Lucy Gordon

The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

© 2007

PROLOGUE

IT WAS the most glorious Christmas tree in the world: eight feet high, brilliant with baubles, tinsel and flickering lights, with a dazzling star shining from the top.

Around the base brightly coloured parcels, decorated with shiny bows, crowded together, spilling lavishly over the floor.

The whole thing presented a picture of generous abundance. It was a family tree, meant to stand in a home, surrounded by happy children eagerly tearing the wrapping from the parcels, revealing longed for gifts.

Instead, it stood in the corner of Alex Mead’s huge office. The presents were fake. Any child removing the pretty wrapping paper would have found only empty boxes.

But no child would do so. The whole confection had been designed and carried out by Alex’s secretary, Katherine, and as far as he was concerned she had wasted her time.

She entered now with some letters in one hand and a newspaper in the other, and he noticed that she couldn’t resist glancing proudly at the tree as she passed.

‘Sentimentalist,’ he said, giving her the brilliant grin that won him goodwill at every first meeting. Often the goodwill was short-lived. It didn’t take long for rivals and associates to discover the predator who lived beneath the charm.

‘Well, it looks nice,’ she said defensively. ‘Honestly, Alex, don’t you have any Christmas spirit?’

‘Sure I do. Look at your bonus.’

‘I have and it was a lovely surprise.’

‘You earned it, Kath. You did almost as much as I did to build this firm up.’

He was a generous man where money was concerned. Not only her bonus but that of several other vital employees had been more than expected. Alex knew how to keep good staff working difficult hours.

‘Some of them want to come in and thank you,’ she said now.

‘Tell them there’s no need. Say you said it for them, and I said all the right things-Happy Christmas, have a nice time-you’ll know how to make it sound good.’

‘Why do you have to try to sound like Scrooge?’

‘Because I am Scrooge,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Liar,’ she said, with the privilege of long friendship. ‘Scrooge would never have let his employees go a day early, the way you’re doing. Most firms keep everyone there until noon, Christmas Eve.’

‘Yes, and what’s the result? Nobody does any work on Christmas Eve morning. Half of them are hung over and they’re all watching the clock. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.’

She laid the newspaper, open at the financial page, on his desk. ‘Did you see this?’

It was the best Christmas gift an entrepreneur could have had. There was a page of laudatory text about Mead Consolidated and its meteoric rise, its impact on the market, its brilliant prospects.

Backing this up was an eye-catching photograph of Alex, his grin at its most engaging, telling the world that here was a man of charisma and confidence who could steer his way skilfully through waters infested by sharks. You would have to look very closely to see that he was one of them.

The picture was cut off halfway down his chest, so it didn’t show the long-limbed body that was just a little underweight. He was thin because he forgot to eat, relying on nervous energy for nourishment, just as he relied on nervous force to make an impact.

It was Alex’s proud boast that he had no nerves. The truth, as Kath knew, was that he lived on them. It was one of the reasons why he looked older than his thirty-seven years, why his smile was so swift and unpredictable, and why his temper was beginning to be the same.

When she’d come to work for him his dark eyes had sparkled with ambition and confidence and his complexion had had a healthy glow. The glow was gone now, and there were too often shadows under his eyes. But he was still a handsome man, only partly through his looks. The rest was a mysterious talisman, an inner light for which there were no words.

She had been on business trips with him and seen the female heads turn, the eyes sparkle with interest. To his credit he had never collected, although whether that was out of love for his wife or because he couldn’t spare the time from business, Kath had never quite decided.

“‘Here’s the one to watch,’” she read from the newspaper. “‘By this time next year Mead Consolidated will threaten to dominate the market.” Well, you might try to look pleased. It’s so brilliant you might have written it yourself.’

He laughed. ‘How do you know I didn’t?’

‘Now you mention it, you probably did. You’re conceited enough for anything.’

‘So conceited that if I’d written it I wouldn’t have stopped at “threatened” to dominate. That’s not good enough for me. I have to be at the top, and I’m going to get there.’

‘Alex, you only started eleven years ago, practically working from a garden shed. Give yourself time.’

‘I don’t need time. I need Craddock’s contract, the biggest that’s ever come my way.’

‘Well, you’ve got it.’

‘Not until he’s signed it. Dammit, why did he have to get this tomfool idea about going to the Caribbean?’

George Craddock, the man whose signature he was determined to get by hook or by crook, had been all set to sign when he’d been struck by the notion of a gathering on the tiny Caribbean island that he owned. He’d called Alex about it that very afternoon.

‘And a big contract signing party to end it,’ Alex groaned now. ‘It’s a pointless exercise because the deal’s already set up.’

‘So why the party?’ Kath asked.

‘Because he’s old, foolish and lonely and has nobody to spend Christmas with him. So I have to forget my plans and catch a plane tonight.’

‘Weren’t you supposed to be seeing your family over Christmas?’

‘Part of it. I was going to arrive tomorrow and stay until the next day. Now I’ll have to call Corinne and explain that I’ve been called away. I just hope I can make her understand.’

Tact prevented Kath from saying, Sure, she understands so well that she’s divorcing you.

‘You should have told Craddock to get stuffed,’ she told him robustly now.

‘No way! You know how hard I’ve fought for this contract, and I’m not going to see it slip through my fingers now.’

Seeing disapproval on her face he said, defensively, ‘Kath, there’ll be other Christmases.’

‘I’m not so sure. Children grow up so fast, and suddenly there aren’t other Christmases.’

‘Now you’re being sentimental,’ he said gruffly.

That silenced her. ‘Sentimental’ was Alex’s strongest term of disapproval.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the best of moods. Go home, Kath. Have a nice Christmas.’

‘And be in early on the first day,’ she said in a reciting tone.

‘I never need to tell you that.’

When she’d gone he sat down tiredly and stared at the phone. What he had to do could not be put off any longer. If you had to break a promise it was best to do it quickly and cleanly.

He hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble with Corinne. She was used to the demands of his job, and the fact that it often took him away from his family. The only time she’d ever fought him about it was at Christmas.

And it would have to be Christmas now, wouldn’t it? he thought, exasperated. Just when he’d wanted to put a good face on things and show that he wasn’t a neglectful father, as she’d accused him!

He’d planned to join her and the children tomorrow, just for one day, because that was all he could spare. But he would have arrived, overflowing with presents, and they would have been impressed whether they liked it or not. They would have had to be. He would have seen to that.

So the sooner he called, the better. Dial the number, say, I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan-

He reached for the phone.

CHAPTER ONE

‘MUM, it’s the best Christmas tree we’ve ever had. A tree fit for Santa.’

Bobby was nine, old enough to have his own ideas about Santa, kind enough not to disillusion his adults.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it, darling?’ Corinne agreed, regarding her son tenderly.

The tree was five feet high and covered in tinsel and baubles which had been fixed in place by eager, inexpert hands. Perhaps the star on top was a little wonky, but nobody cared about that.

‘Do you think Dad will like it?’ Bobby wanted to know.

‘I’m sure he will.’

‘You will tell him I did it, won’t you? Well, Mitzi helped a bit, but she’s only a little kid so she couldn’t do much.’

‘She’s six years old,’ Jimmy said, from where he was standing behind Corinne. ‘It’s not that long since you were six.’

‘It was ages ago,’ Bobby said indignantly.

Jimmy grinned. He was a cheerful young man with a round face that smiled easily, the kind of man who seemed to have been designed by nature for the express purpose of being an uncle.

He was in the army, on two weeks’ leave, and had gladly accepted Corinne’s invitation to spend Christmas. They were only third cousins, but, with no other family, they had always clung to their kinship.

‘You thought you were a big man at six,’ he reminded Bobby.

‘I was,’ the child said at once. ‘And I’m an even bigger one now. Put ’em up.’

He lifted his fists, boxer-style, and Jimmy obligingly responded with the same stance. For a moment they danced around each other, Jimmy leaning down to get within the child’s range.

Suddenly he yelled, ‘Help! He got me, he got me,’ and collapsed on the floor, clutching his nose.

At once Bobby, the tender-hearted, dropped down beside him.

‘I didn’t really hurt you, did I, Uncle Jimmy?’ he asked anxiously.

Jimmy wobbled his nose and spoke in a heavy nasal whine. ‘I dink you spoiled by dose.’

Bobby giggled.

In falling, Jimmy had dislodged some of the presents and the two of them began to pile them up again. Corinne helped, trying not to be too conscious of the parcel with the tag that read, To Daddy, with love from Bobby.

‘Daddy will like it, won’t he, Mummy? I got it specially with my pocket money.’

‘Then he’ll love it, whatever it is,’ she assured him. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’

Bobby shook his head very seriously. ‘It’s a secret between me and Daddy. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, darling, I don’t mind.’

She watched how carefully he replaced the box under the tree, and her heart ached for him. Both children loved their father so much, and had been let down by him so often. And the more he failed them, the more anxiously they loved him.

But he would make up for it this time, she thought desperately. Please, don’t let anything go wrong. Make him be here.

When Bobby had gone away, Jimmy murmured, ‘That has to be the sweetest-tempered kid in the world.’

‘Yes, and it scares me. He’s wide open to be badly hurt by Alex.’

‘But that won’t happen, will it? Alex gave his word that he’d arrive on Christmas Eve.’

Corinne made a face. ‘Yes, but a promise to us was always conditional on business.’

‘But not at Christmas?’ Jimmy said, shocked.

‘Especially at Christmas, because that was when he could steal a march on all those wimps who spent it with their families.’

‘But he promised to spend this Christmas with you and the kids.’

‘No, what he promised was to arrive on Christmas Eve and leave on Christmas Day.’

‘So little time? Then surely you don’t have to worry about him cancelling that?’

‘I wish I could believe it. Do you know? I’m not sure the children even realise that our marriage is over. They hardly see less of him now than they did then. Apart from the fact that we’ve moved house, not much has changed.

‘I don’t mind for myself, but if he disappoints Bobby and Mitzi again I’ll never forgive him.’

‘And you’ve put up with that all these years?’

‘Yes,’ she said, almost in a tone of surprise. ‘Until the day came when I wouldn’t put up with it any more. And now we’re separated, soon to be divorced.’

Put like that it sounded so simple, and that was how she wanted to leave it. This wasn’t the time to speak of the pain, misery and disillusionment she’d endured as she had finally given up the fight to save her marriage.

It had been twelve years, starting in unbelievable happiness. And perhaps unbelievable was the right word, because she had believed the impossible.

At eighteen you convinced yourself of whatever suited you. You thought you could marry a tough, ambitious man and not suffer for it. You told yourself that love would soften him, that he would put you first, not every time, but often enough to count.

When that didn’t work you told yourself that the babies would make a difference. He was so proud of his children. Surely at least he would put them first?

‘He can’t have missed everything, surely?’ Jimmy asked now.

‘No, he was there for some birthdays, even some Christmases. But I always knew that if the phone rang he’d be off somewhere.’

Jimmy looked into her face, trying to see past the wry resignation to whatever she really felt. He doubted that she would let him catch a glimpse. She’d perfected that cheerful, unrevealing mask by now. That was what marriage to Alex Mead had done for her.

To Jimmy’s loving eyes there was little change from the dazzling bride of twelve years ago, gloriously blonde and blue-eyed in white satin and lace, unwittingly tormenting him with the opportunity he’d missed. But opportunities sometimes came again to a man who was patient.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘is there somewhere I can hide my costume so that the kids don’t find it?’

He was playing Santa at HawksmereHospital that evening, roped in by Corinne, a member of the ‘Friends of Hawksmere Hospital.’

‘It means going round the wards, ho-ho-ho-ing,’ she’d said. ‘And then you settle down in the grotto for the children who can walk out of the ward, or who happen to be in the hospital visiting someone.’

And Jimmy, good-natured as always, had agreed, just to please her.

‘You can put it in the boot of my car,’ she said now. ‘I’ll be leaving at five to take Bobby and Mitzi to a kids’ party. When I’ve dropped them off I’ll come back for you at six, and deliver you to the hospital by seven.’

‘Yes, sir!’ He saluted.

‘Idiot!’ She laughed.

‘I’m paying you a compliment. You’ve got this organisation thing down to a fine art,’ he said admiringly.

It was true; she was good at arrangements. Years of last-minute changes of plan, because Alex had been called away, had made her an expert.

‘At eight o’clock,’ she resumed, ‘I collect the kids and take them to the hospital, where they’ll find Santa already in place. They’ll never dream it’s you.’

‘What about coming home?’

‘Easy. When Bobby and Mitzi have finished I’ll take them to the “Friends” office on some errand that I’ll suddenly remember, while you get changed. When we leave the office we bump into you. We’ll say you’ve been visiting a friend.’

‘By the way, Alex won’t mind my staying here, will he?’

‘It doesn’t matter if he does,’ she said firmly. ‘Our marriage is over in all but name, and he has no say. Besides, you and I are related.’

Which wasn’t quite fair because she knew how Jimmy had always felt about her. But that was something she wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

‘It could be such a happy time,’ she said, ‘if only that phone doesn’t ring. But I’ll bet you anything you like that in the next few minutes Alex will call and say, “Corinne, there’s been a change of plan.” And I’ll be expected to be “reasonable” and not “make a fuss”.’

Her voice rose sharply on the last words, making her bite it back with an alarmed look at the door in case Bobby or Mitzi could hear.

‘Hey, steady.’ Jimmy gently took hold of her shoulders. ‘That’s all over, remember?’

‘It’s not really over.’ She sighed. ‘Not while Alex and I share children who can be hurt by him.’

‘In the end they’ll see him for what he is.’

‘But that’s just it. I don’t want them to see him for what he is. I want them to go on believing in him as the most wonderful, glorious father there ever was, because that’s what they need.’

‘Just don’t let yourself be hurt by him.’

‘No, that can’t happen any more.’

‘I wish I believed that.’

‘Believe it. I’m completely immune. Whatever was between Alex and me was over a long time ago.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘Honestly.’

‘Mummy!’ came a shriek from the garden. ‘Uncle Jimmy! Come and look. It’s going to be a white Christmas.’

It wasn’t merely snowing; it was coming down in drifts, huge, thick snowflakes that settled and piled up. Jimmy immediately bounded out into the garden to join the children in a game. Corinne stood in the window, watching them jumping about and laughing. Dusk was falling and the only light came from the house. Through the driving snow she could only just make out the fast moving figures. They could have been anyone.

They could have been the newly-weds, blissful in their first Christmas, hurrying together through the snow to the shabby little flat that had been their first home.

And the happiest, she recalled now.

The next one had still been happy, but they had already been in their first proper house, with Alex promising her ‘a palace by next year’. She hadn’t wanted a palace. All she had asked was for her joy to last, but the first cracks were already appearing.

Even so, she hadn’t realised yet that she had a rival, a beloved mistress called Mead Consolidated. And, as years had passed, the rival had grown all-consuming. How wearily used she had grown to the phone calls, and Alex’s voice saying, ‘There’s been a change of plan.’

But not this year, she thought desperately. I don’t mind for myself, but don’t let him disappoint the children.

The phone rang.

For a moment she couldn’t move. Then, in a burst of anger, she snatched up the phone, and snapped, ‘Alex, is that you?’

‘Yes, it’s me. Look, Corinne, there’s been a change of plan-’

On the last lap of the journey the snow began to come down even harder. Alex cursed and set his windscreen wipers to go fast.

It had been an awkward sort of day, with people forcing him to change course at the last moment, which he disliked. First Craddock and his mad Caribbean party, then, just as he was reaching out to call Corinne, the phone had rung.

It had been Craddock’s secretary to say that her boss had been rushed to hospital with suspected appendicitis. The whole trip was off. The signing would have to be done later.

The upside was that he could call Corinne and say he would be there a day earlier.

‘Alex, that’s wonderful. The children will be thrilled.’

‘OK, I’ll be there tonight, but I’m not sure when. The traffic’s difficult.’

‘We’re going out, but I’ll leave the key in a little box in the porch. Maybe you’ll be there when we get back.’

‘Fine. I’ll see you.’

The snow was coming down harder, and his car began to slide over the road. He slowed, but then more snow seemed to collect on his windscreen.

Why had she insisted on moving out to the very edge of London instead of staying in the mansion he’d bought her? It was a beautiful house, full of everything a wife could possibly want, but she had fled it without a backward glance.

And where had she chosen instead? A dump. A cottage. He knew he was exaggerating because it was a five-bedroom detached house, far better than where they’d lived when they were first married, but nothing compared to what he’d given her later.

It still hurt when he thought of the home he’d provided for her. The price had been extortionate, but he’d paid it willingly, thinking how thrilled Corinne would be.

It had had everything, including a paddock for the pony he intended to buy as soon as Bobby had learned to ride. Those riding lessons had been a kind of eldorado in his mind. How he would have loved them in his own childhood! And how different the reality had been!

