Alice nodded slowly, her throat suddenly too tight to swallow. The tears were harder to hold back now. She would have stepped up to care for this baby no matter who he was, but the idea that she had a member of her own family who desperately needed her help was overwhelming.
She had come to this place to try and find the only living relative she might have.
This might be a bizarre twist to her fairy-tale but it seemed like she might have actually achieved her goal. And it came with an entirely new world of hope.
And, for one night at least, she could hang onto that hope.
The doctor patted her shoulder. ‘Tomorrow will be a new day. In the meantime, I will leave you all the medications you might need. Here, let’s give him his first dose of paracetamol and then I will take the blood samples I need from you and Monsieur Dubois.’
It was Julien’s turn first. And then it was Alice’s turn and she couldn’t free an arm while she was still holding Jacques.
She looked at Julien.
The doctor looked at Julien.
It was crystal clear what the logical solution was but Julien seemed frozen. Alice could sense his fear. He’d never touched this baby. Was he afraid that he would drop him or was his reluctance due to something deeper? An even harder barrier to overcome?
She could hear the echo of those heart-breaking words.
‘...it would only make things so much harder if I saw him and then...he was taken away.’
Touch was a far more powerful sense than sight, wasn’t it?
But he cared. And, like herself, Jacques was his relative. Was he feeling the same kind of overwhelming connection that she was?
He had more right than she did to feel like that. More right than she did to know the joy of cuddling this small person.
Slowly, she walked towards Julien. She held his gaze, trying to offer both reassurance and encouragement. When she was so close that the baby was touching them both, his arms came up. So slowly. And then she felt the weight being transferred and Julien’s gaze dragged itself away from hers and dropped to the face of his tiny nephew. He turned away then, as though he wanted to keep this moment private.
* * *
Mon Dieu...
How shocking was this?
The first time he had touched his sister’s child.
He’d had no choice but to back away from any desire to see his nephew while André had still been alive. Even today, in the hours he’d known he was in the same house, it had been easier to comply with the legal advice to keep his distance. Maybe he’d known what he would feel in this moment. This emotional connection. The vulnerability of a tiny being that would suck him into offering not only his protection but his love. A breeding ground for feelings of guilt and worry and love that might eventually be thrown back at him as not having been good enough, but nothing could prevent him from providing any of it. He already loved this nephew despite trying to hide from that knowledge. He’d never intended being in this position again. He didn’t know if he was strong enough.
But, once again, it seemed that he had no choice and he’d come here to do what his sister had asked him to do—to take guardianship of his child if anything happened to her. And now that he was holding him, how could he ever let him go? If he lost the legal battle with Madame Laurent, it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.
The baby’s eyes were wide open. Perhaps he was as shocked as Julien was at this unexpected physical contact. Could babies sense what people were thinking? Did he know he presented a threat out of all proportion to his size?
Maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to be back in the embrace of Alice’s arms. How strange was it that she had been the only person able to comfort him in his misery? Did he sense the likely connection between them? A half-sister was a closer relation than an uncle.
Dark eyes stared up at him, making Julien wonder again how much was being understood. Too much, it seemed. The tiny face began to crumple. The small body squirmed like a fish that had been landed and needed to get back to the water to survive. And then that dreadful, unhappy wailing began again.
He paced back and forth as he waited for Alice to swap the ball of cotton wool she was pressing to her elbow for a plaster. He watched the doctor pack his things back into his bag and heard him say that he would deal with all the precautions needed for everybody who would be leaving the house to enter quarantine in their own homes—including the solicitors. He saw him leave and knew that in a very short space of time he would be alone in this house with Alice McMillan.
And still the baby was crying. More quietly, though. An exhausted sound of misery.
And there was a terrible smell. It was the odour that was really the final straw. Julien’s sense of smell and taste were finely honed. They had to be to be as good at his work as he was and this...this was making him feel decidedly ill.
He needed help.
The doctor had been right. It really was very lucky that Alice was not to be allowed to leave the house.
Julien did his best to summon a smile as he moved closer. Preferably one that was apologetic. She hadn’t bargained on any of this when she’d come to this house, had she? He’d not only been rude to her, he’d been violent in front of her and now she was as much of a prisoner here as he was, at least until the results of those blood tests came back. She had every right to be angry with him. To refuse to help even.
The smile came out a bit broken and he knew he was frowning fiercely so he had to say something.
‘Alice...’ The tone of her name came out as a plea that made him wince inwardly but this was a moment when he simply had to swallow his pride. ‘I think that I...need your help. Please...’
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS SOMEWHAT startling to discover that she really liked this man.
Maybe it was the way he said her name, with an inflection and accent that made it sound so much more exotic. More like Elise than Alice.
Maybe it was the desperate edge to the word ‘please’.
