Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 2: The House on Willow Street, The Honey Queen, Christmas Magic, plus bonus short story: The Perfect Holiday. Cathy Kelly

it was true. A new person was coming into this world and it was connected with her and her children. She would do the right thing. That was Tess Power’s way.

      A few days later, she wasn’t feeling quite so well inclined towards Claire. Kitty hadn’t stopped talking about her and Zach kept saying she was ‘really cool’, which was high praise indeed.

      Family, thought Tess, determined to do the right thing, she had to create a new family: a blended family, because that’s what they would be when Claire had the baby. How bizarre to be a blended family. Up until now she’d only read about such things in magazines. Tess’s favourite was the magazine with the psychologist answering questions; she could clearly recall a letter from a woman who’d loathed the idea of her precious children spending time with her husband’s new wife, or rather her ex-husband’s new wife. Now that was going to be her. At the time, Tess had never dreamt that she might one day find herself in that situation, so she’d read the letter and the advice in a calm, dispassionate way. Never take it out on the children, they must be allowed to see both parents, without bitterness, without rancour – that would have been the old Tess’s view of it all.

      But now that it was happening to her, it was different. Despite liking Claire on one level, the thought of her having weekends with Kitty was like a bullet exploding into Tess’s stomach. The sort of bullet that left you bleeding slowly to death on the inside.

      Kitty adored Claire and was so excited about the idea of the baby.

      ‘Mum, you’ve got to knit things for the baby, it’s really important. Claire can’t knit, she doesn’t know how to make babies’ cardigans and things. You know, like the ones I have that I put on my teddies now. Please say you’ll make some. I know you’re busy, but we could get the wool together. On the phone, Claire says yellow and white are good, because we don’t know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl.’

      Tess was one of those people who couldn’t bear to sit still; she was always doing something, even in front of the television. Zach used to joke that theirs was the only house with actual darned socks. She’d flirted with tapestry, and they had a few tapestry cushions, but knitting was a lifelong love. It was true that Kitty’s dolls and teddies had a wardrobe of beautiful little tiny garments, knitted lovingly by Tess when Kitty had been the size of a baked bean in her womb.

      ‘Gosh,’ said Tess, and she felt the pain of the bullet inside her, ‘I’m very busy these days. Do you think Granny Helen might do that, or even Claire’s mum?’

      Another granny. Tess had entirely forgotten about the whole concept of Claire’s family and the fact that she would come with her own parents. Kitty would have another granny, sort of.

      It was like a labyrinth: complex and never-ending.

      ‘That’s so clever of you, Mum!’ said Kitty, delighted.

      Kitty was so full of love, forever blurting out the first thing that came into her mind. She was a Leo, like her father, and there were no secrets with either of them. Kevin had never been able to tell a lie to save his life, a quality that Tess had always found admirable. And Zach was somehow the same: she could always tell what he was thinking, just by looking at his beloved face.

      She was a Pisces: opaque, as Suki used to say.

      ‘Nobody will ever know what you’re thinking, Sis.’

      Right now, Tess was glad for that quality. She didn’t want her darling Kitty to know what she was thinking: it was so horrible and bitter, Tess felt ashamed of herself. What sort of letter would she come up with for the magazine’s psychologist? I’m almost forty-two, my ex-husband’s girlfriend is pregnant and both my children are delighted about it. Oh yes, and I’m broke and bound to be even more broke when my ex-husband and his girlfriend try to find a house to live in.

      Money, thought Tess: it all came back to money. No matter how many times she added it all up, her dwindling income and whatever Kevin was paying in maintenance wouldn’t be enough to pay the bills.

      Nobody had money to spend on antique trinkets any more. Keeping the shop open through the winter months when there were no tourists around simply wasn’t viable. The few trips she’d made out to private executors’ sales and auction houses had yielded nothing that said ‘Ming vase – wildly undervalued’. Instead, there was the sad sense of people’s treasured possessions being sold to pay bills and buy food.

      She was beginning to wonder whether she’d have to sell the house in Avalon and move into something smaller. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but it might be the only option left to them.

      ‘You can’t move,’ Suki said on the phone that night. ‘You love that place. It’s special.’

      ‘The bank don’t care how special it is,’ Tess said sadly.

      The following morning, Suki sat up in bed with a jolt. She wasn’t sure what had woken her, but she was wide awake. A glance at the clock beside the bed told her it was half seven in the morning. Half seven and still dark. She moved out of the bed quietly so as not to wake Mick, who was lying beside her. He ought to be paying rent, she thought; he stayed over so often. It wasn’t that she invited him, he just came over and then it was too late for him to go home after a few beers. The arrangement didn’t really suit Suki any more. She felt used by Mick. His idea of contributing to the household bills was to stump up for a couple of takeouts a week and to buy beer. He never bought wine or anything she’d like to drink. God, how was she going to say it to him? Once, she wouldn’t have had any problem getting rid of a guy. The old Suki would have simply bundled up all his stuff, thrown it at him and said, ‘Get out.’ But the new Suki, the new tireder, older Suki, didn’t have the energy for the fight.

      She went quietly downstairs. The heating had come on so at least it wasn’t freezing. Bad snow storms were promised, but they hadn’t come yet. Suki had no interest in a white Christmas, or a white anything. She didn’t like the snow, it made her feel trapped.

      Having made herself a cup of coffee, she lit a cigarette and sat down at the kitchen table. She needed to work on her book today, but she felt so tired. Maybe she should go back up to bed, turn on her bedside lamp and read. She had so much research material to go through.