Christmas with her Boss

by Marion Lennox

  But William’s question still hung, unanswered, and he wasn’t taking it back.

  She glanced at the house. Apart from the Christmas decorations it was all in darkness. Letty and Scott would be long asleep. Even the dogs hadn’t stirred on their return. They’d be sleeping in a huge huddle at the end of Scott’s bed, she knew. Turps and Roger would be on the bed itself-Scott had trained them to lie still so he could use them as a rest for his brace. The others would be on the floor, as close as they could get.

  She loved Scotty so much it hurt. It hurt so much she wanted to cry. And, all at once, it was easy to answer William’s question. She wanted to talk.

  ‘Scotty’s my half-brother,’ she said, staring ahead into the darkness. Speaking almost to herself. ‘My mum was a single mum-she had me early and she raised me the hard way, with no parental support. Then, when I was nine, she met Scott’s dad. Alex was a farmer, a fair bit older than she was. Mum was selling second-hand clothes at a market and Alex had come to town to check out some new, innovative water pump. He never bought the pump but he took one look at Mum and he fell hard.’

  ‘Love at first sight,’ William said, and he sounded a bit derisive. Meg glared at him. He was on shaky ground. Derision wasn’t something she was putting up with tonight.

  And apparently he realised it. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, sorry. Love at first sight. It happens.’

  ‘So it does,’ she said and glared at him a bit longer until she was sure he was remembering the railway station and the water bottle and the express train thundering through, crowded with people with cameras.

  ‘So it did,’ she reiterated as he attempted to look apologetic-not a good fit for W S McMaster but it was a start. Her glare faded. ‘I remember the weekend Alex invited us here. He was a great big dairy farmer, in his forties. He hardly talked. That was okay. Mum was a talker, and I remember he just kept looking at Mum like she was some sort of magic. And then I met Letty and Letty was my magic. We arrived on the Friday night and Mum and Alex couldn’t take their eyes off each other all weekend, and on Sunday Letty said “call me Grandma.” It was like we’d come home. We had come home. Alex took us back to Melbourne and we threw our things into the back of his truck and we headed back here and stayed. Alex married Mum a month later. I was a flower girl. Letty made me the most gorgeous dress. We were so happy, and then five years later Scotty was born and it was perfect.’

  ‘Nothing’s perfect,’ William said, as if he couldn’t help himself, and she shook her head in disgust.

  ‘And there’s no such thing as love at first sight? Don’t mess with my fairy tales, Mr McMaster. It was love at first sight and it was perfect for sixteen whole years. Sure, the farm’s not big and we struggled a bit, but Mum still did markets and everyone helped. I was good at school and we knew there was no way the farm would support Scotty and me-or even one of us-but I was really happy going to university. I missed it more when I got a full-time job, but I was still pretty happy, having this place here as my backstop. And then four years ago a truck came round a bend on the wrong side of the road and it all crumpled to nothing.’

  Silence.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said at last.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said grimly. ‘It makes you realise that when you have the fairy tale you hang on and you appreciate it every single moment. Just like that…’ She shook her head, shaking away nightmares. ‘Anyway, Mum and Alex were killed instantly. Scotty was eleven. He was in the back seat. He just broke…everything. For months we thought he’d be a paraplegic, but he had so much grit. He has so much grit. He’s fought and fought. For ages neighbours kept the farm going for us. We thought we’d have to sell but then Letty and I figured maybe we could keep it. If we use my salary to augment the income, we can just get by. It’s where Scotty’s happy. It’s where Letty’s happy.’

  ‘And your job with me…’

  ‘See, there’s the fairy tale again,’ she said and smiled, but he didn’t smile back. He looked intent, as if trying to see meaning behind her words. It disconcerted her, but no matter, she had to keep going. ‘I thought I’d get a job in Curalo and commute the twenty miles,’ she told him, ‘but then along came your advertisement and it’s been fabulous. We have a lady who comes and milks for us while I’m not here. Letty’s still active. We’ve coped.’

