The Baby Who Saved Christmas

by Alison Roberts

  Or maybe not. The buzz of the phone in his pocket came a split second before the ringtone.

  He moved to the windows as he answered the call. It was dark outside now but he could see the glow of light from the street beyond the gates. A car that was waiting for permission to enter.

  He raised a hand in an apologetic gesture towards Alice as he headed for the door and she smiled her understanding as she nodded.

  A dreamy kind of smile, he noticed only after he’d left the room. Did holding babies automatically have that kind of effect on women? Maybe it had something to do with the soft glow of light bathing the chair and making Alice’s hair glow like the last embers of a fire. Or how dark her eyes were in that pale face. Or simply how tender that smile had been.

  Whatever it was, it had changed Julien’s perspective. She didn’t need to enhance or bleach her hair colour or have some stylish cut. She had no need of the layers of make-up he thought any attractive woman relied on. Alice McMillan wasn’t simply pretty, as he’d first thought.

  She was stunning.

  The realisation came on top of that strange feeling he’d got watching her with the baby. It was still sucking him back in time as he hurried downstairs. Sending him over ground so old it felt new again.

  How much of all this was his own fault?

  If he only spent more time with Colette, she wouldn’t have been able to hang out with her friends so much, using movies and trashy magazines to sculpt her view of a perfect life where only money was needed to put the world right and give her everything she could possibly want. He’d fed that belief himself, in fact, by working so hard and being so careful of every euro he earned.

  If he’d been more of a father figure, perhaps she wouldn’t have fallen for a man who’d been thirty years older than her.

  The regret was so intense it was painful but somehow, in the back of his mind, he could still sense that smile Alice had given him. Could still feel the softness of that moment of hope.

  Crazy, considering everything that had happened today. Was it any wonder his thoughts were so scrambled? He was heading out to the gates to meet the DNA expert—a bizarre twist to this dreadful day that he could never have imagined. The quarantine on top of that was like a bad joke.

  But Julien wasn’t laughing.

  What was that saying? You had to laugh or you would cry?

  He couldn’t do that either.

  He seemed to have forgotten how.

  * * *

  Minutes ticked by in the quiet nursery.

  Jacques had finished his bottle of milk and Alice lifted him to her shoulder and began to rub his back. He nestled against her and she could feel his breath on her neck. The misery of his day had caught up with him and now that he was clean and fed, she could feel the heaviness of an infant slipping into deep slumber.

  His body didn’t feel unnaturally hot now but that was probably because of the paracetamol the doctor had administered. He would need some more during the night. His warmth was comforting and Alice loved the tiny snuffling sounds he was making. She had probably been sitting here cuddling him for too long, though. He needed his own bed and a good sleep to help him on his journey to recovery.

  He made no protest as Alice laid him gently into his cot. She pulled the blanket back and tucked him in with only a sheet for cover. She would check again soon to make sure he was neither too warm nor cold. There was a lump down the side of the cot and when she pulled it out, Alice found it was an old toy. A faded rabbit that looked as if it had been knitted out of brown fabric.

  A very different toy from all the bright new offerings in the room so it had to be special in some way. She tucked it in beside Jacques, with just the head and ears above the sheet.

  She needed to find somewhere to sleep herself before too long—in the nanny’s room perhaps. Not that sleep would come easily if she didn’t get something to eat. Lunch seemed a very long time ago now and her stomach was rumbling.

  And where was Julien? It had to be more than half an hour ago that he’d received that phone call and vanished but she couldn’t go looking for him. The house was far too big to hear a baby crying. She certainly couldn’t hear any sounds coming from downstairs. It was too quiet, in fact. Reaching up, Alice wound the handle on the mobile above the cot. The carousel of bright toys began turning slowly to the soft notes of ‘Brahms’s Lullaby’.

