A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  Stella scanned his face before giving him a sad smile. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise. Maybe when I get back from honeymoon we can sort something out. A regular time for you to see her.’ She seemed to finally understand how much her daughter meant to him, because she gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. ‘I know she’d like that. She still talks about you a lot.’

  The emotion clogging his throat threatened to strangle him. ‘She does?’

  Stella nodded. ‘When we have fish and chips she always says “Owen would be cross he missed this.” And when she comes off the phone to you she always runs over to us to tell us the joke.’ She hesitated, drawing her hand away. ‘It was hard for Simon at first. That’s why I stopped you seeing her. I wasn’t trying to be mean. They get on much better now though. The bond isn’t as strong as the one she has with you, but I don’t think he’ll mind you seeing her again.’

  He swallowed. When that didn’t work, he swallowed again. ‘Thank you. I don’t want to cause problems. Just to support Zoe in any way I can. If it means stepping away again, I will, if it’s in her best interests. But if she wants me in her life, then I’m there for her. Always.’

  Yet another issue he needed to discuss with the fiercely independent Gabby. A woman who hadn’t planned to have a relationship, never mind have kids.

  Though if tomorrow didn’t go well, it would be a mute issue.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three days before Christmas

  The moment she opened the door to Owen, Gabby knew something was wrong. His eyes, usually so full of life, so vivid, were achingly sad.

  ‘Is everything all right? Oh God, it’s not your father, is it?’

  He shook his head, stepping inside, looking as if he had the worry of the world on his shoulders. There was no attempt to kiss her, not even on the cheek. And no smile. ‘Can we sit somewhere?’

  He was starting to scare her. ‘Yes, come through.’ She nodded to the big coat he was wearing; clearly he hadn’t believed her when she’d told him she’d let him in. ‘You can hang that up.’

  With frustrating slowness, he shrugged it off and placed it on the hook by the stairs. When they reached the sitting room he carefully held her face, his eyes drowning in sorrow. ‘I can’t go on holiday with you.’

  She reared back, her heart thumping. ‘What? Why?’

  He tried to take her hands but Gabby snatched them away, not in the mood to be mollycoddled. Yesterday he’d ditched their evening, now he was ditching their holiday. All she wanted from him was answers.

  ‘Stella has asked me to look after Zoe over Christmas.’ Before she had a chance to speak, he held up his hand, his eyes pleading with her. ‘Please, just hear me out. Stella has booked for her, Simon – her newly acquired husband – and Zoe to go away to the Caribbean. Zoe doesn’t want to go, which has put Stella in a bind.’

  Gabby couldn’t believe she was hearing this. ‘Your ex clicks her fingers and you drop everything? Drop our holiday, so she can have hers?’

  Owen paled. ‘Please, Gabby, it’s not like that. Zoe didn’t want to go. She wanted Christmas in England.’

  Gabby took a step back, and then another. ‘Then surely your ex should have cancelled her holiday.’ Owen flinched, his eyes filled with agony, but Gabby found it hard to sympathise. It was his weakness, the affection he must still carry for his ex, that had brought this on them. ‘One minute you’re hounding me, persuading me to go away with you like it’s the most important thing in the world. The next I’m dumped.’

  He hissed in frustration. ‘I’m not dumping you. You’re overreacting.’

  She glared back at him. ‘Two words every woman wants to hear. Next you’ll be asking if it’s my time of the month.’ Simmering with anger, she started to pace. ‘I always had a sense you weren’t committed to this holiday.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Isn’t it? You were wobbling about it when your dad was hurt. I knew you were, I understood, but instead of treating me like an adult and warning me there was a chance you wouldn’t make it, you kept reassuring me you would.’ Her chest shuddered as she tried to keep her emotions in check. ‘You let me hope, Owen. Damn you, you let me hope again.’

  He rounded on her, all his usual smooth in tatters. ‘You think I didn’t need that hope, too? I love my dad, but God, I needed a break. Then Stella and Zoe came round yesterday and … I can’t say no to her.’