But, for Bobby, everything would be perfect.

As always, he felt something melt inside him when he thought of his children, Mitzi, wide-eyed and appealingly cheeky. Bobby, quiet, self-assured even at nine, rapidly growing up to be a companion to his father.

And then Corinne had blown the whole dream apart. He’d come home one day to find the beautiful house empty and his family gone.

When he’d seen her again she’d talked about divorce, which he didn’t understand. There was nobody else for either of them, so who needed divorce? He’d refused even to consider it.

He had thought his firmness would make her see sense and come home, but she had quietly refused to budge. She would wait out the divorce, if necessary.

She didn’t actually say that the important thing was to be away from him, but the implication hung in the air.

He was nearing his destination now. He had never been there before, and darkness and snow made it hard to find the way. It was this road-no, the next!

Relieved, he swung the car into the turning and immediately saw a man crossing in front of him, moving slowly.

What happened next was too fast to follow, although later his mind replayed it in slow motion. The man saw him and began to run, and at the exact same moment he slammed on the brakes. The sudden sharp movement made the car skid over the ice that lay on the road beneath the snow.

It was the merest bad luck that the car went in the same direction as the man. Whether he, too, slithered on the ice or the car actually touched him nobody could ever be sure. But the next moment he was lying on the ground, groaning.

Alex brought the car to a cautious halt and got out. By now a woman had appeared from a house and hurried over to the victim. She was wrapped up in a thick jacket whose hood concealed everything about her head.

‘Jimmy? Oh, God, Jimmy, what happened?’

‘That idiot was going too fast. Hell, my shoulder!’

He winced and, clutching his neck, gasped with pain.

‘Corinne, can you give me your arm?’

‘Corinne?’

Alex drew back the side of the hood to her indignation.

‘Hey, what are you-? Alex! Did you do this?’

‘He slipped on the ice.’

‘Which I wouldn’t have done,’ Jimmy said, ‘if you hadn’t been going too fast to stop.’

‘I was barely doing-’

‘Shut up both of you,’ she said fiercely. ‘This isn’t the time.’

‘Right. I’ll call an ambulance.’

‘No need,’ Jimmy groaned. ‘We were on our way to the hospital anyway. Corinne, let’s just go. I’m sure it’s only a sprain and they can patch me up before I do my stuff.’

He climbed slowly to his feet, holding on to Corinne and refusing all offers of help from Alex. But when Corinne touched his arm he yelled with pain.

‘Be sensible,’ said Alex, tight-lipped. ‘If you don’t want an ambulance I’ll take you. Wait here!’

He strode off to where he’d parked. Jimmy, clinging to Corinne, gasped, ‘Corinne, please, anybody’s car but Alex’s.’

‘Fine. Mine’s just here.’

In a moment she’d opened the door and eased him into the passenger seat. She was starting the engine when Alex drew up beside her.

‘I said I’d take him,’ he yelled.

‘You don’t know the way. Wait for us in the house, Alex.’

She pulled away without waiting for his answer. Muttering angrily, Alex swung around to follow her. He’d just about recognised Jimmy from their wedding. As Corinne’s sole relative he had given her away, but his languishing looks had suggested that he would rather have been the groom.

Soon the main entrance of HawksmereHospital came into view. He followed Corinne and drew up behind her as she was opening the passenger door. From the way Jimmy moved he was more badly hurt than had appeared at first. Alex marched ahead into the hospital and up to the reception desk, emerging a few moments later with an orderly and a wheel-chair.

‘He’s right, Jimmy,’ Corinne said. ‘Let them take you in.’

Jimmy muttered something that Alex didn’t catch, which made Corinne exclaim, ‘To blazes with Santa Claus! It’s you that matters.’

They made a little procession into the hospital, the orderly wheeling Jimmy, Corinne beside them, and Alex bringing up the rear.

Once inside, Jimmy was whisked away to an examination cubicle. Now, Alex thought, he would get the chance to talk to Corinne, but she insisted on going too. There was nothing for him to do but sit down and wait, which he found the hardest thing in the world to do.

Relief came ten minutes later with the whirlwind arrival of an elderly lady of military aspect and forthright manner.

‘Where is he? I was told he’d arrived and we’re waiting for him.’

‘Who?’ asked Alex.

‘Santa Claus. Jimmy. Corinne promised he’d do it, but where is he?’

‘In a cubicle, having his shoulder examined,’ Alex said. ‘He met with an accident.’

‘Oh, dear! I do hope it isn’t serious. That would be most inconvenient.’

‘I dare say he’d find it inconvenient as well,’ Alex said sardonically.

She whirled on him like an avenging fury.

‘It’s easy for you to sit there and mock, but you don’t have a crowd of children who are expecting Santa to arrive with his sack and give out presents, and you’ve got to tell them that he isn’t coming.’

Alex was saved from having to answer this by the arrival of Corinne.

‘Mrs Bradon, I’m so sorry,’ she said at once. ‘Jimmy’s got a broken collar-bone and a cracked rib. I’m afraid he can’t be Santa.’

‘But can’t he be Santa with a broken collar-bone?’ Mrs Bradon asked wildly. ‘The children won’t mind.’

‘It’s being set now. He’s in a lot of pain,’ Corinne explained.

‘Well, they can give him something for that.’

‘They are giving him something, and it’s going to send him to sleep.’

‘Oh, really! That’s very tiresome!’

Alex’s lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. Mrs Bradon’s single-mindedness would have been admirable in a boardroom, but here it was out of place.

‘There must be a way around the problem,’ he said.

‘Like what?’ Corinne confronted him, eyes flashing. ‘This is your fault. You ran Jimmy down, driving like a maniac.’

‘I was doing ten miles an hour, if that. He slipped on the ice. He always was a slowcoach.’

‘Well, he can’t be Santa, whatever the reason, and it was your car.’

The sheer injustice of this took his breath away.

‘What does it matter whose car it was if I didn’t hit him?’

‘Jimmy says you did.’

‘And I say I didn’t.’

‘Will you two stop making a fuss about things that don’t matter?’ Mrs Bradon said crossly. ‘We have a crisis on our hands.’

‘Surely not,’ Alex said, exasperated. ‘How hard can it be to play Santa? A bit of swagger, a ho-ho-ho or two-anyone can do it.’

‘Fine!’ said Corinne. ‘You do it!’

‘I didn’t mean-’

‘What a wonderful idea!’ Mrs Bradon cut across him. ‘You’re about the same height so the costume will fit you. You have got it?’ This was to Corinne.

‘Yes, it’s in the car. And you’re right, the size is fine.’

‘I’m sure you don’t need me,’ Alex said defensively. ‘This is a hospital. There must be a dozen men around-’

‘There are a hundred,’ said Mrs Bradon firmly. ‘But they are doctors, nurses, ward orderlies. Which one of them do you suggest should be taken off his duties to save you from having to do your duty?’

‘It’s hardly my-’

‘You deprived us of our Santa Claus,’ said Mrs Bradon implacably. ‘It’s your job to take his place!’

‘Look, ladies-’

Alex met Corinne’s eyes, seeking her support. But she was looking at him angrily.

‘After all,’ she echoed him, ‘how hard can it be? A bit of swagger and a ho-ho-ho or two.’

‘All right, all right,’ he snapped.

‘Splendid!’ Mrs Bradon hooted triumphantly. ‘You’d better get to work right away. Corinne will show you what to do. Hurry up!’

She bustled away.

‘You’re finding this very funny, aren’t you?’ Alex growled.

‘It has its moments. When was the last time someone spoke to you like that without you flattening them in return?’

‘I can’t remember,’ he admitted.

‘I’ll get the costume and you can get to work.’

‘Corinne, wait.’ He detained her with a hand on her arm. ‘Must I really do this? Surely-’

‘Aha! Backing out!’ She began to cluck like a hen.

‘I am not chicken,’ he said furiously.

‘Sez who?’ she jeered. ‘You’re just afraid you’re not up to it. That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit that there is something you can’t do better than the next man.’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘No, you meant that it’s beneath you.’

‘I just think that there has to be another way.’

‘Of course there is. All you have to do is find a replacement who can do this in exactly ten minutes’ time.’

He ground his teeth.

‘All right. Get the costume and let’s get this over with.’

‘I’d rather you came out to the car with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight.’

‘Dammit, Corinne!’ Alex said furiously. ‘Why must you overreact to everything? I’ve said I’ll do it, and I’ll do it. After all, how hard can it be?’

She fetched the costume and took him into a small kitchen where Jimmy had planned to change. As Alex dressed she explained his duties.

‘You have to go around both the children’s wards with your sack, giving out presents.’

‘How will I know who to give what?’

‘Leave that to me. I’ll be there. I’ll tell you who everyone is and hand you the right present. After that you go and sit by the big tree in the hall and you’ll get some children who are in here visiting people. Then I’ll have to leave you for a few minutes to collect Bobby and Mitzi.’

‘Did you tell them I called? That I was coming a day early?’

‘No, I thought I’d let it come as a nice surprise when you turned up.’

‘You mean you thought I’d let you down?’ he asked wryly.

‘Well, if I did I was wrong,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe I’ve done you an injustice. When I heard your voice I thought you were going to cry off again. But you didn’t, and that’s wonderful. It’ll be the best Christmas ever.’

Remembering how close he’d come to cancelling, he had the grace to feel awkward and was glad that fiddling with his beard gave him an excuse not to look at her.

‘Here,’ she said, laughing. ‘Let me fix that.’

‘There’s an awful lot of stuff to put on,’ Alex said. ‘I thought it would just be a white thing with hooks over the ears.’

‘Well, there are hooks, but there’s also glue so that it fits your mouth and stays in place. Jimmy believes in doing things properly. He got this from a theatrical costumier, and he chose the best.’

‘Jimmy?’

‘Jimmy is spending Christmas with us-or he was before he was knocked down by some maniac driver.’

‘I did not knock him down,’ Alex said through gritted teeth. ‘He fell.’

‘Whatever. He chose the costume, and it’s a good one.’

Alex had to admit that it was the best. The beard was soft and silky, gleaming white, with a huge moustache that flowed down into the beard itself. When it was fixed in place it covered his mouth almost completely.

But there was something else.

‘A wig?’ he protested.

‘Of course. How can you be convincing with a white beard and brown hair?’

‘Won’t my hair be covered by a hood?’

‘Even with a hood they’d notice. Children notice everything these days. They see wonderful special effects on films and television, and when they get close up to reality they expect it to be just as convincing.’

He grumbled some more, but when the wig was on he had to admit that it looked impressive. Long, thick and flowing, it streamed down over his shoulders, mingling with the beard, which was also long and flowing.

He looked nothing like himself, and that was some consolation, he reflected. At least nobody would be able to identify him.

He was beginning to get into the part now, driven by the instinct that governed his life-to be the best at whatever he undertook.

If you weren’t the best there was no point in doing it. Right?

In some respects he had the physique, being over six foot. But there was one flaw.

‘I’m too thin,’ he objected. ‘This suit was made for someone a lot bigger.’

‘There’s some padding,’ Corinne said, diving back into the bag.

With the padding in place he had a satisfactory paunch.

‘Will I do?’ he demanded.

‘Your cheeks need to be rosier.’

‘Get off! What are you doing?’

‘Just a little red to make you convincing.’

‘I won’t even ask what you’ve just put on my face.’ He groaned. ‘I don’t want to know.’

‘You look great. Completely convincing. Now, let’s have a ho-ho-ho!’

‘Ho-ho-ho!’ he intoned.

‘No, you need to be more full and rounded. Try it again, and make it boom this time.’

‘Ho-ho-ho!’

To her surprise, he made a good job of it.

‘Well done,’ she said. ‘That was really convincing.’

‘You thought I couldn’t be?’

‘Jimmy never manages it that way. He tries but it comes out sounding reedy.’

‘What about my eyebrows?’ Alex asked. ‘Are they white enough?’

He was right. His dark brown eyebrows now looked odd against the gleaming white hair and whiskers.

‘There aren’t any false eyebrows,’ she said, inspecting the bag. ‘You’ll have to go as you are.’

‘No way. We’ll do this properly. This is a kitchen, right? Won’t there be some flour?’

‘The kitchen’s just for making tea,’ Corinne objected, opening cupboard doors.

But, against all odds, she found a small bag of flour with some left inside.

‘Fancy you thinking of that,’ she said, rubbing it into his eyebrows until the natural colour faded.

‘When I was a kid I wanted to be an actor,’ he said.

‘You never told me that before.’

‘I was never trapped under half a ton of gum and whiskers before.’

She stood back and regarded him.

‘You look great,’ she said. ‘Here’s your sack of toys, all labelled. Are you ready?’

‘Let’s go!’

CHAPTER TWO

ELEPHANT WARD had been designed and decorated for children. Streams of cheerful-looking cartoon elephants walked around the walls and played games with their trunks.

Alex stood in the doorway and boomed, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ to an accompaniment of shrieks from the rows of beds. When it quietened, Corinne murmured, ‘First bed on the right, Tommy Arkright, broken pelvis. Fascinated by ghosts.’

Whoever had planned this had done it well, Alex realised as soon as he began talking to Tommy. The name, the ailment and the interest were all accurate, and when Tommy unwrapped his gift, which turned out to be a book of ghost stories, it was a triumphant moment.

It was the same with the next child, and the next. From being self-conscious, Alex began to relax, and even to enjoy himself. In part this was due to the knowledge that he was unrecognisable. Not that people here would have known him anyway, but the total anonymity still made him feel easier.

He was in a good temper when he came to the end of the ward and turned in the doorway for a final wave and a cry of, ‘Goodbye, everyone.’

‘Goodbye, Santa!’ came the answering roar.

‘I’ll say this for that Bradon woman,’ he growled as they headed down the corridor towards Butterfly Ward. ‘She prepared the ground properly.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Every detail was right. Good preparation is the secret.’

‘I agree. But why do you give the credit to her?’

‘Didn’t she organise all this?’

‘No, I did, you rotten so-and-so,’ she said indignantly. ‘I personally went round every child, asking questions, trying not to be too obvious about it.’

‘You?’ His surprise was unflattering but she told herself she was past being bothered by him now.

‘Yes, me,’ she said lightly. ‘Feather-brained Corinne who can just about manage a shopping list, remember? I prepared the ground, gathered intelligence, surveyed the prospects-er-’ She clutched her forehead, trying to think of other businesslike expressions.

‘Appraised the situation?’ He helped her out. ‘You did a great job.’

‘So did you.’

‘Much to your amazement,’ he said with a grin that she could just detect behind the beard.

‘You see over there-’ she said, not answering directly ‘-the Christmas tree in the corner?’

‘Yes.’

‘When you’ve finished on Butterfly Ward that’s where you go and sit. I’m off to collect Bobby and Mitzi, and I’ll be back as soon as possible.’

‘Are you going to tell them it’s me?’

‘No, I think it will be nicer not to. Let’s see if they guess.’

‘Of course they’ll guess. I’m their father.’

She did not reply.

On Butterfly Ward it was the same as before, except that now he was full of confidence and performed his part with a touch of swagger that went down well.

Corinne stayed long enough to see him settle in before leaning down to murmur, ‘I’m off now. Back soon.’

It was only a few minutes’ drive to the house where the party was being held. Bobby and Mitzi piled into the car, wearing party hats, clutching gifts and giggling.

‘No need to ask if you had a good time,’ Corinne said.

‘And now we’re going to see Father Christmas,’ Mitzi yelled gleefully.

Bobby touched Corinne’s arm and spoke quietly. ‘Is Daddy still coming?’

‘Yes, darling, he’s still coming.’

‘He didn’t cancel while we were at the party?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

He searched her face.

‘Are you sure?’

Until then Corinne had been feeling in charity with Alex, but at the sight of Bobby’s painful anxiety she discovered that she could hate him again. No man had the right to do that to a child, to destroy his sense of security in his parents, so that every moment of happiness had to be checked and re-checked to discover the catch.

‘Darling, I give you my word. Daddy has not cancelled and he isn’t going to.’

He settled into the car, apparently satisfied.

‘By the way-’ she said as she drove to the hospital ‘-Uncle Jimmy had an accident. He fell over on the icy road and broke his collar-bone.’

They were loud in their cries of dismay.

‘Will Uncle Jimmy be in hospital for Christmas?’ Bobby asked.

‘I don’t know. They’re putting him in plaster now. When I’ve delivered you to Santa I’ll go up to see him.’

At the hospital she took them straight to where Alex should be sitting by the tree, only half expecting him to be there.

But of course he was there! Alex had run his pride up this flagpole and it was really no surprise that he was doing well. He had one child on his knee and another standing beside him, while their mother looked on, smiling. There were three others waiting.

Corinne inched forward carefully, keeping her eyes on Bobby and Mitzi, waiting for the moment of recognition.

It didn’t come.

