12 Stocking Stuffers

by Beverly Barton

  ‘But—’

  ‘Goodbye, Mark.’

  He hung up and looked at Corinne with a touch of defiance.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said warmly.

  He put out his hand and she took it between both of hers. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a great Christmas.’

  Her eyes were as warm as her voice and he tightened his hand. But the next moment she stepped back, smiling and saying, ‘It’s time for bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.’

  Next morning the snow lay thick on the ground as they had Christmas Eve breakfast.

  ‘Are we going to see Uncle Jimmy?’ Mitzi asked.

  ‘No need,’ Corinne said. ‘I’ve already called the hospital and he can come home. I’m going to fetch him later. You three can go shopping.’

  The children cheered, but a few minutes later Alex took her aside.

  ‘It’s a bit soon for him to be leaving hospital, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hospitals don’t encourage people to stay over Christmas, and it’s only a collar-bone. I can look after him here. Jimmy’s been kind to me.’

  She saw him scowl and said firmly, ‘Alex, I am not leaving him to spend Christmas in hospital. Besides, you’ll be the gainer.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ll be spending a lot of time with Jimmy, leaving you with the children. So, you make the most of it.’

  For a man who wanted to be with his children it was a good bargain. But ‘I’ll be spending a lot of time with Jimmy’ had a melancholy sound.

  Alex became aware that Bobby was signalling to him, and remembered.

  ‘So, tell me how the school play went,’ he said, tweaking Mitzi’s hair. ‘I want to know all about it.’

  She produced her photo album so fast that it was clear she’d had it ready, and they began turning the pages together. There she was in a green hat and green costume with bells, giving the world her wide, gap-toothed grin.

  Alex gave her an answering grin, but it was too late to smile back at her. It was only a week ago but that mischievous imp was already gone for ever.

  Along with many other things.

  After that he made a good job of it, showing an enthusiasm that Mitzi, the unsubtle, accepted at face value. When she’d gone away happy he met Bobby’s eyes, silently asking the child if he’d done all right. And his nine-year-old son nodded in approval.

  They split into two parties. Corinne headed for the hospital, while Mitzi and Bobby piled into Alex’s car and directed him to the shopping precinct.

  It was quieter than Alex had expected, with most shoppers having finished the day before. On the lower floor an amateur brass band played carols, with spectators joining in. Bobby and Mitzi enthusiastically sang ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks’ while Alex, suddenly inspired, sang ‘While Shepherds Washed their Socks,’ at the top of his voice, until compelled to desist by the glares of a large woman shaking a collecting box.

  Under her reproving gaze he put a very large donation into the box and scurried away, his children clinging to his hands and rocking with laughter.

  ‘Oh, Daddy, you are funny.’ Mitzi giggled.

  ‘I used to sing that at school,’ he remembered. ‘It got me into trouble then, too.’

  Strolling around later, Mitzi noticed something that made her gasp with joy.

  ‘Daddy, look! Santa Claus!’

  The precinct’s Santa was just embarking on his last stint, complete with grotto and tree. Mitzi looked up at her father eagerly, but Bobby touched her arm and shook his head.

  ‘We already saw Santa,’ he urged. ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘We saw him last week too,’ she pointed out, ‘and the week before.’

  Alex watched to see if his son would be stuck for an answer. But he wasn’t.

  ‘They were just pretend Santas,’ he said. ‘The one we saw last night was the real Santa.’

  ‘How do you know?’ she demanded rebelliously.

  ‘I just do.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I do.’

  Mitzi subsided, apparently satisfied with this brand of logic. Bobby looked up at his father and received a wink, which he returned.

  ‘Why don’t we go in there?’ Alex said, pointing quickly at a store that sold books, CDs and various related items.

  As soon as they were inside he struck lucky, coming across a display of ‘Marianne’ picture books, with one prominently displayed featuring Marianne as a rider.

  ‘Has she got that?’ Alex muttered to Bobby.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Here.’ He shoved some notes into Bobby’s hands. ‘You get it while I distract her.’