Or maybe it was the expression in his eyes. This was not someone who was used to feeling out of control of any situation and he was hating every second of this but he was too emotionally exhausted to fight any longer. Of course he was. He’d been dealing with who knew how much grief and hatred and mistrust, maybe even fear, all in the space of the short time Alice had been there?
It wasn’t that she felt obliged to help. She would have gladly cared for Jacques without anybody even asking. He was her brother, for heaven’s sake.
But now her heart went out to Julien in spite of everything. She wanted to help him just as much.
Silently she held out her arms and took the baby. She couldn’t help screwing up her nose.
‘Phew... He needs a clean nappy.’
Julien nodded. He was taking a step back, the way he had when he’d heard about the possibility of measles.
‘Where’s the nursery?’
‘I have no idea.’
Alice kicked herself inwardly as she remembered that he’d never been allowed to see his nephew so, of course, he hadn’t visited this house. There was a lot more going on here than she had any knowledge of. Undercurrents that were powerful and dark.
Through the glass walls of the conservatory she could see cars leaving. The doctor’s car with the housekeeper and the nanny. Then two other cars that presumably held the men in suits. The idea that the three of them were now alone in this vast house should have been alarming but this was simply another twist in the strangest day of her life and Alice felt curiously calm.
Thankfully, Jacques was settling in her arms, with just an occasional hiccup to let them know he still wasn’t happy. She took a slow, inward breath as she shifted his weight to hold him more comfortably.
‘Let’s go and find it, then, shall we?’ She offered a t
entative smile with the suggestion. She might be the one who knew what to do but she didn’t want to be left to do it entirely by herself. It felt as if she was doing something wrong, taking over the house of complete strangers, let alone taking over the care of their child. ‘I expect it will be upstairs somewhere?’
Alice could sense Julien’s hesitation so she held eye contact. Her message was silent but firm.
There’s only the possibility that this baby is my brother. He’s definitely your nephew. I know you think it might make things harder for you but you know what the right thing to do is...
His nod was so subtle she wouldn’t have picked up on it if she hadn’t been deliberately attempting a bit of telepathy.
And maybe there was a silent message coming back in her direction.
I know. I’ll try...
Nothing was said aloud and, with Jacques now drowsy, it was in complete silence that they both left the huge room. The foyer was much bigger than Alice had noticed when she’d first come in. Had she not even looked up to see the gallery of the second floor that ran around three sides of this incredibly high, square space? No. She’d been focused on the fact that the man who’d greeted her was far too young to be her father. On his dark clothing and the ponytail that would have made her grandmother shake her head disapprovingly.
It didn’t bother Alice. In fact, she quite liked it. There was no doubt that Julien was a very good-looking man and the smoothness with which his hair was combed back made it look as elegant as his clothing, but the short tail had a curl to it. Did he wear it loose when he was performing? Did it frame and soften his face and brush his shoulders in soft waves?
She’d quite like to see that...
The brief distraction of her train of thought vanished as she let her gaze roam the towering space. It was too much like a museum to feel like a home. The floor was marble and there were pillars supporting scalloped archways that were echoed on a smaller scale all around the second floor. A life-sized sculpture was in one of the archway recesses, illuminated by small floodlights. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see a tour group appear in the wake of a guide, except that she could feel the emptiness of the vast house almost echoing around them.
Julien didn’t say anything until they reached the top of the stairs. Behind them they now had a birds’-eye view of the impressive foyer. Directly in front of them was a massive painting in an ornate gilt frame that looked as if it was by some famous artist. A scene of overdressed people with heavy-looking wigs and miserable expressions and cherubic children with cheeks as pink as Jacques’s. On either side they were faced with the wide balcony and its choice of countless doors.
‘Incroyable...’
‘Pardon?’
He swept his hand in a gesture that took in everything around them. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘This is not a home. It’s a...a...’
‘Museum?’
‘Exactement. A gallery to display wealth. How could anyone want to live here?’
His sister had wanted to. Was that what he couldn’t understand?
‘I expect Jacques’s grandmother is just as wealthy?’
‘It’s not the money,’ Julien said. ‘It’s the way of thinking. The...first thoughts?’
‘Priorities?’
‘Oui.’
Walking briskly, Julien was throwing open doors. Alice caught glimpses of over-furnished bedrooms with four-poster beds and heavy velvet drapes. An overly masculine one and then a very feminine one beside it. Had his sister not shared a room with her husband?
Interior doors stood open to give a glimpse of bathrooms with marble floors and golden tapware. There was a huge sitting room with luxurious cream leather seating and a television screen big enough to make it a private movie theatre.
‘I just thought of something.’
‘What?’
‘The grandmother. She won’t be allowed to come to the house, will she?’