Of course it was the beard and hair, she realised. The disguise was magnificent. It would be different when they were closer.

At that moment Alex looked up. His eyes went first to Corinne, then to the children, then back to Corinne, while his eyebrows signalled a question. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head.

She took them to the end of the little queue, said something to them and walked away.

Alex was glad that he’d bothered to dress up properly when he heard one child mutter, just audibly, ‘He looks like a real Santa, Mummy.’

At last his own two children stood before him, Mitzi keeping back a little. It was weeks since he’d seen her, and he’d forgotten how fast children grew. Her hair, which had been short, was now long enough to wear in bunches which stood out from her head, giving her the appearance of a cheeky elf. He couldn’t help grinning at the picture she presented.

But right now she was solemn and seemed unwilling to come forward.

‘Go on,’ Bobby urged her.

But she shook her head.

‘She’s a bit shy,’ Bobby confided to Santa.

‘But I’m-’ He checked himself, and amended the words to, ‘But I’m Santa Claus. Nobody is shy of me.’

He waited for one of them to say, Daddy! But neither of them did.

Of course, he thought. They were pretending not to know, enjoying the joke.

He leaned down to Mitzi. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?’ Big mistake. Mitzi was surveying him, wide-eyed with astonishment.

‘But I already told you. I put it in my letter. Didn’t you get it?’

‘Of course I did,’ he improvised hastily.

Over her head his frantic eyes met Bobby’s. The boy mouthed ‘Marianne doll set.’

Since he’d never heard of this, Alex had to signal bafflement with his eyebrows. Bobby mouthed it again, more emphatically, and this time Alex understood. ‘Ah, now I remember. You want a Marianne doll set,’ he echoed, and saw his daughter’s eyes light up.

‘The one in the riding habit,’ his son mouthed at him.

‘The one in the riding habit,’ Alex repeated.

Mitzi’s beaming smile told him he’d got it right.

‘But is that all?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t there anything else you’ve thought of since?’

Mitzi hesitated until her brother nudged her gently and whispered, ‘Go on.’

Emboldened, the little girl reached up to say, ‘And can I have a necklace?’

‘Of course you can,’ Alex said.

Suddenly the little girl hugged him. He tensed, thinking of the beard that might be dislodged. But it held, and he became aware of her arms, holding him without restraint.

She had hugged him before, but not like that. Now he knew what he had always sensed in her embraces. It had been caution. And it wasn’t there now.

Before he had time to take in the implications, she had released him and moved aside, making room for her brother, who came in close.

But before addressing Santa he wagged a finger at his sister.

‘Don’t wander off,’ he told her severely.

She stuck out her tongue.

‘Does she give you much trouble?’ Alex asked with a grin.

‘She’s OK most of the time,’ Bobby said seriously. ‘But sometimes she won’t do as I say ’cos I’m not very much older than her.’

It was a three-year difference, but a sudden inspiration made Alex say, ‘About five years?’

Bobby looked pleased. ‘Not quite as much as that,’ he admitted. ‘But almost. And it’s a great responsibility being the man of the family.’

‘The man of-? Don’t you have a father?’

Bobby made a face. ‘Sort of.’

Alex felt an uneasy stillness settle over him.

‘What do you mean, sort of?’

‘Well, I don’t really know him very well,’ Bobby said. ‘He’s not around much.’

‘I expect he’s busy,’ Alex said.

‘Oh, yes, he’s always very busy. Too busy for us. He and Mummy aren’t together any more.’

‘Do you know why that is?’ Alex asked carefully.

Bobby gave a shrug.

‘They were always rowing, and Mummy cried a lot.’

A strange feeling went through Alex. Corinne had never let him see her cry. Not for a long time.

‘Did she tell you why she cried?’ he asked.

Bobby shook his head.

‘She doesn’t know I’ve seen her and I have to pretend not to, because she doesn’t like anyone to know.’

‘So you don’t know why?’

Bobby shook his head.

‘Perhaps she misses your dad?’ Alex ventured.

‘I don’t think so. He’s nasty to her.’

‘How?’ Alex asked, a touch more sharply than he’d meant to.

‘I don’t know, but when they talk on the phone she cries after she’s hung up. But he doesn’t mean to be nasty,’ Bobby added quickly. ‘He just doesn’t know how people feel about things.’

Alex hesitated for a while before saying, ‘So maybe it’s better that they’re not together?’

‘Oh, no,’ Bobby said, shaking his head vigorously. ‘He’s coming home for Christmas and it’s going to be brilliant-that is-if he really comes.’

‘Has he said he will?’

‘Yes, but-’ Bobby’s shrug was more eloquent than a thousand words.

Alex could not speak. There were too many thoughts swirling around in his head, and they were all of the kind he found hard to cope with. The best he could manage was to put his arm around Bobby’s shoulders and squeeze.

‘You think he’ll back out?’ he asked at last.

‘I keep telling myself he’ll be there,’ Bobby said. ‘It isn’t for long. Just Christmas Eve until Christmas Day. He could spare us that, couldn’t he?’

‘I should think he could spare you more than that,’ Alex managed to say in a voice that he hoped didn’t shake too much.

‘Could you fix it?’ Bobby asked.

‘You want me to arrange for him to stick around for longer than that?’

‘Oh, no,’ Bobby disclaimed quickly, as though saying that nobody should ask for the impossible. ‘Just make sure he’s there for when he said he’d be.’

‘All right. It’s a promise.’

Bobby searched his face anxiously. ‘You really mean it?’

‘You think I can’t do it?’

Bobby shook his head, his eyes fixed on Santa with a look in them that was almost fierce.

‘You can do anything,’ he said, ‘if you really want to.’

The air seemed to be singing in Alex’s ears. He wondered if he’d imagined the emphasis in the last words.

‘Then I promise,’ he said.

‘Honestly? Dad will be here until Christmas Day, and he won’t leave early?’

Alex was swept by a mood of recklessness. ‘I can do better than that,’ he said. ‘He’ll arrive early, and he’ll stay longer than Christmas Day.’

He waited for the effusion of joy. It did not come. If anything, the fierce scrutiny on the child’s face intensified.

‘Really and truly?’ he asked. ‘Cut your throat and hope to die?’

‘Of course. When I give my word, I keep it.’

‘That’s what he says,’ insisted Bobby. And suddenly it was a child’s voice again, forlorn and almost on the edge of tears.

Alex put his hands on both Bobby’s shoulders.

‘He will be there tonight,’ he said. ‘You have my solemn promise. Word of a Santa!’

Bobby nodded, as though satisfied.

‘Now,’ Alex said, ‘tell me what you want for Christmas.’

‘But I just did,’ Bobby said.

‘That’s it? Nothing else?’

‘That’s the thing that matters. And you said I could have it. You promised.’

‘Yes, I did. So you just go on home and see what happens.’

Bobby smiled, and for the first time it was the happy, natural smile of a child. It made Alex feel as though he had been punched in the stomach.

‘All right, you two?’ It was Corinne, appearing suddenly. ‘Move along. Father Christmas still has customers.’

Another three children had joined the little queue, and Bobby and Mitzi moved off to join their mother.

‘How’s Uncle Jimmy?’ Bobby asked. ‘Can he come home?’

‘We might get him home tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see. Come on, let’s be off home. Goodbye, Santa.’

‘Goodbye, Santa,’ they chorused.

Alex raised a hand in a gesture of farewell and turned back to his next ‘customer’ with reluctance.

He wasn’t sure how he got through the next few minutes. His mind followed Corinne and the children out of the hospital and into her car, watching them talking, wondering what they were saying.

At last it was over and he was free to go. To his relief, Mrs Bradon joined him in the kitchen just as he finished changing. He would not have thought it possible that he could have been glad to see her.

‘What about the costume?’ he asked.

‘Just take it with you. Corinne will know what to do with it.’

He packed up the costume into its bag and tossed it into the back of his car. On the journey, he wondered how much Corinne would have told the children after they left.

When he reached the house he intended to go straight in. Instead, he found himself sitting in the silent car, trying to psyche himself into taking the next step.

It should be his great moment. He would burst through the front door, keeping Santa’s promise and enjoying the look on his children’s faces.

Without warning, his courage failed. He didn’t know why. His son had spoken like a child who loved his father and looked forward to seeing him. Yet he had said, ‘It isn’t for long, just Christmas Eve until Christmas Day. He could spare us that, couldn’t he?’

Something about those words haunted Alex painfully.

He could spare us that, couldn’t he?

Was that how Bobby saw his father? Doling out his time in small, begrudged amounts?

He did not want to go inside the house.

Cowardice. The weakness he had always despised most.

With sudden decision, he got out of the car. In the porch he hunted for the key that Corinne had left out for him, hearing sounds inside the house. There was her voice.

‘Bobby, what are you doing in the hall?’

‘Nothing, Mummy.’

‘Come and have an iced bun.’ That was Mitzi, a little more distant, sounding as if her mouth was full.

‘In a minute,’ Bobby replied. His voice still came from the hall.

Then Corinne’s voice.

‘Darling, why are you watching the front door?’

Suddenly, as though a spotlight had come on inside him, he saw his son’s face, staring at the front door with painful intensity, not daring to believe.

He didn’t know where that light had come from, except that it had something to do with his talk with Bobby. It lit all the world from a new angle, showing what had always been there, but which he’d never noticed.

He turned the key.

‘Daddy!’

The ear-splitting shriek came from Mitzi. Corinne was standing by the kitchen door, watching his arrival with pleasure. Only Bobby did not react. He stood completely still, his face a mask of total and utter disbelief.

Alex wanted to cry out, But I promised you. You knew I was coming. Instead, he concentrated on hugging his daughter, who was almost strangling him with the exuberance of her embrace.

‘Hello, darling,’ he said.

‘Daddy, Daddy,’ she carolled.

‘Hey, don’t choke me,’ he said, laughing. ‘How’s my girl?’

She gave him a smacking kiss, which he returned. Then it was time to face his son.

Bobby was strangely pale. ‘Hello, Daddy,’ he said.

‘Hello, son.’

To his dismay, Bobby held out his hand politely, almost as though meeting a stranger. Or a ghost.

‘Hello, Daddy.’

Then he broke suddenly, as belief came rushing through, and flung himself against his father, burying his face against him.

Alex’s arms closed protectively about his son as he felt the storm of emotion go through the child. He didn’t know what to do except stay as he was, trying to understand but feeling helpless.

Looking up, he found Corinne’s eyes on him. Her expression was gentle but he had the feeling that she was conveying a warning.

Bobby drew back to look at his father. His face bore the marks of tears, which he rubbed aside hastily. Alex brushed some of them away with his own fingertips.

‘It’s all right, son,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m home.’

Bobby sniffed. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

‘Hey, is that any way to greet your old man? Crying? Shall I go away again?’

It was a feeble joke and a badly misjudged one. Bobby clung to him, his eyes full of sudden dread, and Alex drew in his breath. He was floundering badly.

‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily,’ he backtracked, saying anything that came into his head. ‘I’m here now and I’m staying. You’ve got me for Christmas, whether you like it or not.’

Mitzi began hopping about, yelling, ‘Yippee, Yippee!’ Bobby, the thoughtful one, smiled.

‘Come on, kids,’ said Corinne. ‘Let Daddy come in and get his breath back.’

Alex straightened up and kissed her cheek. Corinne did the same, smiling to present a show of cordiality for the children.

‘You said you weren’t coming until tomorrow,’ Mitzi reminded him.

‘Well, I got away early and thought it would be nice to see a bit more of you.’ He tweaked her hair. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

She shook her head ecstatically and pointed to the centre of her mouth. ‘I lost a tooth,’ she informed him proudly.

He studied the gap with great interest. ‘That’s very impressive. When did that happen?’

‘Last week,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry I missed that.’

‘I saved it for you,’ she reassured him.

‘Then I’ll look forward to seeing it,’ he said gamely.

Mitzi promptly pulled it out of her pocket. Alex heard Corinne give a soft choke of laughter.

‘How about selling it to me?’ he said. ‘I’ll bid you a pound.’

Mitzi made a face.

‘One pound fifty?’

She finally got him up to two pounds and the deal was struck. Mitzi pocketed her profit and went off to explain to Bobby how to do business.

‘A chip off the old block,’ Corinne said when Alex joined her in the kitchen.

‘Better,’ he agreed. ‘At her age I’d have settled for fifty pence.’

‘Ah, but don’t forget inflation,’ she said, teasing. ‘I’ll say this for you-you coped very well with that tooth. I thought it was going to faze you.’

‘Nothing fazes me,’ he insisted. Then he looked at the tooth in his hand. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

‘Treasure it.’ She laughed. ‘You just paid a high price for it. I expect you’re ready for something to eat.’

‘I don’t know when I last ate,’ he admitted.

‘I do,’ she said, giving him a friendly smile. ‘Breakfast was a cup of black coffee. You meant to catch up at lunchtime, but you were caught between meetings so you made do with a sandwich.’

‘Am I that predictable?’

‘Yes.’

‘I had a roll in the car on my way here.’

‘Oh, well, then. You don’t need the steak I got for you.’

Suddenly he was ravenous. ‘Just try me.’

She poured him some tea, very strong and heavily sugared, as he liked it, and he wandered into the next room. Like the rest of the house, it was decorated with paper chains and tinsel.

It was an old house, full of a kind of shambling charm. The original fireplace was still there, although only a vase of artificial flowers adorned it now, and, out of sight, the chimney was blocked to keep out draughts.

Beside it stood the tree. It was smaller and less impressive than the one in his office, and the fairy on the top looked wonky, as though she were clinging on for dear life. But the parcels around the base were all addressed to people and, when picked up, rattled reassuringly.

Alex stood looking at it and suddenly the inner light shone again, showing him that this was a real tree, with real presents, for real people.

He looked at some of the labels. There were gifts from Corinne to the children and from them to her, gifts from Jimmy to all of them, and from them to him. It occurred to him how often Jimmy’s name appeared.

‘Time for bed, kids,’ Corinne called. ‘There’s lots to do tomorrow.’

‘I want Daddy to put me to bed,’ Mitzi said at once.

‘All right,’ Alex said. To Bobby he added, ‘What do you want?’

‘I put myself to bed,’ the child said gruffly. ‘But you can look in, if you want.’

‘Fine.’

His daughter bounded all over him and rode on his back down the hall to her bedroom, which turned out to be a shrine to horses. Horse pictures adorned the walls; horses leapt all over her duvet cover. Her slippers were shaped like horses and picture books about horses filled her shelves.

Alex spoke without thinking. ‘Now I understand.’

He meant the Marianne doll in the riding habit that she had mentioned to Santa earlier. With his little girl’s eyes on him he remembered, too late, that he was supposed to know nothing.

‘Now I understand what you’ve been doing recently,’ he improvised. ‘We’ll have lots to talk about tomorrow. Goodnight, pet.’

He kissed her and departed hastily before he could make any more slips.

Bobby’s bedroom was curiously unrevealing. There were no pictures on the wall, or books, beyond a few school books. Alex flicked through one of these.

‘Good marks,’ he observed. ‘You’re working hard, then?’

Bobby nodded.

‘That’s good. Good.’ He was floundering. ‘Are you all right, son? All right here, I mean?’

‘Yes, it’s nice.’

‘Don’t you miss your old home?’

Bobby hunted for the right words. ‘Places don’t really matter.’

‘No. People matter. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘Well, I’m here now.’

‘Yes.’

Alex searched his face. ‘You are glad, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, of course I am.’

He would have doubted it if it hadn’t been for their memory of the earlier conversation. How could all that have gone?

Because now he knows it’s me.

‘Tomorrow’s a big day,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Yes.’

It was becoming a disaster. He had resolved to act on what he’d learned from Bobby that evening, and use it to make this visit a triumph. That was the secret of success-good intelligence and knowing how to use it. But all his gains were slipping away.

‘Daddy-’

‘What is it?’ His voice betrayed his eagerness.

‘Tomorrow, will you ask Mitzi about the school play? She was ever so good in it.’

The school play? The school play? His mind frantically tried to grapple with this. When had it been? Why hadn’t he known?

‘It was a pantomime-’ Bobby said, reading his face without trouble ‘-and Mitzi was an elf. She had two lines.’

‘Er-?’

‘It was last week. You were abroad.’

‘Of course-yes-otherwise I’d have-’

‘Yeah, sure. You will remember to ask her, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will. Goodnight, son.’

Corinne said her goodnights after him. As they passed in the corridor she said, ‘I’ve put you in that room at the end. Your things are in there.’

He looked in before going downstairs. It was a small, neat room with a narrow bed.

Alex thought about the other rooms. Presumably Corinne had the big room on the corner of the house, but where, he wondered, had she put Jimmy?

CHAPTER THREE

HE CAME down the stairs so quietly that Corinne didn’t hear him, and he had a moment to stand watching her as she worked in the kitchen.

