The Christmas Marriage Mission

by Helen Brooks

  Once in the shower she let the warm water wash the tension away, standing under the flow for longer than usual. She thought she heard the telephone ring at one point but, when no one called her, assumed the call was one of her mother’s friends.

  By the time she had dressed in a light jumper and old jeans she felt more like herself again. She stared at the face in the mirror. Her freckles seemed to stand out even more tonight and she was sure she was getting a pimple on her chin. Mitchell Grey interested in her, indeed! She must have been mad. But no more, she was quite sane again. The flowers were his way of saying goodbye. He could have asked to see her again last night if he’d been interested, or written something specific on the card.

  Her mother called to her from the kitchen as Kay walked downstairs. ‘There’s a sherry by the sofa for you, and one for me. I’ll come and join you in a minute.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Kay sat down and immediately Georgia and Emily climbed either side of her, snuggling into her like two small puppies. She stroked their curls, still damp from their evening shower and smelling of baby shampoo. Her precious babies, how could she want more from life than having them close to her? she asked herself guiltily. And she didn’t, not really. She didn’t.

  The phone rang and her mother appeared like the genie from the lamp. ‘That’ll be Mitch,’ Leonora said casually. ‘He called earlier when you were in the shower. I told him to call back in a few minutes.’ She didn’t meet Kay’s eyes as she spoke.

  Georgia had already lifted the receiver, speaking the number as Kay muttered, ‘Mum!’

  Then the little girl said brightly, ‘Yes, Mummy’s downstairs now,’ holding out the phone as she called, ‘Mummy!’

  Kay’s heart had begun a wild hammering, the palms of her hands suddenly damp. She stood up, walking over to Georgia and taking the phone from the little girl as though the receiver were red hot. ‘Hallo,’ she said weakly.

  ‘Kay? This is Mitchell.’ It was soft, darkly seductive, and she shivered.

  ‘Mitchell?’ She hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt. ‘Thank you so much for the flowers; they were a lovely surprise but you really shouldn’t have.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  His cool, easy tone made a mockery of her racing pulse and Kay made a huge effort to pull herself together.

  ‘I was wondering if you’re free at the weekend?’

  ‘I…um…’ She had never felt so confused in her life. If she said no he probably wouldn’t bother again; if she said yes…

  ‘I thought maybe dinner and a film on Saturday evening? Or we could just go for a drink somewhere if you prefer?’ His voice gentled still further as he added, ‘No big deal, Kay, that’s what I’m saying. You said you’re not ready for a relationship; I think you need to be let out of the steel box you’ve put round yourself and start testing life again. So we start as friends with no strings attached and go nice and slow. Any time either of us wants out, that’s fine. Any time either of us wants to take it a step forward we discuss it. How’s that?’

  Cold-blooded in the extreme. Kay stared blankly across the room. He was talking with about as much emotion as he would when suggesting a business deal. She didn’t know whether to be pleased by his reasonableness or offended by the lack of ardour.

  ‘Kay?’

  His quiet voice reminded her she couldn’t hesitate any longer. She took a deep breath. She had to admit he couldn’t have been fairer and this way she had nothing to lose. ‘A meal and a film sounds great,’ she said carefully.

  ‘Good. I’ll pick you up at seven and book tickets for a late performance. Anything in particular you’d like to see?’

  It dawned on Kay afresh just how much of a rut she was in when she realised she didn’t have a clue what films were out. She hadn’t been to the cinema since the twins were born. She’d hardly been anywhere since the twins were born! ‘You choose,’ she said hastily.

  ‘I’ll surprise you,’ he said softly.

  Kay swallowed. ‘Fine.’

  She was sure his voice was redolent with amusement when he made his goodbyes, but as her mother was positioned in front of her now she didn’t prolong the farewell.

  ‘You’re seeing him again.’ Leonora spoke as though Kay had won a gold medal at the Olympics.

  ‘Calm down, Mum. It’s strictly on a friends-only basis,’ Kay warned softly, vitally aware of her daughters’ little faces as they stared up at her.

  Leonora smiled benignly. ‘Of course it is.’