  ‘So if I sack you…’

  Her smile faded. ‘Then…’

  ‘Then the fairy tale ends again?’

  ‘It’s not as bad as that,’ she said and tilted her chin. ‘We’ll manage.’

  ‘I won’t sack you.’

  ‘I don’t need sympathy.’

  ‘I’m not offering it. We’ll put this behind us as an unfortunate aberration…’

  ‘On my part.’

  ‘On your part,’ he agreed gravely. ‘It’s been a sad hiccup in your normally exemplary efficiency. We’ll get this weekend behind us and then go back to where we were. You’re normally an extremely competent employee.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ she said before she could stop herself. Who was being snarky now?

  ‘If that’s sarcasm…’

  ‘No, I’m overwhelmed,’ she said. ‘Honestly I am.’ She had to get herself under control here. Meek, she told herself. Do meek.

  ‘I don’t give compliments that aren’t deserved,’ he said stiffly and she thought-what am I doing, joshing with a guy who controls my life? But there was something about this day, or this night, this time, this season-maybe even it was just that Santa was still waggling dumbly overhead-that made her refuse to treat this as normal. She wasn’t going back to being Miss Jardine; not just yet.

  ‘You know you don’t have to simply “get this weekend behind us,”’ she said cautiously. ‘You could enjoy it.’

  ‘I’m hardly in a position to enjoy it.’

  ‘Because you don’t have the phone or the Internet?’

  ‘Because I’m right out of my comfort zone,’ he said honestly. ‘And I want to be back in New York.’

  ‘And I want my parents back,’ she retorted. ‘But that doesn’t stop me enjoying what I have. The here and now.’

  ‘That’s very commendable.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it,’ she said evenly. ‘In fact, if I’m not mistaken, my boss just commended me. He said I was normally an extremely competent employee. So while I’m ahead I might just stop.’ She swung herself out of the car and waited for him to do likewise. ‘I have an early start, Mr McMaster, so I need to go to bed.’

  ‘Why do you have an early start?’

  ‘I milk cows,’ she said, heading for the back door. ‘If you can’t sleep and run out of work, then you’re welcome to join me at dawn. Instead of a gym workout. If I were you, though, I wouldn’t wear a suit.’ And she walked into the house and left him to follow-if he wanted.

  What choice did he have?

  None at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HE WOKE to the sound of cows. Many cows. The window of his attic bedroom was open and the not-so-gentle lowing was filling the room. The old, comfortable bed, the faded furnishings and the unaccustomed sounds were so different from his normal environment that he struggled to take it in.

  But he got it soon enough. He was trapped for Christmas. On Meg’s farm.

  Meg…

  In the pre-dawn light the name felt strange, almost dangerous. He linked his hands loosely behind his head and stared upward, trying to assimilate how he was feeling. The planked ceiling ran up to a peak. He’d be right underneath Santa’s sleigh, he thought, and that seemed so unnerving he unlinked his hands and swung himself straight out of bed.

  He didn’t intend to lie in bed and think about Santa. About what he’d promised. About what he was missing in New York.

  Nor did he intend to lie in bed and think about Meg.

  Miss Jardine.

  Meg, he thought. The name suited her.

  So why was Letty’s order to use her name unsettling?

  He knew why. As an adolescent blessed with
enough insight to think about emotions, he’d struggled with reasons. He’d even wondered if one of the therapists his mother used might give him answers. But finally he’d worked it out himself. This had been a lesson taught early to a child by a jealous, vindictive mother, who believed employees and friends were to be strictly differentiated.

  ‘They’ll take advantage…’

  It was a savage line, said with spite, and the memory of it still had the power to make him flinch.

  Unsettled, he crossed to the attic window and peered below. It was barely daybreak; the sun wasn’t yet over the horizon and the farm looked grey-green, barely lit from the night before. He could see the roof of what must be the dairy, and cows clustering beyond. A couple of dogs were fussing around them, but the cows were uninterested. The cows looked as if they knew what they were about, and the dogs were simply demonstrating their role.

  A role other than licking Meg.

  Meg. There it was again. The word.

