Page 78 of Merrily Ever After

“You came all the way here to say that? You’re letting the heat out,” she adds crossly, gesturing us inside. “You think I’m made of money?”

I decide not to answer that and instinctively place a hand on Colleen’s back, leading her through. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into my touch. Something that makes me incredibly pleased.

“Judging by the awful sound I was forced to listen to for the last minute, I presume you didn’t walk here?” Mrs Fallon continues.

“I drove my sister’s car,” Colleen says brightly. “She’s been teaching me how to …Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Her voice drops to a hushed whisper as she comes to an abrupt halt in the hallway. “Your home isbeautiful,” she continues, louder nowbut no less earnest. Mrs Fallon’s attention snaps to her, and I brace myself for some cutting remark.

But she doesn’t say anything, at least not at first. Just takes in Colleen properly, examining her from her head to her toes.

“Well, it makes sense now,” she finally says to me and lets out a small cackle at my look. “You’ll want tea, I suppose. Always looking for something.”

“Actually,” I say, “we came to collect you.”

“Oh? Am I a thing to be collected?”

“For the Christmas party,” I explain, trailing her as she goes into the front room. Colleen trips along beside me, her head swinging left and right as she tries to take everything in. “In the village. The one that you know about, so don’t pretend you don’t. There’s warm cider and the choir is on again in an hour.”

“A bunch of schoolchildren singing out of tune. What a treat.” She glares at me. “You think anyone wants me there?”

“I’d like you to be there,” I say patiently. “I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?” There’s a slight mocking in her tone as she nods to Colleen, but there’s no bite to it. If anything, Colleen seems flattered.

“I’d like you to be there too,” Colleen says, surprising us both, and for the longest moment, Mrs Fallon just stares at us.

“And I suppose you won’t leave unless I go?” she asks eventually. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Well, at least let me get properly dressed. Showing up here with no warning. You’re lucky I did my hair this morning, or else you’d be stuck on the porch all night, and the guards would be at my door wondering why I have two frozen children outside.” She keeps talking as she shuffles out of the room, and a second later, I hear her go up the stairs.

“Are we supposed to follow her?” Colleen whispers, and I shake my head.

“She’ll come back.”

“She likes you,” she continues solemnly, and I frown because, no, she doesn’t. She puts up with me.

But I guess we are kind of used to each other by now. She probably wouldn’t open the door to me otherwise.

Colleen goes over to the shelves, examining the photographs just like I did. “She’s the one who taught you to dance?” She smiles when I nod. “Then I guess I’ll have to thank her.”

“She got thanks enough with all the chores I had to do around here,” I tell her, and she laughs.

“Sweeping the floors, were you?”

“And mopping them. Fetching coal. Scrubbing pans. She’d have had me repaint the entire hallway if she’d ever decide on a color.”

“You’re just like Cinderella.”

“Not the prince?” I ask as her smile widens.

“The prince didn’t have to mop the—” She breaks off in a delighted giggle as I catch her hand and spin her around. “Okay,” she says. “You’re my prince.”

I spin her again, and her face takes on this dreamy expression, all her previous nerves gone.

“No music?”

“I learned without,” I say as we start to dance. The movements come easier to me than they did outside the school hall. Maybe it’s because I’m in familiar surroundings, but whatever it is, my confidence kicks up a notch, and I surprise her again when I lead her into a dip, smiling when her breath catches.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of that,” she admits as the stairs creak. We straighten, and a moment later, Mrs Fallon appears wearing a stiff red dress with a black collar. She’s changed her shoes as well, from beaded slippers to shining black loafers, and carries an enormous fur coat over her arm.

“Only thing that will keep me warm,” she mutters as she shakes it out. She wobbles slightly on her cane, and Colleen steps forward.

“I can help if you like,” she says softly. Mrs Fallon doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t glare at her either, so Colleen straightens the sleeves and helps her put it on, adjusting it so it sits just right.

The thing is enormous, so much so that it would look ridiculous on anyone else.

But I guess my dance teacher isn’t just anyone.

When we’re ready to go, Colleen slips her hand into mine as I hold my other arm out to Mrs Fallon.

“If nothing else, I taught you some manners,” she grumbles, but she cups my elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze as I lead both women out of the house and into the Christmas night.