Together by Christmas

by Karen Swan

  ‘I’m okay, Fitch.’

  But she tightened her grip on him, hardly able to believe it. ‘Oh Harry, I was so frightened,’ she wept into his neck.

  ‘I know. I know you were.’ His voice was the same as it had always been. Solid. Steady. Safe. And she knew they weren’t just talking about his capture.

  She pulled back to look at him, tears streaming down both their cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something else but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. ‘No. Don’t say it,’ she said quickly, knowing him too well. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ Her voice was thick and choked. ‘You were trying to do good . . . and sometimes it just goes that way . . . Bad things happen.’ She nodded, feeling the tears surge again, but she let them fall. Fall away from her. ‘The risk was always there and I knew that. It wasn’t your fault . . . And I . . . I shouldn’t have punished you the way I did.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. His were bloodshot still, the faint traces of a bruise still around the socket of his left eye, a small scab on his lip. ‘I don’t blame you for a single thing, Fitch, you hear me?’

  She stared back at him, hiccupping more gently as she heard the subtext. ‘. . . Oh God, you know.’

  He inhaled slowly and nodded. ‘Gisele told me.’

  ‘. . . Yes.’ Lee felt a slow deflation in her lungs. Perhaps that was only right, for this was part of her story too now. Her family. They were all connected forever. ‘Harry—’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘No, let me say this. I have to say it,’ she pleaded. ‘You have to know why.’

  He nodded then, letting her speak, and she looked back at him with shining eyes.

  ‘After it happened, I was so . . . broken, and so angry, I needed someone I could blame. I couldn’t forgive you because if I did, who would I have to hate?’ The tears overflowed again, her shoulders pressed up to her ears as her voice broke. ‘. . . I never even saw his face.’

  Tears shone in his eyes too. ‘I know, Fitch, I know.’ That had been one of the hardest things. Never knowing who had done this to her. ‘And if it makes any difference at all, he’s probably dead, and probably has been for a long time. But that’s why I went for Moussef. Because he engineered it. And he’s paid for it.’ His arms wrapped around her again. ‘He’s gone now, Fitch,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘You’re safe again.’

  She was safe. It was over. The past belonged to another land.

  She closed her eyes as he kissed her hard on the cheek, forgiveness and love in one movement.

  ‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked as they finally pulled apart. ‘I’m afraid there’s a crowd up there—’

  He grinned and she saw a flash of her old friend still lingering behind the cuts and bruises and thin skin. He’d come back from this, she already knew it. He shook his head. ‘I need to get back to the hospital. I only went home to change but I couldn’t go another hour without seeing you. I needed to know we’re good again.’

  Good again. She smiled at his typical understatement, wondering when he’d last slept. ‘We’re better than good, Cunningham,’ she replied, punching him softly on the arm. ‘We’re best friends.’

  He gave a relieved smile. ‘I’m glad to know it was worth it, then.’

  ‘Yes,’ she chuckled, sensing their black humour resurfacing. ‘I don’t ask for much.’

  They both grinned, feeling their bond come back to life as they stared at one another with the deep affection of old friends.

  But his smiled faded and he became more serious again. ‘Does . . . does Jasper know about me?’

  She nodded. ‘I told him last night. He took it very well. I had always told him you lived very far away. So now I’ve told him your name, and that you’re back.’

  ‘And . . .’ He looked nervous, just like Sam had. ‘Does he want to know me?’

  ‘Harry, you’re his father,’ she said gently. ‘Whenever you’re ready, he’d like to meet you.’ She qualified that. ‘I mean, perhaps right now isn’t the best time, with all these people . . .’

  ‘No, no.’ A light flickered in his eyes. ‘But . . . how about tomorrow then?’

  ‘Tomorrow? That’s not too soon for you?’

  ‘What would we be waiting for?’ he shrugged. ‘You could come to the hospital and he could meet his little brother.’

  ‘Is Gisele okay with that?’

  ‘It was her idea.’

  Lee smiled, feeling something in her loosen. ‘Then we’ll do that. Although I should warn you, you’ll probably come a distant second on the “interesting new people” scale when Jasper finds out he’s got a little brother to play with.’

  Harry smiled. ‘Second’s fine.’ He nodded as his eyes began welling up with tears again and she knew exactly what he was thinking. He had thought he was coming home to a baby daughter and instead found himself with two sons. It would be a lot for anyone to absorb. ‘Oh God.’

  She put her arms around him again. ‘We’re all going to be okay, you know?’

  ‘I know,’ he laughed, roughly wiping away the tears. ‘I’m just not used to feeling this happy. It’s going to be the death of me.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ she laughed. ‘It’s the happiness that’ll get you.’

  They both the heard the echo from their old life, the day everything had changed.

  ‘Go!’ she said, shooing him away affectionately before she started off crying again too. ‘Go be with your wife and baby. We’ll come over during visiting hours tomorrow morning.’

  He turned and went back down the steps and she noticed for the first time the cab idling on the cobbles.

  ‘Hey, Cunningham!’ she called as he opened the car door. ‘Have you decided on a name for the baby yet?’

