The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

by Lucy Gordon

  Alex shrugged. ‘There’s a first time for everything. I must have been overcome by the Christmas spirit.’

  ‘But to do it now, when such an important deal is hanging in the balance!’ Mark sounded aghast at the thought that his idol might have feet of clay. ‘That’s simply not like you.’

  The next moment he had another shock. Alex’s voice was cool as he asked, ‘What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait?’

  ‘I called you to let you know of the change of plan. It seems that Craddock’s illness was a false alarm-just indigestion-so the Caribbean is on again. The flight leaves this afternoon. You’ve just about got time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ Alex asked blankly.

  ‘Time to catch the plane. I went to the office first, and collected your passport and ticket. Luckily your address book was there and I was able to discover where your wife was living.’

  ‘But how did you know I’d be here?’ Alex asked quietly. ‘I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘It was a reasonable supposition, and luckily correct, otherwise I wouldn’t have known where to find you at all.’

  ‘I see. Well, I would rather you hadn’t done that. Please remember for the future.’

  ‘But to put yourself completely out of touch when-well, I’ve found you now. You’ll have to hurry.’

  Alex rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not quite with you. I’m not going anywhere, Mark.’

  ‘You don’t understand. The contract-’

  ‘I understand all right. Old man Craddock thinks he can snap his fingers and everyone will jump.’

  ‘He knows we need that contract-’

  ‘No, we don’t need it,’ Alex interrupted him firmly. ‘We want it, but we don’t need it. He won’t find another firm that’ll do the job as well for such a reasonable price, and he knows it. He needs us, and I’m not cutting short the best Christmas of my life just to dance to his tune.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘Mark, do you know why he wanted to gather us all round him on the other side of the world? Because he’s a lonely old man with no family. He has no children and both his wives left him. I’m sorry for him, but I’m damned if I’m going to end up like him.’

  Mark was aghast at this heresy.

  ‘But somebody ought to be there, representing the firm. If you won’t go, then let me.’

  Alex shrugged. ‘OK, you can do it if you like. I’m sure you’ve got your passport, because I always used to carry mine, and you strike me as frighteningly like myself as I was in those days.’

  ‘Frighteningly?’

  ‘Terrifyingly. Appallingly. You’ve got that look in your eyes. It’s like talking to a ghost of myself.’

  Mark looked indignant.

  ‘I’m not ashamed of following your lead. And if, as you say, I can go-’

  ‘You can if you want to, but if you’ve got any sense you won’t. I know you have no family, but isn’t there a girlfriend you ought to be with?’

  ‘I do have a girlfriend, and I’ve spent some time with her this Christmas-’

  ‘Some time? God help you!’

  ‘But she understands that I need to seize every opportunity-’

  ‘Spare me the speech.’ Alex was talking to Mark, but he was aware of Corinne, watching him, holding her breath. ‘I wrote that speech myself, long ago. Now I’m tearing it up. Catch the plane if you want to, Mark, tell Craddock I’ve got a bug or something, and you’re fully empowered to sign for me. Otherwise tell him I’ll be back in the office next Monday, ready to do business. It’s up to you, but try to be wiser than I was.’

  Mark was stiff with outrage.

  ‘Then, with your permission, I’ll go to the Caribbean and watch over your interests there.’ His tone implied that somebody needed to mind the shop until his employer recovered his senses.

  ‘Fine, I’ll see you when you get back and knock some sense into you then.’ Alex grinned. ‘We’ll have cocoa and cream cakes in my office.’

  At this, Mark’s hair practically stood on end. ‘Cocoa and-?’

  ‘Never tried it? You haven’t lived. You’d better be off if you’re going to catch that plane.’

  When Mark had left nobody spoke for a while. For the first time Alex realised that he was still covered with feathers. No wonder Mark had thought he was crazy.

  He caught Corinne’s eye and realised that she’d had the same thought. She was smiling at him, but not just in amusement. There was a warmth and tenderness in her eyes that he had not seen there for a long time.

  She came forward, hands outstretched to him.

  ‘You really did that?’ she asked eagerly. ‘You really switched the phone off and blocked his call?’

  For a moment the temptation to say yes was overwhelming, but with her candid eyes on him he had to say, ‘No, I didn’t do that. I don’t know how it happened. I’m glad of it, but it’s a mystery to me.’

  ‘It was me.’

  For a moment they had forgotten Bobby standing there, silently watching everything. Now they saw his face, white and determined.

  ‘It was me,’ he said again.

  ‘What do you mean, son?’ Alex went and sat on the sofa, taking Bobby’s hands in his.

  ‘I was in the hall last night, and I heard your cellphone ringing,’ Bobby said. ‘I took it out of your coat pocket. I was going to take it to you, but-then I didn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ Alex asked gently.

  ‘Because I knew it was that man,’ Bobby said desperately. ‘It was displayed on the screen, the same as last time he called. I knew he’d want to take you away, and I didn’t want you to go, so I switched it off and put it back in your pocket, and I never told you.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ Corinne said quickly, fearful of Alex’s anger at this interference and wanting to protect the child from it. ‘I know why you did it, but you really shouldn’t have-’

  She broke off. Alex’s hand was suddenly raised to silence her. He was looking intently at his son and there was no anger in his face.