  The teamwork went like clockwork. In a short time Bobby was back with a parcel wrapped in anonymous brown paper.

  ‘What’s that?’ Mitzi demanded.

  ‘What?’ Bobby looked innocently around.

  ‘That!’

  ‘I don’t see anything. Do you, Dad?’

  ‘Not a thing.’

  Making a covert purchase for Bobby was harder, because he couldn’t use Mitzi as an agent. But he struck lucky, noticing a series of video cassettes titled ‘Water-colour Technique’. Managing to catch the assistant’s eye, he mouthed, ‘How much?’ pointing at Bobby to explain the reason for silence.

  She indicated the price and Alex produced his card. The videos vanished and reappeared safely wrapped.

  Luckily, Bobby had started bickering with Mitzi and noticed nothing.

  ‘How about something to eat?’ Alex asked. All this undercover work was exhausting.

  They found a café and Alex studied the menu, but the other two knew what they wanted.

  ‘Cocoa and cream buns,’ Mitzi said blissfully.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Bobby chimed in at once.

  ‘But what about your lunch?’ Alex objected. ‘If I take you home already full your mother will kill me.’

  ‘It’s real cream,’ Bobby pointed out.

  ‘Lots and lots of it,’ Mitzi said ecstatically.

  ‘Does Mummy allow you to eat cream buns before lunch?’

  They considered.

  ‘No,’ Bobby said regretfully.

  ‘No,’ Mitzi agreed.

  ‘Well, then!’

  Bobby regarded him innocently. ‘But Mummy isn’t here.’

  Alex made the mistake of engaging him in debate.

  ‘But aren’t you equally bound by her rules even when she’s absent?’

  ‘No,’ Bobby explained. ‘Because it’s Christmas, so she might have changed her mind, just this once. We don’t know, do we?’

  ‘I suppose we don’t,’ Alex said, eyeing his son with new respect. ‘Mind you, I’ve got my phone. We could call and ask her.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be fair,’ Bobby said quickly. ‘Mummy’s very busy, doing last-minute things. We shouldn’t interrupt her.’

  ‘Ah!’ Alex gave this idea his full attention. ‘You think we could simply assume her agreement—out of consideration for her?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bobby said firmly.

  They shook hands.

  ‘When you want a job,’ Alex told him, ‘come to your old man. The thought of you arguing on the other side scares me stiff. You’ve got every trick.’

  ‘I learned them from my dad.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Alex said at once. ‘I’m not taking the blame for your devious mind.’

  Bobby grinned.

  They each had three cream buns and two cups of cocoa, and Alex thought he’d never tasted anything so delicious. Then they went home to confess to Corinne. But she wasn’t fazed.

  ‘Fine. It’ll save me cooking a big lunch. Uncle Jimmy’s here, kids.’

  Overjoyed, they dashed into the next room where Jimmy, swathed in plaster, was reclining on the sofa. Alex followed and was in time to see them climbing up beside him, moving carefully, not to hurt him.

  Mitzi was on his uninjured side and put her arms about him. ‘Poor Uncle Jimmy,’ she said. ‘Is it very bad?’<
br />
  ‘Not really,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Fell in the road,’ he said at once. ‘Silly me.’

  Alex regarded him with mixed feelings. It was decent of Jimmy not to have blamed him. On the other hand he couldn’t like him, especially as Mitzi was greeting him with real affection. Bobby was less effusive, but he was on Jimmy’s injured side.

  ‘Tea up!’ Corinne called, entering with a cup.

  She handed it gently to Jimmy, who smiled, receiving it, while Mitzi solicitously plumped up his cushions.

  A shiver went through Alex. It was absurd, of course, but for a moment they had looked like a family.

  The stockings and socks were in place, hanging from the mantelpiece. Jimmy, clowning, had produced one full of holes, which had reduced the children to fits of laughter.

  ‘Right now, you two,’ Corinne said. ‘Bed.’

  ‘Mummy, we haven’t left things for Santa,’ Mitzi urged. ‘In case he gets hungry and thirsty.’

