Lucy Gordon - The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

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by The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish


  ‘It’s been a lovely day,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything, Corinne. Thank you for making it possible, and not driving me away.’

  ‘I could never want to do that,’ she said, raising her head and looking into his face.

  It was once more the face she loved, not distorted by anger or masked against her as it had been in the worst days of their failing marriage. For a moment she saw again the vulnerability that had always been there beneath the arrogance, and which had touched her heart.

  It touched her now and she turned away quickly.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  He brushed his fingertips across her eyelashes and found them wet.

  ‘Sometimes I feel like doing that,’ he said. A tremor went through him. ‘I miss you so much.’

  ‘I miss you too. The love doesn’t just switch off.’

  ‘Even though you’re trying to make it?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m working on it. I don’t pretend it’s easy.’

  He kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he whispered.

  She went upstairs and he was left alone.

  Midnight. The clock in the kitchen chimed. The room was in darkness except for the tree lights that still glowed and flickered.

  Santa smiled at the figure in the doorway. ‘Have you come to say goodbye?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,’ Bobby said. ‘You’re supposed to have gone back to the North Pole by now.’

  ‘That’s one of the advantages of being the boss. You can change the rules to suit yourself. I thought I’d pop back to see how it was going.’

  ‘It’s been brilliant.’ Bobby sighed happily. ‘He’s still here. He liked the picture and everything. He even remembered what it was.’

  ‘Did you think he wouldn’t? Yes, well, I suppose you couldn’t be blamed for thinking that.’ Santa’s voice was gentle as he added, ‘Let’s face it, he’s not much of a father.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Bobby said instantly. ‘He’s the best.’

  ‘Doesn’t spend as much time with you as he should, though, does he?’

  ‘He’s very busy. He has lots of other things to think of. But he always comes back to us, because he loves us best in all the world.’

  For a moment Santa seemed lost for words. At last he said, ‘I know he does.’

  ‘Did he tell you?’

  ‘I just know. He loves his family so much that it hurts, but he’s not good at saying things.’

  ‘And we love him best in all the world too,’ Bobby said firmly. ‘I do, and Mitzi does, and Mum does.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know—’

  ‘She does. I know she does.’

  There was a silence before Santa said, ‘Never mind that. Tell me about Mitzi. Did she have a good day?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Dad gave her that Marianne doll with the riding habit—the one she asked you about the other day. You must have told him.’

  Santa grinned. ‘Let’s just say that I can give him a nudge in the right direction. That’s not always easy, because he’s a stubborn fellow who doesn’t listen as often as he ought.’ Seeing Bobby about to flare up, he added quickly, ‘Now, be fair; you know that’s true.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Bobby conceded.

  ‘Always,’ Santa insisted.

  ‘Now and then.’

  ‘All right, I’ll settle for now and then. You’re quite a negotiator.’

  Bobby giggled. ‘That’s what Daddy says. He says he wants me working for him when I grow up.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to be an artist?’

  ‘Couldn’t I be both?’

  ‘You could. But it’s better to be what you really want. Your way might be better.’

  ‘Will you be back again, after tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Santa said. ‘Christmas is passing.’

  ‘But it’s not gone yet. Tomorrow’s still sort of Christmas. Dad won’t leave tomorrow, will he?’

  ‘No, he won’t. And if you have him, you don’t need me.’

  ‘It’s different. I can talk to you.’

  ‘And not to him?’

  ‘Not about everything. He minds too much, you see, and I don’t want to hurt him.’

  Santa spoke gruffly. ‘How do you know he minds so much?’

  ‘Because he tries so hard to pretend that he doesn’t,’ Bobby said simply.

  Santa turned away. ‘Goodnight,’ he said huskily. ‘Go to bed now. Wait for what tomorrow may bring.’

  Bobby moved towards the door. As he reached the hall he paused a moment, wondering if he really had heard a noise. But all was dark and quiet. After a moment he sped upstairs.