  ‘Were you going to tell me about it?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Yes, but only when it was too late,’ Bobby blurted out with such fierce resolve that Alex’s lips twitched. ‘I knew you’d be angry but I didn’t want you to go. It’s been brilliant this Christmas-the best ever. You’ve really been here, really been here, not just pretending like other times, but talking and-and listening, and being interested, and I didn’t want it to end. I wanted you to stay and stay for ever, but he’d have made you go away and-and-’

  ‘Hey, steady on, calm down,’ Alex said softly, brushing back a lock of tousled hair from his son’s forehead. ‘You wanted me that much?’

  Bobby nodded vigorously.

  ‘Well-’ Alex had to stop for a moment to control his voice, which was beginning to shake. ‘I can’t be angry at you for wanting me, can I?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’

  ‘Sorry for what?’

  ‘Your trip-and your contract.’

  ‘I didn’t want the trip, and I haven’t missed the contract. Or, if I have, I’m well rid of it if that was the only way I could have it.’

  Bobby looked at him uncertainly. ‘Really?’

  ‘Let me tell you something, son. What you did was completely unnecessary. If I’d spoken to Mark last night I’d have said the same as you heard me say today.’

  Bobby didn’t reply. He was gazing at his father, as though longing to believe what he’d just heard, if only-

  Alex spoke again, in a rallying tone. ‘You don’t think I’d want to go away from all of you, do you?’

  Bobby shook his head.

  ‘Well, then!’ Alex smiled at his son. ‘I tell you what, it proves what a great team we make. You did exactly what I’d do, just as though you’d read my mind.’

  Those words brought forth Bobby’s own beaming grin, full of joy and relief. The next moment he was in his father’s arms.

  With Bobby encircled by one arm and Mitzi by the other, he look
ed up at Corinne. She was not smiling, as he’d hoped, but looking at him with a kind of satisfaction, as though he’d just confirmed something that she’d known in her heart all the time.

  ‘This is our last meeting,’ Santa said. ‘I don’t usually stick around this long, but I did this time, just for you.’ He leaned down to look at the boy. ‘Do you think you’ll manage?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Bobby said simply. ‘It’s all right now. But you will come back next year, won’t you?’ he added anxiously.

  ‘Yes, I’ll be back. In the meantime, keep this to remember me by.’

  He handed Bobby a small object that he took from his pocket-a medallion made of wood, with the head of Santa Claus in relief. It was a trivial thing, such as anyone might have bought cheap in the sales now that the season was over. But to Bobby it was a precious talisman.

  ‘For you,’ said Santa. ‘Until we meet again.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ Bobby whispered. ‘Until we meet again.’

  When he’d gone Santa stayed there a while, wondering. He’d almost given up when another figure appeared in the doorway.

  ‘You’re a wise man,’ she said. ‘Tell me what I should do.’

  ‘It depends whether you’re thinking of him or yourself,’ Santa told her. ‘For your own sake you should send him on his way and marry Jimmy.’

  ‘That’s your advice?’

  ‘It’s what’s best for you.’

  ‘Would it be best for him?’

  Santa shook his head. ‘It would finish him. He couldn’t cope. He told you about going home to an empty place, but he didn’t say how bad it is without you-how he makes excuses to work extra late so that he doesn’t have to go back and face the emptiness, or how he jumps whenever the phone rings in case it’s you, and curses when it isn’t.

  ‘I know he’s a difficult man, but he understands things now that he didn’t understand before. Doesn’t he deserve a chance to show you? I’m not saying it’ll be easy. He’s still going to get it wrong a lot of the time, maybe most of the time. But he loves you and he needs you, and without you he’s going to turn into a mean, miserable old man. Are you simply going to abandon him to that fate?’

  ‘But you just told me that I ought to marry Jimmy.’

  ‘He’s steady and reliable, and he’ll give you no trouble.’ Santa couldn’t resist adding, with a marked lack of Christmas spirit, ‘He’ll also bore the socks off you.’

  ‘That’s true. And maybe I feel I could cope with a little trouble.’

  He looked at her uncertainly, as though not sure that he’d heard correctly.

  ‘So-what are you going to tell him?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘Nothing.’ She gave Santa the smile of a conspirator. ‘You’re such a great ambassador. Why don’t you tell him?’

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘Whatever you think he most wants to hear.’

  She kissed him on the cheek. Then she was gone.

  Jimmy was up early the next morning, packing his suitcase with one inexpert hand.

  ‘Will you be all right for the journey?’ Corinne asked, coming to help him. ‘You surely don’t have to go yet?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he said sadly. ‘I’m a soldier, remember? I know when I’m beaten.’

  She didn’t ask what that meant.

  Alex drove him to the station, and they parted on reasonably cordial terms, considering. Alex was feeling cordial to the whole world this morning, although there was still a touch of anxiety in his manner when he returned and went to find Corinne. He found her upstairs in her bedroom, pushing clothes aside in the wardrobe.