  Kay stifled the words hovering on her tongue, instead saying, ‘I’ll talk to you later, okay? Once we’ve eaten.’

  ‘As you like, dear.’ Leonora sailed off back into the kitchen, every inch of her still-slim body registering satisfaction.

  Wonderful. Kay stared after her mother, frustration paramount. What was it about Mitchell Grey that could charm any female within a ten-mile radius? she asked herself irritably.

  ‘Was that the man who sent those?’

  Emily had spoken, her dimpled hand pointing to the basket of flowers as she stared at her mother.

  Kay nodded. ‘Yes, it was, sweet pea.’

  ‘I like him.’

  ‘So do I,’ Georgia agreed earnestly.

  Kay plumped down on the sofa, her hand reaching for the sherry glass. Three against one wasn’t really fair, was it?

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE next few weeks were ones of change. Kay found herself seeing Mitchell every day; they ate lunch or dinner together, sometimes in one of the plush restaurants Mitchell frequented or at his home, they danced in nightclubs, visited the cinema and theatre, went bowling, ice-skating and even scoured one or two antique fairs and auctions. As he had promised they had fun—lots of fun. But it wasn’t really real, it wasn’t everyday life. Not her life, at least, Kay reflected.

  She was standing in the kitchen on the Saturday morning before Christmas, up to her elbows in suds, idly watching the garden’s resident robin as he militantly sent off one or two marauding sparrows who had thought to plunder the bird table of pieces of bacon fat.

  If she thought about it, they hadn’t had one no-holds-barred conversation since that first evening at his home. Oh, he had entertained her all right, and, yes, if she was totally honest, the more she saw him, the more she liked him, but… She frowned at the window. She didn’t know him at all. He was tough, formidably in control of himself and those around him, but she could never penetrate that invisible barrier even in the slightest. And the ironical thing, the really ridiculous thing was that he’d accused her the night before of the self-same thing.

  ‘What will it take before that barricade is smashed?’

  She had glanced at him as he’d spoken, his voice soft and his eyes faintly amused as they’d driven home after a night at the theatre.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You know what I mean, Kay.’

  His tone had still been easy, even lazy, but perhaps—in hindsight—there had been something more, anger even, behind the indolent posture.

  ‘I don’t.’ She’d tightened instinctively.

  He had said nothing for a mile or two, handling the car with his normal expertise, and then he had made some fatuous remark about the play they’d just seen, one that hadn’t necessitated an answer but that had made a reluctant smile come to her lips. And so the moment had passed.

  His goodnight kiss had left her aching for more, as his kisses always did, but again—analysed in the cold light of morning without the normal unbearable sexual tension sending her into a spin—she felt he had been playing a part. So far but no further, mentally, emotionally and physically, that was how she felt it was. But then, was she really any different?

  She shut her eyes tightly, biting on her lip as she washed a breakfast plate with unnecessary vigour. He unnerved her more now than when she had first met him, that was the truth of the matter. The more she was with him, the more she wanted to be with him, and that wasn’t how it was supposed to have been.

  Maybe if they
had gone to bed, if they’d become lovers in the full sense of the word, this crazy attraction would have burnt itself out? And then she curled her lip at the stupidity of the thought. It might well have on his side, in fact she didn’t doubt it for a minute, but she wasn’t built like that. The reason she had tried and tried for her marriage to work even when logic had said it was doomed was because she’d committed her body as well as her heart. The two were inseparable where she was concerned. It might not be the prevailing fashion but she couldn’t help that. She couldn’t bear the thought of being just another notch on his bedpost, figuratively speaking of course, she added, thinking of the massive water-bed as she smiled wryly.

  Kay flexed her shoulders, which had become tense with the nature of her thoughts.

  Had she been wrong in keeping any contact between Mitchell and the twins to an absolute minimum? she asked herself soberly. Had that added to the contrived, meretricious nature of it all? One minute she was being dined and wined in the most fabulous of places or being whisked off to goodness knew where with money no object, the next she was back home changing the girls’ beds in the middle of the night when they’d succumbed to the stomach bug playing havoc at their school, or checking their thick curls in response to a letter from the nurse who’d warned parents a child in their class had been found to be lousy.