The steak smelled good, and suddenly he was transported back to the early days of their marriage, when steak had been a luxury. But somehow she had managed to wring the price out of the meagre housekeeping money they had.

They had been partners-laughing at poverty, competing with each other in loving generosity, squabbling to give each other the last titbit. But that was long ago.

The years had barely touched her, he thought. The slim, graceful figure that had once enchanted him was the same, two children later.

She had been gorgeous at eighteen-beautiful, sexy, witty, knowing her own power over young men and enjoying it. They had all competed for her, but Alex had made sure that he was the one who won her.

Her face had changed little, except that it was thinner, and the ready laughter no longer sprang to her eyes. They were still large, beautiful eyes but there was a sad caution there now.

‘It’s ready,’ she called, seeing him.

Like every meal she had ever cooked him it was excellent-the wine perfectly chosen, the salad exactly as it should be.

Their last meeting had been three months ago, and it had ended in a fierce quarrel. Since then there had been communication between lawyers, and the odd phone call that had left each of them resolved that it should be the last. Her invitation for Christmas had been delivered through a letter addressed to his office.

‘Thank you for letting me come,’ he said quietly.

‘I didn’t think you would. I was amazed that you actually turned up early. What happened? Did something more important fall through?’

He winced.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at once. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘There’s nothing more important than being with my family,’ he said emphatically.

‘It means the world to the children.’

‘What about you, Corinne?’

‘Never mind about me. This is their time.’

‘But I do mind about you. It’s ours too, isn’t it?’

‘Well, it’s a chance for us to be civilized with each other. We haven’t done much of that lately.’

‘And that’s all?’

‘Yes, that’s all. I’m not your wife any more-’

‘The hell you aren’t!’ he said with the swift anger that sometimes overtook him these days. ‘We’re not divorced yet, and maybe we never will be.’

She regarded him with a quizzical air that was new to him. ‘You have to win every negotiation, don’t you? But you won’t win this one, Alex. So why don’t we just leave it there? I don’t want to spoil this holiday.’

‘Is there someone else?’

The question jerked out of him abruptly, without finesse, tact or subtlety.

She sat silent.

‘Tell me,’ he insisted.

‘No, there’s nobody else. I don’t want anyone else. That’s not why I left you.’

‘Just to get away from me, huh?’

‘If you care to put it that way-yes. But why must we put it that way or any way? It’s Christmas, Alex. Let it go.’

‘All right,’ he said hastily.

As she set coffee before him she said, ‘How about you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Do you have someone else?’

‘Do you care?’ he growled.

‘If you can ask, so can I,’ she said lightly.

‘Except that you broke up this marriage. That hardly gives you a stake in the answer.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re right. Do you want a drop of brandy in that?’

‘Thanks.’

As she was pouring the brandy he said, ‘The answer’s no.’

She didn’t answer directly, but she took his cup and carried it and her own into the next room, where the tree glowed.

‘Sit down and relax,’ she said. ‘You look dead on your feet.’

He leaned back in an armchair, closing his eyes, desperately tired in a way that had nothing to do with work. Mercifully he felt the strain begin to drain away, leaving him as close to being relaxed as he ever came.

‘How did it go after I left the hospital?’ Corinne asked. ‘Did the children recognise you?’

‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘At least, they didn’t show it if they did.’

‘Mitzi would have shown it,’ Corinne said at once. ‘She’s got no subtlety, that little one. Her riding instructor says she has no nerves, but lots of nerve.’

‘Riding instructor?’ Alex queried. ‘She’s learning to ride too?’

Corinne shook her head. ‘Just her. Bobby gave it up.’

‘Don’t tell me he was afraid?’ Alex said sharply.

‘No, not afraid. Bored. It just didn’t interest him, and there are other things he wants to do. But Mitzi is crazy about horses, so she does it instead.’

He was silent, swallowing his disappointment. Corinne eyed him sympathetically.

‘Come out of the nineteenth century,’ she chided.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘In those days you could have told Bobby what he had to be interested in, but not now. He doesn’t have to ride a horse just because you wanted to and couldn’t.’

Alex’s father had mucked out stables for a racehorse trainer. Alex had grown up surrounded by beautiful animals, none of which he had been allowed to touch.

‘And it has to be your son who carries on your dream, doesn’t it?’ Corinne pursued. ‘Somehow a daughter isn’t the same. Pure nineteenth century.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he growled.

‘No, it isn’t. It’s the way your mind works. But you ought to go and see Mitzi ride, see how good she is.’

‘All right, I will.’

‘You’d be proud of Mitzi. She’s a real natural. In fact, I think you ought to learn yourself.’

‘Me? Take riding lessons?’

‘Why not? You used to tell me how it was your dream when you were a boy. What’s the point of making all that money if you don’t spend some of it making your dreams come true?’

It flashed across his mind that he was too busy earning it to enjoy spending it, but all he said was, ‘Sure, and let my six-year-old daughter make rings round me!’

‘Well, she’s bound to at first, because she’s had some practice and you’re just a beginner,’ Corinne said, ‘but I’m sure she’d make allowances for you.’

He gave a reluctant grin at her teasing. Suddenly he remembered, ‘She says she wants a Marianne doll set, the one in the riding suit. What’s she talking about?’

“‘Marianne” is the latest craze. It’s a doll that comes with its own lifestyle-ballgown, ballet tutu, riding habit.’

‘Where do I get one?’

To his bewilderment Corinne rocked with laughter.

‘You don’t think I left it to the last minute, do you? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. People have been trampling each other to death in toy shops for the last two months. Don’t worry, I’ve got one tucked safely away. You can give it to her, if you like.’

‘Do you think I haven’t bought her a present?’

‘No, I think you’ve probably got her something very expensive. But what she wants is that doll, and if you give it to her you’ll be her hero.’

‘Thanks,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’d like that. And she also wants a necklace.’

‘I’ve got that too,’ she assured him.

‘Like I said earlier, you’re really well organised. I could do with a few like you in the firm.’

‘Funny, Jimmy says the same.’ Corinne laughed. ‘Only he says they need me in the army. It makes me wonder how the country has muddled along without me for so long.’

Alex scowled. He didn’t want to talk, or even think, about Jimmy.

‘Anyway, Mitzi’s easy to understand,’ Corinne went on. ‘Bobby is more complicated, and it’s much harder to know what he’s thinking. Did he recognise you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alex said slowly. ‘I honestly don’t know. He didn’t say anything, but-Corinne he was just a few inches away from me. Surely he must have recognised his own father?’

‘It was a very complete disguise,’ she reminded him. ‘The wig and the hair and the padding. And he wasn’t expecting you to arrive today.’

The words, And he hasn’t seen you for weeks, hung in the air.

‘Did he tell you what he wanted?’ Corinne asked. ‘I think I’ve got that covered too, but I’d be glad of any “insider tips” you picked up.’

Oh sure, he thought, my son said he wanted me home for Christmas, like it was an impossible fantasy. He reckons he has a ‘sort of’ father, and he’s bracing himself for when I let him down.

‘Hey, there!’ Corinne was waving. ‘Anybody home?’

‘Sorry!’ he said, forcing himself to smile. ‘No, I didn’t get any inside information. You’ll have to tell me. What’s his big interest?’

‘Drawing, painting-anything to do with art.’

‘Doesn’t he like soccer or any sports?’

‘He watches them on television, but his interests are the quiet ones.’

‘Corinne, are you sure? He’s never said anything about drawing to me.’

‘Of course not. He knows you wouldn’t like it. But he’s passionate about drawing and painting since he discovered that he has a talent for it. He’s just getting deep into water-colours now, and if you gave him something connected with that he’d be thrilled. But I’ll bet you’ve bought him a pair of riding boots.’

‘Among other things,’ Alex growled. ‘I suppose you don’t want me to give them to him?’

‘That’s up to you.’

‘Sure!’ he snapped. ‘Like I’m going to dig my own grave by giving him something he doesn’t want, thus proving I’m the useless father that you claim! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Once in a blue moon Corinne lost her temper. She did so now-big time!

‘Don’t be stupid, Alex! I know it’s hard, but try not to be laughably, moronically stupid. If that’s what I wanted I wouldn’t be warning you now, would I?’

‘No,’ he said hastily. ‘Sorry. I didn’t-I just fly off the handle sometimes. I don’t mean to. I shouldn’t have said it.’

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s the children who matter. Just try to see Bobby as he is, and not as “Alex Mead’s son.” How I’ve come to hate “Alex Mead’s son”!’

‘What the devil do you mean by that?’

‘He’s a character who’s hung around our home ever since Bobby was born. He has plenty of “boy’s interests.” He likes the “manly” sports and anything that involves getting dirty. He’s got no time for art or music or thinking, and he’s the opposite to Bobby.

‘That boy has spent his life so far pretending to care for things that bore him rigid because that was the only way to get your attention. He knew ages ago that he didn’t fit the picture of your ideal son. In fact, the only person I know who does fit it is Mitzi.’

He was silent, too shocked to speak.

At last she got up and brought him another brandy.

‘Thanks. I need it.’

When he’d revived his courage a little he managed to ask, ‘If I’m so hateful why does he bother to pretend?’

‘Because he adores you,’ Corinne said. ‘He worships you. He’d go through fire and water for you. Haven’t you got that through your thick skull yet?’

She broke off and gave a sigh of frustration. ‘We’re quarrelling again.’

‘Yeah, well-’ He shrugged, sharing her frustration.

He was saved from needing to say any more by the sound of his cellphone coming from the hall. He answered it with relief.

It was Mark Dunsford, his assistant, as zealous about business as he was himself. Mark was jealous of Kath, who had been with Alex longer and had his total trust. He tried to compensate by giving himself to the job, body and soul, twenty-four hours a day, and making sure that his employer knew it.

‘I just wondered if you had any final instructions for me,’ he said now.

‘No way. It’s Christmas. Get off home to your family.’

‘I don’t have a family.’

‘Well, get off home, anyway. Or wherever you get off to.’

‘Wherever I am, I’ll be keeping an eye on things. I thought that you would be, too.’

‘Mark, lighten up. It’s Christmas. There’s nothing to keep an eye on.’

‘All right, but perhaps you’d better give me a contact number where you are. I know I can call the cellphone, but another number is always useful.’

He hesitated. Nothing was likely to happen, but it was as well to be prepared.

‘OK. The phone number of this house is-’

He stopped. Corinne had wandered out into the hall and was looking at him, her head on one side.

‘No,’ he said. ‘This is a private number. I can’t give it out and I’d rather you didn’t contact me at all. In an emergency, use the cellphone, but it had better be life or death or there’ll be trouble. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’

‘But-’

‘Goodbye, Mark.’

He hung up and looked at Corinne with a touch of defiance.

‘Thank you,’ she said warmly.

He put out his hand and she took it between both of hers. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a great Christmas.’

Her eyes were as warm as her voice and he tightened his hand. But the next moment she stepped back, smiling and saying, ‘It’s time for bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.’

Next morning the snow lay thick on the ground as they had Christmas Eve breakfast.

‘Are we going to see Uncle Jimmy?’ Mitzi asked.

‘No need,’ Corinne said. ‘I’ve already called the hospital and he can come home. I’m going to fetch him later. You three can go shopping.’

The children cheered, but a few minutes later Alex took her aside.

‘It’s a bit soon for him to be leaving hospital, isn’t it?’

‘Hospitals don’t encourage people to stay over Christmas, and it’s only a collar-bone. I can look after him here. Jimmy’s been kind to me.’

She saw him scowl and said firmly, ‘Alex, I am not leaving him to spend Christmas in hospital. Besides, you’ll be the gainer.’

‘How?’

‘I’ll be spending a lot of time with Jimmy, leaving you with the children. So, you make the most of it.’

For a man who wanted to be with his children it was a good bargain. But ‘I’ll be spending a lot of time with Jimmy’ had a melancholy sound.

Alex became aware that Bobby was signalling to him, and remembered.

‘So, tell me how the school play went,’ he said, tweaking Mitzi’s hair. ‘I want to know all about it.’

She produced her photo album so fast that it was clear she’d had it ready, and they began turning the pages together. There she was in a green hat and green costume with bells, giving the world her wide, gap-toothed grin.

Alex gave her an answering grin, but it was too late to smile back at her. It was only a week ago but that mischievous imp was already gone for ever.

Along with many other things.

After that he made a good job of it, showing an enthusiasm that Mitzi, the unsubtle, accepted at face value. When she’d gone away happy he met Bobby’s eyes, silently asking the child if he’d done all right. And his nine-year-old son nodded in approval.

They split into two parties. Corinne headed for the hospital, while Mitzi and Bobby piled into Alex’s car and directed him to the shopping precinct.

It was quieter than Alex had expected, with most shoppers having finished the day before. On the lower floor an amateur brass band played carols, with spectators joining in. Bobby and Mitzi enthusiastically sang ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks’ while Alex, suddenly inspired, sang ‘While Shepherds Washed their Socks,’ at the top of his voice, until compelled to desist by the glares of a large woman shaking a collecting box.

Under her reproving gaze he put a very large donation into the box and scurried away, his children clinging to his hands and rocking with laughter.

‘Oh, Daddy, you are funny.’ Mitzi giggled.

‘I used to sing that at school,’ he remembered. ‘It got me into trouble then, too.’

Strolling around later, Mitzi noticed something that made her gasp with joy.

‘Daddy, look! Santa Claus!’

The precinct’s Santa was just embarking on his last stint, complete with grotto and tree. Mitzi looked up at her father eagerly, but Bobby touched her arm and shook his head.

‘We already saw Santa,’ he urged. ‘Yesterday.’

‘We saw him last week too,’ she pointed out, ‘and the week before.’

Alex watched to see if his son would be stuck for an answer. But he wasn’t.

‘They were just pretend Santas,’ he said. ‘The one we saw last night was the real Santa.’

‘How do you know?’ she demanded rebelliously.

‘I just do.’

‘How?’

‘I do.’

Mitzi subsided, apparently satisfied with this brand of logic. Bobby looked up at his father and received a wink, which he returned.

‘Why don’t we go in there?’ Alex said, pointing quickly at a store that sold books, CDs and various related items.

As soon as they were inside he struck lucky, coming across a display of ‘Marianne’ picture books, with one prominently displayed featuring Marianne as a rider.

‘Has she got that?’ Alex muttered to Bobby.

‘No.’

‘Here.’ He shoved some notes into Bobby’s hands. ‘You get it while I distract her.’

The teamwork went like clockwork. In a short time Bobby was back with a parcel wrapped in anonymous brown paper.

‘What’s that?’ Mitzi demanded.

‘What?’ Bobby looked innocently around.

‘That!’

‘I don’t see anything. Do you, Dad?’

‘Not a thing.’

Making a covert purchase for Bobby was harder, because he couldn’t use Mitzi as an agent. But he struck lucky, noticing a series of video cassettes titled ‘Water-colour Technique’. Managing to catch the assistant’s eye, he mouthed, ‘How much?’ pointing at Bobby to explain the reason for silence.

She indicated the price and Alex produced his card. The videos vanished and reappeared safely wrapped.

Luckily, Bobby had started bickering with Mitzi and noticed nothing.

‘How about something to eat?’ Alex asked. All this undercover work was exhausting.

They found a café and Alex studied the menu, but the other two knew what they wanted.

‘Cocoa and cream buns,’ Mitzi said blissfully.

‘Yes, please,’ Bobby chimed in at once.

‘But what about your lunch?’ Alex objected. ‘If I take you home already full your mother will kill me.’

‘It’s real cream,’ Bobby pointed out.

‘Lots and lots of it,’ Mitzi said ecstatically.

‘Does Mummy allow you to eat cream buns before lunch?’

They considered.

‘No,’ Bobby said regretfully.

‘No,’ Mitzi agreed.

‘Well, then!’

Bobby regarded him innocently. ‘But Mummy isn’t here.’

Alex made the mistake of engaging him in debate.

‘But aren’t you equally bound by her rules even when she’s absent?’

‘No,’ Bobby explained. ‘Because it’s Christmas, so she might have changed her mind, just this once. We don’t know, do we?’

‘I suppose we don’t,’ Alex said, eyeing his son with new respect. ‘Mind you, I’ve got my phone. We could call and ask her.’

‘That wouldn’t be fair,’ Bobby said quickly. ‘Mummy’s very busy, doing last-minute things. We shouldn’t interrupt her.’

‘Ah!’ Alex gave this idea his full attention. ‘You think we could simply assume her agreement-out of consideration for her?’

‘Yes,’ Bobby said firmly.

They shook hands.

‘When you want a job,’ Alex told him, ‘come to your old man. The thought of you arguing on the other side scares me stiff. You’ve got every trick.’

‘I learned them from my dad.’

‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Alex said at once. ‘I’m not taking the blame for your devious mind.’

