The Baby Who Saved Christmas

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The Baby Who Saved Christmas Page 15

by Alison Roberts


  Feeding Jacquot was no problem now that she had a means of heating water because she had packed plenty of formula into the nappy bag, along with everything else she might need for a baby for a few days. She must have looked a sight at Nice airport yesterday, with her backpack on, a baby strapped to her chest and a well-stuffed carrier bag in each hand, but she’d been right in guessing that officials had been too busy to ask awkward questions. Instead, she’d found people eager to help a struggling young mother who’d had too many burdens to juggle. She’d got priority boarding and had been allowed to take all her bags onto the plane instead of checking any in, which had made for a much faster getaway when they’d arrived in Edinburgh.

  That had been the worse time. The flight had been long enough for Alice to convince herself that Julien had arrived back in St Jean Cap Ferrat and would have been as furious as Madame Laurent to discover what she’d done. That the police would have been called. She had fully expected them to be waiting for her at Edinburgh airport.

  But they hadn’t been there.

  And now she was several hours’ drive away and, as if fate was lending her a helping hand, snow had fallen heavily all night. With any luck, it would take at least until tomorrow for roads to be clear enough to access Brannockburn easily.

  She might not have the luxury of a few days’ grace but it felt like she could count on having today.

  Christmas Day.

  And that was what mattered, wasn’t it? This was Jacquot’s first Christmas and she wanted it to be filled with all the love it was possible for a family to share. All the magic of Christmas.

  Except there was nothing that said ‘Christmas’ about this house, except for the candles that she’d lit again once she was up for the day.

  It was warm now, thank goodness. Rather than using the bedrooms upstairs, Alice had slept on the couch all night, getting up to look after Jacquot, who had slept in his nest of blankets, and stoking the fires each time.

  But there was no tree. No decorations and no music. And certainly no smell of anything delicious being prepared in the kitchen—only the faint reminder of the can of baked beans Alice had heated for her breakfast.

  They needed a tree.

  ‘When I was little,’ she told Jacquot, ‘we all used to put our wellies on and go out to the big old pine tree beside the henhouse. I was allowed to choose the branch and Mum would saw it off. We had a red bucket full of sand that we kept on the back porch beside the firewood pile and we stood the branch up in that.’

  The red bucket was still there. She’d seen it last night when she’d hurried in and out with armloads of small logs to fill the indoor basket.

  She tickled Jacquot’s tummy as he lay on the cushion of folded blankets, kicking his legs, and he grinned up at her.

  With Julien’s grin...

  No...she couldn’t go there... She wasn’t going to cry today. Not on Christmas Day. She needed a distraction. Fast.

  ‘What do you think, sweetheart? Shall we do it? If we were very quick, and chose a branch close to the ground, it wouldn’t take long enough for us to get too cold because it’s not snowing at the moment. And I know where the decorations are—in the boxes under Gran’s bed. We won’t be able to have the fairy-lights and I’m sorry I don’t have any gifts for you but...but we could still make it feel right and I can take photos so that, one day, you’ll know how special your sister wanted to make your first Christmas.’

  There was another bonus to her plan. It would take most of the day to do everything she was suddenly desperate to do and it would stop her sitting around, thinking about Julien. The hardest moment came when she realised she needed a hat before she went tramping around in the snow and the only hat she had was the one Julien had bought for her at the markets in Nice. She pulled it over her head anyway.

  ‘It’s Christmas,’ she told Jacquot, as she slipped her arms into the straps of the front pack. ‘We need all the sparkles we can find.’

  * * *

  The daylight hours had come and gone in a flash. Here it was, four p.m., and it felt like night-time. Alice pulled the curtains over the windows to keep the warmth inside and she could see the starry shapes of fresh snowflakes sticking to the dark glass and piling up on the windowsills.

  She was cutting them off from the outside world but it felt good. This was a private celebration and, as she turned and caught the full effect of the living room, it was perfect enough to make her catch her breath.

  Okay, the hastily harvested tree branch was lopsided but it didn’t matter because it was staying upright in the red bucket. And it didn’t matter that it didn’t have sparkling lights because it was plastered with every bauble Alice had found in the old boxes and with so many candles on the old sideboard and the mantelpiece, as well as the firelight, the glossy decorations were twinkling anyway.

  Garlands of fake spruce and ivy, generously sprinkled with bunches of red berries, were looped above the doorways and from the heavy beams in the ceiling.

  The beautiful stockings that her grandmother had lovingly embroidered were hanging above the fire and Alice had put tiny tea-light candles in glass tumblers on the hearth. The huge wickerwork reindeer her mother had loved stood guard on either side of the fireplace, proudly wearing their red collars and golden bells.

  It didn’t matter that there were no gifts under the tree either. Jacquot was too young to know the difference and Alice had the best gift she could possibly have already.

  Family.

  ‘We need a photo,’ she told her tiny brother. ‘I’ve never done a selfie before but here goes.’

  She was wearing a Santa hat she’d found amongst the decorations and she’d dressed Jacquot in a little red sleep suit she’d packed with his things. Standing in front of the tree, with the baby tucked into the crook of one arm, Alice used her other hand to try and hold her phone far enough away to capture both their faces and some of the background.

