Part Two

For part one, visit Trish’s site, Frayler Academy.

“I need to what?!” cried Honey, shaking her head. “Oh, no. Not after everything we went through to get to this point, with the car accident and the misunderstanding to do with the physiotherapist and the entire pineapple-cat food-dinosaur incident and the thing with he-who-shall-not-be-named and then the romantic thing that Brian did, which Trixie doesn’t want me to talk about, which leads us to now. And, for the three thousand four hundred and seventy-third time, I am not on the rebound!”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Then, why do you call your ex ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named’? Hmm? Face it, Hon; you didn’t date Voldemort, so there’s no reason not to name him.”

“Because of the way that he used me for his own purposes, I have erased him from my life,” Honey answered, “including his name. Which you very well know, because I’ve told you about a million billion times.”

“But have you really got rid of him? Just look in the mirror and see what your face is telling you,” Di urged her.

Another tap sounded on the door, and then it opened to admit Celia with a tray and the promised coffee.

“Celia! Tell her! It’s a sign; it must be.”

“What’s a sign?” she asked, setting the tray down on a table and beginning to serve them.

Honey covered her nose with her hands, then pulled them away again. “Ooh, it’s hot. Maybe it’s a boil, instead of a pimple.”

Diana cringed. “Well, that’s final, then. You just can’t get married with a boil on your nose!”

“No, I don’t suppose I can.” Honey wriggled down and pulled the covers up to hide the offending spot. “What am I going to tell Brian?”

Trixie shrugged. “You’ll think of something. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Honey stared at her, letting the sheet fall. “You think your brother – your own brother, whom you’ve known your entire life and who you know full well didn’t speak to any of the Bob-Whites, including his own brother and sister, for six entire weeks after I broke up with him over a dispute about his next-door neighbour’s groceries and a toy dinosaur – will understand if I tell him that I can’t marry him because of my nose.”

“When you put it like that…” Again, Trixie shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Trixie!”

“If you weren’t doing this on the rebound–” Diana began.

“For the three thousand seven hundred and forty-fourth time–” Honey interrupted.

Trixie shook her head. “That’s not the next number after the last one you used.”

“Now, what seems to be the problem?”

The three looked up to discover Madeleine Wheeler standing in the doorway. Sometime while they were arguing, Celia had left the room without any of them noticing, and Honey’s mother had arrived.

Honey scrambled out of the bed, clambering over her two friends to do so.

“Oh, Mother! Just look at my nose! I just know it’s a boil and it’s going to be there for weeks and I can’t get married looking like this! What am I going to do?”

The older woman peered closer. “I don’t think it’s a boil.” She glanced from one to another of the the three young women. “Exactly what did you drink last night?”

“Cocktails,” Di answered. “Vodka-based ones.”

“Specifically?”

“Cosmopolitans.”

“And?”

Di took a too-casual sip of her coffee. “Harvey Wallbangers.”

“And?”

Di looked slightly away. “Sex on the Beach.”

Madeleine sighed. “I see. Perhaps Honey has inherited my allergy.” She laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Come with me, sweetheart, and we’ll see what we can do about it. Diana and Trixie, why don’t you keep going as if the wedding is going ahead and we’ll deal with any other eventualities if they arise?”

“Of course,” Di murmured, as the other two left the room.

“That was a rather G-rated set of cocktail names,” Madeleine noted, as the pair walked along the plush-carpeted hallway to the master suite. “I was expecting something rather more risqué – or downright explicit – from the way Diana wouldn’t meet my eyes.”

“Trixie wouldn’t have liked it if it had been anything really suggestive,” Honey explained. Her brow creased. “I didn’t know that you had an allergy.”

“I call it my allergy, but that’s not exactly what it is.” The door to the master suite closed behind them. “I had hoped that I would never have to admit this particular family skeleton – they did assure me that you and any subsequent generations would be unaffected – but evidently they were wrong.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The Hidden Folk.” She opened a drawer, pulled out a large and ornate iron key, ducked into the adjoining bathroom for a few moments and then gestured for her daughter to follow her into the dressing room. “Some people say they are fairies, but that is not correct.”