Bobby grinned.

They each had three cream buns and two cups of cocoa, and Alex thought he’d never tasted anything so delicious. Then they went home to confess to Corinne. But she wasn’t fazed.

‘Fine. It’ll save me cooking a big lunch. Uncle Jimmy’s here, kids.’

Overjoyed, they dashed into the next room where Jimmy, swathed in plaster, was reclining on the sofa. Alex followed and was in time to see them climbing up beside him, moving carefully, not to hurt him.

Mitzi was on his uninjured side and put her arms about him. ‘Poor Uncle Jimmy,’ she said. ‘Is it very bad?’

‘Not really,’ he said cheerfully.

‘What did you do?’

‘Fell in the road,’ he said at once. ‘Silly me.’

Alex regarded him with mixed feelings. It was decent of Jimmy not to have blamed him. On the other hand he couldn’t like him, especially as Mitzi was greeting him with real affection. Bobby was less effusive, but he was on Jimmy’s injured side.

‘Tea up!’ Corinne called, entering with a cup.

She handed it gently to Jimmy, who smiled, receiving it, while Mitzi solicitously plumped up his cushions.

A shiver went through Alex. It was absurd, of course, but for a moment they had looked like a family.

The stockings and socks were in place, hanging from the mantelpiece. Jimmy, clowning, had produced one full of holes, which had reduced the children to fits of laughter.

‘Right now, you two,’ Corinne said. ‘Bed.’

‘Mummy, we haven’t left things for Santa,’ Mitzi urged. ‘In case he gets hungry and thirsty.’

‘What do you want to leave, pet?’

‘Jam tarts and milk,’ Mitzi said at once.

‘Ginger biscuits,’ Bobby said. ‘And some beer.’

‘You can’t leave beer,’ Mitzi said, scandalised.

‘Why not? He’d hardly be drunk in charge of a reindeer after just one beer!’ Bobby said.

‘But it won’t be just one,’ Mitzi pointed out. ‘’Cos he’ll have been to lots of other people first, and drunk what they left, and-’

‘Well, they won’t all have left beer,’ Bobby argued.

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

Corinne tore her hair. ‘Break it up, you two. Peace on earth, goodwill to all men.’

‘And all women?’ Jimmy suggested.

‘Especially all the women,’ Corinne clowned. ‘They’re so busy cooking for everyone.’

‘I’d do it for you if I had more than one arm.’

‘Yeah, sure you would,’ she jeered.

‘You’re a hard woman.’

They grinned at each other. Alex tried to tell himself that they were like brother and sister, but there was something about the cheerful ease of their relationship, the way they shared the same sense of humour, that troubled him.

‘Anyway, I vote for jam tarts and milk,’ Jimmy insisted.

‘I vote for ginger biscuits and beer,’ Alex said at once. ‘I think Santa gets left a lot of milk, and beer will come as a nice change for him.’

In the end they compromised, which meant that Bobby left out a can of beer and some biscuits, while Mitzi stubbornly left out a carton of milk, jam tarts, and two glasses.

‘Why two?’ Bobby demanded.

‘So that he doesn’t have to drink milk and beer out of the same glass,’ she riposted.

‘He won’t drink the milk at all.’

‘He will.’

‘He won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘That’s enough!’ Corinne roared. ‘Get to bed, both of you.’

They vanished.

‘I think I’ll go up too,’ Jimmy said.

‘You look all in,’ Corinne agreed. ‘Have you had your pills?’

She fussed over him until he’d taken his medication and at last, to Alex’s relief, Jimmy took himself off to bed.

‘That’s it!’ Corinne brushed the hair back from her brow. ‘I’m bushed.’

‘It’s been a great day,’ Alex said.

‘Yes, it has. You’ve been terrific.’

‘Have I?’

‘The kids are so happy. Haven’t you seen?’

But it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear.

‘What about you?’ he insisted.

‘It’s not about me. It’s about you and them. Alex, I’ve never seen them so much at ease with you. And Bobby-surely you’ve noticed how he-?’

He kissed her.

He did it so fast that she had no time to resist. Surprise had always brought him results in business, and for a moment he thought it was working here. Corinne didn’t try to push him away, but neither did she embrace him back. Instead, she remained so still that it finally got through to him.

‘Corinne-’

‘Alex, please don’t. It’s been so lovely. Don’t spoil it.’

‘Is it spoiling it to say that you’re still my wife and I still love you?’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ she begged.

‘Corinne, what is it? I thought that when we’d been apart for a while-’

‘I’d “see sense”? That’s how you think of it, isn’t it? You think I had to be crazy to leave you, and that I’ll realise I made a mistake.’

‘Are you going to say you didn’t?’

‘Yes, I am saying that. I wanted a home, husband and children, and all I got was the children. They’re lovely kids, but I wanted a husband as well.’

‘And you couldn’t love me?’

‘You weren’t there. You haven’t been there for years.’

His eyes kindled. ‘Tell me about this man you want to love. He wouldn’t be called Jimmy by any chance?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Is it? I can see that he’s a lot of things I’m not-things you might want.’

‘Yes, he is. He’s kind and dependable, and I always know where I am with him, but-’

Corinne checked herself, on the verge of saying, But he’s not you.

It had been a risk, asking Alex to stay for Christmas, but she’d told herself that she must take it for the children’s sake. Now she knew it had been a mistake. Her love was not sufficiently buried, or perhaps not sufficiently dead. It threatened her too often and too piercingly.

Alex watched her, willing her to say something that would ease his heart.

‘But?’ he urged. ‘But you haven’t forgotten “us.” Have you?’

‘No,’ she admitted unwillingly. ‘I can’t forget that. I’m not sorry we married. We were very happy back then, and I’ll never regret it.’

‘If we had the time over again-you’d still marry me?’

‘Oh, yes. Even knowing how it would end, I’d still do it.’

‘It hasn’t ended yet. We don’t know how it’s going to end.’

‘Alex-’

He took hold of her shoulders, very gently. ‘It’s too soon to say,’ he told her. ‘Don’t let’s rush to part, Corinne.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘I thought we had parted. I should have remembered that no position is ever final until you’ve agreed to it.’

‘Tell me that you don’t love me any more,’ he said insistently.

‘And you’re an ace negotiator, always knowing the other side’s weak spot.’

‘Then you do love me.’

‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I’m trying not to.’ She added reluctantly, ‘But it’s hard.’

He drew her against him, not kissing her this time but wrapping his arms about her body and holding her close while he rested his cheek on her head.

After a while he felt her arms slowly go around him, and they stayed there peacefully together for a long time.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN his tiny illuminated clock showed midnight, Bobby slid out of bed and went quietly into the hall. The house was completely silent and almost dark, except for a faint glow he could see downstairs.

Moving noiselessly, he crept down the stairs and into the room where the tree glowed. On the threshold he stopped and an expression of relief crossed his face.

‘I knew you’d be here,’ he whispered.

The red-clad figure by the tree turned and smiled at him through his huge white beard.

‘Come in,’ he said.

Bobby moved closer. In dim light, and on his feet, Santa looked bigger than ever.

‘Did you have trouble with the chimney?’ he asked. ‘I was afraid it might not be big enough.’

Santa looked down at his wide girth. ‘You mean with there being so much of me?’

‘I wasn’t being rude.’

Santa laughed, not a ho-ho-ho, but a kindly, understanding sound.

‘It’s not as bad as some places I’ve tried,’ he said.

‘What about when there’s no fireplace?’ Bobby asked. ‘How do you get in then?’

Santa tapped the side of his nose and winked. ‘Trade secret,’ he said.

He sat down in the armchair, put down the can of beer he was holding and signalled for Bobby to sit. Bobby plonked himself down on the floor.

‘You know how I got so fat?’ Santa asked.

Bobby shook his head.

‘In their kindness, people leave more out for me than I can possibly eat.’ He indicated the hearth. ‘How about you have the milk and we’ll split the tarts and biscuits? I’ve had most of the beer and it was great. Whoever left that was a genius.’

‘It was my idea,’ Bobby said eagerly. ‘Mitzi insisted on putting out a glass for you as well. I said you wouldn’t be bothered, but you know what girls are.’

‘Actually, Mitzi was right,’ Santa confided, holding up a glass with beer in it. ‘Drinking from the can is awkward when you’ve got a beard.’

He poured milk from the carton into the other glass and the two of them sat sipping and sharing tarts.

‘So what happened?’ he asked. ‘Did your dad show up?’

‘Yes, just like you said. A day early. How did you know?’

Santa hesitated. ‘Inside information.’

‘Do you know everything?’

‘No,’ Santa replied at once.

‘So you can’t tell me how long he’s going to stay?’

‘I already did, when we talked yesterday. Longer than tomorrow.’

‘But after that?’

‘What do you really want him to do?’ Santa asked thoughtfully

‘Stay as long as possible.’

Santa looked at him keenly. ‘Are you hoping I’ll wave a magic wand?’

But his thoughtful son shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He has to want to, or there’s no point.’

‘That’s right,’ Santa agreed. ‘You can’t make people choose what you’d like them to.’

‘You mean he doesn’t really want to stay with us?’

‘Oh, yes, he does. You’re his family, and he loves you all more than anything else on earth, even if he doesn’t always show it very cleverly. But he got confused and other things got in the way. Now he’s trying to find the way back to the place where he took the wrong turning, but it isn’t easy. The road seems different when you’re looking backwards. But you could help him.’

‘How?’

‘I can’t tell you that. You have to sense it for yourself. But you will. Don’t worry.’

Santa indicated the tree.

‘Have you got your presents sorted out?’

‘Yes. I got a scarf for Mum and a picture book for Mitzi.’

‘And your dad?’

‘Well-I got him a pair of cufflinks.’

‘It sounds like a good choice, so what’s the problem?’ Bobby’s voice had hinted that all was not well.

‘I got him something else too, but I’m not sure if I should give it to him.’

‘If it’s from you, he’ll love it,’ Santa said without hesitation. ‘You can rely on that.’

‘Can I show it to you?’

‘That would be really nice.’

‘It’s upstairs.’ Bobby went to the door, then hesitated. ‘You won’t go away?’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Bobby vanished and reappeared a moment later with a large, flat object that he put into Santa’s hands, switching on a side lamp so that he could see.

It was a picture of a family sitting under the trees by water, evidently having a picnic. There was a man in a red shirt, a woman in a green and white dress, a small boy of about five and a toddler in a pink dress. It had been painted in water-colours by an inexperienced but talented hand.

‘Did you paint this?’ Santa asked in a strange voice.

Bobby nodded. His eyes were on Santa’s face.

‘I think you should definitely give it to him,’ Santa said at last.

‘You think he’ll understand?’

‘You put a lot of work into it, and he’ll think it’s wonderful that you took so much trouble to please him.’

‘But will he understand?’ Bobby asked with a touch of desperation.

‘Yes,’ Santa said decisively. ‘He will.’

‘Everything?’

Santa put his hand on the child’s shoulder. ‘He’ll understand everything that you want him to understand,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

A smile of pure, blinding relief broke over Bobby’s face.

‘You’d better go and wrap it now,’ Santa said. ‘I have a lot of other houses to visit.’

‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

At the door Bobby paused and looked back. ‘I didn’t used to believe in you. But I do now.’

He vanished quickly.

The brilliant sunlight flashed and glinted off the water and bathed the river-bank with warmth. The man and the woman picnicking under the trees leaned back in the welcome shade and smiled at each other with secret knowledge.

‘That was good,’ he said. ‘The best I ever tasted. Happy birthday, darling.’

She didn’t answer in words, but she blew him a kiss. Her arms were curled around the two-year-old girl sleeping in her arms, but her eyes, full of love, were on the man.

‘It’s not much of a birthday for you, though,’ he mused, ‘having to do the catering for a picnic.’

‘You helped.’

‘Did I? Oh, you mean when I dropped the butter?’

They laughed together.

‘Wouldn’t you rather have had a big night out?’ he asked. ‘Fancy restaurant, champagne, everything of the best?’

She looked down at the little girl sleeping in her arms. ‘You’ve already given me the best,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Yes, this is as good as it gets.’

Suddenly she chuckled.

‘What?’ he demanded, looking around. ‘What?’

‘It’s that bright red shirt you’re wearing. It’s so un-you. You’re usually so sober-suited.’

‘On the contrary, this is the real me. The suit is a uniform, although sometimes it gets to feel like a second skin.’

‘So the truth is that you’re a bit of a devil?’ she teased.

He winked. ‘You know more about that than anyone.’

He shifted position to get closer to her, but then something that came into view made him leap to his feet.

‘Bobby, not so near the water. Come back here.’

He dashed over and scooped up the five-year-old child, who chuckled with delight as his father carried him back to the picnic.

‘Whadaya mean by giving your old man a heart attack, eh?’ he demanded as he sat down beside his wife. ‘What’s the big idea?’

As he joked he buried his face against the child, who screamed with laughter.

‘Don’t scare him,’ the woman protested.

‘He’s not scared of me. He’s my boy. Aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said the little boy firmly, putting his arms around his father’s neck.

The man turned his head to smile at the woman. ‘Do you have any idea how much I love you?’ he whispered.

She gave a soft laugh. ‘Not a clue. You’ll have to tell me.’

He leaned sideways to kiss her, and she leaned towards him. It was awkward because they were each holding a child, but they managed somehow between love and laughter. And the little boy in his father’s arms went contentedly to sleep.

Alex awoke with a start and found that he was already sitting up. The dream had been so clear, like being taken back four years to relive the moment.

He’d seen it all again-the trees, the water, the sun. More than that, he’d felt again the blissful contentment of that day.

This is as good as it gets.

That had been his feeling. When had he known it since?

He’d thought of it as something between himself and Corinne. Who would have imagined the little boy was imprinting it all on his mind, to carry there for years until his hands had the skill to reproduce it, like a silent reproach to the adults who had let the happiness slip through their fingers?

He discovered that he was shaking and pulled himself together. He’d been lucky. He’d remembered in time.

Bobby looked in. ‘C’mon Daddy. We’re opening presents!’

He pretended to lie down again. ‘Already? I was hoping for a lie-in.’

‘Daddy!’

He grinned and allowed himself to be hauled downstairs in pyjamas and dressing-gown. ‘Sorry about this,’ he told Corinne. ‘I wasn’t given any choice.’

‘You and me both,’ she said, laughing. She’d managed to dress, but only in hastily flung on jeans and sweater, before getting to work in the kitchen.

‘Mummy, can we open the presents now?’ Mitzi cried.

‘Just a moment, pet. Let Uncle Jimmy come downstairs.’

When Jimmy had come cautiously down and settled on the sofa it was time to start. The children first, tearing off gaily coloured paper with excited screams.

Alex held his breath as Bobby opened the water-colour videos and then became totally still, so that Alex feared the whole thing had misfired. But then Bobby looked at him with eyes so full of incredulous joy and relief that Alex’s own eyes blurred suddenly.

With Mitzi he scored a double hit, giving her not only the Marianne book but a pair of riding boots. They were too large, but Alex immediately clutched his head, swore he couldn’t understand how the mistake had happened, and offered to change them as soon as the holiday was over, and Mitzi was happy.

‘Brilliant,’ Corinne murmured appreciatively when she had him alone for a moment.

‘Even those of us who are moronically stupid have our clever moments,’ he riposted.

‘Oh, don’t be smug.’

His gift to her was a small bottle of expensive perfume, one he’d bought for her in the past. He had thought it a safe present, but suddenly it seemed intimate enough to draw down her disapproval. But she only thanked him with an impersonal smile and said nothing more. He found himself strangely relieved, almost as though he’d been afraid.

Her gift to him had been as impersonal as her smile-a scarf of very fine cashmere, beautiful but meaningless. It told him nothing beyond the fact that she wanted the children to see them being friendly.

The present-giving was nearly over and there were only a few small items left around the base of the tree.

Alex found himself studying them in hope, but none seemed exactly right. The severity of his disappointment shocked him. He was grown up, for Pete’s sake! Grown-ups didn’t get upset because the right gift wasn’t under the tree.

Yet for a moment he was a child again, fighting back the tears because Mum had bought the wrong book and shrugged the mistake aside with, ‘Oh, well, it’s the same thing, really, isn’t it?’ And he couldn’t explain that it wasn’t the same thing at all because she had more important things to worry about than his feelings.

Then he saw his son gradually easing something out from behind an armchair, and relief swept him.

‘This is yours,’ Bobby said, holding out the brightly wrapped parcel.

‘Thank you, son.’

Alex unwrapped it slowly, revealing the picture inside-a water-colour of the happy family sitting by the river. As he gazed at it he became aware of his son watching him, full of tension, waiting for what he would say.

‘It’s beautiful, son. Did you do it?’

‘Yes, I painted it myself.’

‘But how do you recall that day? You were only five years old.’