  It wasn’t working. If she tilted the phone enough to put Jacquot’s face in the picture, it cut off the top half of her own head and the tree was nowhere to be seen. ‘I give up,’ she sighed finally. ‘I’ll just take a picture of you and then we’ll use my phone to have some Christmas music.’

  The battery was not going to last much longer so Alice had to choose a favourite carol to listen to while she prepared Jacquot’s Christmas dinner of a bottle of milk.

  With the much-loved sound of ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ playing, she cuddled Jacquot for a minute longer, singing softly along with the song.

  And then she froze.

  No...it couldn’t be...

  But then she heard it again.

  An insistent rapping on the front door of her house. Her time with Jacquot was about to end.

  She’d been caught. It was time to face music that would have none of the joy of any Christmas carols.

  She kept her head down as she opened her door, expecting to see the polished boots of more than one police officer.

  She did see boots but they were old and soft looking, like a favourite pair a cowboy might wear. And they were beneath a pair of faded denim jeans. Alice’s head jerked up.

  ‘Julien...’

  * * *

  She had been hunted down by the person she was most ashamed to see and she could feel her face flood with burning colour as she thought of how much trouble she must have caused him.

  But he was smiling. ‘Bonjour, Alice. Joyeux Noël. May I come inside?’

  Speechless as she absorbed the sound of his voice again, Alice could only nod as she stood back. He was carrying a suitcase in one hand. No...it wasn’t a case, she realised as he came into the light of the living room. It looked like...like a picnic hamper?

  And he was holding something in his other hand as well.

  Brown bunny.

  Julien saw the d
irection of her gaze and held up the toy.

  ‘I think you forgot something,’ he said softly, holding it out to her. ‘Something important.’

  Her hand was trembling as she took the toy and she still couldn’t think of a single word to say. This was the last thing she’d expected. Why wasn’t he furious? Berating her for the crime she had committed in kidnapping Jacquot? Snatching him from her arms and disappearing back into the gloomy chill of the dark, snowy afternoon?

  Finally, she found her voice, already sounding rusty. ‘How did you find me? How did you get here?’

  ‘I remembered the name of your village. Getting here was a little more problematic, especially when my car got stuck in the snow, but a very nice man with a tractor rescued me and, even better, he knew where your house was. I have walked the last mile or so. My feet are very cold.’

  ‘Oh...come over near the fire.’

  ‘Soon.’ Julien put the hamper down and took off his coat. Then he pulled the hat off his head and the hair that had been tucked out of sight fell softly to touch his shoulders.

  He stepped closer. ‘You have forgotten something else. Or maybe you didn’t know about it.’ He bent to kiss Jacquot’s head and then touched Alice’s cheek with equal gentleness as he met her gaze.

  She couldn’t look away. The ‘thing’ was still there but it had changed. Grown. In fact, it was so huge it seemed to be sucking all the oxygen out of this room. Not that it mattered because she was too stunned to think about taking a breath anyway.

  His hand traced her cheek, brushed her ear and then slid beneath her hair to cup the back of her head. Alice’s lips were already slightly parted as she looked up, her heart so full of love it felt painfully stretched, and Julien matched his own lips with hers so perfectly it was like a dance as much as a kiss as they moved together.

  ‘It is a French custom,’ he whispered. ‘The Christmas kiss.’

  Vision blurred by tears made Alice blink. She couldn’t believe any of this. It was a dream. A fairy-tale. Real life wasn’t like this.

  Except, right now, it appeared that it was.

  Julien was stepping back. He picked up the hamper. ‘There was so much food still in the cold room,’ he said, ‘I thought I would bring you Christmas dinner.’

  Alice had thought that the traditional meal was the one thing she had needed to complete this Christmas celebration for Jacquot. But, in the wave of a magic wand, it had now appeared and she knew she’d been wrong.

  What she had really needed to complete this perfect little Christmas was to be with both the people she now thought of as family.

  Jacquot and Julien.

  A single tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.

  Miracles really did happen at Christmastime, didn’t they?

  ‘I have champagne, too,’ Julien added. ‘Because we have something to celebrate.’

  ‘We do?’

  ‘Oui. But first I must apologise. I had no idea about the terrible things Madame Laurent said to you. I had no idea what sort of person she really was because, I think, her acting skills are excellent. I should have listened. I will always listen in future, mon amour. Je suis vraiment désolé.’

  That French was being spoken in this house, of all places, should have felt like a betrayal to her grandmother and mother but instead it felt like the two halves of who she was had finally been fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. Or maybe she was feeling whole because Julien was here with her. Whatever the reason, the picture that the neatly fitting pieces were making was beautiful.

  Jacquot’s whimper reminded her that it was time for him to be fed but Alice hesitated. The shock of seeing Julien was wearing off and questions were filling her head. Serious questions.

  ‘How do you know what she said? Did she tell you? Why? And where is she now? What’s going to happen to me?’

