by Liz Eeles
But then, at the door, he hesitates and turns back towards me. ‘I know things are messed up and difficult at the moment, Flora, but I really do love you and I know we can be happy again, together, when things are sorted out. Please believe me.’
And, just for a moment, I glimpse the man I married, the man who swept me off my feet and has given me a happy enough life ever since. The man who’s made a mistake. But don’t we all make those? Even ginormous ones, sometimes?
The door bangs shut behind Malcolm, as my brain starts whirling again.
Three hours later, after I’ve worked my socks off to push Malcolm out of my mind, I realise that I’ve lost my key to Starlight Cottage.
The first rule of being a good house guest is not compromising the security of the property by randomly putting your key down somewhere stupid. But that’s what I’ve done and I have to let Luna know. I’m not normally such an airhead. Malcolm insists that ‘everything should be in its place’ and my door key is always in my bag or pocket. But it’s in neither, and Becca and I have scoured the shop and the café without success.
It crosses my mind that maybe Malcolm leaned over the counter, into my bag, and pocketed the door key as a protest because I’m not doing what I’m told. But that really is ridiculous. Malcolm can be a tad controlling at times but he’s not petty.
Finally resigned to the fact that my key’s gone for good, I leave Becca in charge for ten minutes and head along the High Street towards Luna’s Magical Emporium. Thick white clouds are scudding across the sky today and a strong breeze is swirling the weathervane at the top of the medieval church tower. I pull my grey angora cardigan tightly around me and I wave at the local butcher, Vernon, who’s selling sausages to an elderly couple.
Luna’s emporium stands between a tiny newsagent’s and a pretty thatched cottage with pink roses winding around the door. Her window display is a mixture of books about the ‘faerie realm’, a pair of pink-net angel wings, and a huge half-egg of purple crystal that’s been turned into a water feature. A gentle trickle of liquid runs across the crystal and pools beneath it before being recirculated in a never-ending watery loop.
It’s the kind of woo-woo shop I’d usually avoid like the plague. But its other-worldliness strikes a chord with me today, because escaping from reality feels rather welcome. I’ll treat my visit to Luna’s shop as an adventure.
When I push open the door, a wind chime tinkles above my head and I’m hit by a wall of sound. Pan pipes. It’s definitely pan pipes.
‘Flora. How lovely to see you.’
Luna stares at me over the top of a pair of half-moon glasses and points a remote control at the CD player in the corner. The pan pipes quieten down as I take in the scene. My landlady is sitting cross-legged on a huge beanbag in the middle of the cluttered shop, cross-stitching a tapestry. The fabric is bright with threads that show what looks like a nymph sitting underneath a waterfall in her nightie – not the most practical of clothing for such a damp spot.
‘How are you, Flora?’ Luna’s smile falters and she pushes her needle into the fabric to secure it. ‘I sense disruption in your force today.’
‘Maybe Luke Skywalker should start firing up the X-wings.’
Luna responds to my lame joke with a puzzled frown and runs her hands over the purple chiffon scarf around her neck. She’s awash with scarves today. A pale lilac one is tied around her head to hold back her silver hair, and another is looped through her waistband in place of a belt.
I shrug. ‘What I mean is I’m all right, thank you, Luna. I just need to have a quick word with you.’
‘All right? I don’t think so and I’m concerned about you, Flora. How are your psychic energies?’
‘I – um, I don’t know.’ It’s not a question I’m asked very often. ‘I think my energies are as they should be, thank you.’
I’m knackered because I’m not sleeping well, and my short-term memory is shot to pieces as the lost key demonstrates, but I don’t suppose those are the kinds of energies Luna means. In confirmation, Luna raises her hands and holds her palms out towards me as though I’m a fire and she’s judging the heat output.
‘Your vibrations are very off. They’re practically undulating, which tells me your energies are severely imbalanced right now. Even more so than they were. Have you been around your husband today?’