  It was then that she noticed the baby monitor handset on the shelf beside the cot, tucked in between a soft toy unicorn and a dragon. She turned it on and suddenly an image of Jacques appeared on the screen above a speaker grill. Startled, Alice looked around and finally spotted the camera mounted on the wall at the end of the cot.

  She’d heard parents discussing baby cams but had never seen one in action. This was perfect. She could go in search of something to eat and not only hear if Jacques woke up, she’d be able to see him. A quick visit to the nursery bathroom to freshen up and Alice was ready. Eager even.

  It was only because she was alone in a strange house, she told herself. Any adult company would do. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Julien again.

  So why did her heart do a funny double beat thing when she tiptoed out onto the gallery and saw the tall, dark figure coming towards her?

  Julien was carrying something.

  ‘I have the testing kit,’ he told her. ‘We couldn’t allow the DNA expert to come into the house but he’s given me very detailed instructions on how to take the test. He’s waiting outside the gate to collect it when we finish. I’ve already found the items that might be sufficient from... André.’

  The hesitation was tiny but spoke volumes. How much did you have to hate a person to make it difficult to even say his name?

  And the reminder of why she had come here in the first place had wiped out that warm glow that cuddling a sleepy baby had given Alice. It had certainly eliminated any inexplicable excitement that seeing Julien had provoked. This was business. A necessary step that might give him permission to send her packing. How could she have forgotten how unwelcome her arrival had been? That she might only have a single night to clasp that hope of family to her heart?

  ‘Fine.’ Her voice was tight. ‘Tell me what to do.’

  ‘No. I have to do it. I’m the one who has been briefed.’ Julien’s tone was brisk. ‘Come with me. We need a place with good light.’

  He took her to one of the bedrooms that they had opened a door on during their first exploration of this second floor. The feminine one. They went through the bedroom into the en suite bathroom, which was clinically bright once all the lights had been snapped on.

  Alice put the monitor handset on the marble top of the vanity unit.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A monitor. So I can hear when Jack wakes up. See?’ Alice touched the screen and the image of Jacques’s face appeared. Like all babies, he looked like an angel with that cupid’s bow of a mouth relaxed in sleep. The sweet sound of the lullaby still playing made the picture all the more adorable.

  ‘Jacques.’ Julien corrected her pronunciation, emphasising the soft ‘J’ as he busied himself pulling items from the bag he was carrying.

  ‘We do two tests. One is a back-up in case there isn’t enough DNA in the first sample.’ He placed two small, plastic vials on the vanity top. Then he took a long packet and peeled open the end to reveal a stick that he took hold of carefully.

  ‘I must not touch the swab or I might contaminate it.’ He stepped closer to Alice. ‘Open your mouth, please.’

  Suddenly, this was excruciatingly embarrassing. She had a strange, extremely good-looking man standing close enough to kiss her and he’d asked her to open her mouth. Alice had to close her eyes as she complied. She could feel the prickle of heat rising rapidly from in front of her neck to her face. Please, let this be over quickly, she begged silently.<
br />
  ‘I have to scrape the inside of your cheek for forty-five to sixty seconds,’ Julien told her. ‘The pressure will be firm. I have to collect cheek cells, not your saliva.’

  Oh... God... How long could sixty seconds feel like?

  For ever, that was how long. The swab on the end of the stick was like a toothbrush made of firm cotton balls. She could feel it moving up and down on the inside of her cheek. She could feel Julien’s hand so close to her face she was sure that her lips were registering the warmth of his skin.

  It was doing something very odd to parts of her body that had nothing to do with this test. Quite apart from the blush, her heart was hammering and there were butterflies dancing deep down in her belly.

  ‘Bien...’ The swab was finally removed from her mouth and then Julien concentrated on opening the plastic vial and inserting the swab into the liquid it contained. Then he pressed a spike on the end of the stick that released the swab and allowed him to screw back the lid of the vial. She watched his face in the mirror as he focused on his task. His hair wasn’t as smooth as it had been. A thin tress had escaped the ponytail and flopped forward.