  Alone by the tree, Santa did not move but stood with his head bent, as though trying to bear up under a heavy load.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He turned quickly. Corinne was standing there.

  ‘Of course I am.’ He added feebly, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’

  ‘You seemed a bit tired.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s a great responsibility being Father Christmas. It’s scary.’

  ‘It must be.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m glad you came back. He needed to talk to you again.’

  Abruptly Santa asked, ‘Did you know he was protecting his father?’

  ‘Yes. He always talks about him protectively. Nothing is ever Daddy’s fault. If he ever lost that faith it would hurt him more than he could bear.’

  ‘Actually not discussing things in case his father can’t cope? This is a nine-year-old child.’

  ‘Nobody really knows what Bobby is thinking,’ Corinne said. ‘Except maybe you. He tells you things he can’t tell anyone else.’

  ‘Not even you?’

  ‘He’s protecting me too. Santa Claus can help because he’s not involved. And my husband—’

  ‘Your husband’s a thick-head, and don’t let him tell you any different.’

  ‘He’s not that bad.’

  ‘Yes, he is. Take my word.’

  Corinne smiled. ‘Well, he may have a thick head but he has a thin skin. Only he doesn’t know it.’

  Santa made a sound like a snort.

  ‘It sounds to me as though you’re protecting him too. I’ll bet he doesn’t know that, either.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s ever occurred to him.’

  ‘You invited him here for Christmas for his sake as much as the children’s, didn’t you?’

  ‘You’re very astute.’

  ‘Well, maybe a little more than I was,’ Santa said gruffly.

  ‘He’s lost so much already,’ Corinne said. ‘I don’t want him to lose any more, otherwise it’ll soon be too late.’

  Santa stared into the fireplace. ‘I think he knows that. Tell me something. Do you know why Bobby chose that picnic to paint?’

  ‘I think it was the last completely happy time we had together. Alex’s business was building up fast, but we were still a family. When the picnic was over we went home and put the children to bed. And then we made love—’ her voice softened ‘—and it was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened. He told me over and over how much he loved me and how our love would fill his heart and his life until his very last moment.’

  ‘Is that why you kept the shirt?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘That’s why I kept it.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have thrown it out of your life, along with him.’

  ‘I haven’t thrown him out of my life. I never could. It was really the other way around. The day after that picnic he got a call that changed everything. Suddenly it was “big time,” and he was never really ours after that. That’s why I was surprised he recognised the moment. I should think it feels like another life to him by now.’

  ‘Maybe it does,’ Santa said wistfully. ‘Another sweeter life that he lost somewhere along the way.’ He gave a brief laugh. ‘He’s not a very clever fellow, is he?’

  ‘Clev
erer than I thought,’ she murmured.

  ‘I think you should go now,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘Can’t I stay? I could get you a beer and—’

  ‘Go,’ he said with soft vehemence. ‘It’s better, believe me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I suppose it is.’

  When she’d gone Santa stood looking at the doorway, as though hoping she would return. When she didn’t, he switched out the tree lights and sat for a long time in the darkness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALEX could still remember the first Christmas of his marriage, when he and Corinne had gone out early on December the twenty-sixth, and dived into the sales. She had an eye for a bargain, and they had triumphantly carried back home several pieces of household equipment at rock-bottom prices.

  As they’d prospered they hadn’t needed the sales and Alex, who had been able to buy her anything she wanted, had been bemused by her continued enthusiasm. So it hardly came as a surprise that she was set on attending this year.

  He came downstairs to find several newspapers spread out on the kitchen table with four eagerly debating heads leaning over them.

  ‘Washing machine!’ Jimmy was making a list.

  ‘Shoes,’ Corinne added. ‘And a lawnmower—’

  They went on compiling the list and Alex, who had learned wisdom, stayed in the background.

  At last Mitzi looked up and noticed him, giving him a hug and offering to make him some tea—an offer her mother hastily overruled.

  ‘I’ll do it, darling.’

