Downstairs in the kitchen, Chicky opened the side door and whistled. Within seconds, Gloria appeared looking hopeful, wound herself around Chicky’s legs then sat down abruptly for some urgent leg-washing.
‘Three pieces,’ reminded Chicky, passing the box of treats to Freda. ‘Don’t believe her when she tells you she should have more.’
Freda sat down by the fire and immediately Gloria jumped up on to her lap, purring loudly with anticipation. One by one, Freda dispensed the little pieces of dried food; delicately, Gloria accepted them. Then she curled up in a very tight ball and promptly fell asleep.
If only, Freda thought wistfully as she stroked the top of Gloria’s head, if only she could stay here by the fire all week with this warm little bundle of fur in her lap. If only she didn’t have to move, to meet anyone else, to make small talk. She dreaded meeting her fellow guests.
The feeling intensified when she met the others as they gathered for pre-dinner drinks in Chicky Starr’s kitchen. They were all perfectly pleasant: Freda looked from one face to another and felt that each and every one of these fellow travellers had some deep secrets; her heart felt heavy at the thought of having to talk to any of them. Perhaps if she kept herself totally to herself, they would just leave her alone.
Of course, in the end it wasn’t like that at all. Chicky Starr’s welcome was warm, and they gathered around the roaring log fire; the atmosphere was generous and relaxing and soon the conversation rose to a much higher pitch. Suddenly Freda found no difficulty in talking to these total strangers, and for a while she recovered her old animation.
She talked to a nice young Swedish man who turned out to be interested in Irish music. Before she realised what she’d done, she had agreed to go off to the town with him the next morning and find a music pub. On her other side, she had a spirited debate with a retired schoolteacher about standards of literacy among the young people of today. To her surprise, Freda felt her spirits lift as she told Miss Howe about the Friends of Finn Road Library and the young girls’ reading group.
That night as she lay in bed, she thought about the events of the day. On an impulse, she got up and opened her door quietly. A small lamp on the hall table showed her there was no one around. Softly she whistled. At first there was no response, but after a moment she heard a soft thud and then the purposeful padding of small feet.
Freda slept that night with Gloria curled up beside her. In the morning, she set off with Anders and let herself be carried along with his enthusiasm. She found herself laughing out loud at his stories at lunchtime; and then moved to tears by the plaintive sounds of the music they listened to in the afternoon.
Freda was slowly starting to feel better. Dinner that night was even easier than the night before. She said nothing when she dreamed about storms, but pushed aside any notion of trying to warn anyone. She was relieved when Winnie and Lillian were found safe and sound.
It was on the fourth day that Chicky found Freda and Gloria curled up together by the fire in the Miss Sheedy Room. Gloria was dreaming, her pink little paws were twitching and she was making snuffly noises; Freda was stroking her fur and daydreaming.
Chicky was carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups. As she set it down on the small table, Freda looked up at her, startled. Gloria, affronted, jumped down on to the floor where she lay on her back with her feet in the air and surveyed the room gravely.
‘I thought you might like some tea,’ Chicky began. ‘Gloria knows she’s not supposed to be in here, but the two of you have definitely bonded.’
It was true: Freda and Gloria had by now become inseparable. The little black and white cat followed Freda throughout the house and escorted her on her walks through the garden. The two of them were seen admiring Carmel’s twins and being formally introduced to the two new ducks, Spud and Princess. Gloria had considered them from a safe distance; then she had jumped up on to a fence-post and washed her face thoughtfully.
Chicky told Freda about Miss Queenie and how she had rescued Gloria and carried her into the house in her coat pocket. Rigger had thought her quite mad at the time, but like everyone else, he doted on them both. This room, she said, was named after Miss Queenie.
‘I don’t know if it’s true or not,’ she said, ‘and I never asked her about it, but apparently some woman from the travellers had told all three sisters years back that she saw three unhappy marriages ahead, so they all refused whatever offers they got . . .’
That was when Freda told Chicky Starr about the second-sight experiences, about the times she had spoken out and had regretted it, and how she had tried to suppress her knowledge ever since. Even if she had a feeling, she had learned to keep it to herself. She couldn’t change anything by speaking up; she would only have people shun her or be angry about what she saw. Whether she said anything or not, she couldn’t win.
