by Jane Tara
She followed Arley toward the front of the room and saw what everyone was looking at: the most stunning woman she’d ever laid eyes on. Flaming red hair, alabaster skin, green cat’s eyes. Paige stood on her tiptoes and looked across Arley’s shoulder. The woman was making a cocktail. Jesus! He’d brought her to a cocktail bar. This was a date.
As if he could read her thoughts, Arley turned to her. “Just in case you’re wondering, this is work.”
Just as disappointment flooded her face, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
“However, if it’s a date you’re after, I’m certainly available.”
“Isn’t that unprofessional?” Paige looked at him from under her lashes. She could almost feel the heat crackle between them.
“It would be if I asked your mother out. She’s my client. Not you.”
Paige surprised herself by saying, “I think I’ll take you up on it.”
For once, it was Arley who seemed embarrassed. Paige gave him a mischievous smile and turned her attention back to the redhead behind the bar.
The whole room stood still while the woman mixed. She grabbed a lemon, deftly sliced it in half and gave it a quick squeeze. Her hand slipped into a jar and returned with a pinch of something that filled the room with the smell of August rain. Her lips moved slightly, as if reciting an incantation, as she sprinkled it into the glass.
Paige watched her, transfixed. She was tall, with endless creamy limbs, her hair a tumble of burgundy waves. Paige glanced over at Arley, who seemed as dumbstruck as everyone else by the woman, and she suddenly felt a surge of jealousy.
God, to have him watch me like that!
Finally the redhead slid a cocktail across the bar toward a man, who tossed it quickly back. Paige looked around again. What on earth was going on? What was everyone waiting for?
After what seemed like an eternity, the man turned to the crowd with tears in his eyes. “It’s gone. Totally gone. My fear of public speaking … even talking to you all now, it’s not a problem.” He threw his arms around a woman beside him, who looked equally thrilled.
The redhead clapped her hands. “See, and you were thinking of quitting your job over it. All it took was a little bit of fairy dust.”
Paige felt sick. Was that why Arley had brought her here? To talk to this woman about fairies?
The redhead hadn’t finished. She teased the man. “Before long your wife will probably bring you back in for a drink to shut you up.”
“Never,” laughed the man’s wife.
People cheered and clapped and then returned to their own groups and conversations. Paige thought the whole scene was completely bizarre. She watched as the redhead surveyed the room, until her eyes rested on Arley. Her face lit up and, if it were possible, became even more beautiful.
Paige noticed Arley motion toward her, and the woman’s green eyes suddenly met her own. The woman watched Paige for a moment, motionless, and then, with a nod, she reached up to a bell over the bar and gave it a sharp clang.
“Closing time, folks. It’s been grand, but please make your way upstairs.”
Everyone did as they were told (Paige had a feeling this woman always got her own way), but Arley took Paige’s arm and guided her up to the bar. He pulled out a stool for her and then opened the bar gate and stepped into the woman’s embrace.
Paige had the sudden urge to stab the woman with a cocktail umbrella. How the hell could she compete with someone so young and stunning? Just as she was thinking of ways to make a graceful exit, the woman moved over to her, and embraced her too.
“Hello, Paige, I’m Calypso Shakespeare. It’s always lovely to meet a friend of Arley’s.”
Paige felt quite tongue-tied, and for want of anything better to say, mumbled, “Your bar is nice.”
“I’m glad you like it. Let me make you both a drink.”
Calypso returned to her spot behind the bar and grabbed a cocktail shaker. Then she sliced an apple, grabbed a handful of frozen blueberries and a sliver of ginger and threw the whole lot in. Next in went a shot of rum and something else Paige didn’t recognize—a blue liquid that seemed to glow. She gave it all a shake, and poured it into two highball glasses. Then, finishing it off, she placed a couple of cinnamon sticks in each glass and slid them across the bar.
“This is what you need.”
Without thinking, Paige blurted out, “How do you know what I need?”
Calypso didn’t seem the least bit offended. “Because it’s my job.”
Paige took the glass and sipped. Calypso was right. It was exactly what she needed. But the woman was still annoying.
“So Calypso, how’s your dad?” Arley asked, breaking the tension.
“He’s doing well. His tests have all been clear. He and Mum have a new lease on life. I can’t tell you what a relief it is.” She gave him a beatific smile.
Paige watched them chat over the rim of her glass. Oh, get a bloody room! She suddenly felt old and ugly in her new outfit. How could she compete with a woman who was clearly not wearing a bra?
“You’ve closed already?” a voice called from the door.
Paige watched as Calypso’s eyes lit up. She turned and saw a man enter and suddenly felt like a fool. This man, this absolutely stunning man, was obviously Calypso’s partner.
“Darling, look who’s here,” Calypso called.
The man strode across the room. “Arley. Good to see you.”
The two men embraced and then Arley turned to Paige.
“Taran, this is a friend of mine, Paige.”
