What Happens at Christmas

by Evonne Wareham

  After a pause while the rotors gathered speed, the ungainly looking bird rose smoothly into the air. Misty raised her arm to wave. The wind from the blades washed over them as it lifted away.

  When the helicopter was only a dot in the sky, and not even that, they went back inside.

  ‘Well, that was exciting wasn’t it?’

  Misty rushed back to her paints. ‘I’m going to put a helicopter in my picture.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea.’

  Lori was looking at the neatly folded cargo pants and shirt on the arm of one of the chairs. She picked them up. Go on. Even though you know it’s a cliché. She buried her face and inhaled the scent. Lemon soap and Drew. She laid the clothes down again. He’d cut all ties to protect them. She realised that. But she wouldn’t know now if he was safe. He’d just be a figure on the news and in the papers again.

  How convenient. A voice in her head jeered. No messy loose ends left lying around. By the end of the week he won’t remember your name.

  Lori looked around the barn. The tree, the lights, the swags of greenery they’d brought back from the woods. Did she really want to stay here any longer? ‘Get your coat, pet.’ Misty raised her head from her picture, curious. ‘We’re going up the hill. I want to phone your daddy.’

  They trudged to the top of the slope that was mostly green grass again, with an odd few patches of persistent snow in areas that had been in shade. Yesterday you were tobogganing down here. Misty skipped ahead of her to a flat space at the top. Lori looked down at her phone, satisfied with the strength of the signal, and pressed the number.

  ‘Dan? It’s Lori …Yes, lovely thanks, and you? … Look – I have Misty with me.’ She beckoned her niece, who was inspecting one of those remaining patches of snow. ‘Talk to your daddy.’

  Misty took the phone, excited words tumbling out. Griff, and Snowball, and snowmen, and Drew.

  ‘No, no, not exactly a boyfriend,’ Lori answered the laughing question when Misty handed back the phone. ‘It’s a long story. Look, where are you? … Oh, that’s great. Only we really need to talk …’

  As soon as they were back in the barn she went straight over to strip the Christmas tree. Misty watched, big-eyed. Lori crouched down in front of her. ‘Will you start getting your toys together, sweetie? Auntie Lori’s house will be ready now. We’re going home.’

  Dan’s black BMW was parked outside the house when they pulled up. The way Misty ran into her father’s arms when released from her car seat told Lori she had made the right choice. She followed her niece more sedately, to greet her former brother-in-law. Dan shifted Misty to one hip and Lori leaned in for a kiss. Not for the first time she marvelled that this man, who was a top ten box office star in Hollywood and regularly featured in the world’s sexiest men lists, didn’t affect her in any way.

  But Andrew Vitruvius …

  She shut down hard on that train of thought. Dan was looking at the house. The scaffolding was still in place but the newly tiled roof gleamed in the fast fading light and the front door had received a fresh coat of paint. Which was not, as far as she remembered, in the original plan. ‘The place looks good.’

  Lori nodded. ‘Inside too, I hope.’

  Dan set Misty on her feet. ‘Now, I have something here you need to see.’ He opened the passenger door of the car and stood to one side to let Misty get close and Lori look over her shoulder. What appeared to be a heap of brown and white fur on the seat raised its head at Misty’s surprised squeak, revealing the long floppy ears and excited brown eyes of a spaniel puppy. ‘Doggie!’

  In seconds the pup was on its feet, wagging all over, delighted to find a human on a level easy for licking. The human was equally delighted to have her face washed by an eager tongue.

  ‘Her name is Polly.’ Dan reached over his daughter to snap on a lead. ‘Now, do you think you could take her for a little walk, just to the top of the road and back, while I talk to your auntie?’

  Misty, eyes as excited as the puppy’s, agreed with a breathless nod. They set off together, Misty holding on tight and Polly dancing happily beside her.

  ‘You bought the pup for her.’

  ‘With her in mind, though Nevada is just as besotted.’ Dan turned towards Lori, leaning against the car while still keeping an eye on his daughter. ‘What’s this about, Lori?’

  ‘It’s time, Dan. You have to take her.’

  ‘There’s nothing I’d like—’ She heard him sigh. ‘Lark has custody, you know that.’