  ‘They’ll take advantage…’

  He’d been seven. His parents had been away, for who knew how long? It never seemed to matter because the house was much more fun with them gone. It was summer. School was out and Ros, their cook, had been teaching him to make pancakes. But she’d turned her back and he’d tried to flip a pancake before it was ready. The hot batter had oozed from the spatula and onto his hand.

  Hannah, his nanny, had come running. She’d held him tight, rocking him, while Ros rushed to apply salve.

  ‘There, baby, it’ll be fine, see, Ros has ice and ointment all ready. Let Hannah see.’

  His parents had walked in as they’d hugged him.

  Maybe he hadn’t reacted fast enough. He was shocked and his hand hurt, so instead of rushing to greet them with the pleasure he’d already begun to act instead of feel, he’d simply clung harder to his Hannah.

  ‘What is this?’ his mother had demanded with deep displeasure, and he’d sobbed then, with fright as well as pain. Already he knew that voice. ‘William, stop that appalling crying and get over here. You do not get close to servants.’

  ‘They’re not servants,’ he’d managed. ‘They’re Hannah and Ros.’

  His mother’s eyes had narrowed at that, and he’d been sent to his room without even salve on his hand.

  Who knew where Hannah and Ros were now? They’d been given notice on the spot. He needed to learn independence, his mother had decreed, and he still remembered the sneer.

  His next nanny had been nice enough, but he’d learned. His new nanny was Miss Carmichael. He did not get close.

  Soon after that he’d been sent to boarding school. His parents had split and from then on his holidays had been spent with his grandparents. The only care he had there was from more servants-though eventually his grandfather realised he had a head for figures. That had resulted in a tinge of interest. William was deemed the new head of the McMaster Empire.

  So there he had it, he thought ruefully, his one family use. His grandfather knew he’d make a good businessman and that was the extent of his importance. It was no wonder he was emotionally screwed.

  He should be able to get over it-his dysfunctional family-their fierce focus on social hierarchy and fortune-their petty squabbles and personal vindictiveness-their total lack of sense of family. But how to get over a lifetime of dysfunction? Even now, he didn’t really understand what family love or life was. He’d an inkling of it through friends and associates. At times he even envied it, but to try and achieve it…No.

  He’d learned not to need it. He couldn’t need something he didn’t understand and the last thing he wanted was to hurt another human as his extended family had hurt each other. How could he undo so many years of family malice? He couldn’t.

  He told no one any lies about himself. The women he dated used his social cachet as pay-off, and that was fine by him.

  And the kids? Pip and Ned? He was certainly fond of them, as fond as he ever allowed himself to be. But they called him Mr McMaster and he knew that soon he’d disappear from their lives as well. That was the way things had to be. Like now. He couldn’t even be there for them at Christmas. A broken promise, like so many he’d been given as a child…

  A whistle split the air, so loud it hauled him out of his reverie. Maybe that was just as well. There was little to be gained by trying to change at this stage of his life, and maybe a lot to lose. He shrugged, mocking something that was part and parcel of how he faced the world-and then he tried to figure who was whistling.

  Meg had said she’d be helping with the milking. Who else was down there?

  There was only one way to find out.

  He checked his watch. It was five-thirty.

  Early, even by his standards.

  Whoever was down there knew how to work.

  W S McMaster could be forgotten here. She was perfectly, gloriously happy. She was home.

  Meg stomped across the baked dirt and whooshed her next cow into the bail. Friesian 87 plodded forward with resigned equanimity.

  ‘That’s Topsy,’ Kerrie said. ‘Her milk production’s gone up twelve per cent this year. You’re ace, aren’t you, girl?’

  ‘I thought Letty decided we should stop naming them.’

  ‘That was only when she had to get rid of half the herd. It broke her heart. Now your income’s so good she’s decided we can name them again. She started with Millicent, and now she’s moving onto the whole herd.’

  Uh-oh.

  ‘It’s not so stable as you might think,’ she said cautiously.