Paige shook Taran’s hand. She knew who he was—who didn’t? She’d read all about Taran Dee, the artist from New York, but meeting him in real life packed a punch. He was tall, dark and beyond handsome. His face was perfect: chiseled, masculine, and yet beautiful. He had jet-black hair, a haughty nose and intense blue eyes. And from the way he looked at Calypso, Paige could tell he was a man in love.
She suddenly felt completely stupid. She had no right to be jealous. Arley and Calypso were just friends—and besides, Arley was only her mother’s physiotherapist. She just wished she knew why he’d brought her here. Calypso asked the question for her, almost as if she’d read Paige’s mind.
“So Arley, what’s going on?”
Arley glanced at Paige, who wondered what he was going to say. Perhaps he was about to ask for a cocktail for early stages of dementia. Maybe Calypso didn’t just make cocktails. For all Paige knew, she was a certified naturopath, or a neurosurgeon.
“Paige has just found out she’s half Fey.”
Paige almost fell off her stool. She waited for the laughter, but it didn’t come. Instead, both Calypso and Taran nodded, as if they understood what a shock that would be for her.
Paige felt it best to explain herself. “My mother had a bit of a turn recently. She fell and broke her hip. Since then, she’s been saying all sorts of things. I don’t think she hit her head in the fall, but she might’ve.”
Calypso smiled kindly at her. “You must have been frightened.”
Her empathy threw Paige, who suddenly felt like crying. “It’s certainly been a difficult few days.”
Calypso looked deep into Paige’s eyes. “I guess the question is … what if she’s right?”
“She can’t be.”
“But what if?”
“Impossible,” Paige said.
“Nothing’s impossible,” Calypso said simply. “What if your mother is right?”
Paige felt her chin tremble. “Then everything I’ve ever known and ever believed will be completely challenged.”
Arley threw his hands up and looked ecstatic. “Isn’t that great?”
Paige ignored him and instead focused on Calypso. “Are you saying you believe in fairies?”
“Yes. I work with them.”
Paige glanced around the bar, half-expecting to see a drunken elf in the corner. “Here?”
“Usually in their realm.”
Paige turned to the tw
o men. “And you both believe in fairies?”
They answered in unison. “Yes.”
Not a hint of doubt. They were both certain.
She turned on Arley. “How can you possibly believe in … this?”
Arley took a moment before responding. “I have my reasons, Paige. I brought you here because Calypso not only believes in fairies but also has a good working relationship with the Fey folk around Cornwall.”
“How convenient.” Paige turned to Calypso. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to mock you. I just feel very confused at the moment.”
And vulnerable, in this room of strangers.
Arley reached out and took her hand. It was a gesture that was meant to comfort her, and it did. She gratefully linked her fingers through his.
“So your father is Fey?” Calypso asked.
“That’s what my mother says. She was madly in love with him.”
“Fey men are certainly charming.”
Calypso gave Arley a wink. A few minutes before it would’ve turned Paige green, but now it didn’t bother her. It was her hand he was holding. And the heat from it was giving her strength.
“Do you have any more information about him?” Calypso asked.
“I came across an unusual book last night that … and this will seem crazy … appeared from nowhere.”
The other three just nodded. They didn’t seem to think she was crazy at all. She reluctantly withdrew her hand from Arley’s, reached into her handbag and showed them the book. Calypso took it from her, her eyebrows raised as she searched through it. She paused at the drawing of Paige and her parents.
“That’s my father, apparently.”
Calypso turned the book around and showed Arley the image. Paige witnessed an unspoken conversation.
“Do you know him?” Paige asked.
Calypso nodded. “Everyone knows your father. This is Cadoc. King of Cornwall’s royal Fey family.
*
“Lucky there’s a doctor in the house.”
The room swung back into view and Paige realized she was lying on the floor. Arley was leaning over her, a look of concern on his dangerously handsome face. Paige had the urge to reach up and kiss him, but then she remembered where she was … and that urge was replaced with the need to run.
“You’re not a doctor, you’re a physiotherapist.”
Arley smiled. “Good, you remember who I am.”
As if I could forget. “Did I faint?”
“I caught you,” Arley said.
“How chivalrous.” Paige sat up, annoyed with herself. “Just so you know, I’m not in the habit of fainting into the arms of men.” She stared at him for a moment. “I haven’t eaten much for a few days.”
Arley helped her to her feet. “You’re not the classic swooner type. You’re in shock.”
Calypso was on the phone. She replaced the receiver and started to fuss over Paige. “That was my sister. She’s going to bring you something to eat from upstairs. My father runs a restaurant in the pub.”
“Truly, I’m fine.”
“How can you possibly be fine? You’ve just found out your father is Lord Cadoc.”
“I don’t even know what that means, Calypso.”
“Not only that you’re half Fey but that your father is the head of one of the most important royal households in all the Otherworlds.”
Paige looked like she wanted to cry. “I’m just wrapping my head around the fact that I might have a dad.”
“You need to catch up,” Arley teased.
“Why do I get the sense that you’re enjoying this?”
Arley reached out and brushed a lock of hair off her face. “Because I am.”