  ‘Gisele likes Sebastian!’ He shrugged. ‘So I guess that’s what we’re going with.’

  Sebastian. So she’d gone for it after all? She grinned, biting her lip, delightedly. ‘Tell her I love it!’ she called back as he got into the car.

  She waved as the taxi glided away, her gaze falling for a few moments on the frozen canal, a few of her neighbours gliding up and down the ice. Life was idling at a slow, quiet pace this Christmas Day.

  She closed the door behind her with a gentle click – completely forgetting all about the bolts and chains – and slowly climbed the stairs, growing more aware again of the noise coming from her living room. Everyone seemed to be cheering. What on earth—?

  She walked through the doorway to find Jasper standing on a chair, holding up the bunch of mistletoe, and Liam and Mila standing beneath it, kissing.

  ‘Oh honestly! I leave you lot alone for two minutes!’ she laughed, seeing how Liam’s arms were wrapped tightly around Mila, like he never wanted to let her go.

  Noah, Lenka and Pabe were all cheering – but where was Sam?

  ‘Hey.’ His voice was low.

  She turned to find him behind her. He looked down at her wet lashes and tear-tracked cheeks; he seemed apprehensive. ‘I saw from the window . . . All okay?’

  She nodded, walking into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder, hearing his heart beat faster. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Everything’s perfect.’

  She wished they were alone, but she had a house full of guests, and as she heard the cheers start up again, she turned to see Noah whisking Jasper off the chair and holding him up under the arms; together, they came running over and carefully, Jasper dangling in mid-air, he positioned the bunch of mistletoe above their heads.

  Lee laughed, blushing, as the cheers grew louder, Sam’s hand encircling her waist.

  ‘You have to kiss him, mama! It’s Christmas good luck!’

  Sam turned her to face him, his hand upon her cheek. ‘What do you say, Lee? Don’t you think it’s about time we had a little luck?’

  She felt the butterflies in her stomach take wing, and with them, her hopes too. ‘Oh yes,’ she smiled as he bent towards her. ‘I really do.’

 
Epilogue

  The fire crackled, the three of them variously stretched out and curled up on the sofa. She and Sam were lying in spoons, Jasper sitting atop Sam as Return of the Jedi played on the TV. His toys old and new – Nerf guns and Scalextric cars and Lego bricks and lightsabers, all played with at different times today – were discarded in various parts of the room; but Ducky was threaded between his fingers, his thumb in his mouth.

  Their guests now departed, only the lights on the Christmas tree were on, the living room feeling almost Dickensian in its dimly lit glow. Sam stroked her hair, taking in her profile by the firelight, gazing at her like she was made from the stars.

  The credits rolled and she looked back at him with glowing eyes, knowing the beginning of their time – alone, at last – was almost upon them.

  But not quite yet. There was still one last thing to do. A final piece to be slotted into the puzzle.

  ‘Jazzy,’ she said, pulling herself up the sofa as he stirred and yawned, knowing without needing to be told that it was time to go to bed. He was worn out. Playing with all the grown-ups had been exhausting. ‘There’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.’

  He looked at her sleepily.

  ‘I know you’ve had a lot of news to take in these past few days – but it’s all been good news, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked back at Sam again, smiling shyly.

  Sam’s arm rose, ruffling his hair affectionately.

  ‘Well, this is good news too. I think – I hope – it will make you very happy.’ Jasper tipped his head to the side, his brown eyes resting upon her. She knew she was his safety, his place of refuge.

  ‘You know how we talked last night about your father, Harry – about how he’s been far away but now he’s back? Well, he wondered whether you’d like to see him tomorrow?’

  Jasper’s eyes widened. ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘I know, it’s soon, isn’t it? What do you think? Would you like that?’

  Jasper hesitated, glancing at Sam.

  Sam smiled back, squeezing his leg. ‘I think it sounds exciting.’

  Jasper’s mouth spread into a small smile, his relief evident that he didn’t have to somehow choose. ‘Yes, it’s exciting.’

  ‘The thing is, Harry’s wife Gisele – do you remember she came for Pakjesavond?’

  Jasper nodded. ‘She bought me a gun and had a baby in her tummy.’

  ‘That’s right, she did!’ Lee chuckled. ‘But you see, the baby has been born now. She had a little boy. And because that little boy is Harry’s son, that means he is also . . .’ She swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous. ‘He’s also your baby brother.’

  Jasper blinked, his mouth opened to a perfect ‘o’ as her words settled in his young brain. ‘. . . I’ve got a baby brother?’ he repeated.

  Lee nodded, feeling her heart lurch, not sure on which side of the fence this news might fall.

  ‘That means, you’re a big brother,’ Sam said quietly, his eyes glowing with an inner, checked emotion. ‘And take it from me, brothers always grow up to be best friends.’

  ‘I’m a big brother,’ Jasper repeated excitedly.

  ‘You are. His name is Sebastian, but I think it will probably get shortened to Bas.’

  Jasper gasped as he heard the echo. ‘Bas and Jazz!’