“Fairies!”

Madeleine slid aside a panel to reveal a keyhole, inserted the key and turned it. A hidden door opened into a darkened room. She flicked a switch and lights came on, but they barely made a difference.

“Come in. Quickly please, Honey. We probably don’t have much time before it starts bursting.”

Once the door closed behind them with a solid thud, the gloom increased. The dark tiles of the floor and the bare, greyish walls seemed to radiate a chill.

Honey shivered. “What is this place? I never knew it was here.”

“It’s just what I need in times such as this – cool and dim, hard-wearing and easily cleaned, even by me. I prefer replacing the carpet on my own schedule, rather than having to do it every time I have an indiscretion. Sit in the chair, Honey. I need to get you protected before it gets worse. Then, I’ll explain.”

Honey clambered into the contraption, which looked like a cross between an ornate antique bench and a dentist’s chair. Her mother flung a sheet of some strange material over her and then carefully pinned back her hair, before pulling back the fabric so that Honey’s face peeked through a circular hole. She herself slipped on a kind of smock.

“If my experience is anything to go by, there probably won’t be just the one eruption.” Madeleine peered into her daughter’s face and ran gentle fingertips over its surface. “Ah. Yes, here is another little hot-spot. Oh, and here is another.”

“Three!” Honey felt the places, one near her right ear and the other on her chin. “But what are they? And what caused them?”

“They’re called the Craters of Orcus – presumably after the Roman god of the underworld and punisher of broken oaths, though I don’t know why – and they’re caused by the unholy trinity of Galliano, triple sec and apricot schnapps.”

Honey’s mouth dropped open. “I managed to drink the exact three completely random drinks that caused these things?”

Madeleine made a helpless gesture. “Actually, it’s not so simple as that, because ouzo is just as bad as Galliano and limoncello or curaçao or even Cointreau will do instead of the triple sec, and I believe it’s actually supposed to be Amaretto, rather than apricot schnapps. No one has ever been able to explain it to me sufficiently, but it seems that the Hidden Folk have a susceptibility to the combination of anise, citrus and either nuts or stone fruit when they’re delivered in alcoholic form. There is a legend about a rivalry between one of the Hidden Folk and a nymph… but perhaps it’s just a legend; I’ve never met a nymph and I’m not certain they’re real.”

“But you’ve got something that will make the Craters of What’s-his-name go down again, right?”

Her mother shook her head. “That’s the last thing we want them to do. They need to erupt.”

She turned to a set of drawers and began pulling them out. They opened in fans and spirals, one drawer opening out of another in a way that caused Honey to stare in disbelief.

“Ah. This is what we need to protect your face.” Her mother brought over a variety of objects, including a glass jar filled with a thick, white paste. “Just think of it as a beauty mask.”

Taking a small spatula, she began to smooth the silky paste over Honey’s face, leaving little holes for the three eruptions. As she worked, she began to explain.

“It all began with my great-great-grandfather. He was, by all accounts, a very dull man. Very good at business, but with no personal life or interests of his own at all. He lived with his parents for their whole lives. When he was in his sixties, after his parents had died and just when it seemed that the business would be inherited by his unsatisfactory younger brother, he fell in love with what appeared to be a young and beautiful woman and he married her practically at once. They had one child, a son.”

“But she was one of these Hidden Folk?” Honey asked.

Her mother nodded. “She was. And she soon regretted her choice. Being pregnant with a half-human child severely limited her powers. Once the child was born, she discovered that she was not at all maternal. And so she deserted the family when the boy was still very small. Her husband hired a woman who looked enough like her that none of his acquaintances ever discovered that particular shame, but he loathed the very sound of her name and forbade for her to be spoken of – which turned out to be rather awkward when some of the, let’s call them peculiarities, became apparent later.”

“So, then, how did anyone find out what it was all about? If she went away and he wouldn’t talk about it?”