  The thing was, she hadn’t wanted Georgia and Emily to get used to Mitchell, to get fond of him, she admitted reluctantly. It wasn’t fair on them. He had made it plain on that first date that long-term fidelity wasn’t an option, and she’d known that this friendship that wasn’t a friendship but defied any label she could think of wouldn’t last. But how could you explain that to two little girls who had been determined to like him from the first?

  She sighed heavily, finishing the washing-up and drying her hands on a towel before she boiled a kettle for the lemon drink she was making for her mother. Leonora had been suffering from what she’d insisted was a cold the last couple of days, but this morning the older woman had been too ill to get out of bed and Kay had called the doctor. She suspected her mother had fallen foul of the vicious flu bug that was sweeping the country, but the hacking cough that had become much worse during the night spoke of a chest infection on top of the virus.

  Kay was just at the bottom of the stairs with the mug of hot lemon when a knock at the front door announced Dr Galbraith.

  The doctor was cheerful enough as he examined Leonora, but once downstairs in the sitting room he lowered his voice after glancing at the twins—snuggled together watching a Christmas cartoon in front of the fire— and said quietly, ‘We need to watch that chest infection. I don’t want it developing into anything more serious, so don’t take any nonsense from her about getting out of bed. A side effect of this particular virus is inflammation of the lungs in my more elderly patients, not that your mother would appreciate being referred to in that regard,’ he added with a wry smile. ‘Plenty of liquids along with the antibiotics and paracetamol, all right?’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Kay nodded and then wished she hadn’t as the headache she’d woken up with made itself known.

  ‘You look a bit peaky yourself,’ Dr Galbraith said as he took in her pale face, the whiteness of her skin in sharp contrast to her red curls. ‘You might be going down with it—it does tend to run through a whole household. Get plenty of paracetamol in and call the surgery if you need to. Frankly, if you’d got anything planned over Christmas I’d cancel it now.’

  Great. And a happy Christmas to you too! ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Kay repeated, and saw him out into the frosty morning, shutting the door quickly as the icy chill made her shiver.

  ‘Shoes, coats and hats, girls,’ she said with deliberate brightness, knowing the twins wouldn’t appreciate being pulled away from their Saturday morning programmes on the TV. ‘We’ve got to go and get some medicine for Grandma, and if you’re good we might call in the cake shop and buy two of those gingerbread men you like so much.’

  Fortunately the row of shops comprising a small supermarket, chemist, cake shop, butcher’s and grocer’s was only a couple of streets away, but nevertheless Kay was regretting she hadn’t had one of the vans for the weekend by the time she and the girls got home later that morning. She was feeling worse by the minute and now Emily was complaining her head hurt her, and refused to eat her gingerbread man, which she normally loved.

  After remaking her mother’s bed and giving Leonora the antibiotics and paracetamol with another hot lemon drink, Kay went downstairs to find Emily lying listlessly on the sofa with her teddy bear. When her daughter refused a chocolate off the little Christmas tree standing next to the TV, Kay knew she was ill, although Georgia was bouncing around as usual.

  She felt the small forehead, alarmed to find it was far too hot, and in bending over nearly landed on top of Emily when she went all giddy. Darn it, they were dropping like flies and Christmas was only three days away, and the girls had so been looking forward to it.

  Emily tucked up in a blanket in her pyjamas on the sofa after a dose of paracetamol for her temperature, Kay made herself a fortifying cup of tea and took stock. Fortunately she’d made the decision to close the office all the following week as Christmas day was on the Tuesday, so work wasn’t a problem. They had enough food to last them for a while, although she had been going to do the big Christmas shop on Monday—still, she might feel better by then, and she could perhaps call Peter in to sit with the girls while she went out. No, that wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to infect Peter and his family for Christmas. Oh, she would manage somehow; she couldn’t think of that now with her head aching so badly.

  Mitchell. She sat up straighter in the kitchen chair. She had been going to go out with him this evening; she must call him and explain.

  It was Henry who answered the telephone, but within moments Mitchell’s deep rich voice said, ‘Kay? Henry said your mother isn’t well?’

  ‘It’s the flu along with a chest infection, and now Emily is feeling poorly. I’m sorry but I can’t make tonight.’

