The Baby Who Saved Christmas

by Alison Roberts

  This was a tragedy in anybody’s terms and Julien clearly blamed her father and hated him for it. She had come here claiming a close relationship to André so it was no wonder she wasn’t welcome. Had André been as reckless on public roads as he’d been on a racing circuit? That would give credence to the idea that the crash had been his fault but Julien had said his sister had died in childbirth months ago. How could André be blamed for that?

  A cold chill ran down Alice’s spine. Had it been an abortion that had gone horribly wrong? That was part of her own history, in a way. The only reason she existed had been because her mother had refused to go along with what had been deemed compulsory.

  The silence grew heavier. And more awkward.

  And then it was broken by something totally unexpected.

  The wail of a baby.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALICE FOUND HERSELF staring at the doors as the sound grew louder. Julien had gone pale. He got to his feet and walked past her without a word. Without thinking, Alice stood up and followed him.

  There seemed to be two groups of people at the other end of the huge room. Two men wearing dark suits, facing each other and talking loudly. Behind the second man were two women. One was older and wore an apron. A younger woman was carrying the baby, who couldn’t be more than about three months old. The age of the youngest of the children who attended the pre-school educational centre she worked for.

  The age Julien’s nephew or niece would have been by now?

  Julien was walking swiftly, as though he intended to stop them coming any further. Alice was a few steps behind by the time they all stopped.

  They spoke French, of course, so she couldn’t understand a word but she could pick up a sense of what was going on. There was a problem of some kind and Julien wanted nothing to do with it. She couldn’t be sure that he’d even looked at the baby, having positioned himself alongside one of the men so that he was only facing the other man and the older woman. Their voices rose over the sound of the baby crying and the younger girl was looking ready to cry herself.

  Alice might teach the older pupils at the Kindercare Nursery School but she had had enough experience with the youngest children to know that this baby wasn’t well. The crying was punctuated by coughing. He had a runny nose and kept rubbing at his eyes with a small fist. His mother, if that’s who she was, jiggled the bundle she held with what looked like a desperate attempt to comfort him. When she looked away from the heated discussion happening between the others, she met Alice’s gaze and there was a plea in that look that Alice could not ignore.

  She moved closer, her arms outstretched in an invitation to give the mother a break from a stressful situation. Astonishment gave way to relief as Alice took the baby, unnoticed by anyone else. She walked away, back towards the conservatory, with the thought that she could at least give them a chance to talk without having to shout over the wailing, which was probably becoming a vicious cycle as the loud voices distressed the baby further.

  ‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ she told the baby. ‘You’re just miserable, aren’t you? Look, it’s cooler in here. Let’s get that blanket off you and let you cool down, shall we?’

  The tone was one she used with any unhappy child and her movements were calm and confident as she unwrapped the covering that would be far too hot for a baby who was probably running a temperature.

  ‘You’ve got a cold, haven’t you?’ Spikes of damp, dark hair covered the baby’s forehead and Alice smoothed them back. ‘They’re rotten things, colds, but you know what?’

  The exaggeration of her question seemed to have finally caught the baby’s attention. He hiccupped loudly and opened his eyes to look up at Alice.

  Dark eyes that had that baby milkiness that made it hard to decide whether they were blue or brown.

  ‘Colds go away.’ Alice smiled. ‘In a day or two you’re going to feel ever so much better.’

  She unsnapped the top fastenings of the sleep suit to allow a bit more fresh air to cool the baby’s skin. Miraculously, he’d stopped crying now, so Alice rocked him gently and started singing softly. It was amazing how comforting it was to hold this tiny person. For the first time Alice felt as if she was welcome in this house.

  Needed even.

  The baby’s eyes drifted shut and only moments later there she was sitting in the conservatory again but this time holding a sleeping infant.

  A quiet one.

  For a few seconds Alice watched the baby’s face as it twitched and settled deeper into sleep. Who was he? Julien’s child perhaps? Was that young woman his wife? Or his girlfriend perhaps, given the speed with which he’d suggested it wasn’t necessary to be married to have a child. If either scenario was correct, her opinion of him was dropping rapidly. He should have been trying to help, not making things worse.

  Not that she could hear the sound of any arguments any more.

  In fact, it was so quiet she glanced up with the worrying thought that they might have all gone somewhere else and left her with the baby.

  To her horror, she found that there were five people watching her from the doorway.

  Julien looked angry again. His words were cold.

  ‘What, exactly,’ he bit out, ‘do you think you are doing?’

  Wasn’t it obvious? Alice said nothing. The younger woman was standing with her head down as if she knew she had done something wrong. Julien said something and she started to move towards Alice but then the older woman halted her with a touch on her arm and spoke. Another discussion started amongst the group with rapid, urgent-sounding words.

  At the end of their conversation the two women and the men turned and walked away. Alice knew her face would be a question mark as Julien turned back but he didn’t meet her gaze.

  ‘It seems that this is the first time the baby has slept in many hours. It would be to his benefit not to disturb him for a little while.’

  ‘He’s not well. I think he’s running a temperature.’