“Oh, she comes back every now and again. To the best of my knowledge, she’s still alive. I have met several others over the years as well – they supplied the furniture for this room.”

Honey smiled. “I wondered about that. It doesn’t look like things you’d choose.”

“No. But it serves its purpose very well. It is enchanted to withstand anything it might have to meet.” She glanced over to one particularly dark corner. “I had almost expected to see someone today… but, perhaps not.”

Her daughter frowned, thinking. “If we’re descended from this son, does that make us part of the Hidden Folk, then?”

Madeleine’s tinkling laugh echoed off the walls. “Only one thirty-second of your ancestry comes from there, sweetheart. You’re thirty-one thirty-seconds human.”

Honey groaned and started to cover her face with her hands, only to remember just in time that that was a bad idea. “Yet another reason why I maybe probably shouldn’t marry Brian – or anyone.”

“I don’t know about that. The main draw-back I’ve come across is the need to be careful of what you drink. I don’t have any powers and neither should you – or any children you choose to have. And on the positive side, the Hidden Folk live much longer than we do, so we will age well. If you do decide to still marry Brian, I don’t think you need to mention this little quirk.” She went back to her drawers, opening and closing them until she found what she needed next. “I think we’re ready for the next stage.”

“What are you going to do?” Honey eyed the bottle of yellow liquid, nearly as bright as the Galliano that Diana had used to mix their cocktails the night before, but not quite as clear. “Is it going to hurt?”

Madeleine reached over and grabbed a hand mirror and two pairs of safety glasses. “It might sting a little. Or perhaps ‘burn’ is a better word. I’m just going to drip a little of this on each one to set it going.”

“What is it?”

“Some might call it ‘the hair of the dog’.” She smiled. “It’s actually limoncello, because I don’t have any of the ones you actually drank, but it should work just the same. Now hold still. We’ll start with this little one over here by your ear. I think we’ll call him Stromboli, because he’s the smallest, but he looks ready to erupt.”

“Ouch!” Honey cried, only a moment later. “Oh, that burns! And what is that stuff that came out of there?”

The pimple burst with an audible pop. Bright yellow, orange and a few hints of orangey-red matter splattered against the white mask, the spectacle distinctly reminiscent of a real volcano but at tiny scale. It even made a faintly audible hissing sound as it touched the still-damp mask.

“I haven’t ever asked,” her mother replied, gently dabbing the spot with a cotton bud dipped in something aromatic, “but apparently that’s what they’re supposed to do. And look at the skin. Stromboli has gone, as if he never existed. How about we try this one on your chin? It can be called Vesuvius. It’s bigger, but doesn’t show any signs of imminent eruption.”

Honey transferred her gaze from the miraculously recovered place to the next target and nodded her approval. This time, nothing in particular seemed to happen when the droplet hit her skin, other than a vague stinging sensation and a pleasant lemony scent.

“Isn’t this one going to work?” she asked, a little anxiously.

“It might take a little longer. Let’s get started on Mount Etna while we’re waiting.”

Etna’s eruption from the end of Honey’s nose echoed Stromboli’s, but at greater magnitude. The lava – for want of a better word – splattered her safety glasses and the sheet that covered her. Steam clouded the glasses for several moments.

“Yuck! That was disgusting!” She squeezed her eyes shut while her mother expertly dealt with the aftermath. “I’m not ever drinking cocktails again, if this is what happens!”

“You don’t need to go quite that far. You just need to be particular about the combinations you drink.” She peered closer. “Let’s give Vesuvius another drop and see if we can clear him up, too.”

One drop caused Vesuvius to threaten, but still no eruption. After a few minutes’ tense wait, Mrs. Wheeler added a third drop, which caused the biggest explosion yet.

“Oh, my poor chin,” Honey groaned. “That really hurts.”

“But it’s done its job and the pimple is gone.” Her mother handed her a damp towel. “Start wiping the mask off and we’ll see if there is anything else that needs attention.”

Some make-up wipes finished the task that the towel had begun. Once Honey’s face bore no trace of the white paste, they checked it carefully and found no sign of any pimples.