I nod, spooked that Luna appears to have the ability to read me like a book. Can she really see my energies swirling around me in a vibrational vortex of confusion and upset? I blow hair from my hot forehead and realise I must look distracted and bothered so it would hardly take Sherlock Holmes – or a witchy woman, for that matter – to gauge my state of mind.
‘Did you go to his restaurant?’ asks Luna, carefully folding the tapestry fabric.
‘No, he came into the shop earlier this morning.’
‘Did you invite him over your threshold?’
‘No, he just called in.’ As though he owns the place, whispers my inner voice.
Flora tuts and frowns. ‘That man does enjoy encroaching on your space. He appears to have a few boundary issues.’
‘That man is my husband,’ I say, wearily. People seem to be forgetting this fact. I seem to be forgetting it sometimes. I feel as if I’m in limbo – a no man’s land between restored marital harmony and divorce that’s filled with recrimination, confusion and crying.
Luna rises from the beanbag in one fluid movement, like a cat stretching in the sunshine. She ducks to avoid a low-hanging dreamcatcher and wanders towards me as the background music changes from pan pipes to weird plinky-plonk synthesiser stuff. It has the same effect on me as nails scraping down a blackboard.
‘So why are you here, Flora?’ asks Luna, standing so close I notice that she smells of rosemary and lemongrass. ‘You said you needed a word.’
‘I’m really sorry to bother you at work but I’m afraid I’ve lost my key.’
Luna stares unblinkingly at me with her strange amber eyes. ‘Is that all you wanted to see me about?’
‘Yes. I wanted to apologise for misplacing it and, also, I can’t get into the cottage without it.’
‘Oh, it’ll turn up with the help of a finding spell,’ says Luna, breezily, as though casting spells is what normal people do. She reaches behind the counter for her handbag and pulls out a huge bunch of keys. ‘In the meantime, I have a spare.’
She starts working a key off the ring while I wonder if one of Luna’s spells could help me find the right way forward. Because at the moment my future is well and truly lost in a muddle of sadness and uncertainty that only gets worse every time I see Malcolm.
Luna gives me a sympathetic smile, as though she can read my mind, before handing the freed key to me. I slip it into my pocket and push a tissue on top to keep it safe.
‘That’s great, thank you. And I’m sorry about losing the other one. It doesn’t have your address on it so no one will know where it comes from if they find it.’
‘Oh, I’m not worried about burglars. The cottage can protect itself and it won’t let anyone with bad intentions in,’ says Luna, which, frankly, is even more weird than her talk of casting spells. She moves slowly back to her beanbag and sinks onto it. ‘Talking of Starlight Cottage, how are you finding living there?’
‘It’s far more comfortable than the bookshop attic.’ When I smile at her, Luna holds my gaze as though she’s waiting for me to say something more. ‘And you’re right that the view from my room is very soothing.’ Luna carries on staring at me with her cat-like eyes until I blurt out, ‘It’s just that Daniel doesn’t like me living there. I don’t think he likes me much at all, to be honest.’
Luna drops her gaze and waves her arm dismissively. ‘Oh, he likes you well enough and you two are more similar than you imagine. My son has been hurt and he often masks his emotions.’ Not well enough, I think, remembering his snippy comment this morning when I nipped into the shower ahead of him. Luna sighs. ‘You’ve been hurt too, Flora, and, like
him, you’ve been alone for some time.’
‘But I was with Malcolm until a few days ago.’
‘Indeed.’
Luna’s enigmatic reply – a mixture of empathy and accusation – hangs in the air between us.
‘I suppose I did feel a bit lonely sometimes, when Malcolm was directing all his energies into his latest restaurant,’ I gabble.
‘Of course.’
‘But he’s a busy and ambitious man and he didn’t mean to neglect me. He can be attentive, kind and caring.’
‘I don’t doubt it. A woman like you would never have married him, otherwise.’
She tilts her head and gives me one of her mysterious smiles – the kind she uses when she’s talking about her beloved goddesses. This is all getting a bit heavy for a quick chat about a lost key. A spot of deflection is required.
