Christmas Magic. Cathy Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ too flighty, those women are never off the road,’ Mrs Malone had pronounced and that had been that.

      Secretly, Genevieve and Dolores had envied Sybil her easygoing ways. She’d married the handsomest man in the parish, had five children, and although Harry’s mind was long since gone and he sat quietly in the nursing home, staring out into the world with blank blue eyes, Sybil had not lost her joie de vivre.

      Suddenly, Genevieve had a fierce longing to talk to Sybil, a woman who’d never let anybody put a stop to her dreams. She’d bet Sybil’s Christmas tree was a positive fire hazard with twinkling lights.

      ‘Sybil!’ roared Genevieve across the street, shocked at her own daring.

      Ladies never yell, was another of Mother’s dictums.

      ‘Will you come to the café for a pot of tea with me?’

      ‘I’d kill for a latte with a double blast of coffee in it,’ said Sybil, beaming as she slammed the door of her Mini.

      ‘Have you been to the Holy Land?’ asked Genevieve when they were installed in a window seat of the café, Sybil’s coffee and a spirulina shot in front of her.

      Genevieve wished she’d ordered something more thrilling than tea.

      ‘Harry and I went twice,’ Sybil said, a hint of a tear in her eye. ‘I wish I could bring him to Italy with me in March, but he can’t leave the nursing home.’

      ‘You’re going away?’

      Sybil shot Genevieve a shrewd glance that said she was used to people expecting her to put her life on hold because her husband was in a nursing home.

      ‘Harry and I talked about everything, Genevieve,’ she said. ‘Including what would happen when one of us died or if one of us got dementia. Harry said there was no point in us both being dead. The other one was not to sit shiva forever.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Genevieve said. ‘Where are you going in Italy?’

      Sybil shrugged expressively. ‘Haven’t set an absolute date yet.’

      ‘And, er, is it with a group or something?’

      ‘Just me.’

      ‘You’re so brave,’ sighed Genevieve. ‘I’d love to travel, but I’d never have the nerve to go on my own.’

      ‘Well, you’ve got Dolores to go with,’ Sybil pointed out. ‘And you’re welcome to come with me, anytime you’d like.’

      ‘Really?’

      Sybil drank down her spirulina, grimacing as she did so. ‘Supposed to keep you young, but it tastes awful.’ She put the glass down. ‘Are you saying you and Dolores would like to come to Italy with me?’

      ‘Goodness no,’ said Genevieve hastily. ‘We wouldn’t want to impose—’

      ‘You wouldn’t be imposing. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it,’ Sybil replied.

      She made it sound so simple. There were no hidden pitfalls in conversation with someone like Sybil, no chance of saying the wrong thing. Not like with Mother.

      Genevieve decided to try normal conversation. ‘You see, we’ve never travelled, never been anywhere,’ she said. ‘Mother didn’t approve.’

      Sybil’s look of pity nearly made her stop but she kept going.

      ‘I got this book by mistake during the week and it’s making me think about things.’

      ‘What sort of book?’ Sybil leaned forward with interest.

      ‘Magic for Beginners. It was a mistake, we’d never ordered it from Devine’s or anything,’ Genevieve said hastily. ‘I go to Mass and—’

      ‘Genevieve, I am not your mother. I am not the judge and jury, either,’ Sybil said. ‘I’d love to get a look at that book. It sounds fabulous –’ Her face broadened into a huge smile. ‘There’s Claudia, look.’

      Genevieve turned to see the youngest of Sybil’s brood, a woman with wild red hair and a smiling face.

      ‘Sorry, Genevieve, we’re off shopping today. Claudia’s driving. Must fly. I’d love a look at that book of yours sometime.’

      And she was gone.

      Genevieve bought some milk and walked slowly up the hill to Primrose Cottage, wondering what her life would have been like if she’d been more like Sybil, more like the sort of person who’d buy Magic for Beginners and use it.

      The lights were on in the cottage next door but Ben and Lori didn’t have a Christmas tree put up yet. Janet had always adored Christmas, Genevieve thought sadly as she went inside. It had been such a shock when Janet had died. It had been so sudden. One moment she was there, the next, she was gone.

      Life was moving so fast, slipping away from Genevieve, and she felt as if she had done nothing with hers. But she could always change that, couldn’t she?

      Ben had fallen in love with Lori the first time he’d seen her. There had been thunder, great howls of energy rumbling across the sky and into his chest, followed by the retina-blasting lightning. And then the rain.

      Stalling for time before he had to run out into the rain to get a cab, Ben had been standing under the awning of the restaurant. It was nearly three, most of the lunchtime business diners were gone. Ben would have been long gone too, only his guest – another ad man – was off on his holidays that afternoon and was preparing to start holidaying early.

      ‘I think I’ll have another glass,’ Jeff had said conspiratorially. ‘You sure you won’t join me?’

      Ben shook his head and thought about the work piling up on his desk.

      He finally left Jeff with another last glass and the rapt expression of a man who might not get home early to pack – ‘The wife will have it all sorted, she knows what to bring better than me!’ – and ran out of the restaurant, wondering why advertising business lunches weren’t listed in Dante’s Circles of Hell.

      It was high summer and the wet, earthen scent of the box hedge outside the restaurant rose up to greet him, reminding him of the summers in his grandmother’s house in West Cork. Earth, sand, the whisper of the ocean across the dunes, the picnics in the garden overlooking the sea, sheltering with old blankets when the wind whipped in across tanned skin.

      A woman came out of the restaurant and stood beside him, her eyes scanning the wet street. She was tall, nearly as tall as he was, although she was wearing heels. Without them, he surmised, she might be up to his nose. Dark hair fell to her shoulders on a light-coloured jacket that matched her trousers. He had the chance to watch her because she was so intent on whatever she was looking for: a cab, a person.

      Still the rain fell. Ben waited calmly and watched. She was pale, with a dusting of freckles on an aquiline nose, dark lashes touching cheeks tinged with rose as she looked down at her watch.

      And then she turned to look at him, eyes a surprisingly light blue, like the sea СКАЧАТЬ