‘You remember, Daddy?’ Bobby asked breathlessly.

‘Sure I do. It was Mummy’s birthday, and we went out for a picnic. You wandered too near the water and I had to run and grab you. That was a great day, wasn’t it?’

Bobby nodded. Corinne’s eyes were on Alex.

‘Do you remember?’ Alex asked her.

‘Oh, yes, it was lovely.’

‘You’ve even got the details right,’ Alex said, returning to the picture. ‘Right down to that red shirt.’

‘Mummy still has it,’ Bobby said.

‘Really? Well, that’s lucky.’

Corinne was suddenly doing something else. Alex couldn’t even be sure she’d heard the words, although they seemed to sing in his own ears.

Mummy still has it.

It changed everything. Suddenly he was no longer fighting darkness.

He put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

The rest of the day was standard-issue Christmas-turkey, plum pudding, crackers filled with silly jokes and funny hats, Christmas cake, more crackers. Alex faded contentedly into the background, doing nothing that might spoil the atmosphere.

There was the odd awkward moment. From somewhere Jimmy produced a sprig of mistletoe and wandered into the kitchen where Corinne was cooking. Alex heard a giggle, then a silence that tested his control to the utmost. But he forced himself to stay where he was.

And nothing could really spoil the one blazingly beautiful gift that had been given to him unexpectedly.

Corinne had kept the red shirt. He could live on that for a while.

Alex insisted on helping with the washing-up.

‘You can’t ask the kids and spoil Christmas for them,’ he explained. ‘And poor Jimmy isn’t up to it.’

‘Poor Jimmy!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘You’re a smug hypocrite, you know that?’

He grinned. ‘It’s what I’m good at.’

She gave a reluctant laugh and accepted his help.

‘I’ll wash,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where to put things. Pinny?’

‘The only one I have,’ she said defiantly, ‘has flowers on it.’

‘I’ll be brave.’

He looked so ridiculous in the flowered apron, with a garish paper hat still on his head, that Corinne’s heart melted. He did a good job too, washing and rinsing properly, and it reminded her of how domesticated he was. He’d always done his share in the old days.

‘What made you pick this house?’ he asked. ‘You could have had something better.’

‘You mean more expensive? I don’t think it comes any better than this. It has a big garden, is full of atmosphere, and the kids love it because it’s a house where they can be untidy.’

Bobby appeared in the doorway.

‘What is it, darling?’ Corinne asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘Did you want something?’

The boy shook his head. His eyes were fixed on Alex.

Suddenly the little kitchen clock gave three clear chimes, and Alex understood.

Three o’clock. The time when he had originally meant to leave. Bobby was watching him intently.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

It was a pleasure to see the smile that came over Bobby’s face, but in the very same moment Alex’s cellphone rang in the hall. Without a word, Bobby went and fetched it, handing it to his father, his face a careful blank.

The screen was showing Mark Dunsford’s number, and for a moment Alex hesitated, tempted to shut it off without answering. But he didn’t.

‘Mark,’ he said in his most discouraging voice.

‘Simply checking to see if you need me,’ came his assistant’s tinny voice.

‘For pity’s sake, it’s Christmas Day!’

‘I just thought you’d like to know that I’m on the ball.’

Alex ground his teeth. ‘Go and eat some Christmas cake, Mark, and don’t call me back unless it’s a real crisis.’

He hung up. Bobby’s eyes were shining, but all he said was, ‘Are you coming back soon, Dad? We haven’t used up all the crackers.’

‘I’ll be there in a moment, son. Put this back for me, will you?’

He handed him the cellphone and Bobby disappeared.

‘I’m glad you got rid of that man,’ Corinne said. ‘I don’t like him.’

‘Have you met Mark? Oh, yes, he came to the house once.’

‘Horrible man.’

‘I suppose he reminds you of me,’ Alex said wryly.

‘Not really. You were always full of fire and enthusiasm. It lit you up inside, and it was exciting. I remember once you got out of bed at one in the morning to work out some brilliant idea. Your eyes were shining and your voice had an edge, as though you’d seen a vision. I never knew what you were going to do next. But Mark Dunsford is a robot. He never had an original thought in his life, and he’s trying to make his name by standing on your shoulders. You should watch out for him.’

The same thought had occasionally occurred to him. Now he marvelled at the shrewdness that had shown Corinne so much in one brief meeting.

‘That must be the first time you’ve said anything good about me and the business,’ he observed.

‘I grew to hate it because it always came first-before me, before the kids.’

‘You never understood how driven I felt.’

‘You’re wrong. I saw you being driven all the time. At first, like I say, it was exciting, but later I saw what it did to you. I used to dream that there’d come a time when you could ease up, but of course there never did, and it went on and on, getting worse and worse.’

He gave a mirthless grunt of laughter.

‘Funny! I thought of it as getting better and better, because I could provide for you properly. A nice house, holidays-’

‘Half of which we ended up taking alone,’ she reminded him. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

‘But can’t you-?’

She stopped him hurriedly. ‘Alex, it’s all right. It’s finished. It doesn’t matter any more. Let’s leave it.’

The washing-up was done. Alex looked up at the sprig of mistletoe that Jimmy had fixed overhead.

‘Do I get a Christmas kiss?’ he asked, speaking lightly to take the sting out of the refusal he expected.

‘Of course,’ she said.

Moving quickly, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. He had a brief sensation of her sweetness, the faint tang of the perfume he’d bought her, the warmth of her breath against his face. Then she was gone before he could catch her.

At the end of the day the last cracker had been cracked, the last silly joke read out, the last paper hat reduced to a crumpled wreck. Jimmy opted for an early night. Mitzi, already asleep, was carried to bed, and Bobby went without protest.

‘I’m going up now,’ Corinne said to Alex, who was drying a cup in the kitchen.

‘I’ll stay down for a little,’ he said. ‘There’s a late film I want to see.’

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight.’

He kissed her cheek and she put her arms gently around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He held her close, swaying back and forth a little in a gentle rhythm.

‘It’s been a lovely day,’ she whispered.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything, Corinne. Thank you for making it possible, and not driving me away.’

‘I could never want to do that,’ she said, raising her head and looking into his face.

It was once more the face she loved, not distorted by anger or masked against her as it had been in the worst days of their failing marriage. For a moment she saw again the vulnerability that had always been there beneath the arrogance, and which had touched her heart.

It touched her now and she turned away quickly.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

He brushed his fingertips across her eyelashes and found them wet.

‘Sometimes I feel like doing that,’ he said. A tremor went through him. ‘I miss you so much.’

‘I miss you too. The love doesn’t just switch off.’

‘Even though you’re trying to make it?’ he asked.

‘I’m working on it. I don’t pretend it’s easy.’

He kissed the top of her head.

‘Goodnight,’ he whispered.

She went upstairs and he was left alone.

Midnight. The clock in the kitchen chimed. The room was in darkness except for the tree lights that still glowed and flickered.

Santa smiled at the figure in the doorway. ‘Have you come to say goodbye?’

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,’ Bobby said. ‘You’re supposed to have gone back to the North Pole by now.’

‘That’s one of the advantages of being the boss. You can change the rules to suit yourself. I thought I’d pop back to see how it was going.’

‘It’s been brilliant.’ Bobby sighed happily. ‘He’s still here. He liked the picture and everything. He even remembered what it was.’

‘Did you think he wouldn’t? Yes, well, I suppose you couldn’t be blamed for thinking that.’ Santa’s voice was gentle as he added, ‘Let’s face it, he’s not much of a father.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Bobby said instantly. ‘He’s the best.’

‘Doesn’t spend as much time with you as he should, though, does he?’

‘He’s very busy. He has lots of other things to think of. But he always comes back to us, because he loves us best in all the world.’

For a moment Santa seemed lost for words. At last he said, ‘I know he does.’

‘Did he tell you?’

‘I just know. He loves his family so much that it hurts, but he’s not good at saying things.’

‘And we love him best in all the world too,’ Bobby said firmly. ‘I do, and Mitzi does, and Mum does.’

‘Well, I don’t know-’

‘She does. I know she does.’

There was a silence before Santa said, ‘Never mind that. Tell me about Mitzi. Did she have a good day?’

‘Oh, yes. Dad gave her that Marianne doll with the riding habit-the one she asked you about the other day. You must have told him.’

Santa grinned. ‘Let’s just say that I can give him a nudge in the right direction. That’s not always easy, because he’s a stubborn fellow who doesn’t listen as often as he ought.’ Seeing Bobby about to flare up, he added quickly, ‘Now, be fair; you know that’s true.’

‘Sometimes,’ Bobby conceded.

‘Always,’ Santa insisted.

‘Now and then.’

‘All right, I’ll settle for now and then. You’re quite a negotiator.’

Bobby giggled. ‘That’s what Daddy says. He says he wants me working for him when I grow up.’

‘I thought you wanted to be an artist?’

‘Couldn’t I be both?’

‘You could. But it’s better to be what you really want. Your way might be better.’

‘Will you be back again, after tonight?’

‘I don’t know,’ Santa said. ‘Christmas is passing.’

‘But it’s not gone yet. Tomorrow’s still sort of Christmas. Dad won’t leave tomorrow, will he?’

‘No, he won’t. And if you have him, you don’t need me.’

‘It’s different. I can talk to you.’

‘And not to him?’

‘Not about everything. He minds too much, you see, and I don’t want to hurt him.’

Santa spoke gruffly. ‘How do you know he minds so much?’

‘Because he tries so hard to pretend that he doesn’t,’ Bobby said simply.

Santa turned away. ‘Goodnight,’ he said huskily. ‘Go to bed now. Wait for what tomorrow may bring.’

Bobby moved towards the door. As he reached the hall he paused a moment, wondering if he really had heard a noise. But all was dark and quiet. After a moment he sped upstairs.

Alone by the tree, Santa did not move but stood with his head bent, as though trying to bear up under a heavy load.

‘Are you all right?’

He turned quickly. Corinne was standing there.

‘Of course I am.’ He added feebly, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’

‘You seemed a bit tired.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a great responsibility being Father Christmas. It’s scary.’

‘It must be.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m glad you came back. He needed to talk to you again.’

Abruptly Santa asked, ‘Did you know he was protecting his father?’

‘Yes. He always talks about him protectively. Nothing is ever Daddy’s fault. If he ever lost that faith it would hurt him more than he could bear.’

‘Actually not discussing things in case his father can’t cope? This is a nine-year-old child.’

‘Nobody really knows what Bobby is thinking,’ Corinne said. ‘Except maybe you. He tells you things he can’t tell anyone else.’

‘Not even you?’

‘He’s protecting me too. Santa Claus can help because he’s not involved. And my husband-’

‘Your husband’s a thick-head, and don’t let him tell you any different.’

‘He’s not that bad.’

‘Yes, he is. Take my word.’

Corinne smiled. ‘Well, he may have a thick head but he has a thin skin. Only he doesn’t know it.’

Santa made a sound like a snort.

‘It sounds to me as though you’re protecting him too. I’ll bet he doesn’t know that, either.’

‘I don’t think it’s ever occurred to him.’

‘You invited him here for Christmas for his sake as much as the children’s, didn’t you?’

‘You’re very astute.’

‘Well, maybe a little more than I was,’ Santa said gruffly.

‘He’s lost so much already,’ Corinne said. ‘I don’t want him to lose any more, otherwise it’ll soon be too late.’

Santa stared into the fireplace. ‘I think he knows that. Tell me something. Do you know why Bobby chose that picnic to paint?’

‘I think it was the last completely happy time we had together. Alex’s business was building up fast, but we were still a family. When the picnic was over we went home and put the children to bed. And then we made love-’ her voice softened ‘-and it was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened. He told me over and over how much he loved me and how our love would fill his heart and his life until his very last moment.’

‘Is that why you kept the shirt?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘That’s why I kept it.’

‘Perhaps you should have thrown it out of your life, along with him.’

‘I haven’t thrown him out of my life. I never could. It was really the other way around. The day after that picnic he got a call that changed everything. Suddenly it was “big time,” and he was never really ours after that. That’s why I was surprised he recognised the moment. I should think it feels like another life to him by now.’

‘Maybe it does,’ Santa said wistfully. ‘Another sweeter life that he lost somewhere along the way.’ He gave a brief laugh. ‘He’s not a very clever fellow, is he?’

‘Cleverer than I thought,’ she murmured.

‘I think you should go now,’ he said abruptly.

‘Can’t I stay? I could get you a beer and-’

‘Go,’ he said with soft vehemence. ‘It’s better, believe me.’

‘Yes,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I suppose it is.’

When she’d gone Santa stood looking at the doorway, as though hoping she would return. When she didn’t, he switched out the tree lights and sat for a long time in the darkness.

CHAPTER FIVE

ALEX could still remember the first Christmas of his marriage, when he and Corinne had gone out early on December the twenty-sixth, and dived into the sales. She had an eye for a bargain, and they had triumphantly carried back home several pieces of household equipment at rock-bottom prices.

As they’d prospered they hadn’t needed the sales and Alex, who had been able to buy her anything she wanted, had been bemused by her continued enthusiasm. So it hardly came as a surprise that she was set on attending this year.

He came downstairs to find several newspapers spread out on the kitchen table with four eagerly debating heads leaning over them.

‘Washing machine!’ Jimmy was making a list.

‘Shoes,’ Corinne added. ‘And a lawnmower-’

They went on compiling the list and Alex, who had learned wisdom, stayed in the background.

At last Mitzi looked up and noticed him, giving him a hug and offering to make him some tea-an offer her mother hastily overruled.

‘I’ll do it, darling.’

‘Morning, Jimmy,’ Alex said affably. ‘How are you feeling today? You’re not looking so good. I expect yesterday took it out of you.’

‘It did a bit,’ Jimmy admitted. ‘But, heck, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I can be ill later.’

‘Uncle Jimmy’s a soldier,’ Bobby said in explanation of this reckless heroism.

‘And a good soldier doesn’t give in,’ Alex agreed, straight-faced. ‘But you’re looking a bit seedy now. Are you taking your medication?’

‘Well, I skipped a bit,’ Jimmy conceded. ‘You can’t drink if you’re taking the pills, and it is Christmas-’

‘Of course,’ Alex agreed. ‘But now it’s time you took proper care of yourself.’

Corinne turned around, her jaw dropping with indignation at what she could clearly see him up to. But she was pulled up short by the sight of Jimmy’s face. He really was pale and strained.

‘Oh, Jimmy, you are an idiot.’ She sighed affectionately. ‘You should have said-or I should have noticed. Stay in bed today.’

‘No way. There’s masses of sport on television. But I wouldn’t mind staying in and watching it with my feet up. You won’t mind if I don’t come out with you?’

‘We’ll bear up,’ Alex assured him.

He sauntered innocently out into the hall, looking back to catch Bobby’s eye and send him a signal. Bobby glanced at Mitzi and Alex nodded.

Message received and understood.

After a moment the two children followed him out.

‘Listen, kids,’ Alex said hurriedly. ‘You’re fond of your Uncle Jimmy, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Mitzi.

Bobby nodded, alert, ready to tune in to his father’s signal.

‘Well, you wouldn’t want to leave him all on his own at Christmas, would you?’ Alex asked. ‘It wouldn’t be a very kind thing to do. Why don’t you both stay here with him?’

‘What’s it worth?’ Bobby asked.

‘What-? You’re my son.’

‘And I’m up to every trick. You said so.’

‘But, like any skill, it should be used wisely,’ Alex said. ‘There’s a time for using it and a time for not using it.’

‘This is a time for using it,’ Bobby said firmly.

Alex eyed him with respect mixed with caution.

‘I want to come to the shops,’ Mitzi said. ‘Mummy said she’d get me a doll’s house.’

‘It’s in Bellam’s Toys,’ Bobby explained. ‘There’s a big range, and number four is going cheap now because they’ve just brought out number five. So Mum promised her number four.’

His eyes met Alex’s. ‘Of course, Mitzi would really prefer number five.’

‘Mummy said it would cost too much.’ Mitzi sighed.

‘But we’re holding all the cards,’ her brother told her.

‘You are, aren’t you?’ Alex said in appreciation of these tactics. ‘Number five it is, on condition you stay at home.’

Mitzi scampered off to tell Jimmy, whose head was aching, that he was going to have the pleasure of her company and they could talk and talk and talk.

‘What about you?’ Alex asked his son. ‘What’s your price?’

‘Nothing,’ Bobby told him.

‘But you just said-’

‘I always meant to stay at home anyway.’

Alex looked at him with sheer admiration, although he felt compelled to point out, ‘But, like you said, you have all the cards. I’d have paid. You missed a trick there, son.’

Bobby shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he said earnestly. ‘Don’t you see? I didn’t really.’

Alex’s amused irony faded and he took Bobby’s hand. ‘Yes, I do see,’ he said seriously.