‘Your shop’s amazing, Luna,’ I say, turning slowly to take in all the books and gemstones and CDs… and unicorns. There’s a whole huddle of small plastic unicorns on one shelf. ‘There’s so much… unusual stuff in here. What got you interested in this kind of thing?’
‘Oh, this and that, and I knew I had to break away from my ordinary life. Actually, that’s why I admire you so much.’
‘Me?’ I look behind me in case someone else has slipped into Luna’s emporium. ‘Why do you admire me? I’m a mess at the moment – a forty-two-year-old woman with a cheating husband who’s trying to keep her small business afloat. I’m the very embodiment of ordinariness.’ Is ordinariness a word?
Luna smiles again. ‘You’ve surrendered to chance by branching out with your own business and you’ve taken a risk by leaving your old life with Malcolm. Mark my words. It’s those relatively small, courageous, out-of-the-ordinary acts that attract the attention of the cosmos.’
I’m not sure that I want the cosmos involved in my car crash of a life but I take the comment in the spirit it was offered and smile back. Luna thinks I’m out of the ordinary rather than ridiculous. She thinks I’m courageous even though inside I’m like jelly. That gives me a warm glow.
Though, thinking about it, she also reckons I’m like Daniel, which really is ridiculous. I spot a photo of Daniel and Caleb hanging from her key ring and I do a double take at Daniel’s wide bright smile. He’s got perfect teeth and he looks much more… human when he’s not scowling.
‘My boys are very good-looking, don’t you think?’ asks Luna, looking up at me from beneath her long silver lashes.
‘Mmmm.’ It’s time to go, I reckon – before Luna starts asking me to give Daniel marks out of ten. ‘I’d better get back to the bookshop because Becca doesn’t like being in charge for too long, but I’ll see you later back at home. Thanks for the key.’ I stop at the door, with my fingers around the handle. I only have somewhere to call home at the moment because of this strange, generous woman. ‘Um, Luna, thank you for taking me in when I had nowhere to go. I really do appreciate it.’
Luna winks. ‘You’re very welcome. It wasn’t an entirely altruistic act on my part.’
I have no idea what she’s talking about and two women are waiting outside the door so there’s no chance to find out. I stand aside to let the customers in and give Luna a wave before heading back to my very normal bookshop.
Chapter Seven
Starlight Cottage allows me over the threshold with my borrowed key – I’m obviously free of bad intentions – and I make a start on tea. Luna’s not back yet and Daniel’s busy playing football with Caleb in the garden.
I’m not much of a cook, in spite of helping out in restaurants for several years, but the food is edible and Caleb polishes off a large plateful, which pleases me far more than I’d have imagined. He’s so pale and skinny, I have an urge to build him up. And his little knobbly knees poking out beneath his shorts make me feel like crying, for some reason. Mind you, most things make me feel like crying at the moment.
Shortly before bed, I pad through the gloomy hallway to the conservatory in my bare feet and turn on the fringed standard lamp. Golden light floods the room, which is more a wooden-framed lean-to than an elegant space.
A sudden movement catches my eye and I spot a figure sitting in a tall armchair. ‘Good grief! You almost gave me a heart attack.’
Clasping my hand to my neck, I take deep breaths to calm the fluttering in my chest. I only came in here to find my book and wasn’t expecting to discover Daniel sitting in the dark, nursing a glass of red wine. For one horrible moment, I thought he was the ghost of his dad.
Grabbing my novel from the chair where I left it earlier, I start backing out of the room at speed. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll leave you in peace.’
Daniel narrows his eyes and waves his glass at me. ‘Would you like a drink?’
Would I? I weigh up the Friday night opportunities available to a newly separated woman such as myself. I could head into Honeyford and check out the Cotswolds’ nightlife (otherwise known as sitting in the pub on my own), I could read in bed for a while before crying myself to sleep, or I could have a drink with Daniel and make excruciating small talk. What a veritable bonanza of unpalatable options.
‘Only I could do with the company,’ says Daniel, thickly, swirling the wine round his glass. It glints in the lamplight, which is shining on his black hair and casting deep shadows beneath his eyes. He sounds so hollowed-out inside, I make a snap decision and close the door behind me.
