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

by Helena Fairfax

‘I don’t know about that. I like to walk in the woods; sit by the stream; let my mind wander. I could take you up there sometime, if you like.’

  ‘That would be nice.’ Hettie’s face fell. ‘But I don’t think I can spare the time.’

  A flicker of disappointment crossed Steve’s features, but he nodded. ‘You’ll be up here for the odd weekend, won’t you? Perhaps we could go then. Make it a working walk to save time.’

  If there was one thing Hettie was sure of, it was that if she was on a woodland walk with Steve, she wouldn’t want to be having a serious discussion about her great-uncle’s affairs. She would want to hold hands and chatter and find out more about him, maybe even paddle in the stream and… Oh dear, Hettie.

  Forcing herself back to the real world, she asked, ‘Was it the countryside that made you decide to move here?’

  ‘I couldn’t put my finger on why I wanted to move. I only knew I wasn’t happy with city life. It was like having a mental weighing scale – pros and cons on either side.’ He used his knife and fork to demonstrate. ‘One side drops and you don’t notice, then it drops a bit more. It’s only when it tips too far that you realise.’

  Hettie was quiet for a while. How far had her scales tipped without her noticing?

  ‘The last time I visited Alex at the hospice, he was in a probing mood,’ she confessed. ‘Did I love my job enough to stay in London? Couldn’t I get a job I loved somewhere I liked better?’

  ‘Was he suggesting you move back to Yorkshire?’

  ‘He didn’t say that, although I suppose he was hinting. He said he only wanted me to be happy. That I should do whatever it takes to make it happen.’ Hettie’s voice hitched. ‘Sorry. I’m being sentimental.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’ Steve reached out to touch her hand, transmitting warmth and friendship. ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Not ecstatically. But I’m not unhappy.’

  He cocked his head to one side. ‘Alex would have been disappointed if you settled for that.’

  ‘I know.’ Hettie sighed. ‘He told me I’d lost my way.’

  Steve lifted her chin with a forefinger. ‘That’s not fair. You don’t always realise you’re on the wrong path until you’re halfway along it. And then you can’t choose the right path until one comes into sight.’

  Hettie was aware the atmosphere between them had become charged with emotion. Time to lighten things up.

  ‘I’ll remember that, oh Wise One. Now, what should I do with a thirty-six-piece coffee set in sickly green?’

  Steve smiled, and Hettie’s pulse speeded up. He had an incredible smile.

  ‘Hettie, I have a favour to ask.’

  Emboldened by the wine and keen to move away from serious discussion, Hettie said, ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I’m going to a wedding a week tomorrow in Halifax. An old university mate. When I replied, I was seeing someone, so I accepted with a “plus one”. We broke up, but I forgot to alter it. I hate going to weddings on my own. Would you take pity on me and come?’

  Hettie’s eyes widened. She had no reason to refuse, other than… ‘I don’t have anything to wear. I wouldn’t know anyone. It would cost me a whole day’s work at the house. And what if Charles decides to come up that weekend?’ Steve’s crestfallen expression made her immediately sorry for the string of excuses. ‘I’d like to help you out, but…’

  ‘I understand if you don’t fancy it. But if you are willing, I’m sure you’d find an outfit here in Haven Bridge. As for the house, I can help most evenings. And Charles?’ The warmth left his tone. ‘If he does come up that weekend, you’d have most of the Sunday together. He’s meant to be helping, isn’t he? It’d give him the house to himself.’

  Hettie chewed her lip. ‘I suppose.’ And before she could listen to any more negative voices in her head, she accepted.

  *

  Hettie was delighted when Charles arrived the next morning to spend the weekend helping. Making decisions alone had been hard, and she wanted to go through everything with him.

  Steve seemed somewhat less delighted. When he showed up with two takeaway cups of fragrant coffee, he looked dismayed as Charles and Hettie opened the door, giggling over a jigsaw that had caused them much amusement as children, due to the topless Spanish lady in the background.

  ‘I brought coffee,’ Steve said stiltedly. ‘Sorry – I didn’t know you’d be here, Charles.’

