‘It looks great,’ Kieran adds as if reading my thoughts. Then a chink appears in his confidence. ‘Well, we thought so.’
‘Great.’ But I hear myself gulp uneasily.
I go into my emails and check what’s come in. There’s lots more wrapping and present buying to be done. Some people certainly like to cut it fine. I think today I’ll get the boys to try to make a real dent on the outstanding list as the flat still looks like a warehouse with all the cardboard boxes stacked in it. If we can get some of those shifted today, it will give the four of us some much needed breathing room.
Kieran brings in my tea. ‘I made you some toast too,’ he says. ‘Hope that’s all right.’
My heart softens. ‘That’s very kind.’
‘No,’ he says, his face anxious. ‘You’re the kind one, Cassie. Taking us two on. Not a lot of women would do that.’
‘You can stay as long as you need to,’ I tell him, honestly. ‘Hopefully, you’ll both have your own place soon.’
‘I can’t believe it. That would be just fucking awesome.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘Sorry, sorry. Awesome, I mean. Without the “fucking” bit.’
We both laugh.
‘I want to do it right this time,’ he says, shuffling uncomfortably. ‘I feel I can with Jim behind me.’
‘He thinks a lot of both of you.’
‘He’s a great bloke. The best. You’re a great couple.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Best let you get on.’ Kieran nods at the computer. ‘Just tell us what to do when you know.’
‘I will.’
When he’s gone, I sit and stare blankly at the screen. I chew my toast, not tasting it, simply because I don’t want to offend Kieran. Checking my watch, I see that it’s not yet seven o’clock. I feel bleary-eyed after my disturbed night and still can’t assemble my thoughts coherently. Perhaps I should phone Carter right now. Catch him before he starts work. But what would I say to him? Maybe I should wait until he calls me. Buy myself some thinking time. After chewing at my lip and my fingernails, I decide that’s just what I’ll do. I need to check that the decorations are perfect, so I’ll have to bite the bullet at some point.
In the meantime, I must get down to business. Calling Mrs Christmas! isn’t going to organise itself.
I’ve had a couple of emails in, asking for someone to erect outside lights, so I’ll call the customers and find out what it is that they want. Let’s see if the boys can do that with me tomorrow. That would keep them out of mischief. There are several more people who want tree-dressing, which is lovely because that’s my favourite thing to do. Someone asks me to organise a festive deep-clean of their house, which is a new one on me and doesn’t sound very festive. However, within minutes, I’ve fixed it up with an agency for a 10 per cent cut of the fee. Then I have half a dozen requests from people asking me to do their Christmas food shopping. That may not be glamorous, but I’m charging quite heartily for it and not everyone has time to do it themselves or wants to risk leaving it to the pickers and packers of Tesco online. I could get Gaby to help me with those. Someone wants a singer to go to their house for an hour on Christmas Eve for a drinks party. I have only a couple of people on my hastily assembled contacts list, so I hope that one of them is still free or that they know someone who is.
My last request is from someone asking me to hire china and crockery for their Christmas celebrations and to go along and decorate their dining room. They also want to know if I can organise a chef for them, so I’ll ring the company who is going to provide the chef for Carter and the children and check if they can do it. It’s nice to see that Carter isn’t my only client with money to burn. I’m going to set the boys off with their wrapping chores and then I’ll come back and organise the rest.
Now that I’m back at my desk in my poky flat, I’m beginning to feel as if Lapland was just a beautiful dream. Last night, Lapland was the reality and being back at home felt totally surreal; now it seems like the other way round. Did it really happen at all? Did I imagine what Carter said to me? Perhaps I did.
I check my watch. Nearly nine o’clock and Carter still hasn’t called. I stare at my mobile, willing it to ring, but it’s immune to my silent pleas.
I should just ring him, get this over with. My stomach swirls with panic at the very thought of it. I feel as if I’m bothering him. But then I remember all the things he said last night and know that he’ll want me to contact him as soon as possible.
So, with trembling fingers, I pick up the phone.
Chapter Sixty-One
By noon, the boys have wrapped and labelled dozens of presents. They kept the television on all morning as they cut, wrapped and ribboned, but that’s fine. There’s been the sound of laughter too, so it seems as if they’re quite relaxed in their work and I hope that the horrors of Bovingdale will soon be long behind them. They’ve also kept the tea and coffee flowing my way too, so, despite my misgivings about having them here, they do appear to be happy to slip into a normal domestic routine.
I’ve been steadily working my way through my list of Things To Do and, in between each task, have been calling Carter. So far I’ve phoned him ten times. He’s yet to reply. I haven’t left a message as, frankly, I don’t even know what I want to say to him.
