Christmas with her Boss

by Marion Lennox

  ‘Will you see your parents?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should. Even the media says they’re lonely. Call them.’

  ‘You’re telling me how to run my life?’

  ‘I forgot,’ she said, suddenly contrite. ‘I’m still employed. I shouldn’t tell you anything.’

  ‘But when you’re not employed?’

  ‘When I’m not employed I won’t be anywhere near you,’ she whispered. There was more silence and then, thankfully, they arrived. She pulled up beside the platform-it really was in the middle of nowhere. But this was where she had to leave him.

  ‘Here you are,’ she managed, feeling ill. ‘The train will be here in six minutes.’

  He looked around him in doubt. ‘How do I know you’re right with your timetable?’

  ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Trust you to leave me standing on a platform in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a train, when I only have your word for it that it’ll come?’

  She sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll wait. Sir. Do you want me to carry your bag onto the station?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Meg…’

  ‘We need to be on the station. If the driver can’t see us from a way ahead he won’t stop.’ She headed onto the platform, leaving him to follow.

  He followed.

  More silence. They stood side by side in the middle of nowhere and he tried to think of something to say. So many things, but none of them suitable. None of them possible.

  ‘Reconsider your job,’ he said at last and she shook her head.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Because I kissed you?’

  ‘I believe I resigned before that.’

  ‘Because I wanted to kiss you, then? And because when I did kiss you, it was wonderful?’

  ‘William, I can’t cope with an affair,’ she said simply. ‘And I can’t cope with loving my boss.’

  ‘Loving…’ The word made him feel as if he’d been punched.

  ‘I don’t, of course,’ she said hastily. ‘It’s just that I might. Given time and enough…heat.’ There was a faint speck on the horizon, a distant rumble and they both knew the train was on its way. ‘So…so it’s been fabulous. I’ve had the best time working for you and I can’t begin to thank you for what you’ve done for my family this Christmas.’

  ‘There’s no need to thank me.’ Did he take her hands or did she take his? He didn’t know. All he did know was that suddenly they were linked. The train was growing closer and she was just…here.

  He was holding Meg. Not Miss Jardine. He was definitely holding Meg. And he knew what he most wanted to say.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said urgently, and her eyes widened.

  ‘What?’

  ‘To New York. You could have a second Christmas too.’

  ‘I’ve had Christmas.’ The train was closer now. The driver had seen them and was starting to slow.

  ‘I want you to come.’

  ‘And leave Letty and Scott? Ring them up and say sorry, I won’t be home for tea, can you get someone to cover the milking?’ She sounded a little hysterical. Panicked. Her hands tugged back, but he didn’t let her go. ‘What are you saying? Christmas in New York… That’s crazy.’

  He knew it was. ‘Crazy or not, I mean it.’

  She met his gaze square on, and the flare of panic settled. ‘No,’ she said, sounding sure. ‘My place is here. As yours is in Manhattan. Or Hong Kong. Or London. Wherever your business takes you. And here’s your train. Say hello to Sheeba for me.’

  ‘Sheeba?’

  ‘Your part-time dog,’ she chided and he stared down at her and thought-part-time dog, part-time life; he so didn’t want to leave this woman.

  But the alternative?

  She couldn’t go with him. There wasn’t an alternative.

  ‘Goodbye, William,’ she said gently and pushed his hands a little, pushing him to let her go. Only the train hadn’t quite stopped yet and his hold on her tightened.

  ‘Goodbye, Meg.’ There was a blast from the train’s horn, as if the driver was saying get on fast; the train surely didn’t want to waste time sitting at this windswept, sunburned country railway siding. No one would want to waste time here. Least of all him.

  He had to leave.

  But how could he leave when he was holding Meg?

  He must.

  He looked down into her eyes for one last time, and then, because there was no way he couldn’t, he pulled her tight against him. He cupped her chin, he tilted her face-and then he kissed her.

