Miss Moonshine's Emporium of Happy Endings: A feel-good collection of heartwarming stories

by Helena Fairfax

  She was at work when he finally phoned.

  ‘I miss you,’ he said.

  ‘Miss you too. Where’s Seth?’

  ‘Gone out to meet a client. What are you doing?’

  Daisy dressed windows for a major high-street store. Right now she was up to her knees in summer fashion, sunglasses and beach bags, trying to wrestle a mannequin into a pair of skinny jeans whilst balancing her phone under her chin.

  A leg fell off and she swore. Then she dropped her phone. Bending to pick both up, she realised her antics had attracted the attention of the queue at the bus stop.

  ‘Got to go,’ she said and hung up.

  Laura

  Laura blinked. She’d just had a very disconcerting moment or two before she figured out that Daisy was dressing a shop dummy.

  Who was she talking to? The call seemed… intimate, yet she wasn’t talking to Seth. So who?

  She lingered, staring down at the canal, convinced more than ever that she was living in a television drama.

  At home she opened the door of her new studio with a sigh of deep satisfaction. In London she and her friend Jarrod had rented studio space in an old warehouse. But this was all hers. The building still smelled of the carpentry workshop it had been previously, but soon the intoxicating smells of linseed and oil paint would dominate.

  Boxed and crated canvases stood neatly against one wall. Not as many as there should have been but Laura refused to dwell on that. At least the sale had raised enough to bail them out of the mess James had put them in.

  She wondered how he was really doing. He said everything was good but she couldn’t help worrying. She hoped he was attending his meetings. She hoped the long hours he put in were really at work. But she had done all she could. The rest was up to him.

  She swept the floor and washed windows till late afternoon, when hunger drew her back to the house.

  Olivia was in the kitchen. Great. James must have given her a key. ‘I made you a sandwich,’ Olivia said.

  ‘Thanks.’ Laura fell gratefully on the food. ‘I forget to eat sometimes when I’m working. Hopefully that will improve now I have my own studio.’

  Olivia sniffed. ‘A luxury if you ask me.’

  ‘It’s my living, Olivia. I don’t consider it a luxury.’

  ‘If you had a nice office job you wouldn’t need a studio.’

  Laura had no idea if Olivia genuinely didn’t know how successful an artist she was, or if she knew and didn’t care. She put her sandwich down.

  ‘I’m an artist. I need somewhere to work.’

  ‘You could try not being an artist. Get a proper job and take some of the burden off James.’

  Laura had given up her flat and her friends. She had sold her paintings, used her savings, moved away from everything she knew, all to give James a fresh start. Resentment simmered inside her but she held her tongue.

  ‘When he lost his job, for instance,’ continued Olivia. ‘He was so stressed, poor lamb and what did you do to help?’

  If only she knew. But James had begged Laura to say nothing to his mother and she wouldn’t break her promise.

  ‘We both love your son, Olivia,’ she said tightly. ‘Shall we just leave it at that?’

  *

  Olivia left on Wednesday with a list of properties to consider and a vow to return in a few weeks when she had arranged some viewings.

  ‘Be great to see more of Mum,’ said James after she had gone.

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Could you two just try to get on?’ he snapped.

  He’d been irritable lately. ‘Is everything all right, James?’

  He sighed. ‘Of course. Sorry. Just the pressure of a new job, that’s all. And you and Mum at loggerheads doesn’t help. Everything is fine.’

  She hoped so.

  He took her hands in his. ‘It really is fine, Laura. I won’t pretend it’s not difficult. But I gave you my word. I won’t let you down again.’

  She nodded, praying he was right. She had forgiven him once. She didn’t think she had it in her to do it again.

  Daisy

  Cruising on the narrowboat was actually more fun than Daisy had imagined; like living in a doll’s house. Seth was in his element, happy to do all the hard work. Even though it was only June, the sun shone every day, and Daisy sunned herself on deck in her new bikini.

  Seth had packed the fridge full of gourmet foods but most evenings they stopped at a waterside pub to eat. Then they would spend the rest of the evening sitting under the stars drinking prosecco.