  ‘A doctor has been summoned.’

  Julien stopped his pacing amongst the greenery with his back towards Alice.

  Alice broke the silence. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Jacques.’

  ‘Is he your son?’

  Julien turned very slowly and his expression was...shocked. Appalled even—as if the very idea of having a child was the worst fate he could imagine.

  ‘Of course not.’

  Alice frowned. ‘Then why is he here? Whose baby is he?’

  Julien closed his eyes. ‘My sister’s.’

  It was Alice’s turn to be shocked. That made him Julien’s nephew. An orphan who had only just lost his father and was in desperate need of any remaining family. But Julien didn’t seem to want anything to do with little Jacques. Because he was also André’s son?

  Oh... Another shock wave rocked Alice. If André was her father, then that made this baby her half-brother.

  Part of her own family...

  She loved children anyway and would do anything to help one who was in distress but her compassion towards this infant had just morphed into something much bigger. Something totally unexpected and potentially hugely significant.

  She stared at the sleeping infant’s face, the dark fan of eyelashes over cheeks that were too red. A patchy kind of red, like a rash of tiny spots. Even asleep, his tiny hands were in fists and he still felt too hot. The patch of skin she had exposed by unbuttoning the sleep suit was also red. Spotty, even.

  The mind-blowing implications of a genetic relationship were pushed aside. Alice pulled open the suit a little further. Yes...the rash was everywhere. Faint but unmistakeable.

  ‘Oh, no...’

  ‘What?’

  She looked up to find Julien had stepped closer. It was the first time she’d seen him look dire
ctly at the baby and it was a fleeting glance, almost as if he was afraid of what he might see. Perhaps he had good cause to feel afraid...

  ‘I thought he only had a cold,’ Alice said. ‘But...but this looks like it might be measles.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve seen a lot of pictures. There was an outbreak in Edinburgh last year and we had a lot of our children absent because of the quarantine necessary. One of them had an older sister at school who got very sick.’

  ‘Quarantine?’

  ‘Measles is a notifiable disease in most countries. It’s highly contagious and it can be dangerous. The girl I was talking about got one of the worst complications—encephalitis—and she...she died.’ Alice paused to draw in a breath. ‘Even one case and anybody who’s been within possible contact has to be quarantined for about two weeks. Unless they’ve been immunised or have had measles themselves.’

  ‘Have you had measles?’

  ‘Yes. When I was a child. Have you?’

  ‘How am I supposed to know something like that?’

  ‘From health records perhaps. An immunisation card that your mother would have kept.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know of anything like that.’ He had taken a step back, as if that was enough to protect himself, and that bothered Alice. She cuddled Jacques a little closer.

  ‘You’ve been in the same house,’ she said, rubbing in the unwelcome information. ‘The same room. Contacts can spread measles before they start feeling sick themselves. There was a case in the States last year where everybody was placed in isolation because they’d been sitting in a doctor’s waiting room where there’d been a case of measles earlier that day.’

  Julien shook his head again, more slowly this time. ‘That is not going to happen here. It cannot. The situation is difficult enough as it is.’ He took another step back. ‘It’s not as if I’ve touched the child.’

  Alice felt a stirring of real anger. Why not? This baby had never known his mother and his father had died days ago. Had there only been hired help to offer comfort? He wasn’t even looking at Jacques again now. As if he could make the problem disappear by ignoring it. And then he spoke again, on the end of a sigh.

  ‘I have been forbidden to see Jacques,’ he said. ‘Ever since my sister died. But she made me his guardian and that is why I’m here today. To collect him.’

  It still made no sense. ‘But you still haven’t touched him? Seen him even?’

  ‘The Laurent family have another court order. His grandmother is arriving later today also with the intention of taking guardianship of Jacques. That is why the solicitors are here. It is a very delicate situation. My solicitor advised me not to make things worse and...for me...’

  He was looking at Jacques now. With an expression that broke Alice’s heart.

  ‘For me, I knew it would only make things so much harder if I saw him and then...he was taken away.’

  So he really did care.

  Any anger Alice was feeling towards Julien evaporated. She had no idea why he’d been refused contact with his nephew after his sister had died but, whatever the reason, it had to be unfair. Cruel, in fact. If there were sides to be taken in this dispute, she had just put herself firmly on Julien’s side.

  The impression lasted only for a heartbeat. Julien’s almost desperate expression vanished as his attention was caught by something he heard. He turned his head towards the windows.

  ‘Someone is arriving,’ he announced. ‘Let’s hope it is the doctor, who can sort this out. Let’s hope that you are wrong.’

  Or was it the DNA expert who had been summoned to sort out the other problem that was pending? Was he hoping she was also wrong about who she thought her father was?

  To Alice’s relief, the doctor looked like a kindly man. Grey-haired and a little overweight, with deep smile lines around his eyes—a quintessential family GP. He came into the conservatory accompanied by the two women.

  The older woman went to take the baby from her arms and he whimpered the moment as she touched him. Alice rocked him again. She didn’t want to let him go.

  ‘Shh,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay, little one. We all want to help you.’