  ‘You have to contest it. And—’ Lori swallowed. ‘I’ll support you.’ She put out her hand to stop him interrupting. ‘I know you stepped aside and let Lark have her way, because she made such a fuss, but things have changed. Misty is getting older. She needs school, stability. She’s not going to get that from my sister.’ They both turned to follow Misty’s progress along the pavement, chatting to the puppy as she walked. The little dog had settled down and was walking sedately, eyes turned up adoringly to her new human’s face. Lori sighed. ‘It was okay when Misty was a baby. She was a cute fashion accessory, easily handed off to a nanny.’ Lori could hear the harsh note slipping into her voice. She couldn’t help it, it was the truth. ‘Why do you think she was with me at Christmas? Lark is staying in a villa somewhere in the Seychelles. She’s dumping Misty on anyone who will take her. The poor kid is sofa surfing, at the age of four. But that’s not the worst thing.’ Lori took a deep breath. ‘When she came here, before Christmas, Lark thought Misty was already with me. She didn’t remember where she’d left her daughter.’

  Dan’s soft ‘oh God’ didn’t divert her. She had to get this out. ‘Once we’d tracked Misty down to Lark’s former hairdresser, Lark went to collect her. She brought her back, and then just drove away, without saying a word, knowing that my house was being gutted. If a friend hadn’t let me have a place – well, it would have been a pretty poor Christmas.’

  Dan gave her a strained smile. ‘A friend – this guy, Mr Drew?’

  ‘No. Someone else.’ Lori winced slightly. ‘Look, I can’t say much now, but can you forget about Drew? It’s complicated. Misty might have stories …’ She glanced towards her niece, still trotting along the pavement with the puppy. ‘Can you just treat them as stories? I’ll explain it when I can.’ She looked up at her former brother-in-law. ‘Would you take her? She needs you, Dan. And she adores Nevada.’

  ‘And Nevada adores her.’ Dan shoved his hand through his hair, in a gesture that would have had thousands of movie fans swooning in the aisles. ‘It’s going to be messy, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Lark is getting agitated because Misty is growing up. And I think maybe Bruno might help. He’s enthralled by my sister, but he’s not blinkered. He knows what Lark is like. I’m sure if he marries Lark, he’d step up to the plate as a step-father, but he’d probably prefer it if he didn’t have to.’ Lori paused a moment, hand to her mouth. ‘And maybe I’m just as bad as my sister. I haven’t asked you whether it’s okay, have I?’

  An indignant ‘of course it is,’ from Dan relieved a lingering doubt. ‘We’re in the UK for the foreseeable future. We’ve rented a place in the Forest of Dean. That’s how I was able to get over here so fast. Nevada is signed on for a short run at the Old Vic in February, and I’ve got two films back to back at Pinewood, so we’re looking to rent a place closer to London.’ He looked suddenly bashful, like an embarrassed teenager. ‘We just found out. Misty is going to have a brother or sister at the end of next summer.’

  ‘That’s great. Misty will love it.’ Lori hugged him, then bit her lip. ‘Will Nevada want—?’

  ‘Nev will be fine,’ Dan interrupted. ‘We’ll have to have help with the baby. Taking Misty won’t be a problem. And you’re right, she’ll love being a big sister.’ The million-dollar mouth hardened. ‘At least we’ll always know where she is.’ He shifted away from the car, drawing a mobile phone out of his pocket. ‘Better get Misty’s stuff out of your car.’ He raised the phone. ‘
I’ll let Nev know we’ll both be coming back.’

  Relief coursing through her, Lori walked up the street to rescue the puppy, who had got her lead tangled round her feet, and explain to Misty that she and Polly would be going home together.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  27 December, Late Afternoon

  ‘Thanks for doing this.’ Drew buckled himself into the passenger seat of the battered Land Rover, parked next to the administration building of the private helipad. ‘I want a bill.’

  Devlin shrugged. ‘Handcuff keys in the case down there.’ He indicated the well between the seats. ‘Better than a bolt cutter.’

  Drew found the box, wondering how he came to have friends – Clint was another – who carried handcuff keys as a matter of course. The second key he tried fitted. With a sigh he eased the metal apart and the whole thing fell to the floor. He returned the key, leaning back in his seat.