Being once again sent straight to his voicemail, I hang up. Now I’m worried that when he sees his list of ‘missed calls’ he’ll think that I’m not simply keen to talk to him but have turned into a stalker. I might not be able to speak to Carter himself, but I can’t put off going up to the house to see what Jim and the boys have done in terms of decoration. Pulling out the plan, I glance over it to refresh my memory. There’s a lot of work here and I can’t believe they’ll have done it all to my exacting standards.
Taking a deep breath, I phone Carter’s office at Randall Court. Georgina answers.
‘Hi, Georgina. Is Carter around today?’
‘No,’ she tells me. ‘He left long before I got here as he had to take the children back to school this morning. Then he’s in London all day.’
‘I’d like to come up and check the decorations.’
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘Any time. They’re looking fantastic.’
That’s a relief to hear. ‘Can I come up at four?’
‘Yes, certainly. I’ll see you then.’
So I hang up, glad that there’s a plan in place. Jim will be home by then to keep the boys occupied and I’ll be free to go without worrying about leaving them alone in the flat.
I make Kieran and Andrew a sandwich and some soup for lunch, remembering that boys who are growing into men have hollow legs. It would be nice to see the gaunt, grey look go from Kieran’s face while he’s here. That boy needs some good home-made dinners inside him to fill him out. He keeps the sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled well down, but I still catch a glimpse of the fine, healing cuts on his wrists.
I take five minutes to sit with them. ‘You’ve got through a lot this morning.’
‘We’re glad to be busy,’ Andrew says.
‘Why don’t you write out a card for your parents while you’re at it?’ I suggest, nodding to the growing pile. ‘Tell them you’re out and where you’re living.’
He shrugs.
‘It’s Christmas, Andrew. I’m sure they’d be pleased to hear from you.’
‘Dunno.’
‘Think about it.’ I turn to Kieran. ‘Do you have anyone you’d like to send a card to?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I need to stay well away from my old life. I don’t want anyone knowing where I am.’
That’s sad, I think, but from what Jim has said he might well be right.
When they’ve eaten and have both gushed over my skills in the sandwich-making department, they carry some of the wrapped gifts down to my car for delivery to a couple of addresses on my way to Randall Court.
At three o’clock Jim comes home. He breezes through the door of the flat and kisses me st
raight away.
‘Had a good day?’
‘Just trying to get back up to speed,’ I tell him. ‘I’m going up to Randall Court this afternoon.’
‘Checking up on our handiwork?’
‘Thanks for doing that. I’m amazed. I hadn’t expected you to.’
‘Thought it would be a nice surprise,’ Jim says. ‘The lads did a really good job.’ He glows when he says it.
‘Georgina told me. I just want to make sure that absolutely everything is done so that I can tick it off the list.’
‘There’s still a lot of work coming in.’
‘Not long now and Christmas will soon be all over.’ Then what happens, I wonder? Where will I be in January? What will I do with myself? Will I even still be here at Christmas?
Jim lowers his voice and jerks his head towards the living room where the boys are sitting. ‘Are you OK after last night?’
I nod. I still feel shaky when I think of Kieran crying out. ‘It’s just taking a bit of getting used to, but they’ve been great this morning.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘We had lunch together and I’ve made you a sandwich,’ I tell Jim as he follows me into the kitchen. ‘It’s on the side covered with clingfilm. There’s some soup in the pan. I’m just going to do burger and chips for us all tonight so it’s quick.’
‘I’m sure the lads will like that.’ Then Jim wells up and surreptitiously brushes a tear from his eye.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘For a minute it almost felt like having our own family here. I feel quite protective of them both. It’s nice to see them blossoming.’
‘Being out of that place must be a huge relief.’
‘Yeah. I’m sure it is.’ Jim checks the pan, giving it a stir. ‘I’ll take them into town when I’ve had this. There are a few errands they need to do.’
I kiss his cheek. ‘I won’t be long.’
Jim catches my arm as I go to leave. ‘We are all right, aren’t we?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ I can’t meet his eyes.
‘I thought things were a bit… I don’t know… strange… last night.’
‘It did seem a bit peculiar,’ I admit.
‘Is it just having the lads here? Nothing more?’
Shaking my head, I say, ‘Nothing more.’
He laughs, but I can tell it’s forced. ‘I wouldn’t like to think that you’d had too good a time with Carter Randall.’
And, of course, that’s exactly what happened. Jim’s not stupid. What can I say? How can I tell him how I feel when I don’t even know myself?
‘I’d better go.’
He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight, whispering into my hair, ‘Make sure you come back to me, Cassie.’
‘I will.’
But my heart is troubled as I walk out of the door.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Having delivered the beautifully wrapped gifts to their intended homes, I wend my way out of Hemel Hempstead and up towards Little Gaddesden. Even though I’m doing all these Christmassy things, I still can’t believe that Christmas itself is just around the corner. I haven’t even begun to think about what we’ll do ourselves. I haven’t thought about one bit of festive food or gifts or decorations for our own home even though it’s usually all I think about at this time of the year. Then I pull myself up short. Will I even be at the flat with Jim by Christmas? The very thought of it makes me feel sick. But can I really walk away from Carter, his beautiful children – who I’ve also grown so very fond of – and the life of ease that he can offer me?