  It was a fast kiss, fast by necessity as the train had now stopped. But still the kiss was strong and searching, and it ached to be more. For one precious moment she yielded against him, her mouth opened under his and she melted. Her body moulded against his and she was crushed against him.

  Meg.

  But the doors of the train were sliding open and the conductor was stepping onto the platform.

  ‘All aboard,’ he snapped, straight at them, and there was no avoiding the inevitable. For one last moment Meg clung and he held, and then she was standing back and there was nothing he could do but lift his bag and board the train.

  She drove home feeling sick. Life as she knew it was over.

  Well, that was a stupid thing to think. She had cows to look forward to. And finding a local job. Plus there was a rather nice young farmer who’d been interested before she’d left to take the McMaster job. Letty told her every time she came home that he was still single. Maybe she could drum up some enthusiasm.

  Only she’d taken the job with William for a reason and the reason still stood. She loved the farm, but it wasn’t enough.

  She’d adored working for William. For Mr McMaster.

  For William. He could never be Mr McMaster again. She knew that. He was too cute, too warm-hearted, too…hot.

  And too needy. See, there was the problem. What really hurt-or, if she was honest, what hurt almost as much as missing him-was the thought of him going back to his sterile life in Manhattan. Sure, he had his part-time kids and now he had his part-time dog. Sure, he thought he was happy. He was rich and confident and a powerful figure in the world’s economy.

  But he wouldn’t call his parents and she guessed they wouldn’t call him. He’d probably call one of his Cool-To-Be-Seen-With women to fill in the gaps in his life, and that made her think dark thoughts about life in general and Cool-To-Be-Seen-With women in particular. She dredged up an image of the erstwhile Sarah, and imagined the picture as a dartboard.

  How childish was that?

  She was being childish. But there was more behind what she was feeling than childishness, and she knew what it was.

  For she’d fallen in love. Some time over the last two days, she’d fallen hard. Maybe it had been latent, waiting in the wings to strike when the time was right. Maybe she’d been in love with W S McMaster for years; she just hadn’t known it.

  And he was going home alone and she felt sick-and sad for him as well as for her. He’d go back to the life he knew and she didn’t envy him one bit. He might be rich and powerful but she had Scotty and Letty and the dogs.

  She didn’t have William.

  He’d asked her to go with him. How crazy was that? Oh, but she’d wanted to. To board the train and leave, flying to Manhattan with William, stepping into his life…

  His part-time life. For she was under no illusions as to what an affair with William would be. She’d made arrangements for too many such affairs in the past. Glorious indulgence and then mutual parting, no hard feelings.

  She pulled the car off the road and got out. She walked round the car, then round again. It was no use going back to the farm until she had her head in order.

  William was gone, and she had to move on. She had to walk into the kitchen at home and be cheerful.

  Right. One more round of the car, or maybe two, and she could do it.

  She must.

  He heaved his bag up onto the luggage rack and he thought for the fir
st time-he had been preoccupied until now-that his bag was heavier than usual. And, almost as he thought it, the zip burst open.

  His luggage was quality. Zips did not burst.

  Nor did plastic bags and plastic containers spill out onto the floor of the train.

  But, over Christmas, W S McMaster had become William, and someone had packed leftovers in William’s bag. The transparent containers held turkey, plum pudding, grapes, cherries, chocolates and more. There was also a plastic bottle labelled Brandy Sauce.

  Meg would never do this. It must have been Letty. Meg was far too sensible to pack him leftovers.

  Or was she?

  He’d get rid of it at the airport, he thought, gathering the containers while bemused passengers watched. He travelled first class. Leftovers compared to the airline’s best haute cuisine?

  But then he thought, this was Letty’s cooking and Jenny’s cooking. Maybe there was even Meg’s cooking in there somewhere. She’d definitely stirred the pudding.

  Maybe he wouldn’t get rid of it.

