Free The Honey Queen by Cathy Kelly Page A

long blonde hair and elegant, expensive clothes. In each one she was standing apart from the rest of the group.
    More photos decorated the shelves loaded with CDs and video games. There was a Christmas shot, everyone except the tall blonde woman in Christmas hats at a table; and what appeared to be a family holiday snap, taken on a beach with everyone very wet because it was pelting with rain, but with genuine smiles for the camera. They all seemed so happy, so at ease with each other.
    There was something almost voyeuristic about looking at these photos, Peggy felt: this was proper family life. She felt a void inside her.
    ‘Big families are great fun,’ David said. ‘It’s a support system, a team who are always there for you.’
    She noticed that he didn’t say any of the stuff she’d half-expected him to say, like: ‘Big families drive you mad.’ No, he loved it,
relished
being part of it.
    ‘Is that your mum and dad?’ she said, pointing to the older couple all dressed up, smiles on their faces but still a bit stiff and formal in front of the camera, as if they weren’t entirely at ease with posing.
    ‘Yes, that’s their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. We sent them to Crete. Mum hates flying, had to go to the doctor to get something to calm her down for the flight. Dad said she was funny because she took one tablet and fell asleep. He practically had to carry her off the plane.’
    ‘They look lovely,’ Peggy said wistfully.
    ‘They are.’ There was real warmth in his voice. ‘You’ll have to come and meet them. You could come for lunch next Sunday, if that’s not all going too fast? Mum would love that. Freya would love it too – I’m warning you, she’ll interrogate you. She’s a junior Miss Marple. Nothing escapes her.’
    Peggy smiled at the vision of the teenager with the lumpy shoes as a Miss Marple.
    ‘Maybe I could come and meet
your
parents sometime?’ David said. ‘They need to know that their daughter isn’t dating a madman. I promise I won’t shame you dreadfully,’ he added, grinning.
    ‘Maybe,’ Peggy said, after an uncomfortable pause.
    Ignoring this, David took her hand. ‘Come on, I’ll bring you into the kitchen.’
    He led her into a kitchen painted blue and white, with jolly blue and white sprigged curtains over the sink and old stained-pine cupboards.
    ‘Mum and Freya did the decor,’ David said. ‘We keep thinking we’re going to change it. Steve wants to get one of those modern kitchens, shiny red cabinets and stainless steel splashbacks, but with Brian leaving to get married it’s difficult making decisions.’
    ‘It’s a bit old fashioned, but it’s nice,’ said Peggy.
    The kitchen in her flat was nowhere near as pretty as this. It was full of odd freestanding bits of furniture. She was scared to look underneath in case there might be dead bodies or live mice. This sweet traditional kitchen was rather adorable and certainly sparkling clean.
    ‘We’ve got wine, tea, coffee, juice?’ said David. ‘What would you like before I start on dinner?’
    ‘Tea would be lovely,’ she said.
    He boiled the kettle and Peggy leaned against a cabinet, watching him as he moved around the kitchen. He was so much taller than her, she thought absently, that she’d have to look up if he kissed her.
    ‘Excuse me,’ he said coming close, opening a cupboard right beside her. ‘Mind your head.’ He touched her gently as if to make sure the cupboard door wouldn’t hurt her. And then the cupboard was quite forgotten. Their eyes met, and in an instant his mouth was on hers and it was so tender and sweet that, for a crazy moment, she felt she was a flower opening in the sun.
    Then Peggy wasn’t thinking any more. Their kisses grew hotter, suffused with passion and want. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling him to her. His hands slid down to her waist, fitting her comfortably against him.
    After a few minutes, David’s long fingers began to undo the buttons of her