  Hettie frowned. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’

  ‘No. You said maybe next weekend. Here. You two have these. I came to help, but there’s no need now.’

  ‘Steve, stay and –’

  But he’d already handed over the coffees, turned and headed back down the drive.

  ‘Well! What was that about?’ Charles asked.

  Hettie watched Steve’s receding back. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What, it’s normal for your solicitor to bring you coffee on a Saturday morning?’

  ‘No, but… He popped by on the odd evening to give me a hand. And we’ve had a couple of meals together.’

  ‘Oh?’ There was a wealth of suggestion in Charles’ tone.

  Hettie punched him on the arm. ‘He’s worried about me being here on my own. And he’s fascinated by the house.’

  ‘It couldn’t be the current occupant of the house he’s fascinated by?’

  ‘What? No!’ Hettie felt her cheeks heat. ‘We get on well. There’s nothing more to it than that.’

  Charles chose a coffee and took an appreciative sip. ‘If you say so, Hettie.’

  *

  When Charles left on Sunday afternoon, Hettie felt lonely in the house on her own.

  Steve didn’t show up on Monday evening as she’d half expected, and Hettie couldn’t help feeling disappointed – unfairly, she knew. He was under no obligation to turn up evening after evening to help her. It wasn’t as though he was her boyfriend. A couple of dinners, a few evenings chatting and getting dusty together… It was hardly a serious relationship, for goodness’ sake.

  And yet when he finally showed up on Tuesday night, she was relieved; a relief that soon faded as she realised things between them were a little stilted. Hettie had a distinct feeling Steve hadn’t taken to Charles, and she felt the need to smooth things over. She just wasn’t sure how.

  It was Steve who broached the subject. ‘Did you enjoy your weekend with Charles?’

  Hettie glanced warily at him, but his tone had been casual. ‘Yes. Very much.’

  ‘Get much done?’

  ‘Lots. Amidst the exploring and reminiscing.’

  ‘Good.’ Steve nodded. ‘Good.’

  Did that mean that things were back to normal between them?

  Steve changed the subject. ‘Found an outfit for the wedding yet?’

  Hettie winced. Despite a quick foray into town, she hadn’t found anything that would fit the bill.

  ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘But I will. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t get anything you don’t like, Hettie. And don’t spend too much. You’ll look great in anything.’ He stared at his feet. ‘I’ve put you in a bit of a jam.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she lied. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  *

  When Hettie went into Miss Moonshine’s shop the next morning with a long list of items the old lady would be landed with to fob off onto an unsuspecting public, the shop owner picked up on her agitation straight away.

  ‘Is something wrong, dear?’

  ‘No. Just busy,’ Hettie hedged. ‘The sorting’s hard. My “to keep” piles are getting out of hand.’

  ‘If it helps, I have a general rule I stick to – that my possessions should either be useful or bring me joy. Preferably both.’

  When Hettie’s eyes strayed to take in the inordinate amount of clutter – however fascinating – around them, the old lady chuckled.

  ‘I’m talking about personal possessions, not the shop. But there’s something else troubling you. What is it?’

  Sighing, Hettie explained
about the wedding invitation.

  Miss Moonshine switched on her kettle and produced a herbal teabag from an ancient caddy. When it had brewed, she handed the cup to Hettie.

  ‘Why is that a problem? Steve’s a lovely young man.’

  ‘Yes. And I accepted because I didn’t want to let him down. But I don’t know him well enough for a long day like that.’

  Miss Moonshine’s eyes narrowed. ‘You and Steve are getting to know each other pretty well, if you ask me. I gather he’s spent quite a few evenings with you. That’s more than some dating couples see of each other in a month.’

  Hettie refrained from asking Miss Moonshine how she knew. The woman had always seemed to know things, a talent Hettie hadn’t appreciated when she was a small child with mischief in mind. Instead, she whined, ‘I have no idea what to wear. I’ve had a scout around town, but nothing felt right.’

  ‘I’d go with something outside the box. Something unusual. That way, you’ll either stun everyone’s socks off with your originality, or if it’s the wrong thing, it’ll look as though you deliberately chose to be different. Can’t lose.’