  He started shoving the containers back into his bag and realised there was something deeper. He delved and found…a bazooka. Complete with foam bullets. It was the same as the ones Letty and Scott had found in their stockings, orange, purple and gold. A note was attached.

  To William. I had huge trouble finding you one of these at short notice but I knew you’d be jealous of Letty and Scott so, with Mickey’s help, here’s your very own. I thought it might cheer you up when you reach home. You and Pip and Ned can play with it in Central Park. Just don’t take it on board your plane as hand luggage. You could get into Very Serious Trouble. Love Meg.

  Ridiculous.

  But… He had been jealous this morning as Letty and Scott had shot each other. As if he was on the outside looking in.

  Pip and Ned would think this was cool. He thought it was cool. He wanted to try it out now.

  Or not. Mature businessmen did not shoot foam bazookas on trains.

  He read the note again.

  Love Meg.

  Don’t go there.

  He stowed the bazooka. He managed to get his bag refastened, and finally sank into his seat.

  The train was almost empty. Of course. It was Christmas night. Who’d be travelling tonight except people going from one family to another?

  There was a young mother in the seat opposite, hugging her baby. Maybe she wasn’t going from one family to another. She looked wan and tear-stained.

  The W S McMaster of Friday would hardly have noticed. But now… ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I…yes. Thank you.’ She managed a watery smile; she clearly wanted to talk. ‘My husband’s working on an offshore oil rig so we can save a deposit for a house. We only have one week together a month. It’s only for a year but I hate being a part-time family. And I have to go back to my parents tonight… Night’s my favourite time. When the day’s over, snuggling down and talking about it… Oh, I miss him. I love him so much.’

  She sniffed and blew her nose and there was nothing he could say to make her feel better. He retrieved some of his leftover chocolates. They shared their chocolate and their silence, and neither of them was happy.

  I love him so much…

  There was a lot in that statement to avoid thinking about. He decided he’d think about the rest.

  Night’s my favourite time…

  He hated Christmas night. Christmas Day was usually bearable-there were always social functions, and last year he’d had Pip and Ned. Only at the end…

  When the day’s over, snuggling down and talking about it…

  That was what was missing. He’d never figured it out. How could he miss what he’d never known?

  Christmas night alone… He always did Christmas night alone.

  Maybe he’d be home in time to see Pip and Ned.

  He checked his phone and then remembered. No reception.

  ‘You can ring when we go through towns,’ the girl told him. ‘Only you need to talk fast.’

  When the day’s over, snuggling down and talking about it…

  The last twenty-four hours had been huge. Who could he talk about it with?

  They were approaching a town. Sure enough, reception bars appeared on his cellphone. He rang Manhattan. Elinor. She answered on the first ring.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She sounded breathless and he realised it was one in the morning back home. Night-time.

  When the day’s over, snuggling down and talking about it…

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve woken you.’

  ‘Oh, Mr McMaster, it’s you,’ she said. ‘No, I was just stuffing stockings, so you didn’t wake me. I’m glad you rang. I have such good news.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘The children… Their mother’s finally agreed to their adoption. The agency contacted me this morning. There’s a couple… They lost their children in a car accident five years ago and they so want a family. They sound lovely and there’s grandmas and grandpas; everything these children most need. So tomorrow, after Christmas lunch, they’re coming to visit. It’s only first contact, but oh, they sound nice. These children so need a family.’

  ‘They do,’ he said and somehow he managed to keep his voice from sounding bereft. Bereft? Of all the stupid sensations…

  And Elinor heard it-he knew she did. ‘There’s so many needy children out there,’ she said, her voice growing sombre. ‘You know that. There’s always more to be looked after.’

  And he heard her pain as well. She’d be giving up these children and moving on. ‘Oh, Elinor.’ She loved with all her heart. You didn’t love without hurting. Where had he learned that? Was he just starting?

  ‘Yeah, it hurts,’ she said across his thoughts, and he could almost see her steeling herself. ‘But, if you don’t love, then you might as well stop living. This family live right nearby so we’ll see each other in the park. So how about you? Will we see you tomorrow? I mean, today?’