  Every night before bed Seth walked Bonnie along the bank and Daisy sneaked a quick, furtive call to Mark.

  ‘I miss you,’ he said, and she would hug herself and smile.

  On the Saturday, halfway through the holiday, Daisy was in her usual spot on deck, smearing on sunscreen, when voices hailed them from the bank.

  She felt a frisson of expectation.

  ‘Mark?’ She heard the surprise in Seth’s voice. ‘Rosie? Dylan?’

  Daisy hurried to meet the new arrivals. ‘Surprise, darling,’ she told Seth. ‘It seemed crazy to be in Oxford and not call Rosie and Dylan. I couldn’t believe it when I heard Mark was visiting, so of course I invited him too.’

  Seth smiled as she had known he would, because any other response would be rude.

  Mark held up beer, the bottles dripping with condensation. ‘We don’t come empty-handed.’

  Before long they had a party going. Seth and Dylan talked narrowboats and horsepower while Daisy showed Rosie and Mark the living space. Of course the interior was so compact she couldn’t help brushing up against Mark. In her bikini. Repeatedly. He was pretty flustered by the time they emerged again.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Daisy leaned into Seth, enjoying Mark’s jealousy. ‘We haven’t seen Rosie and Dylan for such a long time. I know you said no visitors, but I thought it would be nice to catch up.’

  ‘It is,’ he agreed.

  ‘It’s only a day, Seth. Then it’ll be just me and you again.’

  He smiled and kissed her sunburnt nose. ‘Can I refuse you anything?’

  The impromptu party was a great success. By early evening they had run out of beer and Mark offered to make a quick run to the nearest shop.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Daisy, ‘if you give me a few minutes to throw some clothes on.’

  Mark flicked a nervous glance at Seth. ‘There’s no need –’

  ‘Take her,’ said Seth, easily. ‘She’s barely been inside a shop for a whole week. She must be suffering from withdrawal.’

  Daisy dressed quickly. They were only just out of sight when Mark made a grab for her. ‘You’re driving me crazy,’ he growled.

  ‘Good.’ Giggling, she wriggled away.

  He caught her again. And kissed her –

  Laura

  The shock hurtled Laura out of her daydream.

  She had been sitting in her garden, sketchpad on her knee, ostensibly looking for inspiration but in reality enjoying a fly-on-the-wall experience of a narrowboat holiday.

  Everything had all been fun and relaxing until –

  She felt slightly nauseous. What was Daisy thinking? Seth seemed a nice guy, devoted to her. How could she do that to him? And with his best friend too!

  Except Daisy wasn’t real. Seth wasn’t real. She breathed deeply. Not real. All in my head.

  She dropped the sketch pad onto the grass. She didn’t feel like drawing any more.

  Next morning she was outside Miss Moonshine’s shop at nine o’clock. She’d been back a few times in the intervening weeks, but either the shop was closed or Miss Moonshine wasn’t there, and the teenage goth in charge was no help.

  Thankfully, at five past nine Miss Moonshine herself arrived and unlocked the door. Laura followed her inside.

  Miss Moonshine listened to her highly agitated tale and nodded sagely. ‘The two necklaces were made in the eighteenth century for twin sisters. The young ladies were devastated at the th
ought of being separated when one of their husbands decided to move the family to the New World. The story goes, they approached a local witch who cast a spell on the necklaces their father had given them. Wearing them, they would always be able to keep in touch with one another. But on the way to the port the young wife’s carriage was attacked by a highwayman. She was killed and her necklace was never recovered. Legend has it that both necklaces have been out there ever since, trying to reconnect…’

  ‘Really?’ said Laura, agog.

  ‘No. Of course not, dear. It’s just a necklace. Probably made in China.’

  ‘But what about the dreams?’

  ‘I can only assume you have too much time on your hands and an overactive imagination.’

  ‘You behaved very oddly when I bought it,’ Laura pointed out.