  ‘Exactly!’ Lee laughed, clapping her hands together at the spectacle of his delight. ‘You even sound like brothers!’

  ‘Does he look like me?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘We’ll just have to see tomorrow, won’t we?’

  The excitement was too much for him now and Jasper clambered off Sam like he was a hunk of rock – almost winding him in the process – and jumped onto the floor. Picking up his lightsaber, he did a dramatic flash and turn. ‘I’m a big brother!’

  Sam and Lee laughed as he ran a lap around the room, roaring, lightsaber held aloft.

  He did a full circuit and, as he got back to them again, his eyes were shining like coals. ‘It’s just like in my poem for Sinterklaas.’

  ‘Huh?’ For a moment Lee was confused. But as she thought back, dredging through the memories, she remembered again . . . ‘Oh my goodness, yes!’

  ‘Santa brought me my baby brother on Christmas Day!’

  Lee laughed. ‘Sort of, yes.’

  His mouth opened wide, eyes so full of wonder she thought he was hallucinating. He gasped. ‘Mama, I told you Sinterklaas and Santa Claus are the same!’

  Sam, confused, looked between them both, just as Jasper took off for another roaring lap of the room. ‘What?’

  ‘Long story,’ she grinned, squirrelling back into him and reaching towards him for another kiss. ‘But I’d say your days in fancy dress are well and truly numbered.’

  Acknowledgements

  This was the most difficult book I’ve written to date. Deciding to set a Christmas story in a country for whom Christmas is a footnote to St Nicholas’ Day – several weeks earlier and actually beginning in mid-November – posed logistical challenges that meant my timing and pacing were completely out in the first draft, and required a significant rewrite. With three weeks until my deadline, I effectively only had half a story, couldn’t see a way forward and my confidence really deserted me, to the point where, for several very long weeks, I thought I wouldn’t have a book on the shelves for you this Christmas. The person who dug me out of the hole was my agent, Amanda. Somehow sensing through the ether that I was in trouble, she called at precisely the right time and we talked it through; her suggestions unplugged the plot block and I was able to get back on track. Amanda, if the agenting doesn’t work out, you’d make a fortune in plumbing! Thank you, thank you.

  Caroline, my editor, also helped restore my confidence, greeting the book with an enthusiasm I never would have predicted. There was scar tissue left from this writing experience, and even though I’d managed to push through to an ending, I was concerned the fault lines would still be visible. Of course, every book needs a damned good edit (or ten!) so I knew we could finesse the bare bones, but would it be enough? Caroline’s energy upon reading even the first draft lifted me up when I needed it most and persuaded me that perhaps the writing genie hadn’t abandoned me completely, so thank you Caroline for those well-chosen words; they meant more than perhaps you realized.

  My Pan Mac gang – all of you – thank you for being the best bunch. You’re so good at what you do, you make it look easy, even though it really isn’t. And it never feels like work, putting these stories together and the books out. I love every step of the process, and even though this book has been produced under the difficult circumstances posed by Covid-19, we still feel like a team. Thank you.

  Finally, a shout-out to my Dutch friends who gave me crucial advice about their native customs and national character – Martine, who makes a cameo appearance in the story; and Nicole, whose two sons are in fact called Sebastian and Jasper – Bas and Jazz – and ended up inadvertently giving the book such a lovely note to finish on. Little did you know, Nix, sixteen and fourteen years ago, that you’d be doing me such a favour! I owe you one (that ‘one’ probably being bottle-shaped and ending in -ollinger!)

  Together by

  Christmas

  Karen Swan is the Sunday Times top three bestselling author of nineteen books and her novels sell all over the world. She writes two books each year – one for the summer period and one for the Christmas season. Previous winter titles include Christmas at Tiffany’s, The Christmas Lights and The Christmas Party, and for summer, The Greek Escape, The Spanish Promise and The Hidden Beach.

  Her books are known for their evocative locations and Karen sees travel as vital research for each story. She loves to set deep, complicated love stories within twisty plots, sometimes telling two stories in the same book.

  Previously a fashion editor, she lives in Sussex with her husband, three children and two dogs.

  Visit Karen’s author page on Facebook, follow her on Twitter @KarenSwa
n1, on Instagram @swannywrites, and on her website www.karenswan.com.

  Also by Karen Swan

  Players

  Prima Donna

  Christmas at Tiffany’s

  The Perfect Present

  Christmas at Claridge’s

  The Summer Without You

  Christmas in the Snow

  Summer at Tiffany’s

  Christmas on Primrose Hill

  The Paris Secret

  Christmas Under the Stars

  The Rome Affair

  The Christmas Secret

  The Greek Escape

  The Christmas Lights

  The Spanish Promise

  The Christmas Party

  The Hidden Beach

  First published 2020 by Macmillan

  This electronic edition first published 2020 by Pan Books

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan

  The Smithson, 6 Briset Street, London EC1M 5NR

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-5290-0611-7

  Copyright © Karen Swan 2020

  Cover Images: © Getty Images/Jonne Heinonen/Folio and Henglein & Steets; Arcangel Images/ Maria Heyens; Shutterstock

  The right of Karen Swan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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