  Hettie took in Miss Moonshine’s outfit today – a long, tie-dyed skirt in indigo; a loose, lacy top; elbow-length, white gloves and shiny black biker boots. And yet somehow she pulled it off. Hettie wasn’t sure she could do the same.

  Miss Moonshine beckoned her towards the back of the shop. ‘Let’s see what we can find.’

  As the older woman rummaged through rails of vintage clothing, Hettie began to regret bringing the subject up. She doubted that formal wedding wear could be found on a second-hand rail. Napoleon looked doubtful, too. He sat watching from a threadbare velvet stool in the changing room – a corner of the shop roped off with a heavy brocade curtain.

  Half an hour later, Hettie was eating her – thankfully unspoken – words. After a false start with a stretchy red dress that made her look like a lumpy vampire bride and a flouncy cream number that brought a demented meringue to mind, Miss Moonshine came up trumps.

  Hettie gaped at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror. The crushed-velvet dress skimmed rather than clung to her figure in a shimmering multitude of purples and silvers and blacks, ending mid-calf. Hettie knew her black suede boots with spiky heels that she’d brought for the funeral would look great with it. Miss Moonshine handed her a pair of looped silver earrings with amethyst centres – ‘On loan, Hettie dear, no need to buy them’ – that went perfectly. And when she used two Victorian black jet combs to sweep Hettie’s hair into a messy up-do that made it look like the frizz was intended all along, Hettie kissed her papery cheek.

  ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had magic in you. How on earth did you put this together out of…’ She wafted a hand at the shambolic array of clothing around them ‘…this?’

  Miss Moonshine shrugged. ‘It’s a knack. And I know my stock.’

  ‘It’s a knack I’m grateful for.’ Hettie studied herself in the mirror again. ‘Although I’m worried I might stand out.’

  ‘Only in a good way, Hettie. If you feel good in it, it will give you the confidence you need to get through the day, and that’s what matters most.’ Miss Moonshine’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’ll turn a few heads, I reckon. Especially Steve’s.’

  Hettie harrumphed. ‘I’m not out to turn anyone’s head, Miss Moonshine. Most especially Steve’s.’

  *

  That evening, Hettie was pleased to be able to tell Steve that she had finally found something to wear on Saturday.

  ‘Was it expensive? It’s my fault you had to buy it. I could help.’

  ‘It didn’t cost much,’ Hettie reassured him. ‘And I’d wear it again.’

  Relieved, Steve turned back to the oak cupboard he was clearing and reached to the top shelf for a musty, dusty pile of papers.

  ‘Shall I shove this lot into boxes for you to take back to London, to go through at leisure?’ he called.

  ‘Leisure? What’s that?’ Hettie retorted, laughing as Steve lost control, and sheaves of paper tumbled onto his head and down to the floor. ‘Here. Let me help.’

  She crouched beside him, shuffling the papers into piles, suddenly conscious of their nearness – and, disturbingly, the way his jeans moulded to his thighs.

  Inappropriate thoughts, Hettie. Control yourself.

  ‘What are these?’ Steve showed her a handful of yellowed sketches of detailed, coloured grids.

  ‘Designs for cloth.’

  ‘Alex drew them out like this?’

  ‘Yup. A long time ago now. Pre-technology and all that.’

  Steve sat back on his heels and studied them. ‘Things were so different back then. In kind of a nice way, I reckon.’

  ‘Maybe. But Alex also said it was dangerous and noisy and … ha!’ Caught by a memory, Hettie burst out laughing.

  Steve smiled at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I just remembered the story about the foreman sneezing.’

  ‘And that was funny because…?’

  Hettie grinned. ‘It’s funny because the man’s false teeth flew out when he sneezed and slid right under one of the machines, and he couldn’t get them back because it would’ve been dangerous. The factory cat shot after them amidst all the fluff and filth and brought them back out licked clean, and the foreman put them straight back in!’

  Steve joined in her laughter, making Hettie feel warm inside. It was good to have someone to laugh with her; to share her memories and not seem to mind the endless supply of them. Someone to keep her company in the evenings after she’d spent a long day working on her own. It was really good.