‘A drink would be lovely, thank you.’
Daniel pours me a full glass as I walk over to Luna’s rickety old sofa, which is covered by a solar-system throw, and park my backside on Saturn’s rings. I watch him, warily. Is he drunk?
‘I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ he says, lifting one eyebrow and handing me a glass.
‘It never even crossed my mind.’
I take a sip of wine and it warms my throat. I’m no connoisseur but I’ve been around Malcolm for long enough to recognise it as full-bodied and expensive.
‘What type of wine is it?’
‘A Shiraz. Do you know much about wine?’
‘Not really, but Malcolm does. He did a very expensive course all about it which mainly seemed to involve him getting tipsy.’
‘And Malcolm is…?’
‘My husband.’
‘Ah.’
Daniel settles back in his chair and sips his glass of wine while he stares through the window. The last vestiges of twilight are almost gone and the garden and the hills beyond are fading into inky blackness.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask, but he doesn’t reply. He just keeps staring at the nothingness beyond the panes of glass. Eventually I add, ‘It’s just that you were sitting in the dark.’
At that, he looks up in surprise, almost as if he’d forgotten I was there. ‘It’s peaceful in the dark. And I’m less likely to be interrupted.’
Point taken. He’d rather be alone after all. I stand up to go but he waves his glass at me.
‘Oh, please sit down. I didn’t mean you. To be brutally honest, I’m having a bit of downtime from my mother.’
‘Are you hiding?’
‘Something like that.’ He rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn. ‘She can be a bit full on sometimes, what with her positive energy and waving healing crystals over my head while I’m sleeping.’
Blimey, does she do that? Waking up to find Luna muttering incantations would finish me off. I make a mental note to wedge a chair against my bedroom door, just in case.
‘She has the best of intentions, of course,’ adds Daniel, with a sigh.
‘I’m sure she does. She’s been very kind to me.’
‘Hmm.’ Daniel’s face is partly in shadow when he bends to refill his glass. ‘She can be overly generous at times, but she’s a good mum.’
‘You’re just not the sort of son I’d expect her to have.’
‘You’ve already made that clear.’ There’s a hint of annoyance in his deep voice. ‘So what exactly were you expectin
g? A long-haired hippy wearing Jesus sandals and smoking dope, I suppose.’
‘Not exactly. Just someone a bit less…’ Oh dear, I’ve boxed myself into a corner here. A bit less what? Unwelcoming? Humourless? Up himself?
‘I think the word you’re looking for is traditional,’ says Daniel, with a raised eyebrow.
I nod, gratefully. ‘Traditional. Definitely.’
‘Mum and I have always been quite different from each other. I take after my father more. He was “traditional” too but someone had to earn the money and look after the family’s practical needs while Mum was off on her flights of fancy.’
I take another slug of wine for Dutch courage and ask what I’ve wanted to ask for days. ‘So why have you and Caleb moved in with Luna? Is it to look after her?’
Daniel, who’s just taken a large gulp of wine, splutters into his glass. ‘Please don’t ever let Luna hear you say that! She prides herself on being fiercely independent. But she gets lonely here on her own and she loves having Caleb around. She says he keeps her young. Which is ironic seeing as he’s turning me grey.’ He pushes his fingers through his thick, dark hair and a few strands above his ears glint silver in the lamplight.
‘You’re all right. Apparently grey hair makes women look older but makes men look more distinguished.’ I sniff. ‘Anyway, there’s always hair dye. My husband’s recently started using it.’
Daniel snorts and settles back in his chair. ‘Never. I haven’t got a problem with looking my age. I appreciate having the chance to grow older, to be honest.’ He stares into his glass as though he’s seeing shadows from the past.
‘How long ago did your wife die?’ I ask, gently.
‘Six years ago in a car accident, just after Caleb’s third birthday. He was with her in the car but he escaped unhurt, thank goodness. She’d have been so relieved about that.’ He continues gazing into his drink as the dark shadow of a bat swoops outside, close to the window.