‘No...’ Julien turned his head as they walked further down the gallery that ran parallel with the front of the house.
‘Or to take Jack away. Not for...for ages. A couple of weeks perhaps. Will that give you enough time?’
‘I don’t know if time will be enough.’
‘It couldn’t hurt, though, could it? Showing that you can care for him?’
Julien was silent. He had opened another door and here it was. A room that looked like an interior designer had used to fill a brief for the perfect nursery.
The ceiling was a pale blue with fluffy white clouds and a golden sun with a smiley face. The blue blended into the top of the walls but then gave way to green canopies of trees that sheltered every farm animal you could think of. The grass they stood on was sprinkled with a rainbow of flowers. Piles of toys that Jacques was far too young to appreciate—like model racing cars that were miniature Ferraris and Maseratis—filled the corners of the room but the important things were there as well. A comfortable chair for someone who needed to feed a baby. A cot with a colourful mobile hanging above it and a row of teddy bears at the foot end. On the wall behind the cot huge wooden letters in primary colours spelled out the name ‘JACQUES’. Each letter was intricately adorned with tiny pictures of animals and toys.
Alice went straight towards a change table that had shelves stuffed with disposable nappies and wipes and creams and gently put Jacques down on the soft, washable surface. She stroked his hair back and smiled as he opened his eyes.
‘You were loved, little one, weren’t you? What a beautiful room they made for you.’
Julien said nothing. He was still opening doors.
‘There’s a small kitchen,’ he reported. ‘And a bathroom. And a bedroom that must be for the nanny.’
‘Are there bottles and things in the kitchen? Tins of milk formula?’
‘There’s a lot of things.’ Julien’s voice faded as he moved back. ‘Yes...bottles and cleaning things. A microwave oven.’ She could hear a cupboard door closing. ‘Many tins. It looks like the baby section of a supermarket.’
A rubbish bin with a tightly fitting lid was available for the soiled nappy and wipes, and by the time Julien had finished exploring and arranging items that might be useful on the bench Alice had given Jacques a quick sponge bath and fastened a clean nappy in place. Now he was sucking on his fist and grizzling.
‘I think he’s hungry. I’ll make up some formula.’
‘Do you know how?’
‘I’ve seen it done. I don’t work with the very young children at our nursery school very often but our staff kitchen is shared by everyone. There’ll be instructions on the tin if I forget.’
‘In French,’ Julien reminded her.
‘Oh...of course. Could you translate for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Could you hold him? I’ll need two hands.’
‘Why don’t you hold him and tell me what to do? I’m used to being in kitchens. I can follow a recipe.’ He took off his black jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt.
He was avoiding contact again but Alice let it go. Something had changed since they’d entered the nursery. The cold, empty feeling of this vast house had been left behind in favour of these bright colours and attention to detail—the evidence that this little person had been wanted and loved. Some of the weirdness and tension had gone.
Julien actually looked a lot happier in this small kitchen as he found the measuring spoons and distilled water and made up the bottle of formula. Clearly, he could have easily done it by himself by following the instructions but Alice found herself enjoying watching. He had clever hands and his movements were deft and confident. He only frowned when he took the bottle from the microwave.
‘I haven’t found a thermometer. How can we check the temperature?’
‘Sprinkle a few drops on th
e inside of your wrist. It shouldn’t feel hot.’
Jacques’s whimpers became a demanding cry as he spotted the bottle and Alice hurried towards the chair near the cot. She could see Julien wiping down the bench in the kitchenette as she settled back to feed the baby and it struck her as odd that a rock god could be so domesticated.
Nice odd, though.
* * *
The bench was as spotless as possible and all the kitchen items were back in place. There was no reason for him to stay here any longer.
Except...he didn’t want to leave.
As he turned away from the bench he could see Alice sitting in the chair, feeding the baby. The light in the room was fading rapidly and she’d turned on the nearby lamp.
His sister had never had the chance to sit like that—her head bent and one hand supporting the end of the bottle. Had she dreamed of what it might be like to have a baby staring back at you like that, with a tiny hand that also seemed to be holding the bottle?
Memories raced even further back as he leaned a shoulder against the kitchen door. Had Colette felt the kind of love for this infant before he was born that their mother had given the two of them once, so long ago? The kind of love that had made him protect his little sister against so many odds? Had those dreams and that love stirred these poignant feelings of loss and regret but also shone a light of hope into a dark space?
The hope that came from a fresh beginning. A chance to start again and make things right this time.
He could feel that hope himself and it was like nothing he’d ever felt. But, then, he’d never been so emotionally exhausted. So beset with problems that were coming at him from so many directions. This was a brief moment when he could actually avoid thinking about any of those problems.
The Baby Who Saved Christmas Page 5