  Devlin was navigating them onto the main road. In an hour, maybe less, he’d be in his flat. ‘My people checked your place over. Discreetly. Nothing has been disturbed, and the cars and the bike are okay. They’re changing the locks and there’s a new phone charged and waiting for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Muscles relaxed that Drew hadn’t realised he’d been holding tense. ‘I didn’t know whether the place would be ransacked.’

  Devlin shot him a sideways look. ‘Not part of the plan.’

  ‘No.’ It was getting dark. Drew blinked through the windscreen at the street-lights and the house decorations as they passed.

  What would Lori and Misty … He shrugged himself out of the thought. ‘I need to find out what’s going on.’

  Devlin grinned. It wasn’t a pleasant grin. ‘Already started – but do you want to tell me your side of the story?’

  Drew did, swallowing down the shadow of nausea as he recollected and relayed as much detail as he could remember of the kidnapping, the trip through the woods and the time in the hut.

  Occasionally Devlin prompted him with a question. Drew ended with the rescue on Christmas Eve. ‘The woman helped … She’s definitely not involved. And there’s a child … I don’t want any of this getting back at them. I don’t intend to talk about it. To anyone.’

  ‘Understood.’

  Drew took a deep breath. If anyone understood the need to protect, it was Devlin. He was nodding. ‘Everything you’ve said fits with what I’ve got so far. As soon as it was clear you were missing, Kaz insisted I do some digging around.’

  ‘How is Kaz? I should have asked.’

  ‘Complaining that she can’t see her feet. She’s still got over a month to go. It’s another girl, did you know? I have a house full of women,’ Devlin said gloomily. Drew let that one ride. Devlin was fairly new to the family thing, but he was doing okay.

  Family, now that’s a word. ‘What did you find?’ he asked instead.

  ‘The outfit that was hired by the TV people, they were paid off. A new lot took their place. Clint Edgerton Associates.’

  ‘Clint. Shit!’ Drew bunched his hand into a fist.

  ‘The guy you pay to throw you out of planes and all that stuff.’

  ‘Yes.’ Drew was distracted, mind racing. ‘Clint would never be involved in something like this – apart from anything else, Mr Right and Lefty, the men from the wood … I wouldn’t say they were amateurs, but they weren’t of the calibre of Clint’s people, not organised the way anything Clint ran would be organised.’ He turned to look at Devlin. ‘It was done to make it look as if I’d set it up – to raise doubts, if the police were involved.’

  ‘They were involved and there were doubts,’ Devlin confirmed. ‘The TV people called them in. They talked to Edgerton and he denied it, but then, he would.’

  ‘You talked to him too,’ Drew guessed.

  ‘Yep. And I’m with you.’ Devlin made a turn. They were getting close to home. ‘It wasn’t him. He was pretty sick about you being snatched, and mad as hell that someone put him in the frame.’

  ‘I put money his way,’ Drew observed, dryly. ‘But he’s a good bloke.’ He paused. ‘Will you keep digging, but quietly? I need to know, Devlin. Who and why. I thought if we didn’t let anyone know that I was free, you could keep looking … I had time to think, in that hut.’ All the time in the bloody world. ‘I realised—’ unexpectedly his voice hitched.

  ‘Whoever arranged this, is someone close to the action. Devlin completed the sentence. ‘Someone who knew the arrangements in detail, and was able to circumvent them.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Drew tried not to grit his teeth. ‘But it could have been done on behalf of another person. The “why” might lie somewhere else entirely, and we need to know that. As far as fixing the arrangements is concerned … assuming it wasn’t anyone from the TV, and I can’t see why it would be, although we’d better look at them too.’ He raised his head. ‘If it’s not them and it’s not Clint, then it comes down to one of three people.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  New Year’s Day

  Lori slurped her cup of hot chocolate. Her last indulgence from the festive season. She’d just set up her desk and laptop next to the window in her tiny third bedroom. Her study! Hah!

  The house smelled of new paint. She’d thrown herself into the decorating while the furniture was still in store. Now everything was done and it was back. Mostly still in boxes, but back.