  ‘You’ve made that perfectly clear.’ Anguish poured from him but Gabby was in too much of her own pain to empathise with his. Her mother had never been able to say no either. It felt like life was repeating itself. The moment she’d let someone in, allowed herself to believe she was important to them, she’d been kicked into touch again. ‘I’m fed up with being the afterthought, Owen. The one who can be picked up and dropped at whim. That’s why I didn’t want to start this. It’s easier on my own.’

  He rocked back on his heels. ‘What are you saying?’ Shaking his head, he took a step towards her, reaching out his hand. ‘Come on, let’s have a drink. Cool off. Sit and talk about this like adults?’

  She ignored his outstretched hand. Right now she didn’t feel like an adult. She felt like her twelve-year-old self. The one who’d been told her mother wasn’t going to make it home for the start of the Christmas holidays. Again. So she’d be going to stay with her aunt. Again. ‘I can’t sit down and talk to you,’ she whispered. ‘I’m too upset, too hurt.’

  He dropped his hand, his eyes, the dejected droop of his shoulders, the tight expression on his face all betraying his pain. ‘Later?’

  ‘My mother’s coming round.’ What a day this was turning out to be. Of course, considering her mother’s track record, it was entirely possible she wouldn’t show up.

  ‘Will you still go on holiday?’

  Oh God. She thought of the suitcase upstairs, packed with such joy, such optimism. Could she still go? Then again, what was the alternative? ‘I don’t see why I wouldn’t. It was my original plan, after all.’ Though now, damn him, she’d feel lonely. ‘I guess I should have stuck to my guns. Not allowed myself to be sweet-talked by a professional salesman. Then I wouldn’t be feeling so let down.’

  Owen blanched. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m just sorry, full stop.’

  ‘Gabby, please—’

  ‘No.’ This hurt too much. She felt too miserable. Nothing good would come of any further conversation. ‘I think we’ve said enough for today.’ She couldn’t stop the bitter laugh. ‘I need to prepare myself for the next emotional onslaught.’

  He looked like he wanted to say something more but she turned away, walking back down the hallway and holding the door open for him. ‘I hope you have a good Christmas.’

  He halted in the doorway, looking wretched. ‘I won’t. Not if you’re not with me.’

  Biting into her cheek to stem the building tears, she reminded herself he’d pushed her happiness aside in favour of that of his ex. ‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you said yes to Stella. Goodbye, Owen.’

  His jaw tightened. ‘This isn’t over. I’ll be back.’

  ‘Then you might need to bring a cushion. The doorstep can be a hard place to sit.’

  While she still had the strength to do it, she shut the door firmly behind him. Then she leant back against it, shut her eyes, and slid to the floor.

  It was only when she’d run out of tears that she noticed Owen’s coat still hanging on the hook.

  Owen jumped into his car and slammed the door shut. Something you should never do to a Maserati. But by God, he was angry. Furious even. How could she be so stubborn? Upset, he’d expected, but she wouldn’t even listen to what he had to say. She’d thrown it all back in his face, accusing him of wheedling his way into her holiday, and then blithely dumping her just because Stella had asked him to.

  With quick, jerky movements he sped off down the road, frustration fizzing from every pore. If she’d onl
y given him a chance to explain, damn it, he could have told her he wasn’t doing this for Stella. He was doing it for Zoe.

  Then again, would it have made a difference? Gabby badly needed someone to put her first for a change and what had he just done? Shoved her aside, letting her down exactly as her mum had.

  As the car churned up the miles, his anger gave way to guilt, and his frustration to misery. Gabby was right, he should have been more open with her after his dad had come home from hospital. Sure, it wasn’t his dad who’d been the final straw, but she might not have felt so blindsided now. And while he was on this guilt trip, he should never, in a million years, have even considered forcing his still-recuperating dad on that plane tomorrow. He’d not just ruined Gabby’s Christmas, he’d almost ruined his dad’s, too.

  Now he had to make sure he didn’t ruin Zoe’s. While also persuading both Gabby and his father to forgive him.