‘Good luck, Dad.’

He knew everything, of course, Alex thought.

‘I’ll do my best,’ he promised his son.

The road to the shopping centre lay through open country. The snow had stopped falling and now lay settled thickly on the ground, the perfect picture of a white Christmas.

They went in Corinne’s car, which was larger than Alex’s sleek vehicle, made to accommodate children and big enough for the mountain of things she was planning to buy.

‘I haven’t seen this before,’ he observed as they climbed in.

‘I got it a month ago.’

Third-hand, from the look of it, he thought. He was wise enough, now, not to say he could have bought her something better, but it flashed through his mind that this was one more thing she’d done without him.

How many other things, now and in the future?

Corinne had on a thick sheepskin jacket and jeans which showed off her long, slim legs, and seemed in high spirits this morning.

‘You were rotten to poor old Jimmy,’ she chided Alex.

‘I advised him to rest and take care of himself, and he was only too glad to accept. He really is feeling poorly, so how can you blame me?’

‘Very clever! You know, if there was one thing about you that got up my nose more than any other it was your way of making your most self-interested actions seem perfectly virtuous.’

‘But what possible ulterior motive could I have for wanting Jimmy to stay at home?’ he asked innocently. ‘You’re not suggesting that I was scheming to be alone with you?’

A sideways glance showed her that he was grinning.

‘If I wasn’t driving I’d thump you,’ she said, falling in with his humorous mood. It was hard to be anything but cheerful in the brilliant white scenery around them.

She reckoned that must be the reason for her new sensation of well-being this morning. It was strange how she had awoken full of contentment, almost happiness, and the feeling had lasted so that now she felt oddly light-hearted, like a teenager again.

The shabby old car saw them safely through the treacherous conditions and into the shopping centre car park. They went from store to store, bagging the washing machine first and then working their way down the list.

‘Doll’s house!’ Alex said, seeing Bellam’s. ‘Quick, before they sell out of number five.’

‘Number four,’ Corinne objected. ‘That’s what I promised her.’

‘That’s a little out of date,’ Alex said cautiously.

‘What have you been up to?’

‘Who? Me?’ Under her suspicious gaze he confessed, ‘Mitzi and I discussed it and came to a joint decision that number five was a better choice.’

‘You mean you bribed her?’

‘Bribed is a harsh word.’

‘But true.’

‘Let’s hurry,’ he said diplomatically.

Just inside the shop they found a counter with a sale of tiny Christmas trinkets that nobody had bought. To Corinne’s surprise Alex lingered there a surprisingly long time, but she didn’t see whether he bought anything because an assistant asked her if he could be of help and she hurried to claim the doll’s house.

Alex secured the last number five available and bore it out of the shop in triumph, refusing the shop’s suggestion of delivery.

‘Next Monday?’ Alex echoed, aghast. ‘If I don’t take it home now I won’t live that long.’

The box was so big that it blocked his view, and Corinne had to guide him into the elevator, then out and to the car.

‘A bit to the left-bit more-stop.’

‘Corinne, I can’t see a thing,’ came a muffled voice from behind the box.

‘It’s all right, trust me. Take two steps forward. Oh, dear!’

‘What does “Oh, dear!” mean?’ came a plaintive cry.

‘There are some steps just ahead. Go slowly. That’s it. Put your foot down very carefully.’

‘I didn’t need telling that!’

‘Now another one-and another-just one more. Now you’re on land again. Walk forward.’

‘Will you please stop laughing?’

‘Who’s laughing?’ she chuckled, opening the back of the car so that he could edge the box through and finally release it.

‘I need something to eat after that,’ he said.

They found a café and tucked into fish and chips.

‘That’ll teach me to make rash promises,’ he said, grinning. “She never warned me it was almost as big as a real house.”

‘Alex,’ she said abruptly, ‘how long can you stay?’

‘That’s up to you.’

‘As long as you like. I have to return to work on Monday, but there’s no reason for you to go.’

‘Work?’

‘Yes, I’ve got a job.’

‘Don’t I give you enough to live on? You should have said-’

‘You give me far more than I need. That’s why I can afford to work part-time. I get the kids off to school first, then I go in to work. In the afternoon my neighbour collects them and they stay with her until I come home. Don’t pull a face. They like going there. She’s got a dog they can play with.’

‘Where do you work?’

‘A lawyer’s office. It’s really interesting. Eventually I thought I could train and get some qualifications.’

‘Be a lawyer, you mean?’

‘Yes. Not just yet. In five or six years, when the children are more independent. For the moment I just do part-time secretarial work to get the feel of it. I took a computer course and my boss says I’m the best in the office.’

‘How long will your training take?’

‘About four years to pass all the exams. I reckon I’ll be qualified about ten years from now.’

He was silent for so long that Corinne thought he was about to fight her on this, and braced herself to stand up to him. She didn’t want to fight, but nor was she going to yield.

But all he said was, ‘You must be brilliant if you did that computer course so quickly.’

‘I started doing it six months ago. I used the computer you bought for Bobby.’

‘Six months? While we were together?’

‘Uh-huh!’

It was painful, like discovering that she’d had a secret life-which, in a way, he supposed she had.

‘And you made sure you didn’t tell me?’

‘No, Alex, I didn’t “make sure” of not telling you. I’d gladly have told you if you’d shown any interest, or even been there. But you were such an absentee that I could have got away with murder. I could have had a dozen lovers and you’d never have suspected.’

‘Very funny.’

‘Don’t glare at me. Many men who live for their work secretly know that their wives are getting up to every kind of mischief behind their backs. But my furtive trysts were with a computer. My “clandestine mail” came from a correspondence course, and you never surprised my guilty secret because it never occurred to you that I was interesting enough to have one.

‘Well, I had, and I passed with very high marks. My boss is very glad to have me around. They’ve just had a load of state-of-the-art machines delivered and I’m the only one who knows what to do with them. I can’t tell you how-’ She stopped suddenly.

‘How proud that made you?’ he suggested.

‘No, how sad it made me. There was nobody to tell.’

He nodded. ‘And you need someone to tell your triumphs to or they don’t amount to much. I always told things to you. Nobody else’s opinion ever mattered as much as yours.’

‘I’d have loved to tell you, but I knew it would look very trivial to the boss of Mead Consolidated.’

After a moment he asked, ‘Does Jimmy know?’

‘Only since he came here last week.’

‘And I suppose he’s rooting for you?’

‘Yes, he thinks it’s great.’

Alex was silent. He was afraid to ask any more about Jimmy. Instead he said, ‘You’ve got the rest of your life pretty well mapped out, haven’t you?’

‘It’s good to have a goal.’

‘Yes, I see that. Ten years-heck! I don’t know anyone who plans that far ahead.’

‘I must. I’m thirty already. I have to make the most of my time.’

‘Where do I come into your plans?’

‘You’re still the children’s father.’

‘I’m still your husband, and I want to go on being your husband.’

‘Alex, nothing’s going to change. You are as you are. What’s the point of saying all this? I tried to explain when we broke up, and you weren’t listening then, either.’

Alex sighed. ‘Yes, I was. I know it didn’t seem like it, but I heard. You were saying you were better off without me.’

Dumbly she shook her head. It was less a denial than an attempt to fend off confusion.

‘I never said that,’ she said at last. ‘And I never, never will. Not with all the things I remember.’

‘What do you remember?’ he asked gruffly.

‘You, as you were when I met you,’ she said wistfully. ‘You were wonderful-the most wonderful, generous, loving man in the world.’

Her words hurt him unbearably. ‘I’m still the same-’ he pointed to himself ‘-in here.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ she said sadly. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve known what was happening in there.’

‘Nothing’s changed. Not towards you. Tell me it’s the same with you. Or can’t you say it?’ His voice was ragged.

‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘I can say it. But we’re not youngsters now, and it’s not enough.’

‘Are you happy?’ he asked abruptly.

‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m not sure it really matters.’

He realised that she had altered in some indefinable way. There was a calm about her now, as though she had settled something that had long been troubling her.

‘Alex,’ she said suddenly, ‘will you tell me something honestly?’

‘Fire away.’

‘But I mean honestly. No polite lies. No gilding the lily. The unvarnished truth.’

‘All right.’

‘Why did you arrive here early and stay late?’

He hesitated, knowing that he was going to confirm her worst suspicions. Yet she’d asked for honesty and he could give her no less.

‘Something fell through,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Craddock set up a party in the Caribbean, to settle the contract. Then he got ill.’

She faced him. ‘And if he hadn’t got ill?’

It was the question that he’d dreaded, but he said, ‘Then I wouldn’t have come at all.’

She didn’t seem to react, only nodded slightly, as though something had been confirmed.

It made him burst out, ‘But I did come, and I found myself talking to my son, who didn’t know it was me. And I found out a lot of things I didn’t know before. Maybe it’s my fault that I didn’t, but I know them now. It makes everything different.’

‘Between you and the children. Not between you and me.’

‘But it can if we let it. Corinne, come home. I want to try again. Don’t you want that too, in your heart?’

‘I can’t come back to that soulless place, Alex. I hated it. My home is here.’

‘Then I’ll come here.’

‘Here? You mean move into where I’m living now?’

‘It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. If we stay here you’ll still have your job and-’

‘Wait, Alex, please. I know you when you’ve set your heart on something. You go bull-headed for it without thinking it through. How long would it be before things went wrong again? I know you’ve understood things these last few days, but that isn’t the complete answer you seem to think.’

‘But if we still love each other-’

‘I do still love you, but-’

‘But you think I’m beyond redemption,’ he said wryly.

‘You don’t need redemption. I think you might need a different kind of wife-one who can enjoy the entertaining you want, and wear glamorous clothes, and be a credit to you.’

‘To blazes with that!’ he said impatiently. ‘None of that stuff matters. I want you, and the children. My God!’ He was growing angry. ‘You’ve not only mapped out your own life but mine too. I’m headed for a trophy wife, am I? You’d better tell me her name now, because I’m sure you’ve picked her out.’

‘Calm down!’

‘I’m damned if I will! What do you suggest-a luscious little blonde with a cleavage, or a busty brunette who’ll marry me for my gold card? Do you think I want anyone like that after being married to you, or is that all you think I’m worth?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said in anguish. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

He didn’t say any more. But he took her hand and laid it against his cheek, closing his eyes.

‘Alex-’

‘Hush,’ he said. ‘Don’t say anything.’

She nodded and lifted her other hand to touch his face gently.

‘There won’t be anyone,’ he said in a voice that was both fierce and quiet. ‘It’s just you. Nobody else. Sometimes I wish that wasn’t true. Hang it, Corinne, I’d like to be able to forget you and pass on to something new as easily as you’ve done. But I can’t. If that’s inconvenient, I’m sorry, but I always was an awkward cuss, and I haven’t changed in that way either.’

She wanted to tell him that it was all an illusion. She hadn’t passed on to something new because he still haunted her and always would. But those would be dangerous words to say to him.

Suddenly he seemed to pull himself together.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s time we got back to work. There’s a lot still on that list.’

He rose abruptly, leaving her no choice but to do the same. The subject was closed, she thought. He had simply put it behind him.

It was two hours before they had completed the list and were able to start the journey home. By that time the temperature had fallen sharply and Corinne drove in silence, concentrating on the road, which had become treacherous.

When they left the town and reached the country stretch they slowed.

‘It looks like it snowed here in the last half-hour,’ he said, ‘and there hasn’t been much traffic, so it’s probably icy-’

The words were barely out of his mouth when the car began to make choking noises.

‘What’s that?’ Alex asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s done it before. It doesn’t mean anything. It’ll go back to normal in a moment.’

But instead of going back to normal the vehicle choked some more, slowed, and then quietly died in the middle of the road.

‘Oh, heck!’ she said wretchedly. ‘Is anything coming?’

‘No, but let’s get this to the side before anything does.’

Together they set their shoulders to the rear and pushed the car until it glided on to the grass verge, where it settled, out of danger but totally useless.

Alex pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and called the rescue service. As he’d expected, he was at the end of a long line.

‘An hour, minimum,’ he groaned as he hung up.

‘We have to stay here for an hour?’ she asked, horrified.

‘Not necessarily here. If we take a walk through those trees I think there are some buildings on the other side. There might be a pub where we could get a sandwich.’

‘Can I borrow your phone?’

She called home and was answered by Bobby.

‘Everything’s fine, Mum. Mitzi’s looking through her books and Uncle Jimmy’s watching telly.’

‘Can I talk to him?’

Jimmy assured her that all was well and there would be no trouble about her being late. Corinne hung up, satisfied.

‘Let’s see where the trees lead,’ she said to Alex.

He took her hand and kept hold of it as they wandered beneath the great oaks. The sun was beginning to set, sending golden beams slanting through the branches and on to the snowy ground, and for a while they walked in silence.

It was magic, Corinne thought; the kind best enjoyed in silence. But when she looked at Alex she saw that he was walking with his head down, scowling with tension. His misery reached her almost tangibly, defeating her resolve to keep her distance.

‘Alex-’ She stopped and turned him to face her, and at once it seemed natural to put her arms about him and pull his head on her shoulders. Hang good resolutions, she thought. He was in pain, and she could no more refuse to comfort him than refuse to breathe.

‘Corinne, I’m afraid,’ he whispered.

‘Afraid of what, my dearest?’

‘Everything. Going back to that empty house, that empty life, knowing it’s all I’m fit for now. I’m losing everything I care about, and I don’t know how to stop it.’

Her heart ached for him. She longed to say, Come home. Everything is all right again, and see the happiness return to his face.

But she knew she mustn’t say it. Everything was still not right. Perhaps it would never be right. She shared his sense of helplessness. It was too soon to think that a reconciliation could be easy, or even possible. Until she could see the way ahead she could say nothing to comfort him.

This visit wasn’t working out as she’d expected. She had sent the invitation to the brusque, hard-faced man he had been at the end. But the man who’d arrived had been closer to the old Alex, reminding her of the unexpected touch of defencelessness that he’d always tried so hard to disguise, and had succeeded with everyone but her.

She’d vowed to keep her heart to herself in future, but he’d exerted his dangerous spell on it again, filling her with confusion.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘You’re the man who’s never afraid, remember?’

‘That’s all a con,’ he admitted. ‘Underneath, my knees were always knocking. Except with you. They never really stopped. Hold on to me.’

She did so, feeling him clinging to her in return, holding her as tightly as a drowning man might clutch a lifeline.

‘I love you so much,’ he said huskily.

‘I love you,’ she told him truthfully.

Let’s try again.

The words trembled on her tongue, but somehow they couldn’t be spoken, although she could sense the longing to hear them in every tremor of his body. Instead she raised her face to him and felt his lips cover hers.

He had kissed her before, on Christmas Eve, but that had been different. That kiss had lacked the driving intensity of this one. Last time he’d been overconfident and it had made her freeze. Now he kissed her like a man who feared he might never be able to do so again, with a dread and desperation that made it impossible for her to hold out against him.

His lips still had the skill to excite her, carrying the reminder of a thousand other times when a kiss had been the prelude to lying naked in his arms and being taken to another world that they made themselves out of love and desire. The memories crowded in on her now, making her ache with longing for what she had renounced.

She was kissing him back. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help herself, for she too thought this might be the last time, and there was so much that she wanted to remember.

Alex, the generous lover, seeking her delight before his own, as subtle in his lovemaking as he was unsubtle in his daily life-the man who could be hurt by a word or a look, and who would move heaven and earth to hide it. He had been hers, she had let him go, and soon she would send him away for good.

‘Corinne-Corinne-’

Just that. Just her name, spoken in a voice of racking anguish. It tormented her, but she would stay firm somehow.

‘Don’t cry,’ he whispered.

She hadn’t known that she was crying, but she knew why she couldn’t help it. She was saying a final goodbye to the only man she could love, and though it broke his heart, and her own, she was resolved on doing it.

‘Excuse me!’

It took a long moment for them to return to reality enough to realise that a man was trying to attract their attention.

‘Are you the gentleman who sent for a tow?’

‘Yes,’ Alex said raggedly. ‘I am.’

‘I know we said an hour, but I managed to get here a bit early,’ the man called. ‘Right, let’s get to work. Can I have the keys?’

Alex was pale and his hands shook, but he had regained command of himself. He stood aside as Corinne handed over the keys to the car, then they all walked back through the trees in the setting sun.

CHAPTER SIX

ALEX supposed it was natural for reaction to set in as Christmas passed. That was the only reason he could think of for the weight that suddenly seemed to descend on Bobby. He had always been a thoughtful child, but now he was more silent than usual, as though burdened by some extra care.

‘Do you know what ails him?’ Alex muttered to Corinne, joining her in the kitchen on the morning of the twenty-seventh.

‘No, all I know is that it happened suddenly, some time yesterday evening. But if I ask him about it he swears nothing’s wrong. It’s best to leave him alone, then maybe he’ll tell us.’

