“No,” said Tess, “you know you’re always tired after you’ve had someone over to play. And it’s only Thursday night. Tomorrow is a school day, after all.”

“Oh, Mum.”

It was at that moment that Kitty and Tess spotted them: Kevin and Claire, walking across the pedestrian crossing holding hands. Claire was visibly pregnant now, her belly swollen to a melon-sized bump. The rest of her looked exactly the same: long slender legs encased in her skinny jeans and flat Ugg boots. Her pretty cardigan-type thing swinging out behind her. Why were young people never cold? Tess wondered for a moment. For the drive to Julia’s house, she’d put on her anorak. She hated the cold. But then Claire had the extra central heating of a baby inside her.

“Look, Mum, look, Mum! Can we stop, can we stop?” said Kitty delightedly. “Aw, beep the horn or something.” They were three cars back from the crossing and it had started to flash orange, meaning that the cars could pass. Kevin and Claire were on the other side of the road.

“No, darling,” said Tess hurriedly, “we can’t stop really and we don’t have time and plus . . .” she searched her mind desperately, “you are going to be seeing Dad and Claire on Saturday so we’ll give them a beep of the horn and a wave and we’ll keep going.”

“No. I want to stop,” said Kitty mutinously.

“Darling, we don’t have time. I’ll beep and you wave.”

She gave the lightest beep of the horn, hoping that neither Kevin nor Claire would look around. And yet they did, caught sight of the car and waved energetically, Claire beaming the happy smile of someone who was utterly content. Tess smiled and waved back, feeling like the biggest hypocrite in the world. She took a right turn up a road she wouldn’t normally go. It was probably a longer route to their house, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get out of the town square quickly. Halfway up the road was the McMillan card shop, an orgy of red in advance of Valentine’s Day.

“Oh, look at the shop, Mum,” said Kitty delightedly. “Can I get a card for Claire? She’d love it.”

“It’s closed. It’s quarter past six,” Tess said.

“Can we go tomorrow? Please, please? I’ll use my pocket money.”

“Of course, darling,” she said. “If you want to, we’ll go in tomorrow.”

Tess could remember when Kitty wanted to give her Valentine’s cards. When making Tess a big “I Love You Mummy” Valentine’s card had been the biggest thrill. Now she wanted to buy one, with her own pocket money, for Claire. Tess swallowed back the pain, the loneliness, the sadness. Cashel came unbidden into her mind. Why did she keep thinking of him? Suki was driving her mad, saying that he was around the town, staying in the hotel a lot and very involved in the house.

“Stop meddling, Suki,” begged Tess. “I don’t want any pain in my life anymore.”

“It’s not like you to give up,” Suki had said naughtily.

Tess had sent the necklace Cashel had brought off to be valued and her diamond expert had been cautiously optimistic.

“These days you can never tell till the auction, but I think you could be on to a winner here, Tess. This could be real money.”

And the money would be hers and Suki’s. After her insistence that she didn’t want his charity, Cashel had sent over the documents to prove that only listed items were sold with the house the first time around, and the necklace most definitely wasn’t on the list.

An injection of cash would be nice. More than nice.

Right now, all she wanted from life was to have her kids happy, to know Suki was doing well, and to be able to run her business. She didn’t need anything or anyone else, thank you very much.

C
ashel sat in his office, the temporary one on the square in Avalon. His chair—not the wildly expensive one Mara had teased him about wanting—was pushed back and his feet were up on the desk, long legs crossed at the ankle. From this position he could see out over the square, watch the goings-on in Avalon. It was nearly lunchtime and he could see Rafe riding down Castle Street, coming on to the square on a beautiful bike. He came nearly every day to take Mara to lunch.

Cashel liked him. Rafe had an easy way about him, a laid-back charm that said he took life very seriously indeed but had his priorities worked out. He was good to Mara too. Cashel had asked. He felt a strong fatherly feeling for her, which was utterly bewildering since he was nobody’s father.

Rafe hadn’t tried to get him to order one of Berlin Bikes’ custom-made machines, another good point in his favor. Cashel disliked people who, upon learning of his wealth, tried to get him to spend a little of it in their shop. No, Rafe was one of the good guys, and he and Mara were clearly besotted with each other.

From her office next door, he could hear Nina Simone. She was on a Nina Simone bender this week. Last week, it had been Lady Gaga, but not too loud.

Lord knows what the music was like when he wasn’t here, which was most of the time. He’d been coming to Avalon less and less recently, business taking him all over the world. And yet there was always the pull back here. He felt sad that he hadn’t come back as much when his mother was alive. And now she was gone, what was it that was keeping him here?

Riach, Charlotte and the children could come to him anywhere in the world.

There was merely Avalon House, a beautiful house that was never going to be his home because he’d no one to share it with. Which was what it all came down to at the end of the day: having someone to share your life.

He could see Belle emerging from the beautiful oak doors of the hotel, clad in her usual finery. Today it was a purple velvet ensemble with a vast, twinkling brooch on one lapel. She felt like an old friend now, he’d been staying there so long. He kept his suite permanently booked now. “Suits me,” Belle had said, smiling at him, “we all know you’re loaded, darling, you won’t miss it.”

Cashel had laughed. “And you, a hotel owner, daring to say that to a customer?” he’d teased.

Belle had eyed him up shrewdly. “I’d say, Cashel Reilly, that you’re the sort of man who hates people standing on ceremony with you and kowtowing because you have a lot of money in the bank or wherever it is that smart people keep their money these days. I don’t like those sort of kowtowing people myself. As you’ve long since figured out, I call a spade a spade. I’m delighted you’re staying in the hotel and that you’re paying for the suite whether you’re there or not. It’s good for the bank balance, and these days we all
need a helping hand. And of course it doesn’t hurt things that you’re so gorgeous and rich either.”

She twinkled her eyes at him.

“Some of the businesspeople we have staying come in, notice you and I can
see
their minds whirring, thinking that if the likes of Cashel Reilly are staying here, this must be the right spot to stay in. Which is also very good for the bank balance.” She beamed at him.

Cashel had beamed back. “If I was the marrying sort, I’d put a ring on your finger, Belle,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cashel,” she said. “Sure, you’re far too old for me. I’m a cougar, don’t you know?” And this time, she roared with laughter, seeing the surprised look on his face.

Kitty-corner to the hotel was Lorena’s Café, and it was getting busy, Cashel could see. He imagined Brian behind the counter, doing his best to chat to the customers. Brian was quite relaxed in Cashel’s presence now. Not one hundred percent relaxed, and he probably never would be, but they could have a bit of mild chat about the weather. The usual stuff.

“Not a bad day out there,” Brian might say.

“No, very nice,” said Cashel, who hated talking about the weather or small talk of any kind. Yet in Avalon, he was inclined to go along with it. Particularly because he knew that if he said one cross word to Brian
ever
, it would frighten the hell out of the poor boy and Cashel felt that wouldn’t be fair. Brian was a nice lad.