  The butterflies, which had almost stopped dancing when the procedure had finished, started beating a new tattoo as Alice failed to head off a totally ridiculous desire to reach out and smooth that wayward tress back into place.

  It was unfortunate that Julien chose that moment to raise his gaze and caught her looking at him in the mirror. For a heartbeat, time stopped as they stared at each other in the mirror. The bright lighting made it so easy to see the way his eyes darkened. Had he guessed that Alice was thinking about touching him? Had the urge suddenly become contagious?

  Hurriedly, she dropped her gaze and Julien cleared his throat at exactly the same moment.

  ‘One more,’ he said. ‘And then we’re done.’

  This time, Alice stood like a statue while her other cheek was scraped and she didn’t risk any glance towards the mirror as he dealt with the swab and then sealed both vials into a plastic specimen bag.

  There was a moment’s silence when he’d finished and Alice almost wished to hear a baby’s cry from the monitor, which would give her an excuse to flee. Was Julien looking into the mirror again? Looking at her as she avoided looking at him?

  It was still heavy in the air—that moment when they hadn’t been able to look away from each other’s reflections. Something had happened. Some nameless, unexpected, unwanted...thing.

  ‘You need to sign this consent form. Here—I have a pen.’

  He handed her the pen and as he did so his hand brushed hers.

  No more than a whisper of a touch but it felt like her skin had been burned.

  Alice’s signature had never been quite this shaky before. She folded the paper and handed it back and this time she looked up at Julien.

  There was no getting away from it. Now that it had happened, this thing couldn’t be taken back. Even if she didn’t look, she had been sure it was still there.

  And looking had just confirmed it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHAT, IN GOD’S NAME, had just happened there?

  The last few days—ever since he’d heard about André’s accident—had made Julien feel as if his world was tipping on its axis, and the events of today had already made the angle a lot steeper. At the precise moment he’d met Alice’s gaze in the mirror for the second time, it had felt like he’d just fallen off the edge of it.

  Those eyes...

  Who was this woman? This flame-haired Scottish pixie who’d not only crossed his path so unexpectedly, she was now an integral part of his life being brought to a crashing halt.

  And...it felt...good?

  Who knew where that moment could have gone if her stomach hadn’t suddenly rumbled too loudly to be ignored—a sound that made Alice blush scarlet.

  ‘Oh...pardon me.’

  The way the colour flooded her face was fascinating but Julien wasn’t going to make things any more weird by staring. And how was it that he’d only just noticed how intimate a space a bathroom was?

  ‘You’re hungry.’ He turned on his heel as he made the redundant announcement. ‘Come... I will get these delivered to the gate and then we’ll find out what the kitchen has to offer.’

  He kept a step or two ahead of Alice as he led the way downstairs but he was acutely aware that she was following. Was she still blushing? He’d never met a woman who blushed. Or whose stomach rumbled like a train, for that matter. Julien’s lips twitched at the thought of either of those occurrences happening with any of the sophisticated, perfectly groomed women who’d always been available and more than willing to share his companionship and his bed.

  This foreign pixie was certainly very different.

  Nice different. It made him think of times with Colette before she’d learned to be sophisticated.

  Not that it was unusual to remember things from the past—especially in the last few months when the grief had had to be endured, but this was the first time it could bring even an inward smile. When something poignant but sweet was stronger than any associated pain.

  He sent the samples out with the security guard and remembered to issue instructions that no one else was to come through the gates, no matter how certain they were about their rights. Madame Laurent could be referred to his solicitor for more information. Or her own, for that matter. Both those men were now probably confined to their own homes and less than happy about it but what could they do?

  What could any of them do about it?

  At least he could do the thing that was guaranteed to relieve stress.

  He could cook.

  ‘Oh, my goodness...’ Alice stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘This looks like a commercial kitchen. You could cook enough to feed an army in here. Or run a restaurant.’