  When he let himself back into the house twenty minutes later, his dad was in his usual position; armchair by the fire, in front of the television. Before his mum had died, his dad would have been tearing his hair out with all this inactivity. In fact he’d probably have come in to find him abandoning his crutch and trying to walk unaided.

  These last few days, it had taken all Owen’s patience just to get the man to do the exercises the physio had recommended. ‘What are you watching?’

  ‘Tripe.’

  Owen came to stand next to him and glanced at the television. ‘That’s not tripe. It’s a Christmas classic. Elf.’

  ‘It’s a man wearing a green suit and yellow tights.’

  ‘I can’t deny that.’ Owen perched on the coffee table. ‘Dad, tell me honestly, do you want to go to France tomorrow to spend Christmas with Alice? Or do you want to stay here and spend it with me and Zoe?’

  His father turned to look at him. ‘You’re definitely not going away with your lady friend then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did she take it?’

  Owen dropped his gaze to the floor, his mind reliving the painful conversation. ‘Not well. It didn’t help that I got frustrated, when I should have stayed calm and made sure I put my point across.’ At work, he was a genius at that. It seems when it really mattered, he was useless.

  ‘You’ll be able to talk her round. She just needs time to get over the disappointment.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Owen stared into his dad’s eyes. They might not twinkle any more, but they did brim with sympathy. ‘I told you she never knew her father and her mum was absent a lot when she was growing up? What I didn’t mention was that her mum would make promises, like the fact that she’d be home for Christmas, and then let her down at the last minute. I’ve just done exactly the same thing.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself, lad.’ His father patted his hand. It was a quick gesture, perhaps an embarrassed one, but Owen’s throat tightened with emotion. ‘Stella shouldn’t have asked, at least not in front of young Zoe. How were you supposed to say no to that wee girl?’

  Owen gave his dad a sidelong look, and almost smiled. ‘She got to you, too, didn’t she?’

  His father scoffed. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Now, what’s your answer? France with Alice, or here with me and Zoe?’

  His father’s eyes drifted towards the television, and then over to Clarissa, who angled her head, as if to say Come on, there’s no contest. ‘If I stay here, will you bring the hens over?’

  Jesus. Owen swallowed the curse. Less than two weeks since leaving hospital, this man had been prepared to get on a plane for him. The least he could do was fetch the damn hens. ‘Sure. As long as you’re in charge of feeding them.’ That would get him out of the chair.

  ‘Deal.’ Though his eyes remained fixed on the television, Owen saw the start of a smile on his dad’s face. ‘Didn’t want to spend Christmas with a bunch of frogs.’

  ‘Dad.’ Owen shook his head, trying hard not to smile. ‘If Alice heard you she’d give you an earful. She loves it out there. And she loves her French husband.’

  ‘No accounting for taste.’

  His eyes darted towards Owen and something rare happened. They shared a smile. ‘Right then. I’d better go and get these hens of yours. Actually, on second thoughts.’ He picked up the crutch that was by the side of the chair and handed it to his dad. ‘We’ll go and get them.’

  His dad glanced at the crutch, then up at him. ‘I won’t be able to help.’

  ‘You can provide the direction. I’ll do the manual labour.’

  With a grunt, his father levered himself, shakily, to his feet. ‘I suppose this means I have to cram myself in that daft car of yours.’

  ‘Considering my daft car is about to get covered in hen poop, I think it’s the least you can do.’ Owen slid his dad a look, and they shared another small smile.

  ‘When’s the wee lass coming over?’ his father asked after they’d wedged him into the passenger seat.

  ‘Later this afternoon.’

  ‘Good. She can help me feed the hens. I reckon she’ll like that.’

  Despite the crappiness of the morning, Owen felt a trickle of optimism, a rush of warmth. At least there was a chance this Christmas might work out for two of the people he loved.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two days before Christmas

  The coat haunted her. Every time Gabby walked past the black, down filled puffer jacket, her stomach knotted and her heart tightened. She had to do something about it. Stuff it in the post to him. Give it to charity. At least shove it in a cupboard so she didn’t have to look at the damn thing.