  ‘My flight won’t get in until late.’

  ‘Oh, the children will be disappointed,’ she said, but in a tone that said not too disappointed; they were about to meet their new mommy and daddy. What more did children need for Christmas?

  ‘So you’ll be flying all Christmas,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘There’s no need to be sorry,’ he said, startled.

  ‘Well, there is,’ she said, and she sounded truly concerned. ‘It’s time you stayed put. I know you’re important and I know you’re busy but you have a good heart, Mr McMaster, and it’s time you found somewhere to park it. I’ve done my share of parking in my time, but have you? You need to find somewhere you can leave it for good.’

  The train had streamed through the town and out the other side. Reception was starting to break up. He could barely hear.

  Maybe it was just as well, William thought. What sort of advice was this? He wished her Merry Christmas, but he didn’t hear a response. He clicked off his phone and stared out of the window. Trying not to replay her words.

  ‘Bad news?’ the young mother asked.

  ‘I…no. Good news, really.’

  ‘You don’t look like it was good news.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  He wanted to tell her about it. Only…if he told her…how could he make it sound like good news? She’d guess how he felt, he thought, as Elinor had guessed. As Meg would guess?

  He wanted to tell Meg.

  When the day’s over, snuggling down and talking about it…

  Such a thing wasn’t for him. For a McMaster to…snuggle…Unthinkable.

  He stared out at the sparse Australian landscape, so unlike Manhattan, and he thought of his family-the McMaster dynasty. Damaged people all. Deeply unhappy. Poisoned by wealth and by social expectations. Unhappy unions had created unhappy children, and on it went, for generation after generation, spreading outward.

  How could he ask someone to join such a family?

  He couldn’t. He’d sworn he
never would. But, if not…

  The thought came from nowhere, and it started as a jumble. A Christmas tree with decorations from childhood. Letty’s mango trifle. Cows and dogs. Gumboots parked at the back door. Meg’s laughter…

  Crazy Santa legs. Scott amid a jumble of Mini parts. The feel of Meg against him in the emergency room.

  This was a family so unlike his own it was unbelievable, and the jumbled thought unravelled, settled and finally left a clear thought that was amazing.

  If his family was unworkable…

  Maybe he could join another?

  The conductor was coming through now, checking tickets and, before he could take the thought any further, he found himself asking, ‘Is there another train tonight?’

  ‘To where?’

  ‘To where I got on.’

  ‘To Tandaroit? You have to be joking. Once a day to Tandaroit. Next train leaves tomorrow night from Melbourne.’

  ‘Do you want to go back?’ the woman across the way asked as the conductor moved on.

  ‘Maybe,’ William said, feeling dazed.

  ‘To the girl you were kissing on the station?’

  And there it was, front and centre. The girl he’d been kissing on the station.

  ‘Who is she?’ the woman asked and he managed a smile.

  ‘She was Miss Jardine,’ he said softly. ‘But now…her name is Meg.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MEG liked Christmas night, or she always had. Christmas was huge, busy, noisy, fun, and it left her happy. Even the first appalling Christmas after the accident, she and Letty had managed to make it fun and she’d slept that night feeling just a little bit optimistic about the future.

  So why wasn’t she feeling optimistic now?

  Kerrie stayed and helped with the milking while Letty and Scott cleaned up inside and minded the children. After tea, they loaded the sleeping children into Kerrie’s car and bade them goodnight. Kerrie drove off and Meg found herself feeling jealous. Kerrie would be snuggling the children into bed.

  Um… Kerrie was a struggling single mother who worked herself raw. Was she jealous because she had babies?

  Was she jealous of what they represented?

  Scott and Letty went to bed, tired and happy after what they decreed had been an awesome Christmas. ‘We should invite William every year,’ Scott said sleepily and Meg felt even more bereft.