  ‘It’s still a bit cramped,’ she said. ‘But your things can overflow into the guest room now Jimmy’s gone.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked quietly. ‘There’s still time to send me away.’

  She smiled. ‘Is there? Would you go if I told you to?’

  ‘Nope.’ He took her into his arms. ‘This is home now.’

  ‘You don’t mind moving in here?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is the home where we became a family, and where we’ll stay a family.’

  ‘Suddenly you’re very wise,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve been taking advice from a mysterious friend. He’s a very old man who knows a lot because people tell him things. He says the problems won’t simply vanish, but if the love is there we should never give up on it.’

  ‘And the love is there,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. Always.’ He took her face between his hands. ‘I love you, Corinne, with everything in me. Promise me that you’ll remember that when I act like a jerk.’

  ‘Are you likely to do that?’

  He nodded wryly. ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  ‘We’ve just taken the first step,’ he said seriously. ‘I don’t know where the other steps will lead, but if you’re with me I’ll follow the path in any direction.’

  ‘It may lead to some strange places,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Just keep tight hold of my hand.’

  He drew her close and kissed her. If their last kiss had been one of farewell, this was one of greeting, neither quite knowing who the other was any more, but glad to be introduced.

  They didn’t see the door open and two heads look in, then withdraw silently.

  ‘Told you,’ Bobby said triumphantly. ‘I said Dad would come back for good.’

  ‘You were just guessing,’ Mitzi accused.

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘Was.’

  ‘Wasn’t.’

  ‘Was.’

  ‘I knew he was coming back. I had-’ Bobby looked around significantly ‘-inside information.’

  ‘Go on! Who?’

  ‘Santa Claus.’

  Mitzi looked at him with six-year-old sisterly scorn. ‘You’re batty, you are!’ she announced. ‘There is no Santa Claus.’

  ‘There is.’

  ‘Isn’t.’

  ‘Is.’

  ‘Isn’t.

  ‘Is. What’s more, I talked to him.’

  ‘Batty!’ she said again. ‘Batty, batty, batty!’

  She ran off down the stairs, yodelling the word happily.

  Bobby was not upset by this reaction. At six, Mitzi still had a lot to learn about life, and people, and Santa.

  ‘Santa Claus,’ he said. ‘Santa Claus-Father Christmas.’

  He took the little wooden medallion from his pocket and turned it over in his fingers, still murmuring softly. ‘Father Christmas, Father Christmas-’

  He smiled to himself with secret contentment.

  ‘Father.’

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  ‘Y OU see, I kept my word,’ Santa said.

  Bobby nodded, slipping into the room and regarding his friend with shining eyes.

  A year had made him two inches taller, and the shape of his face was a little different. His eyes were, perhaps, a little too wise for his age, but that was his nature. The tension and sadness were gone.

  ‘I knew you’d come because you said you would,’ he said.

  Santa looked around him at the room. ‘I hardly recognise this place.’

  Bobby nodded. ‘We’ve been redecorating. Dad tried to do this room himself, only he’s rotten at it, and Mum said he should chuck the paintbrush away and she’d get a firm in to do it, and anyway they had better things to do, now that I’m going to have a baby brother or sister.’

  He turned to look at a small figure who had appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Come in. I told you he’d be here.’

  Mitzi came further into the room, eyeing Santa with a touch of suspicion, then coming close and poking him in the stomach.

  ‘Ow!’ he remembered to say.

  ‘You see, I’m not batty,’ Bobby told her.

  ‘Yes, you are,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Aren’t!’

  ‘Are!’

  ‘Aren’t!’

  ‘Are!’

  ‘That
’s enough, the pair of you,’ Corinne said, coming in. ‘Go to bed, now. Santa still has a full night’s work to do.’

  He leaned down to them. ‘That’s right. I’ll say goodbye now. I won’t be back tomorrow, like I was last time.’

  ‘And next year?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘We’ll see.’ Santa added thoughtfully, ‘Most boys of your age don’t believe in Santa Claus.’

  Bobby regarded him with a faint quizzical smile. ‘I believe in you,’ he said.

  Mitzi nodded. Then she put her arms around his huge girth as far as they would go, which wasn’t far. Santa leaned down and she vanished into his white hair.

  ‘Goodnight, both of you,’ he said huskily.

  When the children were gone Corinne looked at Santa’s belly, then at her own, which was about the same size.

  ‘I wouldn’t have much luck cuddling you, either,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Cross fingers that we’ll make it through Christmas.’

  ‘Well, if not, that husband of yours is here.’ Beneath his beard Santa paled slightly. ‘He may not be much use, but he’s here.’

  ‘Don’t you say a word against my husband. The clinic said he was doing the breathing exercises very well. Better than me.’

  He grinned, but then the grin faded. ‘Are you going to be all right?’ he asked seriously.

  She smiled. ‘We’re going to be all right. All of us.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘I’m like Bobby. I believe in you. Happy Christmas, Santa. Now and always.’

  Lucy Gordon

  Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Sir Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness, and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days.

  You can visit her website at www. lucy-gordon. com and look out for The Italian’s Passionate Revenge which will be available in May!

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