  He cried out more loudly when the woman touched him for the second time and the doctor cleared his throat and then spoke in excellent English.

  ‘Perhaps it’s better if the baby stays with you while I examine him, mademoiselle. He seems to like you.’

  Alice nodded. Was it too far-fetched to imagine that the baby was aware of a connection between them? Or maybe it was because she knew how unwelcome she was in this house as far as Julien and probably any other members of the household were concerned. This baby had no idea of the trouble she was causing and now he was causing trouble himself, poor little thing, so there was a connection to be found quite apart from any yet-to-be discovered genetic one. They were both problems. He needed protection, this little one, and she was just the person to provide it.

  She held the baby while the doctor took his temperature and listened to his heart and lungs. She helped him undress the baby down to his nappy so that he could see his skin. Jacques whimpered miserably at the disturbance.

  ‘He needs paracetamol, doesn’t he?’ Alice asked the doctor. ‘And sponging with lukewarm water?’

  ‘Indeed. You are familiar with nursing children?’

  ‘I’m a pre-school teacher. We often have to deal with sick children and I’ve done some training. I’ve never dealt with a case of measles, though. Is that what it is?’

  ‘It would seem very likely. He has all the symptoms, including Koplik’s spots inside his cheeks. Are you immune?’

  ‘Yes. I had measles as a child.’

  ‘Do you have documentation to prove your immunity?’

  ‘No...’ Alice closed her eyes on a sigh. The need for such documentation would never have occurred to her as she’d embarked on this impulsive journey.

  ‘Are you aware of how serious this is?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve kept up with news of outbreaks since we had a scare in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Then you’ll know that a case has to be reported and that there are very strict isolation and quarantine procedures that must be followed. I need to offer immunisation and prophylactic treatment to everybody who cannot prove their immunity.’

  Julien had been standing within earshot. ‘Quarantine is completely out of the question for me. I am due in Paris for filming in the next day or two. It’s a Christmas show that’s been planned for many months and cannot be postponed.’

  The doctor sighed. ‘I know who you are, Monsieur Dubois—of course I do. My wife is one of your biggest admirers but...’ he raised his hands in a helpless gesture ‘...rules cannot be broken, I’m afraid. Not when it could put the health of so many others at risk.’

  Alice blinked. The doctor looked to be in his sixties and his wife was one of Julien’s biggest fans? If he wasn’t in an edgy rock band, what sort of music did he produce? Romantic French ballads perhaps, with the accompaniment of an acoustic guitar? Was he doing a collection of Christmas carols for a seasonal show? No. Somehow it didn’t fit—especially right now, with that angry body language.

  With a sound of pure frustration Julien pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and walked away as he held it to his ear. The doctor turned to the two women and began speaking in French again.

  Concerned expressions became horrified as he kept talking. The younger woman burst into tears. Voices rose as panicked questions were asked. Behind her, Alice could hear Julien also raising his voice on his telephone call. Everybody was sounding upset and all Alice could do was to sit there and hold the baby. It was the doctor who finally noticed that Alice was being completely left out of the conversation.

  ‘Marthe—the housekeeper here—has grandchildren at
home and she’s worried,’ he explained. ‘Nicole—Jacques’s nanny—has much younger siblings that she visited only yesterday. They are both very scared and want to take their quarantine periods in their own homes. This is possible, as their contacts will also have to be isolated. I will be visiting their households as soon as I leave here.’

  Alice looked down at the baby she was still holding. And then she looked up at the doctor and nodded her head. ‘I can look after Jacques.’

  ‘I can see if there is a nurse available who is prepared to come into the house for the quarantine period but I doubt that any arrangements could be made until tomorrow. It would be very good if you could care for him until then.’

  Julien snapped his phone shut. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Mademoiselle McMillan cannot stay in this house. She will have to find a hotel.’

  ‘That would be the very worst thing she could do. This is a very serious matter, Monsieur Dubois. I can take a blood sample from her but it may take a few days to prove immunity and even then she may be discouraged from leaving the house.’

  ‘You don’t understand. There’s another matter that is pressing.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Julien turned his gaze to Marthe and Nicole, who were whispering together near the doorway, looking desperate to escape and get back to their own families. A few words from Julien and they both disappeared.

  Julien continued speaking in French to the doctor, who blinked in astonishment as his gaze settled on Alice. She could feel the prickle of a blush starting. Any moment now and the colour of her cheeks would rival that of Jacques’s.

  There was sympathy in the doctor’s smile when Julien had stopped speaking.

  ‘You are having quite a day, my dear, are you not?’

  ‘Mmm...’ The kind tone almost undid her but Alice was not going to cry in front of Julien again.

  ‘The reason you came here is not important right now. What matters is that you are here and we are lucky that you have experience with young children. Or maybe it’s more than lucky.’ There was compassion in this kindly doctor’s eyes. This was a man who’d spent a lifetime caring for people who were sick and vulnerable. Who had a wealth of understanding of the intricacies of human relationships. ‘It could be that you are this little one’s big sister, yes?’