Then she told Chicky about Mark Malone, and how she had pushed aside the notion that he might have been married.
Chicky listened carefully. She passed no judgement; she seemed to understand totally that Freda could have loved Mark and put aside her fears.
‘Why are you worried about talking about seeing these things?’ she asked.
Freda loved her for accepting totally that she had seen them; there was no attempt to persuade her that they were imagination, dreams, coincidences.
‘Because they’ve brought nothing but grief.’
‘Suppose you had one about me now? Would you tell me?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘You’d let me blunder on? Even if it’s something avoidable, you’d be afraid to tell me?’
‘But I myself don’t want to accept that I have them. If I don’t tell anyone, then I don’t have to face it. I never know when they’re going to come, that’s what’s so unnerving.’
Chicky listened to Freda and shook her head. She had more to say, but there was a commotion in the kitchen; Rigger had just arrived with the vegetables for tonight’s dinner and she had work to do. She patted Freda on the arm and left her with Gloria, who had decided that the fringe on the fireside rug was in need of serious chastisement.
The next night, the entire table gave a cheer when Henry and Nicola announced that they would be staying on as doctors in the town. Freda was happy to be part of such a cheerful group, and she went to bed feeling relaxed and content.
There had been something of a fuss earlier on when Miss Howe had suddenly decided to leave. Rigger had been called to drive her to the station, and she had gone without a word to the other guests. There had been something very sad about the droop of her shoulders as she got into the van. It was all a bit unsettling.
All the same, the holiday was turning out to be a great success, each day bringing something new: wild scenery, the trip into town for music with Anders, good food and conversation at night and always at least eight hours’ sleep. Freda felt stronger and better every day.
And it was on the last day of her holiday that, just before dinner, Chicky beckoned Freda into the kitchen.
‘I wanted to talk to you because I’ve worked out what you should do about, you know, your problem.’
‘You have?’
‘I think you should change your tactic,’ said Chicky as she laid the table for dinner. ‘You say you are afraid that people will know you have this power, so you have been keeping it all a secret.’
‘I don’t want to admit to anyone, even myself, that what I say might come true.’
‘This is the problem, Freda. I think you should tell everyone you meet that you are a psychic, say you can see the future and know what’s going to happen. Offer to read their palms, tea leaves, cards. Then it’s all out in the open.’
‘And how would that help?’
‘It would take the magic out of it, the secrecy, the power. People might think you are flaky but it sort of devalues the whole thing. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is, in a way.’
‘Then this is the way. Thi
s devalues it. This way, nobody will think it’s serious, no matter what you see or what you say.’
‘You want me to tell people that I have second sight?’
‘Call it what you like. Tell them any kind of vague, hopeful things about the future to cheer them up – that’s all people really want from their horoscope, anyway. It will tame it for you, make it harmless. The way I look at it is that you are full of guilt over these visions. You have to try to make them insignificant. They were just thoughts, like anyone has thoughts, that’s all.’
Freda stood there in the kitchen of Stone House and felt everything shift slightly. There was a huge sense of relief as well as the sense of loss. She always thought that Mark had loved her. But why should she have believed this when there was absolutely no evidence that she had been anything except a pleasant distraction? It was both liberating and sad.
‘I’ll tell them over dinner,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell them all that this is what I do.’
‘Let’s see how you get on,’ said Chicky. ‘That’s it, Freda. You go and knock them out.’
As Chicky Starr’s guests sat down for the last dinner of their winter week together, Freda heard herself telling this group of strangers that she was a psychic. They murmured their response with varying degrees of interest.
John, the American, said that many of his friends in the States consulted psychics regularly; the two doctors looked less enthusiastic but curious all the same. Winnie said cheerfully that she would love to book a session with her, while Lillian said it was a pity that so many so-called psychics, present company excepted of course, were charlatans. Anders said that they had a client in his father’s accountancy firm who wouldn’t make a single investment without consulting astrologers.
It proved to be just an easy conversational topic. So much more open to discussion than when she had said she was a librarian. The feeling of dread began to recede.
The evening was becoming very animated. The guests were still busy with the competition to set up a great Irish festival, and then someone asked Freda if she would tell their fortune. She looked around her wildly. This had not been part of the plan. Chicky Starr came to her rescue.