  ‘What do you want to leave, pet?’

  ‘Jam tarts and milk,’ Mitzi said at once.

  ‘Ginger biscuits,’ Bobby said. ‘And some beer.’

  ‘You can’t leave beer,’ Mitzi said, scandalised.

  ‘Why not? He’d hardly be drunk in charge of a reindeer after just one beer!’ Bobby said.

  ‘But it won’t be just one,’ Mitzi pointed out. ‘’Cos he’ll have been to lots of other people first, and drunk what they left, and—’

  ‘Well, they won’t all have left beer,’ Bobby argued.

  ‘Will.’

  ‘Won’t.’

  ‘Will.’

  ‘Won’t.’

  ‘Will.’

  ‘Won’t.’

  Corinne tore her hair. ‘Break it up, you two. Peace on earth, goodwill to all men.’

  ‘And all women?’ Jimmy suggested.

  ‘Especially all the women,’ Corinne clowned. ‘They’re so busy cooking for everyone.’

  ‘I’d do it for you if I had more than one arm.’

  ‘Yeah, sure you would,’ she jeered.

  ‘You’re a hard woman.’

  They grinned at each other. Alex tried to tell himself that they were like brother and sister, but there was something about the cheerful ease of their relationship, the way they shared the same sense of humour, that troubled him.

  ‘Anyway, I vote for jam tarts and milk,’ Jimmy insisted.

  ‘I vote for ginger biscuits and beer,’ Alex said at once. ‘I think Santa gets left a lot of milk, and beer will come as a nice change for him.’

  In the end they compromised, which meant that Bobby left out a can of beer and some biscuits, while Mitzi stubbornly left out a carton of milk, jam tarts, and two glasses.

  ‘Why two?’ Bobby demanded.

  ‘So that he doesn’t have to drink milk and beer out of the same glass,’ she riposted.

  ‘He won’t drink the milk at all.’

  ‘He will.’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘Will.’

  ‘Won’t.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Corinne roared. ‘Get to bed, both of you.’

  They vanished.

  ‘I think I’ll go up too,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘You look all in,’ Corinne agreed. ‘Have you had your pills?’

  She fussed over him until he’d taken his medication and at last, to Alex’s relief, Jimmy took himself off to bed.

  ‘That’s it!’ Corinne brushed the hair back from her brow. ‘I’m bushed.’

  ‘It’s been a great day,’ Alex said.

  ‘Yes, it has. You’ve been terrific.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘The kids are so happy. Haven’t you seen?’

  But it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear.

  ‘What about you?’ he insisted.

  ‘It’s not about me. It’s about you and them. Alex, I’ve never seen them so much at ease with you. And Bobby—surely you’ve noticed how he—?’

  He kissed her.

  He did it so fast that she had no time to resist. Surprise had always brought him results in business, and for a moment he thought it was working here. Corinne didn’t try to push him away, but neither did she embrace him back. Instead, she remained so still that it finally got through to him.

  ‘Corinne—’

  ‘Alex, please don’t. It’s been so lovely. Don’t spoil it.’

  ‘Is it spoiling it to say that you’re still my wife and I still love you?’

  ‘Don’t talk like that,’ she begged.

  ‘Corinne, what is it? I thought that when we’d been apart for a while—’

  ‘I’d “see sense”? That’s how you think of it, isn’t it? You think I had to be crazy to leave you, and that I’ll realise I made a mistake.’

  ‘Are you going to say you didn’t?’

  ‘Yes, I am saying that. I wanted a home, husband and children, and all I got was the children. They’re lovely kids, but I wanted a husband as well.’

  ‘And you couldn’t love me?’

  ‘You weren’t there. You haven’t been there for years.’

  His eyes kindled. ‘Tell me about this man you want to love. He wouldn’t be called Jimmy by any chance?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Is it? I can see that he’s a lot of things I’m not—things you might want.’

  ‘Yes, he is. He’s kind and dependable, and I always know where I am with him, but—’

  Corinne checked herself, on the verge of saying, But he’s not you.