  Julien smiled. ‘One question at a time, mon amour. Here, give Jacquot to me or would you like me to prepare his bottle?’

  In answer, Alice transferred the bundle of baby from her arms to his and Jacquot, bless him, looked up at his uncle and forgot he was hungry. He practised his best smile instead. Julien followed Alice to the kitchen and watched as she reheated the pot of boiled water on the hotplate over the oven.

  ‘Did you know that the baby cam could record things?’

  ‘No.’ Alice spooned formula into the bottle. If she had, she might have gone back to watch a particular scene more than once. The one where Julien had picked up his tiny nephew and held him against his bare chest. A scene that had captured her heart so decisively.

  ‘It was lucky that you’d turned it on before Madame Laurent came into the nursery. It recorded everything she said.’

  Alice’s eyes widened. ‘That’s right... I’d turned it on because I’d been about to come downstairs and find you...’

  ‘It gave me the evidence I needed to confront her. My solicitor reminded her that what she had done had been ill advised and illegal if your mother had been more than twelve weeks pregnant. That, in any case, if this recording became public, her reputation would be ruined and if she contested the issue of guardianship any further, then that was exactly what would happen.’

  Alice gasped. ‘She must have been so angry.’

  Julien nodded, a sombre expression on his face. ‘So angry the doctors said later that it must have raised her blood pressure to a terrible level and that is why she had the... I don’t know the word...un accident vasculaire cerebral...’

  ‘A stroke?’ Alice guessed, shocked. ‘Oh, my God... Is she...is she still alive?’

  Julien nodded again. ‘But she is badly affected. I rang the hospital this morning before I left to check on her progress and it is thought she will need specialist care for a long time.’

  Alice absorbed this information slowly as she shook the bottle and then tested the temperature of the formula on her wrist.

  ‘So she can’t take Jacquot even if she wanted to fight for custody?’

  ‘No. My guardianship will be uncontested. Ironically, that was part of our agreement that she had already signed. That if anything happened to her, this is what would happen. From now on, he will be in my care.’

  Alice nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. So that was why Julien had come instead of the police. He was here to take Jacquot back to France with him.

  ‘Would...?’ She had to clear her throat so her voice didn’t wobble. ‘Would you like to feed him?’

  ‘You give Jacquot his dinner.’ Julien gently transferred the baby back to her arms. ‘I would like to give you your dinner and I need to make it hot.’ He was smiling now. ‘Do you remember the last Christmas dinner we ate together?’

  How could she forget, when it had happened after he had taken her to his bed for the first time? By the look in his eyes right now he was remembering exactly the same thing.

  ‘And do you remember I said you might be eating Christmas dinner more than once?’

  Alice’s knees felt a little weak. Was Julien referring to a repetition of more than eating a traditional meal? She needed to sit down while she fed Jacquot, who fell asleep before he had even finished his milk.

  And then Julien brought her a glass of champagne and sat beside her on the old couch as they drank it. Silently, they sat together, soaking in the warmth and light of this Christmas scene Alice had created today.

  ‘You really are a pixie,’ Julien told her finally. ‘You make the world a special place wherever you are.’

  He took her empty glass and put it on the coffee table with his and then he put his arm around her and Alice snuggled against him, tilting her face up to receive one kiss and then another. They couldn’t go upstairs to a bedroom and leave a baby in a room with a fire and a dozen candles but, unexpectedly, this felt better than sex. Deeper.

  More like re
al life instead of a fairy-tale?

  ‘Why did you leave le lapin brun behind?’ Julien asked softly. ‘Did you know I would find it?’

  Alice nodded, loving the feel of Julien’s chest beneath her cheek. She could hear his heart beating.

  ‘I hoped so,’ she said. ‘I knew how much it meant to you. That it was the one thing Colette had given her baby that had been hers from her childhood. It was the link...the love...and I hoped that one day you would be able to give it to Jacquot so that the chain of that love wouldn’t be broken.’

  ‘Colette used to hold it when she was frightened.’ Julien’s voice cracked as he spoke. ‘And I used to hold her. Like this...’ His arm tightened around Alice and she snuggled closer.

  ‘I’m not afraid to take the path of love,’ he whispered, his lips very close to her ear. ‘Not any more. I will love Jacquot for every day that I live and I will protect him in every way that I can.’

  Alice pressed her lips together to stop them trembling. ‘You will take him back to France?’

  ‘I have to, cherié. You know that, yes?’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘But there is something I am also hoping...’

  Alice tilted her head so that she could see his face.

  ‘I am hoping that you will come back with us. That you will help me raise Jacquot and give him the love that only his sister or mother could provide.’

  Alice stopped breathing. Was that all Julien was hoping? His eyes were telling her more than that but was he really not afraid to take an even bigger step into trusting that he could not only give love but be loved in return?

  ‘Je t’aime,’ he whispered. ‘Tu as volé mon coeur. Tu as changé mon vie et...je pense que tu es la dernière pièce de mon casse-tête.’

  Oh... Alice’s eyes filled with joyous tears. Could there ever be a more beautiful language for words of love? She didn’t need a translation.

 

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