‘Perhaps Freda might have come on a holiday to escape from her work. We shouldn’t impose on her.’
They all looked disappointed; then Freda remembered Chicky saying that all people wanted from psychics was vague good news and promises about the future. She looked around the group. It would be harmless and even easy to tell them that life ahead looked good.
She held their hands and saw all kinds of good things: success and challenges and peace and long relationships.
For Winnie, she saw a wedding in the near future and great happiness in store. Lillian would meet someone at the wedding, possibly for love but certainly for friendship. Lillian’s face was pink with pleasure.
So far, so good.
In Henry’s hands she saw a new beginning, a happy life.
In Nicola’s there was a child. Really, Nicola wondered. A child? Definitely, Freda was certain. And then, suddenly, Freda found herself saying, ‘You’re pregnant now. A little girl. I can see her. She’s lovely!’ She could see the little girl wrapping her arms around Nicola’s neck. And when she saw the tension disappear from Nicola’s forehead and the huge smile break out over her face, Freda realised for the first time that she could bring real joy to people’s lives.
For John, or Corry, as they knew him, she foretold a whole change of direction, different kind of work and a different place to live. A much less complicated lifestyle, and a grandchild who would be part of his life. She was moved when she saw tears spring to his eyes.
Anders had a great love in his life; he must go home and ask her to marry him very soon. Only then would he be successful in his business.
For The Walls, she saw a cruise. Somewhere warm; she could see sunshine on the water.
She turned to Chicky Starr last. Freda took her hand and concentrated. Nothing. She paused, and then said hesitantly that Stone House would be a great success and that there would be a man, perhaps someone she had already met.
And then Freda knew. There had been no accident. There had been no wedding. But it didn’t matter; Chicky was going to be fine. She smiled. It was all going to be fine.
They were delighted with her. It seemed to end the week well for everyone.
Names, phone numbers and email addresses were exchanged. A toast was proposed to Chicky, to Rigger and his family, to Orla and to Stone House.
They all signed the visitors’ book with warm messages. The timetable for the next day was arranged. For those going home by train, Rigger and Chicky would provide a taxi service to the station. Carmel had made a small pot of Stone House marmalade for each guest.
And that night, Freda stroked a gently purring Gloria as she stood at her window looking at the patterns the clouds made going across the moon. She would call Lane and Eva as soon as she got back. Time for dinner at Ennio’s. They had a lot of catching-up to do.
It was a scramble in the morning to see everyone off on time. Chicky Starr finally waved goodbye to each of her guests, but she saved a special hug for Freda, who now looked so much happier than when she had arrived.
It was time to get ready for the new guests, who would arrive in just a few hours. Carmel had come in to help clean the rooms, change the bedding and get everything ready for the new intake. Chicky would make a casserole that would cook slowly and be ready whenever they needed it. There would be freshly baked bread, and chocolate mousse for dessert.
Chicky knew she would miss the people who had made her first week at Stone House such a success, but she was looking forward to greeting the newcomers with all their new challenges and demands. She took a deep breath of sea air. She was ready for them.
Gloria wound herself around Chicky’s feet. Chicky picked her up and scratched her ears. Then the two of them went back into Stone House.
Also by Maeve Binchy
FICTION
Light a Penny Candle
Echoes
The Lilac Bus
Firefly Summer
Silver Wedding
Circle of Friends
The Copper Beech
The Glass Lake
Evening Class
Tara Road
Scarlet Feather
Quentins
Nights of Rain and Stars
Whitethorn Woods
Heart and Soul
Minding Frankie
NON FICTION
Aches & Pains
The Maeve Binchy Writers’ Club
SHORT STORIES
Victoria Line, Central Line
Dublin 4
This Year It Will Be Different
The Return Journey
QUICK READS
Star Sullivan
Full House
Copyright
An Orion Books ebook
First published in Great Britain in 2012
by Orion Books
an imprint of the Orion Publishing Group Ltd
This ebook first published in 2012 by Orion Books
Copyright © Maeve Binchy 2012
The moral right of Maeve Binchy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978 1 4091 1401 7
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper St Martin’s Lane
London WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK company
www.orionbooks.co.uk
Maeve B
inchy, A Week in Winter
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