Page 10 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

“Not stashed away in the basement tonight preparing for a spot of canoodling?” As had been the case the last time they’d all met up, naughty, naughty Zel.

“Oooh, canoodle,” said Zel admiringly. “Good word.”

“Thanks,” said Mercy with a tiny bow. “It’s my New Word of the Day.”

Faith raised her eyebrows. “You still do that?”

“Of course.”

“What was yesterday’s?”

“Shebang.”

“Day before that?” asked Faith, looking impressed.

“Piddle.”

“Nice,” said Zel. “Well, as far as I’m aware, Ty is nowhere near the basement, but hopefully warming our bed on the barge instead.”

The happiness radiating from both her and Dawn was palpable, and Mercy couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy, which she quickly suppressed because it really wasn’t warranted. “If I didn’t have so much on my plate at the moment I’d be so envious of you two.”

“I am envious of them,” said Faith, pushing her long dark unruly hair off her face with a sigh, “even if the men they’re loved up with are my brothers, which, you know, I try not to think about too much.”

Dawn smiled the smile of a very happy woman. “So who has news?”

“Not me,” said Faith a bit morosely. “Same old, same old, here.”

“One of our wines has just won an award,” said Mercy. “Best white under twenty-five dollars. The presentation dinner is here in New York at the beginning of December.”

“Wow, that’s great,” said Dawn. “Congratulations.”

Mercy grinned. “Thanks. It’s a Torrontés. Crisp and fruity. Quite light. Think lychees, grapefruit and peaches.”

“I’m thinking breakfast,” said Zel, raising her glass in a toast. “But congratulations.”

“And from me too. That’s fantastic,” said Faith with a smile. “Although Pop would say that iron, hops and horse blanket are the only tasting notes worth knowing,” she added, referring to her father, JP, who owned the pub although he largely left the day-to-day running of it to her.

“Is JP not around this evening?” asked Dawn.

Faith shook her head. “Not tonight.”

“That’s a shame,” said Mercy. “He’s such a charmer.” And totally unlike her own father, who, although he’d unbent slightly over the years so that they no longer locked horns quite so often, was hardly all smiley and twinkly-eyed like JP.

“He’d be here if he could,” said Faith with a smile. “He has a very soft spot for you, Mercy.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual. Please give him my love.”

“I will.”

“How’s he doing?” asked Zel.

Faith shrugged, her smile fading. “He’s doing OK. He has good days and bad days. Increasingly more of the latter. If only he’d have the surgery…” She gave herself a quick shake and fixed another bright smile to her face. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

“How about my news?” said Zelda casually, lifting her drink and taking a long suck on her straw.

All eyes swivelled in her direction, dropping to her abdomen and she nearly choked on her mojito. “No, not that,” she spluttered. “God, you guys. That would be pretty quick, even for me. No. Seb called. He wants a reconciliation.”

Silence fell. Jaws dropped. Mercy nearly slid off the bench. “A reconciliation?” she said, once she’d recovered the power of speech.

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