  The computer burst into life. Putting down the cup, and trying not to disturb Griff, who was sprawled across her lap like a small fur blanket, she opened her e-mails. And was tempted to shut them down again, when she saw how many had accumulated while she was offline. The very top one caught her eye. It was from Dan. She smiled as she opened the attached photos – Misty and Nevada romping around the garden, with the puppy. Dan had already consulted a solicitor over custody. The power of money, even in the holiday season. The woman was hopeful.

  Lori wondered how long it would have been before Lark came looking for her daughter. It might have been months. Now she’d find out that things had changed, when Dan challenged for custody. Seeing the photographs, Lori knew she’d done the right thing.

  With a sigh she finished the hot chocolate and scrolled down to the bottom of the long list, to wade through the unopened Christmas wishes and Happy New Year messages. And it’s no good wondering if there just might be a message from Drew. How would he know your e-mail address?

  There’d been nothing on the news bulletins about him being found, so presumably he was still lying low. She damped down the flutter of worry.

  No longer your concern.

  She’d been reading and zapping for half an hour when she came to it.

  Her heart thumped when she read the name of the agent to whom she’d submitted three chapters and a synopsis, back in July.

  Don’t get excited. Don’t get excited. Look at the date. Christmas Eve. The woman was probably clearing her inbox before the holiday. ‘Thanks but no thanks.’

  With her lip caught between her teeth, Lori clicked to open the e-mail. There were two paragraphs, but one line leapt straight out.

  ‘I would love to see the whole of your manuscript.’

  Drew waited in the corridor to be called into the conference room. He hunched his shoulders and had to remind himself to let them relax. The corridor was a perfectly serviceable space, with a well-kept if bland décor, as was the room on the other side of the pale grey door. Serviced offices, rented by the day. It was knowing who and what was waiting in the room that was making the space feel gloomy.

  In the end it hadn’t been difficult to settle on a name. Aveline, the assistant in his agent’s office, who’d been responsible for liaising with the TV people over the arrangements. But they couldn’t be certain, which was why he was here.

  Devlin had set this up. The man had contacts from way back. The kind it was better not to inquire too deeply about.

  He pushed himself away from the wall when the door to the room opened. Joe, one of Devlin’s staff, gestured for him to ent
er. He knew Devlin wouldn’t be there. He was in a room on another floor, monitoring events on a CCTV connection.

  The police inspector was sitting quietly in one corner, flicking through a magazine. Two women in a room, waiting. Drew hadn’t asked what excuse they’d used to draw Aveline here. He was just grateful that it had worked. His stomach churned. They’d positioned everything in the room carefully.

  Aveline was sitting with her back to him as he walked in, but she could see the door, reflected in the mirror in front of her.

  It was all over in an instant.

  When she saw his face, she started to scream.

  The police officer was on her feet, tossing aside the magazine, as Aveline swung round, toppling the chair, to launch herself at Drew, nails slashing at his eyes.

  ‘Bastard. Bastard. You were supposed to die. I wanted you dead.’ Her face was contorted, tears of rage and frustration pouring down her cheeks. As the inspector caught at the hem of her jacket, pulling her away, Aveline reared back and spat. ‘I wanted to take your heart.’

  Horrified, Drew stumbled back, towards the door. The gob of spittle landed harmlessly at his feet. Tangling in the chair, Aveline nearly fell. The police inspector grabbed her arms to hold her as Devlin’s man helped Drew to regain his balance. The girl squirmed between them, eyes huge and dark and set on him.

  ‘Why?’ He got the word out, over the hoarseness in his throat. ‘What did I do?’ He couldn’t think of anything. He’d barely noticed the girl, one in a long line of uniformly pretty assistants and interns with shiny hair and floaty dresses, an interchangeable procession running through Geraldine’s office. Was that the problem? He should have paid more attention.

  ‘You didn’t do anything.’ The girl’s face was twisted and vicious. Alive with hate. ‘You just are. The great Andrew Vitruvius. You get it all, the publicity, the tours, the TV appearances and for what? Writing stupid adventure fantasies. Brandon Phipps.’ Her face softened at the name. ‘He’s worth a thousand of you. He can write.’ She began to thrash again in the inspector’s hold. ‘I wanted to take your heart.’