  And it was clean, Julien noted with satisfaction, eyeing the expanse of stainless-steel benches.

  ‘There’s no fridge!’ Alice exclaimed. ‘How strange...’

  ‘There’ll be a cold room, I expect. And a pantry. You’re right...this has been set up as a commercial kitchen. Look...’ Julien walked past the hobs and ovens and through an arched doorway into a scullery. Sure enough, there was a pantry and if he’d thought the cupboard in the nursery had looked like a section of a supermarket, it was nothing on what was stocked in here. The cold room was just as well stocked.

  ‘Oh...’ Alice’s eyes were round with surprise. ‘Look at all that cheese...’ She grinned at Julien. ‘I love cheese...’

  It was the first time he’d seen her really smile and he got that strange falling sensation all over again. He found himself smiling back because he couldn’t help it.

  ‘Take some out,’ he told her. ‘See if you can find some bread and olives. There’ll be a wine cellar somewhere but we’ll make do with what’s cold. Here...take this one. I’ll see what I can find to cook with.’

  ‘But it’s champagne... French champagne.’

  Julien’s lips twitched again. ‘I wasn’t aware there was any other kind.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘Mmm?’ Julien was gathering some ingredients. Minced beef and garlic and chilli. Greens and parmesan cheese. He needed something quick and easy. Pasta and salad should be perfect. Reaching for a bottle of balsamic vinegar, he became aware of the silence behind him. He turned to find Alice looking bewildered. He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Champagne is for celebrating something,’ she said quietly.

  Julien stopped thinking about food. ‘Maybe we can find something to celebrate, then.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Like what?’

  Oh, no... How insensitive was it to suggest that she should be celebrating something when she’d just found out that her probable father was deceased? He had to think fast as he moved
past her to drop his armload on a bench.

  ‘You may have discovered a brother,’ he suggested. ‘And...and have you ever been to France before?’

  ‘No...never...’

  ‘Donc... There you go. That is definitely worth celebrating.’

  ‘And what about you? What have you got to celebrate?’

  ‘Ah...’ Julien stared down at his ingredients without seeing them. Nothing. He was revisiting the grief from losing his sister. He had a major problem in what to do about the show that filming was due to start on within days. He probably had to face a court case over custody of his nephew that was highly likely to get very nasty.

  No. Nothing to celebrate there.

  He looked up, ready to admit defeat and agree that champagne might not be the most appropriate thing to drink.

  And then he got caught by those eyes again.

  What was it that he could see?

  Hope?

  Optimism?

  A belief in fairy-tales, even?

  Something shifted in his chest and he found himself saying something he hadn’t thought of until now.

  ‘I got to hold my sister’s baby for the first time today.’ The words came out as little more than a whisper and he was embarrassed that he was showing so much emotion in front of a stranger. He cleared his throat. ‘And I have a reprieve from having to deal with Madame Laurent.’ He offered a crooked smile. ‘That is absolutely worth celebrating, n’est-ce pas?’

  * * *

  She’d made him smile.

  Sort of. One of those oddly endearing lopsided ones like he’d given her when he had asked for her help with Jacques, but it felt like a victory because there was something very sombre about Julien’s face—especially his eyes—and she got the impression that he didn’t smile, let alone laugh, very often.

  She sat at the big central table in this enormous kitchen, with the baby monitor in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, and watched Julien cook.

  The champagne was astonishingly delicious and Julien...well, he was just as astonishing. The way he chopped vegetables with a speed that made her blink and then scooped them up to drop them into a food processor as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do without making a mess. He got two frying pans going on gas flames on the hobs and in one of them he was adding things to minced beef like mustard and balsamic vinegar and a huge handful of herbs that had also been chopped with lightning efficiency. The smell was starting to make Alice feel very, very hungry and the champagne on her empty stomach was making her head spin a little. She watched as Julien tossed the contents of the pan, which mixed the contents more efficiently than a wooden spoon, which would have been her choice of implement.