  It had been a risk, asking Alex to stay for Christmas, but she’d told herself that she must take it for the children’s sake. Now she knew it had been a mistake. Her love was not sufficiently buried, or perhaps not sufficiently dead. It threatened her too often and too piercingly.

  Alex watched her, willing her to say something that would ease his heart.

  ‘But?’ he urged. ‘But you haven’t forgotten “us.” Have you?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted unwillingly. ‘I can’t forget that. I’m not sorry we married. We were very happy back then, and I’ll never regret it.’

  ‘If we had the time over again—you’d still marry me?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Even knowing how it would end, I’d still do it.’

  ‘It hasn’t ended yet. We don’t know how it’s going to end.’

  ‘Alex—’

  He took hold of her shoulders, very gently. ‘It’s too soon to say,’ he told her. ‘Don’t let’s rush to part, Corinne.’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘I thought we had parted. I should have remembered that no position is ever final until you’ve agreed to it.’

  ‘Tell me that you don’t love me any more,’ he said insistently.

  ‘And you’re an ace negotiator, always knowing the other side’s weak spot.’

  ‘Then you do love me.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I’m trying not to.’ She added reluctantly, ‘But it’s hard.’

  He drew her against him, not kissing her this time but wrapping his arms about her body and holding her close while he rested his cheek on her head.

  After a while he felt her arms slowly go around him, and they stayed there peacefully together for a long time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHEN his tiny illuminated clock showed midnight, Bobby slid out of bed and went quietly into the hall. The house was completely silent and almost dark, except for a faint glow he could see downstairs.

  Moving noiselessly, he crept down the stairs and into the room where the tree glowed. On the threshold he stopped and an expression of relief crossed his face.

  ‘I knew you’d be here,’ he whispered.

  The red-clad figure by the tree turned and smiled at him through his huge white beard.

  ‘Come in,’ he said.

  Bobby moved closer. In dim light, and on his feet, Santa looked bigger than ever.

  ‘Did you have trouble with the chimney?’ he asked. �
��I was afraid it might not be big enough.’

  Santa looked down at his wide girth. ‘You mean with there being so much of me?’

  ‘I wasn’t being rude.’

  Santa laughed, not a ho-ho-ho, but a kindly, understanding sound.

  ‘It’s not as bad as some places I’ve tried,’ he said.

  ‘What about when there’s no fireplace?’ Bobby asked. ‘How do you get in then?’

  Santa tapped the side of his nose and winked. ‘Trade secret,’ he said.

  He sat down in the armchair, put down the can of beer he was holding and signalled for Bobby to sit. Bobby plonked himself down on the floor.

  ‘You know how I got so fat?’ Santa asked.

  Bobby shook his head.

  ‘In their kindness, people leave more out for me than I can possibly eat.’ He indicated the hearth. ‘How about you have the milk and we’ll split the tarts and biscuits? I’ve had most of the beer and it was great. Whoever left that was a genius.’

  ‘It was my idea,’ Bobby said eagerly. ‘Mitzi insisted on putting out a glass for you as well. I said you wouldn’t be bothered, but you know what girls are.’

  ‘Actually, Mitzi was right,’ Santa confided, holding up a glass with beer in it. ‘Drinking from the can is awkward when you’ve got a beard.’

  He poured milk from the carton into the other glass and the two of them sat sipping and sharing tarts.

  ‘So what happened?’ he asked. ‘Did your dad show up?’

  ‘Yes, just like you said. A day early. How did you know?’

  Santa hesitated. ‘Inside information.’

  ‘Do you know everything?’

  ‘No,’ Santa replied at once.

  ‘So you can’t tell me how long he’s going to stay?’

  ‘I already did, when we talked yesterday. Longer than tomorrow.’

  ‘But after that?’

  ‘What do you really want him to do?’ Santa asked thoughtfully

  ‘Stay as long as possible.’

  Santa looked at him keenly. ‘Are you hoping I’ll wave a magic wand?’

  But his thoughtful son shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He has to want to, or there’s no point.’