  ‘Whose jacket is it?’

  Gabby jumped at the sound of the voice. For a moment she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone in the house. ‘Nobody important.’

  Her mother walked down the stairs, swaddled in Gabby’s spare dressing gown. Ten o’clock in the morning and she’d only just woken up. It was unheard of.

  ‘If it was nobody important, you wouldn’t be looking at it like you wanted to rip it to shreds. Then bury yourself in what was left.’ Wow. Gabby hadn’t realised she had her totally transparent look on today. Either that or her mother knew her better than she thought. ‘Does it belong to the friend you’re going on holiday with?’

  Ouch. Gabby turned away, not wanting her mother to see how upset she was. ‘The man I was going on holiday with, yes.’

  ‘Was?’

  Ignoring the question, Gabby strode into the kitchen. ‘What do you want for breakfast? I have healthy stuff I try to keep to during the week, or naughty stuff that I eat at weekends.’

  ‘How about we share some of the naughty, and you tell me about the man who owns the jacket.’

  She glanced sharply at her mother. ‘Not before you tell me why you’ve come home. I didn’t press you last night because you seemed shattered, but this morning I want to know what’s wrong. And don’t tell me nothing, because I’m not stupid.’

  ‘I know you’re not. And neither am I,’ she added pointedly, giving Gabby’s face an uncomfortable scrutiny. ‘So let’s sit down and talk to each other.’

  A few minutes later they were in the sitting room, her mother on the sofa, Gabby opposite on the armchair. A plate of assorted Danish pastries on the coffee table between them.

  ‘What’s up, Mum?’

  The woman on the sofa slowly raised her eyes to look at her. She must be fifty-six now, Gabby thought. Her brown hair, currently in a tidy bob, had flecks of grey, her face more lined than it should for a woman her age. Perhaps it was the sun; as far as Gabby could remember, her mother had always looked tanned, thanks to her travels with the charity. Lines aside, it was still a very attractive face.

  ‘You don’t call me Mum very often.’

  You haven’t been much of one. Gabby swallowed down the words. ‘That’s not an answer.’

  ‘No.’ She pushed the half-eaten Danish back onto her plate on the coffee table and grabbed the mug of coffee in both hands. ‘These last few
months I’ve not felt settled.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time to come home for good.’

  Her mother gave her a sad smile. ‘You say the word home like it’s a real place, instead of just a house I’ve hardly lived in.’

  Gabby couldn’t let that one slide. ‘That was your decision.’

  ‘Yes, yes it was.’ Her mother’s eyes drifted down towards her mug and her hands clasped it tighter. ‘One I’m starting to regret.’

  Gabby’s heart bumped. ‘You are?’

  Her mother nodded, not meeting her eyes. Gabby had never seen her look so uncomfortable. Or so vulnerable. ‘I’ve put my whole life into the charity. It’s been my home, my family, my everything. But now my time is coming to an end and I realise I have nothing outside it.’ She swallowed, adding in a quiet, strained voice. ‘The one person I have, I’ve distanced myself so much from I doubt she wants much to do with me any more.’

  Gabby stilled. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  Her mother twisted her hands together in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. ‘A while back we managed to reunite a mother and the daughter she thought had died. The look on that mother’s face. The love, the unbridled joy.’ She put down the mug before finally looking Gabby in the eye. ‘It made me realise all I’d missed out on with you. I’m so sorry, Gabriela. So very, very sorry.’

  ‘Gabby. I call myself Gabby,’ she repeated woodenly, her mind reeling with shock.

  ‘You’ll always be Gabriela to me. I chose a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.’

  Tears rushed, stinging her eyes, and Gabby rubbed furiously at them. She wasn’t going to cry. She was too angry to cry. ‘Do you know how much I’ve longed for you to tell me something like that? To give me any hint at all that you cared?’

  ‘Of course I cared.’ Anguish filled her mother’s face. ‘You were my child. My precious daughter.’

  ‘I didn’t feel very precious when you failed to come home to see me. Especially at this time of year.’