  For the first time she saw something flicker in Miss Moonshine’s eyes. ‘Do you enjoy the dreams?’ she asked, finally.

  ‘Mostly,’ admitted Laura.

  ‘Then wear it when you do. Remove it when you don’t.’

  The necklace lay on the counter between them. For all Miss Moonshine’s apparent indifference, Laura noticed she hadn’t touched it. ‘Should I return it?’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  No. She didn’t.

  ‘Well then.’ Miss Moonshine picked up her ostrich feather and began to dust, the matter closed.

  At the door Laura paused. ‘Are the people in my dreams real?’

  ‘I’d imagine they are as real as you want them to be.’

  That was no answer. As she crossed the bridge Laura once more glanced down at the narrowboats, wondering if one of them could be the actual boat Daisy and Seth were renting. She stopped abruptly, apologising to the people who bumped into her.

  There was one way she could find out if the dreams were real. She had seen Mark’s number come up on Daisy’s phone often enough. She could ring it right now…

  And then what? If he answered, what would she do? ‘Hi, you don’t know me but stop sleeping with your best friend’s wife, you rat?’

  Of course not.

  She headed home, the necklace in her pocket rather than round her neck, too wary to wear it for fear of what she might see.

  Daisy

  The Laura dreams were becoming a drag. At any time, no matter what Daisy was doing, the other woman could just pop into her head. Sometimes Laura was watching her. At other times, Daisy was watching her. It was the weirdest feeling.

  She had witnessed the conversation between Laura and the batty old woman in the shop. She had even seen the necklace in Laura’s hand. It was exactly like her own opal necklace which she’d had for years without experiencing anything like this.

  Daisy didn’t believe it was any kind of eighteenth-century spell but she did have to accept that somehow, the necklaces were connecting her to Laura.

  Uneasy, she removed her necklace and didn’t wear it again for the remainder of the holiday.

  Once she was home she googled Miss Moonshine’s shop, which she had the impression was somewhere in darkest Yorkshire. If the shop was real it might mean… well, she had no idea what it would mean.

  The shop didn’t have a website – and what business didn’t these days? – which meant it wasn’t real.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Daisy fastened her favourite necklace around her throat once more.

  Laura

  The summer rolled on and though her studio was now ready, Laura’s days had not been at all productive.

  She tried to blame the ongoing anxiety about James, who remained moody. But the truth was, she was becoming addicted to the Seth and Daisy dreams, living their lives when she should have been living her own.

  Then, to crown it all, just this morning James had announced that Olivia was returning to view some shortlisted properties.

  Laura was in the garden with her sketchpad, enjoying the peace and quiet while she still could, when a knock drew her to the front door.

  ‘Jarrod?’ She shrieked in delight.

  ‘In the flesh.’

  He was her oldest friend. ‘You have no idea how good it is to see you,’ she said, ushering him inside.

  He brandished wine and a bunch of flowers she recognised from her own flower beds. ‘Some friends were driving up for an exhibition in Leeds so I cadged a lift. I only have a few hours but you’ve gone so quiet I had to check on you.’

  There was genuine concern in his eyes and she immediately felt guilty.

  ‘It’s been hectic, with the move and everything.’ Laura walked him through the house and out to the back garden, grabbing a couple of wine glasses on the way. ‘Come and see my studio and we can catch up.’

  When he had done admiring the studio she led him back to the patio, where they sat in the sun, drinking wine.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘tell Uncle Jarrod everything.’

  She knew he wasn’t talking about work. Jarrod had been the one to catch James in her studio, picking through her paintings, looking for what he could sell. He had been there when she confronted James and he broke down, finally admitting his gambling problem.

  ‘James likes his new job,’ she said carefully. ‘He’s going to his Gamblers Anonymous meetings regularly.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  It had been the darkest of times. James had lost his job, not as a direct result of the gambling, but because of the time spent in the casino or racetrack trying to recoup his losses when he should have been at work. His debt was off the scale. Laura’s too, since he knew her PIN and had maxed her cards. When the legitimate sources of borrowing had dried up he had turned to dodgy backstreet lenders.