“How does silverbeet with salmon rotolo, lemon cream and pine nuts sound?”
Paige didn’t care how it sounded, because it smelled fantastic. She noticed her waitress looked a lot like Calypso, with the same color hair and porcelain skin. But this Shakespeare was much smaller, she wore glasses, and her hair was cropped short.
Paige recognized her. She was a customer from the bookstore.
The woman placed the dinner and a serviette on the bar and then tilted her head to one side. “I’m Nell. You own the bookshop down the road, don’t you? I bought Travels with My Aunt from you last week.” She handed Paige some silverware.
“That’s right. I remember.” Suddenly Paige was behind her bookshop counter again. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I loved it. I first read it years ago, but it was so nice to revisit.” Nell touched Paige’s arm, ever so lightly. “I hear you’ve had a big week.”
“No doubt you believe in fairies too.”
“Yes, I do,” Nell said gently.
Arley nodded at the plate. “Eat, Paige.”
She did as she was told, because the last thing she wanted to do was faint in front of everyone again.
While she ate, Nell looked at the book. She turned it over a few times in her small hands. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Nell works for the British Museum,” Arley explained.
Paige paused mid-mouthful.
“Not any more,” Nell said, “I’ve just left and gone back to work for the British Museum of Romance.”
Paige was doubly impressed. “I love that museum.”
“Me too,” Nell said. She ran her fingers over the gold lettering on the cover.
“What does it mean?” Calypso asked.
“I think it’s a Fey language, perhaps even a local dialect.” Nell placed the book back down on the bar. “That’s all I’ve got for you. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“What about the pages?” asked Arley. “What are they made of?”
“I don’t know.” Nell took a guess. “Fey gold?”
“It’s a fairy photo album,” Calypso chuckled.
“Maybe,” Nell said. “Paige, I know someone who has studied Fey languages. Would you mind if I show it to him?”
Paige placed her cutlery on the plate and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. Food was exactly what she’d needed. “I’d appreciate that, Nell. Thank you.” Then she took a deep breath and looked at the others. “And in the meantime, how do I find my father?”
CLEMENTINE
The hardest thing to see is what is in front of your eyes.
Goethe
*
One week before Christmas
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Happy anniversary
Hey baby! It’s been three months since we cyber-met. I wish I could say it’s been three months since we first met face to face, three months since I first kissed you. But we have to wait a little longer for that. It will happen soon, I promise.
I know we were talking about me coming over for Xmas, but I’m still unable to stand for long after the fall. The doctor said the flight could do more damage to this back injury, and I want it to heal. So be patient. As soon as I can fly, I’ll be with you. The wait will make our first meeting all the more amazing.
New York is totally wild at the moment. Christmas time is crazy. I wish you were here. I’d take you ice-skating at the Rockefeller Center, and walking through Central Park. (If my back was up to it.)
Let’s have Christmas Skype sex.
Sam
*
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Happy anniversary
Happy, happy, happy anniversary. Oh, I wish I was there with you. New York sounds so exciting. And I’d look after you while you’re flat on your back. (Wink wink!)
It’s cold and gray here in London, but I always do love Christmas. My parents are going to Spain again, but I said no this year, thinking you might be here. Not to worry. I’ll probably spend Christmas with Debra and her aunt Tilda—although Debra has been a bit weird lately, so I’m not sure how enjoyable that will be. She might have girl issues. LOL. Who knows.
>
Michi has already gone back to Oz, so it’s just me and Debra, who isn’t speaking much. I’m feeling lonely. I wish you could come and cheer me up.
I hope you’re not in pain.
Clementine
*
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Oh no!
I hate that you canceled your Christmas plans for me, and I let you down. I promise to make it up to you. Let’s plan a visit in the New Year. And I’ll take you to Paris. The city of love, you, me … and ooh la la!
S x
*
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Oh no!
Deal! Oh and can I have a postal address? Remember that book I was telling you about? Well, I ordered it in for you. I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but I’ll express it over instead.
MICHI
One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.
Henry Miller
*
Christmas Day
Michi Downs was hot. Stinking, miserably hot. Christmas in Sydney had always been a bitch, but this was doubly bad, flying in straight from a London winter. Oh, how she missed the gray, cold, damp winter she’d left behind. Or at least that’s what she was telling everyone, because any sign of weakness, any smidgen of homesickness, and her family would attack, and beat her into submission until she agreed to come home for good.
And that could never happen, because while she liked Sydney, it was also where her parents lived.
She watched them now from under her dark glasses and huge floppy hat. Her father Keith was manning the barbecue wearing one of those ridiculous aprons with boobs and a Santa hat. Her mother Kayoko was dressed in a sexy Santa outfit and carrying cocktails embellished with fruit and tiny umbrellas over to Aunt Yumi, who was lying topless by the pool. Michi was no prude, but Aunt Yumi (who for the record wasn’t even related) was seventy-eight, so seeing her knockers out sunning themselves was enough to turn Michi off lunch.