  There was a pause, and then he said, ‘How would it be if I hired a babysitter? I know a couple of my friends swear by a certain—’

  ‘No.’ She didn’t let him finish. She would no more have let a stranger—however well recommended—babysit her girls than fly to the moon. ‘I’m not feeling too good myself, actually, so we’d better leave it.’

  Another pause, and then he said evenly, ‘This isn’t because of last night, is it?’

  ‘What?’ She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

  ‘I have a feeling the drawbridge is being raised,’ he said softly, ‘rather than the barriers coming down.’

  Why did men think everything was about them all the time? If she had been feeling better she would have let rip; as it was she just said quietly, ‘Mitchell, my mother is ill in bed, my daughter has a temperature and I don’t feel great myself. Those are the facts, okay? I’ll ring you.’ And she put the telephone down. She couldn’t argue with him, not today. He’d have to think what he liked.

  The telephone rang almost immediately and she breathed deeply and braced herself before picking it up.

  “Kay, if you need anything give me a call.’ It was Mitchell, his voice holding a quality that suddenly—ridiculously—made her want to cry.

  ‘Thank you.’ She managed to keep the wobble from sounding. ‘We’ll be all right, but thank you.’ And then, as Emily chose that moment to reach out for her glass of orange juice on the small table Kay had pulled close to the sofa, catching it with the teddy bear’s foot as she did so and sending the glass and its contents cascading onto the floor, she said, ‘I have to go. Goodbye, Mitchell,’ and she put down the phone on his soft ‘Goodbye.’

  That night Kay was up and down to Emily several times as well as helping her mother to the bathroom twice, Leonora being too weak to stand by herself. Kay knew she was going down with the flu now—her headache was blinding, she was cold and shivery but her
skin was clammy to the touch, and everything was a huge effort. By morning she felt so ill she didn’t know how she was going to cope, and she just prayed Georgia wouldn’t get sick.

  The morning passed in a haze of fixing hot drinks, dispensing medicines and checking Emily’s temperature, and when the telephone rang downstairs as she was staggering to the bathroom with Emily in her arms Kay felt too exhausted to even call and ask who it was when she heard Georgia talking to someone.

  She was tucking Emily back in bed when Georgia appeared at her side. ‘That was Mitchell,’ Georgia said importantly. ‘I said everyone was poorly except me, and he said I’ve got to help you. What shall I do?’

  Kay lay down on Georgia’s bed, next to Emily’s, for a moment or two as the room spun. ‘Just be a good girl,’ she whispered weakly, ‘and play with your toys until I get your lunch in a minute.’

  She was aware of Georgia nodding and then scampering out of the room, and she shut her eyes, willing the dizziness to pass. It seemed like the next second when she heard voices downstairs but she knew she must have been dozing. She forced her leaden limbs to obey her, sitting up and then swinging her legs over the side of the narrow bed before she rose and tottered towards the door. She was hanging onto the door knob like grim death, the landing a kaleidoscope of rotating colour when a deep voice said, ‘What the…?’ a moment before she felt herself lifted right off her feet.

  ‘Mitchell.’ Kay was aware she was clutching at him but the dark face above hers was barely in focus. ‘I feel so ill.’

  Leonora was calling from the other bedroom, obviously wondering what was going on, and now Kay said frantically, ‘She mustn’t get out of bed; she’ll fall and hurt herself.’

  Mitchell didn’t answer this except to shout, ‘Henry! Get up here,’ making Kay wince as the sound reverberated in her brain and made it rattle.

  She heard Mitchell tell Henry to go and reassure her mother everything was all right—although what her mother would make of a strange man entering her bedroom, Kay didn’t know—but with Mitchell here taking charge she suddenly felt so utterly helpless, so weak and drained, it was too much effort to keep her eyes open. He was holding her next to his chest, his strength and vitality tiring in itself, and then she felt herself placed on Georgia’s bed again and he said, ‘Lie there, Kay, and don’t move. I’m going to have a word with Leonora,’ just before he added, ‘It’s okay, little one, Mummy’s just a little sick like you,’ as Emily began to cry.