Alex nodded and tried to do as she said, but it was hard to realise that the newly established trust between himself and his son was melting away, and be unable to understand. It was also painful to see the forced brightness that Bobby sometimes remembered to assume.

To divert him, he started a snowball fight in the garden, with Mitzi joining in and Jimmy cheering from the sidelines. When they had got each other wet they dashed back into the house, dried off hastily and continued the fight with cushions.

To Alex’s pleasure, Bobby became caught up in what he was doing and laid about him vigorously with a big soft cushion, yodelling with glee.

Totally absorbed in the tussle, Alex failed to hear the front doorbell, or observe Corinne go to answer it. It was taking all his attention to deal with Bobby, who wielded the big cushion expertly until suddenly it collided with Alex’s shoulder and split. A cloud of little feathers flew up to the ceiling and settled back over Alex, who had fallen on to the sofa in a paroxysm of laughter.

He was madly blowing feathers away when a figure he recognised walked into the room.

‘Mark!’ he exclaimed.

Mark Dunsford regarded his employer with something close to disapproval in his eyes.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you since yesterday,’ he said. ‘It’s very urgent.’

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Corinne grow very still. Little Mitzi did the same. But the stillest of all was Bobby.

‘It can’t be that urgent,’ he said. ‘You could have called me.’

‘I tried. Your cellphone is switched off.’

‘No way,’ Alex said at once. ‘I never switch it off.’

‘I assure you, it’s switched off now.’

Frowning, Alex rose and went out into the hall where his coat hung, plunged his hand into the pocket and pulled out the phone. It was off.

‘But how did-?’

Alex checked himself. The air was singing about his ears, and suddenly he knew that what he said next was going to be critical.

‘Well-’ he said at last ‘-so I switched it off and forgot. Is that so strange at Christmas?’

‘What is strange is that it seems to have been switched off after I made a call,’ Mark observed.

‘That’s impossible. You must be mistaken.’

‘It definitely rang several times, long enough for my identity to be displayed on the screen. Then it was turned off. I was curious, as you’ve never done such a thing before.’

Alex shrugged. ‘There’s a first time for everything. I must have been overcome by the Christmas spirit.’

‘But to do it now, when such an important deal is hanging in the balance!’ Mark sounded aghast at the thought that his idol might have feet of clay. ‘That’s simply not like you.’

The next moment he had another shock. Alex’s voice was cool as he asked, ‘What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait?’

‘I called you to let you know of the change of plan. It seems that Craddock’s illness was a false alarm-just indigestion-so the Caribbean is on again. The flight leaves this afternoon. You’ve just about got time.’

‘Time for what?’ Alex asked blankly.

‘Time to catch the plane. I went to the office first, and collected your passport and ticket. Luckily your address book was there and I was able to discover where your wife was living.’

‘But how did you know I’d be here?’ Alex asked quietly. ‘I didn’t tell you.’

‘It was a reasonable supposition, and luckily correct, otherwise I wouldn’t have known where to find you at all.’

‘I see. Well, I would rather you hadn’t done that. Please remember for the future.’

‘But to put yourself completely out of touch when-well, I’ve found you now. You’ll have to hurry.’

Alex rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not quite with you. I’m not going anywhere, Mark.’

‘You don’t understand. The contract-’

‘I understand all right. Old man Craddock thinks he can snap his fingers and everyone will jump.’

‘He knows we need that contract-’

‘No, we don’t need it,’ Alex interrupted him firmly. ‘We want it, but we don’t need it. He won’t find another firm that’ll do the job as well for such a reasonable price, and he knows it. He needs us, and I’m not cutting short the best Christmas of my life just to dance to his tune.’

‘But-’

‘Mark, do you know why he wanted to gather us all round him on the other side of the world? Because he’s a lonely old man with no family. He has no children and both his wives left him. I’m sorry for him, but I’m damned if I’m going to end up like him.’

Mark was aghast at this heresy.

‘But somebody ought to be there, representing the firm. If you won’t go, then let me.’

Alex shrugged. ‘OK, you can do it if you like. I’m sure you’ve got your passport, because I always used to carry mine, and you strike me as frighteningly like myself as I was in those days.’

‘Frighteningly?’

‘Terrifyingly. Appallingly. You’ve got that look in your eyes. It’s like talking to a ghost of myself.’

Mark looked indignant.

‘I’m not ashamed of following your lead. And if, as you say, I can go-’

‘You can if you want to, but if you’ve got any sense you won’t. I know you have no family, but isn’t there a girlfriend you ought to be with?’

‘I do have a girlfriend, and I’ve spent some time with her this Christmas-’

‘Some time? God help you!’

‘But she understands that I need to seize every opportunity-’

‘Spare me the speech.’ Alex was talking to Mark, but he was aware of Corinne, watching him, holding her breath. ‘I wrote that speech myself, long ago. Now I’m tearing it up. Catch the plane if you want to, Mark, tell Craddock I’ve got a bug or something, and you’re fully empowered to sign for me. Otherwise tell him I’ll be back in the office next Monday, ready to do business. It’s up to you, but try to be wiser than I was.’

Mark was stiff with outrage.

‘Then, with your permission, I’ll go to the Caribbean and watch over your interests there.’ His tone implied that somebody needed to mind the shop until his employer recovered his senses.

‘Fine, I’ll see you when you get back and knock some sense into you then.’ Alex grinned. ‘We’ll have cocoa and cream cakes in my office.’

At this, Mark’s hair practically stood on end. ‘Cocoa and-?’

‘Never tried it? You haven’t lived. You’d better be off if you’re going to catch that plane.’

When Mark had left nobody spoke for a while. For the first time Alex realised that he was still covered with feathers. No wonder Mark had thought he was crazy.

He caught Corinne’s eye and realised that she’d had the same thought. She was smiling at him, but not just in amusement. There was a warmth and tenderness in her eyes that he had not seen there for a long time.

She came forward, hands outstretched to him.

‘You really did that?’ she asked eagerly. ‘You really switched the phone off and blocked his call?’

For a moment the temptation to say yes was overwhelming, but with her candid eyes on him he had to say, ‘No, I didn’t do that. I don’t know how it happened. I’m glad of it, but it’s a mystery to me.’

‘It was me.’

For a moment they had forgotten Bobby standing there, silently watching everything. Now they saw his face, white and determined.

‘It was me,’ he said again.

‘What do you mean, son?’ Alex went and sat on the sofa, taking Bobby’s hands in his.

‘I was in the hall last night, and I heard your cellphone ringing,’ Bobby said. ‘I took it out of your coat pocket. I was going to take it to you, but-then I didn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Alex asked gently.

‘Because I knew it was that man,’ Bobby said desperately. ‘It was displayed on the screen, the same as last time he called. I knew he’d want to take you away, and I didn’t want you to go, so I switched it off and put it back in your pocket, and I never told you.’

‘Oh, darling,’ Corinne said quickly, fearful of Alex’s anger at this interference and wanting to protect the child from it. ‘I know why you did it, but you really shouldn’t have-’

She broke off. Alex’s hand was suddenly raised to silence her. He was looking intently at his son and there was no anger in his face.

‘Were you going to tell me about it?’ he asked gently.

‘Yes, but only when it was too late,’ Bobby blurted out with such fierce resolve that Alex’s lips twitched. ‘I knew you’d be angry but I didn’t want you to go. It’s been brilliant this Christmas-the best ever. You’ve really been here, really been here, not just pretending like other times, but talking and-and listening, and being interested, and I didn’t want it to end. I wanted you to stay and stay for ever, but he’d have made you go away and-and-’

‘Hey, steady on, calm down,’ Alex said softly, brushing back a lock of tousled hair from his son’s forehead. ‘You wanted me that much?’

Bobby nodded vigorously.

‘Well-’ Alex had to stop for a moment to control his voice, which was beginning to shake. ‘I can’t be angry at you for wanting me, can I?’

‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’

‘Sorry for what?’

‘Your trip-and your contract.’

‘I didn’t want the trip, and I haven’t missed the contract. Or, if I have, I’m well rid of it if that was the only way I could have it.’

Bobby looked at him uncertainly. ‘Really?’

‘Let me tell you something, son. What you did was completely unnecessary. If I’d spoken to Mark last night I’d have said the same as you heard me say today.’

Bobby didn’t reply. He was gazing at his father, as though longing to believe what he’d just heard, if only-

Alex spoke again, in a rallying tone. ‘You don’t think I’d want to go away from all of you, do you?’

Bobby shook his head.

‘Well, then!’ Alex smiled at his son. ‘I tell you what, it proves what a great team we make. You did exactly what I’d do, just as though you’d read my mind.’

Those words brought forth Bobby’s own beaming grin, full of joy and relief. The next moment he was in his father’s arms.

With Bobby encircled by one arm and Mitzi by the other, he looked up at Corinne. She was not smiling, as he’d hoped, but looking at him with a kind of satisfaction, as though he’d just confirmed something that she’d known in her heart all the time.

‘This is our last meeting,’ Santa said. ‘I don’t usually stick around this long, but I did this time, just for you.’ He leaned down to look at the boy. ‘Do you think you’ll manage?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Bobby said simply. ‘It’s all right now. But you will come back next year, won’t you?’ he added anxiously.

‘Yes, I’ll be back. In the meantime, keep this to remember me by.’

He handed Bobby a small object that he took from his pocket-a medallion made of wood, with the head of Santa Claus in relief. It was a trivial thing, such as anyone might have bought cheap in the sales now that the season was over. But to Bobby it was a precious talisman.

‘For you,’ said Santa. ‘Until we meet again.’

‘Goodbye,’ Bobby whispered. ‘Until we meet again.’

When he’d gone Santa stayed there a while, wondering. He’d almost given up when another figure appeared in the doorway.

‘You’re a wise man,’ she said. ‘Tell me what I should do.’

‘It depends whether you’re thinking of him or yourself,’ Santa told her. ‘For your own sake you should send him on his way and marry Jimmy.’

‘That’s your advice?’

‘It’s what’s best for you.’

‘Would it be best for him?’

Santa shook his head. ‘It would finish him. He couldn’t cope. He told you about going home to an empty place, but he didn’t say how bad it is without you-how he makes excuses to work extra late so that he doesn’t have to go back and face the emptiness, or how he jumps whenever the phone rings in case it’s you, and curses when it isn’t.

‘I know he’s a difficult man, but he understands things now that he didn’t understand before. Doesn’t he deserve a chance to show you? I’m not saying it’ll be easy. He’s still going to get it wrong a lot of the time, maybe most of the time. But he loves you and he needs you, and without you he’s going to turn into a mean, miserable old man. Are you simply going to abandon him to that fate?’

‘But you just told me that I ought to marry Jimmy.’

‘He’s steady and reliable, and he’ll give you no trouble.’ Santa couldn’t resist adding, with a marked lack of Christmas spirit, ‘He’ll also bore the socks off you.’

‘That’s true. And maybe I feel I could cope with a little trouble.’

He looked at her uncertainly, as though not sure that he’d heard correctly.

‘So-what are you going to tell him?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Nothing.’ She gave Santa the smile of a conspirator. ‘You’re such a great ambassador. Why don’t you tell him?’

‘Tell him what?’

‘Whatever you think he most wants to hear.’

She kissed him on the cheek. Then she was gone.

Jimmy was up early the next morning, packing his suitcase with one inexpert hand.

‘Will you be all right for the journey?’ Corinne asked, coming to help him. ‘You surely don’t have to go yet?’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said sadly. ‘I’m a soldier, remember? I know when I’m beaten.’

She didn’t ask what that meant.

Alex drove him to the station, and they parted on reasonably cordial terms, considering. Alex was feeling cordial to the whole world this morning, although there was still a touch of anxiety in his manner when he returned and went to find Corinne. He found her upstairs in her bedroom, pushing clothes aside in the wardrobe.

‘It’s still a bit cramped,’ she said. ‘But your things can overflow into the guest room now Jimmy’s gone.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked quietly. ‘There’s still time to send me away.’

She smiled. ‘Is there? Would you go if I told you to?’

‘Nope.’ He took her into his arms. ‘This is home now.’

‘You don’t mind moving in here?’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is the home where we became a family, and where we’ll stay a family.’

‘Suddenly you’re very wise,’ she said.

‘I’ve been taking advice from a mysterious friend. He’s a very old man who knows a lot because people tell him things. He says the problems won’t simply vanish, but if the love is there we should never give up on it.’

‘And the love is there,’ she said.

‘Yes. Always.’ He took her face between his hands. ‘I love you, Corinne, with everything in me. Promise me that you’ll remember that when I act like a jerk.’

‘Are you likely to do that?’

He nodded wryly. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘Me, too.’

‘We’ve just taken the first step,’ he said seriously. ‘I don’t know where the other steps will lead, but if you’re with me I’ll follow the path in any direction.’

‘It may lead to some strange places,’ she reminded him.

‘Just keep tight hold of my hand.’

He drew her close and kissed her. If their last kiss had been one of farewell, this was one of greeting, neither quite knowing who the other was any more, but glad to be introduced.

They didn’t see the door open and two heads look in, then withdraw silently.

‘Told you,’ Bobby said triumphantly. ‘I said Dad would come back for good.’

‘You were just guessing,’ Mitzi accused.

‘I wasn’t.’

‘Was.’

‘Wasn’t.’

‘Was.’

‘I knew he was coming back. I had-’ Bobby looked around significantly ‘-inside information.’

‘Go on! Who?’

‘Santa Claus.’

Mitzi looked at him with six-year-old sisterly scorn. ‘You’re batty, you are!’ she announced. ‘There is no Santa Claus.’

‘There is.’

‘Isn’t.’

‘Is.’

‘Isn’t.

‘Is. What’s more, I talked to him.’

‘Batty!’ she said again. ‘Batty, batty, batty!’

She ran off down the stairs, yodelling the word happily.

Bobby was not upset by this reaction. At six, Mitzi still had a lot to learn about life, and people, and Santa.

‘Santa Claus,’ he said. ‘Santa Claus-Father Christmas.’

He took the little wooden medallion from his pocket and turned it over in his fingers, still murmuring softly. ‘Father Christmas, Father Christmas-’

He smiled to himself with secret contentment.

‘Father.’

EPILOGUE

One year later

‘YOU see, I kept my word,’ Santa said.

Bobby nodded, slipping into the room and regarding his friend with shining eyes.

A year had made him two inches taller, and the shape of his face was a little different. His eyes were, perhaps, a little too wise for his age, but that was his nature. The tension and sadness were gone.

‘I knew you’d come because you said you would,’ he said.

Santa looked around him at the room. ‘I hardly recognise this place.’

Bobby nodded. ‘We’ve been redecorating. Dad tried to do this room himself, only he’s rotten at it, and Mum said he should chuck the paintbrush away and she’d get a firm in to do it, and anyway they had better things to do, now that I’m going to have a baby brother or sister.’

He turned to look at a small figure who had appeared in the doorway.

‘Come in. I told you he’d be here.’

Mitzi came further into the room, eyeing Santa with a touch of suspicion, then coming close and poking him in the stomach.

‘Ow!’ he remembered to say.

‘You see, I’m not batty,’ Bobby told her.

‘Yes, you are,’ she said firmly.

‘Aren’t!’

‘Are!’

‘Aren’t!’

‘Are!’

‘That’s enough, the pair of you,’ Corinne said, coming in. ‘Go to bed, now. Santa still has a full night’s work to do.’

He leaned down to them. ‘That’s right. I’ll say goodbye now. I won’t be back tomorrow, like I was last time.’

‘And next year?’ Bobby asked.

‘We’ll see.’ Santa added thoughtfully, ‘Most boys of your age don’t believe in Santa Claus.’

Bobby regarded him with a faint quizzical smile. ‘I believe in you,’ he said.

Mitzi nodded. Then she put her arms around his huge girth as far as they would go, which wasn’t far. Santa leaned down and she vanished into his white hair.

‘Goodnight, both of you,’ he said huskily.

When the children were gone Corinne looked at Santa’s belly, then at her own, which was about the same size.

‘I wouldn’t have much luck cuddling you, either,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Cross fingers that we’ll make it through Christmas.’

‘Well, if not, that husband of yours is here.’ Beneath his beard Santa paled slightly. ‘He may not be much use, but he’s here.’

‘Don’t you say a word against my husband. The clinic said he was doing the breathing exercises very well. Better than me.’

He grinned, but then the grin faded. ‘Are you going to be all right?’ he asked seriously.

She smiled. ‘We’re going to be all right. All of us.’

‘Sure?’

‘I’m like Bobby. I believe in you. Happy Christmas, Santa. Now and always.’

Lucy Gordon

Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Sir Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness, and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days.

You can visit her website at www. lucy-gordon. com and look out for The Italian’s Passionate Revenge which will be available in May!

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