“That’s amazing.” Honey dabbed at the tip of her nose with a finger. “I can hardly believe it’s gone. Thank you so much, Mother.”

“Not at all.” She smiled. “You know, they would have done that at some point by themselves. We just speeded up the process and contained the results.” She glanced around. “Perhaps I should set you up with your own supplies. Just in case this happens again.”

Honey swung her legs to dangle over the side of the bench-chair-thing and looked down at the floor. “Should I be marrying Brian today?”

Madeleine hesitated for a moment. “What makes you think you shouldn’t?”

Her daughter let out a noisy sigh. “It’s just that Di and Trixie keep saying that I’m on the rebound from Tad – especially since I keep calling him ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named’ – and they can’t seem to understand that I was on the rebound from Brian when I started dating him, and that he only dated me to try to get at Di, who, as far as I can make out, never was interested in him in the first place, and the whole time that Tad and I were together, I was regretting the argument when I’d broken up with Brian and especially the part where I threw the pineapple at him, because, really, how was he to know that when I carried the groceries up, I’d gotten one of my bags mixed up with the lady next door’s and that it was her cat food and her pineapple and her son’s toy dinosaur and that I wasn’t trying to force him into getting a cat, and it was nothing to do with the physiotherapist after my car accident having the same name as some guy in Jurassic Park, which I haven’t even seen, but I was just trying to help him when he was so busy and tired by picking up some groceries for him – and really, I think that was the whole problem: he was tired, and I was too sensitive and we shouldn’t have broken up and now it’s right that we’re back together.”

“Then, I think you have your answer.”

Honey’s face lit up with a smile. “Yes. I do.”

Madeleine touched her arm. “Then let’s get out of this gloomy hole and start getting you ready for your wedding.”

Back in her own room a couple of minutes later, she found that Diana was in the shower, while Trixie sat on the bed sipping coffee.

“Your mother is a miracle worker!” her friend exclaimed, as soon as she saw her. “Tell her to expect to see me the next time I break out.”

Honey shook her head. “I don’t think it would work for normal pimples. It really did seem to be from an allergic reaction.”

“So, are you really going to marry him?”

Honey sat down on the bed next to her. “You know I am.”

Trixie nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I can’t help wondering whether this is a good idea. Hon, you threw a pineapple at him.”

“Only once!”

“Once is more than enough.” After a long silence she added, “And who is Drew? Should I be worried on my brother’s behalf?”

The question surprised a laugh out of Honey. “About Drew? He’s old enough to be my grandfather. Or my great-grandfather. He’s about a hundred and ten!”

“Then why didn’t you tell us who he was?” Trixie demanded. “This makes no sense!”

Honey rolled her eyes. “I would have told you, only no one ever gave me a chance, and anyway, it’s kind of complicated, but not anything to worry about at all.”

Trixie waved for her to continue. “I’m waiting. I don’t have all day, you know.”

“You don’t have all day!” She laughed at the indignant expression on her friend’s face. “Okay, fine. Drew. Yes. Well, it’s kind of like this: you remember, after I broke up with Brian, but before we got back together, he kind of decided that he’d kind of like to do some international aid work and he applied for a few things, but I don’t think anything came of it, back then?”

“Remember! I remember how he was when no one accepted him straight away. It was like the world had ended.”

“Well, one of the places he applied to got back to him just recently and – don’t tell him I told you this, because he’ll want to tell you himself, when it’s all officially official – they’ve offered him a position, but it’s completely, utterly secret, because of the security implications, but we’re going to go there together and I needed to brush up on my Spanish and Drew is a contact of Mother’s and he agreed to tutor me five mornings a week before work for an hour each day and you don’t know how hard it’s been to wake up an extra hour early every day, but it’s going to be worth it so that Brian and I can be together.”

Before she had even finished speaking, Trixie flung her arms around her best friend and squeezed her tight.