  Caught stealing her paintings, it had all come pouring out. He was so very sorry. It was an addiction, an illness. He would seek help. He would never be so stupid again.

  Laura had sold paintings that held huge sentimental value, just to bail him out, on the condition that he sought professional help. They’d moved to Yorkshire to give him a fresh start.

  ‘We’re doing OK,’ she repeated.

  The wine was finished. Laura went inside for another bottle and picked up a bag of crisps too.

  When she returned Jarrod was leafing through her sketchpad. ‘Wow. Who is this?’ he said, admiring her many sketches of Seth.

  Laura felt her cheeks flame. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, wanting to snatch her sketchpad away.

  ‘This is truly excellent. You don’t normally do portraits… wait? You don’t know?’

  So then it all came tumbling out, about Miss Moonshine, and the necklace. About the dreams and Daisy and Mark and Bonnie. But mostly she talked about how angry she was about the way Seth was being treated.

  Jarrod listened. When she finished, he eyed the wine. ‘Sure you’re not hitting the bottle?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Sniffing paint thinner?’

  ‘That was what James said.’

  ‘So it’s a mystical or supernatural experience. Do you think this Miss Moonshine knows more than she’s letting on?’

  He accepted it? Just like that? She realised he was tipsy. ‘She says not. But I’m assuming I’m having these dreams for a reason. I can only hope I find out what that is before they drive me crazy.’

  ‘Can I see the necklace?’

  She fished it out of her blouse and held it out. He leaned close, gingerly lifting the pendant. He closed his eyes and screwed his face up in a picture of intense concentration. ‘I can’t feel anything.’

  ‘Laura?’

  They both jumped, banging heads.

  Olivia? Oh crap.

  Her mother-in-law’s sweeping glance took in the empty bottles, and the two slightly inebriated friends. ‘I rang but you didn’t pick up so I took a taxi from the station. I hope I’m not interrupting your… work.’ She glared at Jarrod. ‘I’ll see you inside, Laura. Once your friend is gone.’ She turned on her heel.

  ‘Wow. Scary headmistress type. James’s mother, I take it.’

  She si
ghed. ‘And here I thought her opinion of me couldn’t get any worse. Oh well.’

  ‘Does she know what you did for James?’ asked Jarrod as she walked him to the gate.

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  Laura trudged back to the house to face the music.

  ‘Does James know that you are seeing another man?’ Olivia demanded immediately.

  Laura almost laughed. Jarrod had a much-loved husband at home. ‘He’s a friend from London.’

  ‘Another artist?’ She made him sound like a serial killer. ‘Why am I not surprised? Who else would have time to sit about drinking wine all day? I presume he too is lucky enough to have someone at home to pay the bills?’

  That was going too far. ‘My finances are nothing to do with you, Olivia.’

  ‘Aren’t they? Considering I’m paying for this house?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me,’ Olivia spat. ‘James has had to take a junior position. Do you think he earns enough to finance your hobbies and pay the mortgage as well? He couldn’t even raise the deposit.’

  Laura’s world went still. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about my poor boy working himself into an early grave so you can have your own studio and indulge your hobby.’

  Blood thundered in Laura’s ears. She chose her words carefully. ‘Olivia, there is no mortgage on this house. I bought it outright.’

  ‘You?’ Olivia sneered. ‘With what?’

  ‘I earn a good living as an artist.’

  ‘Stop deluding yourself, Laura.’

  ‘Google me. I repeat – I make good money. I always have. I have never been “kept” by James.’

  For the first time, Olivia faltered. ‘That makes no sense.’

  ‘Are you giving James money?’ asked Laura, her mouth dry.

  ‘Just for the mortgage.’ Olivia rallied. ‘Just to help him out.’

  ‘Is that why you are selling your house?’ Laura’s heart felt as if it was being crushed, compacted as cold and hard as a diamond.

  ‘W… what I do with my money is my own business,’ said Olivia, but she looked uncertain.