My car grunts and grinds its way up through the forest. Everything has been thoroughly grey and miserable today. The sky, now edging towards darkness, is sullen, brooding. Even the trees look weary. No fabulously brilliant, snow-rich forests here. Just damp, heaviness and gloom. I haven’t spoken to my sister since I’ve been back. Perhaps if I do she’ll furnish me with some useful sisterly advice and guidance as my head is still spinning. I can’t hold onto one single thought and make sense of it.
A few minutes later, when I pull into the drive of Randall Court, my mind is still in a jumble. I sweep up the drive, seeing it with new eyes, but still feeling as much in awe of it as when I first came here. Could this place one day be my own home? It seems impossible even as it crosses my mind.
I drive past the towering Christmas tree and park outside the row of garages, then jump out of my car and crunch across the gravel to the house. Even though I know that Carter isn’t around, just being here is giving my spirits a lift. Who wouldn’t want to live in a palatial home like this? Is it superficial to be drawn to it? Wouldn’t anyone be? I sigh to myself and ring the bell.
While I wait for the door to be opened, I admire the vast Christmas tree. It’s beautifully illuminated and, as it’s dark now, I can appreciate the full impact.
A few minutes later, Georgina opens the door and lets me into the entrance hall. It’s all I can do not to gasp out loud. In the corner the other Christmas tree twinkles for all it’s worth and looks absolutely stunning. The decorated garland that I started off now winds all the way up the banister of the galleried staircase and it too looks amazing. I can’t believe that Jim and the boys have managed this.
‘This is incredible.’
‘I know,’ Georgina says. ‘You’ve done a great job. The house has never looked so beautiful at Christmas.’
I wonder what Carter thought of it. And, more importantly, how Tamara reacted. I really want to ask Georgina what happened last night when Carter got home with the children. Were they all right? Was he all right? Did Tamara stay or did she go? A cold feeling settles on my chest when I even think of that. However, I realise that Georgina’s probably no wiser than I am as they got back so late and I don’t want to show undue interest.
‘I’d like to look at the other rooms we’ve decorated.’
‘Help yourself. There’s no one else here today,’ she says.
‘Not even Hettie?’
‘Day off. She’s popped into Berkhamsted for a while.’ Georgina checks her watch. ‘She should be back before too long.’
I feel as if I’d like to see Hettie, chat to her. If she gave the children their breakfast this morning, she’d know if everything was as it should be.
‘Mind if I go back to the office while you look around? Carter has left me a flurry of things to do.’
‘No. Go ahead.’
‘Call me if you need me.’ She means on her phone. You could probably shout for ever in this house and no one would hear you. Then I remember that the first time I came here and met Carter, he and Tamara were having a right old shouting match and I heard that all right. It seems so long ago and yet it’s a matter of weeks.
Georgina leaves me to attend to her duties and I go into the living room. There’s another garland over the mantelpiece and Jim, or whoever did this, has followed my plan perfectly but have also added their own flair. It looks sensational. If you didn’t feel Christmassy before, you would do if you spent a few minutes looking at this.
In all of the vases there are lovely festive flower arrangements. I take a moment to sit on the sofa, sink into the plush cushions and drink it all in. It’s just wonderful. How would I feel if this was, in part, mine? This room alone is probably bigger than our entire flat. I can’t imagine Carter and the children in it by themselves. It’s too vast and needs to be filled by a huge, robust family with lots of noise and animals. Gulping, I realise that it’s way too easy for me to picture it.
Did Tamara like it, I wonder? Then I realise that this is no longer her home and what she thinks doesn’t really matter. It’s Carter and the children who are important.
Before I get too comfortable, I drag myself up from the sofa and climb the stairs, stopping on the way to check Jim’s handiwork as he knew I would. I have to say that they’ve all done a great job. Who knew that Jim even had it in him? And he’s done all this to take the pressure off me. As happy as I am, I also feel like sittin
g on the stairs and crying.
I go into Eve’s bedroom first, which looks so girly and pretty, exactly as it should. Switching on the Christmas-tree lights, they sparkle brightly, making the room look like a palace fit for a little princess. Sitting on Eve’s bed, I stroke the duvet where she would lie. An array of soft toys are piled on her pillow. I pick one up and cuddle it to me. I wish the children were here now so I could see how excited they were about their bedroom decorations. I know for sure that Eve will have loved this. I wish I could have been with her last night when she saw them for the first time. I would have given anything to see her reaction.
Calling Mrs Christmas Page 32