  *

  Hettie might have told Miss Moonshine she wasn’t out to turn Steve’s head with her outfit, but turn it she most definitely did.

  His jaw almost hit the floor when she opened the door to him on Saturday morning.

  ‘Hettie. You look stunning.’

  She managed to turn a self-satisfied smirk into a gracious smile. ‘Thank you. I’m still not sure it’s the right thing to wear.’

  ‘It is. It most definitely is.’

  Hettie took in his grey suit. ‘You scrub up pretty nicely yourself.’ Most definitely.

  Hettie turned a few heads at the wedding, too. Yes, she stood out from the more conservatively dressed guests, but as Miss Moonshine had predicted, she didn’t care. She just felt so damned good in the outfit.

  Steve obviously thought she felt good in it, too. As the daytime reception segued into the evening dancing, he became more tactile, holding her close, his hand around her waist unable to remain still, skimming the fabric as they moved to the music.

  Tired from the long day and the strain of chatting with people she didn’t know, Hettie was simply happy to be with someone she did know as they moved slowly to the smoochy numbers.

  ‘You have no idea how grateful I am that you came,’ Steve murmured. ‘Everyone’s dancing with their wife or girlfriend or a convenient cute niece or grandchild. If you weren’t here, I’d’ve had to sit all on my lonesome, watching everyone’s coupledom. I would’ve been very forlorn.’

  He smiled, and Hettie’s pulse stuttered.

  As she smiled back, she wondered if his pulse stuttered the same way. ‘Glad to be of service. Although you wouldn’t have been alone for long. Quite a few women have their eye on you.’

  Steve pulled her closer, so their bodies moulded together, and Hettie rested her head on his shoulder and drifted. How was it possible to be this content whilst being so aware of the two of them?

  Maybe it was getting to Steve, too. ‘How about a little fresh air?’ he whispered. ‘See if there’s any moonlight out there.’

  Disappointed at breaking the contact, Hettie allowed him to lead her off the dancefloor, out into the grounds where lamps illuminated a halo around the building before petering away into darkness.

  Steve headed for the darkness. On the edge of it, he turned her to face him. ‘It was a little public in there for what I had in mind.’
r />   ‘What do you have in mind?’

  His hand cupped her face, while the other slid around her back. ‘This.’

  Hettie’s breath caught as his head lowered, his lips landing lightly on hers. He waited a moment, allowing her time to resist, but Hettie had no intention of resisting as his mouth began a gentle but powerful onslaught that left her unable to do anything other than go along with it. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

  A noisy group catapulting onto the patio from the ballroom jolted them apart.

  ‘I thought I was only supposed to be your plus one,’ Hettie chided.

  The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told.’

  She poked him in the chest. ‘You’re a solicitor. You’re supposed to deal with the truth.’

  ‘It was the truth. I needed a plus one. I also wanted to spend a whole day with you, away from the dust and chaos of the house. I hadn’t bargained for the added bonus of seeing you dressed like this.’ He ran a finger under the dress at her shoulder, sending a tingle that rippled out much further than where he’d touched.

  ‘You don’t like me in filthy jeans and baggy t-shirts?’

  ‘On the contrary, I love you in jeans. You have an excellent backs– er, figure. But you look amazing in this, Hettie.’

  Hettie smiled widely, silently sending thanks to Miss Moonshine through the ether.

  ‘You feel good in it, too.’ One of his hands slid down her side while the other moved over her shoulder and down her back, both heading south.

  Hettie stopped him gently, rewarding him for his restraint with another kiss.

  ‘The dancefloor was safer,’ she pointed out.

  With a lingering look at her mouth, Steve reluctantly nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  Back indoors, the band were on a break and the noise of laughter and chinking glasses grated. Hettie knew the magical moment was broken – but they couldn’t have carried on like that in a dark garden all night, could they?

  In silent agreement, they left the party and drove home in contemplative quiet. When Steve dropped her at the house, she declined his offer to see her indoors.

  ‘You don’t trust me?’ he asked, hurt in his eyes.