“If you’re doing that for him, then maybe I’ve been wrong all along,” she admitted. “I’m really sorry, Honey, for doubting that you were serious about Brian, and for ruining your wedding-day-morning by trying to talk you out of marrying him.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Honey answered, softly. “And I learned heaps of things this morning.”

The adjoining bathroom door opened and Diana emerged, wrapped in a satin robe.

“Next!” She stopped to stare at Honey. “It’s gone!”

Honey nodded. “And the wedding is definitely on and you can’t talk me out of it.”

Diana looked to Trixie, who shrugged and said, “It’s going to be okay.”

“Drew?”

“An old guy who’s tutoring her in Spanish. You can hear about it later, because the bride needs a shower.” She gave Honey a little push. “You heard me. Get moving!”

Honey smiled and stepped into the bathroom to begin her preparations for the day, confident that the day’s volcanic eruptions had been successfully dealt with.

An hour later, however, she had cause to rethink that assessment. She was passing by the front door when it opened, without apparent means, and a tall, slender woman strode inside. Long, pale blonde hair wreathed her beautiful face in an elaborate up-do, while a simple but elegant dress in palest blue kissed her curves and flowed down to touch the floor. At almost the same moment, Honey’s mother stepped into the entranceway.

“How dare you!” the strange woman bellowed. “My own family, and you don’t invite me.”

While Honey stood, open-mouthed and staring, her mother sailed forward.

“Anneli, darling! It’s wonderful to see you. Of course you’re invited.” She air-kissed the pale cheek and produced an invitation, seemingly out of nowhere. “I’ve been trying to find you for months. I’m so glad you haven’t missed the wedding. Please, come and meet my daughter. I was just telling her about you earlier this morning.”

Honey visibly jolted, but recovered enough to hurry forward and receive the introduction.

“I don’t see much of a resemblance to me,” the woman observed, looking down at Honey coolly. A moment later, a smile transformed her face and one long-fingered hand reached out to touch Honey’s face. In barely more than a whisper, she asked, “The Craters of Orcus?”

Madeleine nodded once.

“Are they back?” Honey asked, in a panic.

“No.” Anneli smiled once more, the expression warming her ice-blue eyes. “But that is how I knew to come today.”

Honey smiled. “I’m glad they happened, then, though I wasn’t very happy about them earlier, when they were happening, but I’m glad that they had a purpose, of knowing about you and now meeting you.”

“Thank you,” the other woman replied politely. She glanced around the room, as if only just noticing where she was. “I think I shall take a walk in the woods while I wait for the ceremony. You must have much to do.”

Correctly reading the implied dismissal, Honey said her goodbyes and returned to the room where she had left Trixie and Diana.

“Who was that woman?” Trixie demanded, the instant she was in the room. “She looks exactly like you, only with different colouring.”

“A relative,” Honey answered. “But I can’t tell you how we’re related.”

Her best friend grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, I know that kind of relative. We have all kinds of great-great-somethings-seven-times-removed that we’re supposed to recognise whenever they turn up.”

“And did Trixie hear correctly that she’s going for a walk in the woods?” Di added, from her seat in front of the hair stylist. “I couldn’t see her, but Trixie described her dress as ‘expensive-looking and dragging on the ground’.”

Honey giggled. “Yes, both of those things are kind of right.”

“May I have a word please, Honey?” her mother asked from the doorway.

“Is everything okay?” Honey asked, a moment later.

“Yes, fine.” She smiled. “This has been a very eventful morning, hasn’t it?”

“And you’ve saved the day again,” Honey added. “Thank you.”

“Not at all.” She led her daughter a little way down the hallway. “Anneli is taking a walk, but she will be at the ceremony.”

“And she’s my gr–”

“No! We do not use the G-word when referring to Anneli. She may be over two hundred years old, but she doesn’t look a day over thirty.” She glanced down at her own trim figure. “And she never has to diet, either. She is a very good person to have in our gene pool.”

Honey laughed. “When you put it that way, Mother, how can I argue?”

“Then what are we waiting for? We have a wedding to prepare for.” She paused to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “And you are going to be a beautiful bride.”