  Kerrie released her cow and stretched and glanced across into the vat room, where her three little girls were playing in a makeshift playpen. ‘We take one day at a time,’ she said. ‘We all know that.’

  Maybe everyone did, Meg thought as she washed teats and attached cups. Last year Kerrie’s husband had maxed out their credit cards and taken off with a girl half his age, leaving Kerrie with three babies under four. Milking here was now her sole income.

  Kerrie’s income was thus dependent on Meg’s income. On Meg’s job.

  William had said he wouldn’t fire her. She had to believe him. But first they had to get through Christmas.

  We’ll put this behind us as an unfortunate aberration…

  Christmas. An aberration.

  That wasn’t what he’d meant, but it was how it seemed.

  What was he intending to do with himself for the next three days?

  ‘Can I help?’

  She didn’t have to show she was startled. The cows did it for her, backing away in alarm at this unfamiliar person in the yard. The cow Kerrie was ushering in backed right out again before Kerrie could stop her, and Kerrie swore and headed after her.

  ‘You need to move,’ Meg said swiftly. ‘You’re scaring the cows.’

  He was in his gym gear. Black and white designer stuff with crisp white designer trainers. Very neat.

  The cows weren’t appreciating it.

  He backed into the vat room, where the playpen was set up. The oldest of the little girls cried out in alarm and he backed out of there too.

  Meg found herself smiling. Her boss, in charge of his world. Or not.

  ‘Go back to bed,’ she advised. ‘It’s early.’

  ‘I don’t like my PA working before me. Is there something I can do?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  Goodness. ‘How are you at washing udders?’ she asked, stunned.

  ‘I learned it at kindergarten,’ he said promptly and she found herself chuckling. He’d woken up on the right side of the bed, then. Maybe this could work.

  ‘If you’re serious…’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘The cows don’t like gym gear.’

  ‘You think I should go back and put on one of my suits?’

  ‘Um…no.’ She chuckled and saw a flare of surprise in his eyes. Maybe she didn’t chuckle around him enough.

  Maybe she didn’t chuckle at all.

  ‘Ker
rie’s brother helps out here occasionally when the kids are sick,’ she said. ‘Ron’s around your size. His overalls and gumboots are in the vat room.’

  ‘Gumboots?’

  ‘Wellingtons,’ Kerrie said, entranced.

  ‘This is Kerrie,’ Meg said. ‘Kerrie, this is William.’

  ‘Your boss?’ Kerrie asked.

  ‘Not right this minute he’s not,’ she said firmly. ‘Now he’s offering to be a worker. You want to use Ron’s gear? The cows will settle once you look familiar.’ She pointed to the vat room.

  ‘There’s babies in there,’ William said nervously, and both women burst out laughing.

  ‘If you’re going to give me a hard time…’ William said but, to Meg’s amazement, he was smiling.

  ‘Nah, you’re free labour,’ Meg said, smiling right back. ‘Kerrie, you’re responsible for keeping Mr McMaster free of all babies. Get changed and come out and we’ll introduce you to Cows One to a Hundred.

  ‘Only now they all have names,’ Kerrie reminded her. ‘I’ll teach you.’

  ‘Teach us both,’ Meg said. ‘It seems we both need to get used to names.’

  By the time they finished, the sun was already spreading warmth, promising a hot day to come. Meg set William to sluicing the dairy while she did who knew what with the equipment in the vat room. Sluicing was, William found, a curiously satisfying job, controlling a hose with enough water power to drive the mess off the ramp and into the drains. It was a manly sort of hose, he decided, and he set about enjoying himself.

  Kerrie collected her kids and made to leave. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she called to Meg and he thought suddenly, she looks tired.

  Three kids, so small… What was she doing, milking twice a day?

  ‘Are you milking over Christmas?’ he asked, and Kerrie nodded.

  ‘Letty and I milk twice a day. When Meg’s here Letty gets time off. She needs it.’

  ‘When do you get a sleep-in?’ he asked and suddenly Meg was outside again, listening.

  ‘With three babies?’ Kerrie asked, as if sleep-ins were unheard of.

  ‘Their dad…’