  ‘Morning, Jimmy,’ Alex said affably. ‘How are you feeling today? You’re not looking so good. I expect yesterday took it out of you.’

  ‘It did a bit,’ Jimmy admitted. ‘But, heck, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I can be ill later.’

  ‘Uncle Jimmy’s a soldier,’ Bobby said in explanation of this reckless heroism.

  ‘And a good soldier doesn’t give in,’ Alex agreed, straight-faced. ‘But you’re looking a bit seedy now. Are you taking your medication?’

  ‘Well, I skipped a bit,’ Jimmy conceded. ‘You can’t drink if you’re taking the pills, and it is Christmas—’

  ‘Of course,’ Alex agreed. ‘But now it’s time you took proper care of yourself.’

  Corinne turned around, her jaw dropping with indignation at what she could clearly see him up to. But she was pulled up short by the sight of Jimmy’s face. He really was pale and strained.

  ‘Oh, Jimmy, you are an idiot.’ She sighed affectionately. ‘You should have said—or I should have noticed. Stay in bed today.’

  ‘No way. There’s masses of sport on television. But I wouldn’t mind staying in and watching it with my feet up. You won’t mind if I don’t come out with you?’

  ‘We’ll bear up,’ Alex assured him.

  He sauntered innocently out into the hall, looking back to catch Bobby’s eye and send him a signal. Bobby glanced at Mitzi and Alex nodded.

  Message received and understood.

  After a moment the two children followed him out.

  ‘Listen, kids,’ Alex said hurriedly. ‘You’re fond of your Uncle Jimmy, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mitzi.

  Bobby nodded, alert, ready to tune in to his father’s signal.

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t want to leave him all on his own at Christmas, would you?’ Alex asked. ‘It wouldn’t be a very kind thing to do. Why don’t you both stay here with him?’

  ‘What’s it worth?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘What—? You’re my son.’

  ‘And I’m up to every trick. You said so.’

  ‘But, like any skill, it should be used wisely,’ Alex said. ‘There’s a time for using it and a time for not using it.’

  ‘This is a time for using it,’ Bobby said firmly.

  Alex eyed him with respect mixed with caution.

  ‘I want to come to the shops,’ Mitzi said. ‘Mummy said she’d get me a doll’s house.’

  ‘It’s in Bellam’s Toys,’ Bobby explained. ‘There’s a big range, and number four is going cheap now because they’ve just brought out number five. So Mum promised her number four.’

  His eyes met Alex’s. ‘Of course, Mitzi would really prefer number five.’

  ‘Mummy said it would cost too much.’ Mitzi sighed.

  ‘But we’re holding all the cards,’ her brother told her.

  ‘You are, aren’t you?’ Alex said in appreciation of these tactics. ‘Number five it is, on condition you stay at home.’

  Mitzi scampered off to tell Jimmy, whose head was aching, that he was going to have the pleasure of her company and they could talk and talk and talk.

  ‘What about you?’ Alex asked his son. ‘What’s your price?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Bobby told him.

  ‘But you just said—’

  ‘I always meant to stay at home anyway.’

  Alex looked at him with sheer admiration, although he felt compelled to point out, ‘But, like you said, you have all the cards. I’d have paid. You missed a trick there, son.’

  Bobby shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he said earnestly. ‘Don’t you see? I didn’t really.’

  Alex’s amused irony faded and he took Bobby’s hand. ‘Yes, I do see,’ he said seriously.

  ‘Good luck, Dad.’

  He knew everything, of course, Alex thought.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ he promised his son.

  The road to the shopping centre lay through open country. The snow had stopped falling and now lay settled thickly on the ground, the perfect picture of a white Christmas.

  They went in Corinne’s car, which was larger than Alex’s sleek vehicle, made to accommodate children and big enough for the mountain of things she was planning to buy.

  ‘I haven’t seen this before,’ he observed as they climbed in.

  ‘I got it a month ago.’

  Third-hand, from the look of it, he thought. He was wise enough, now, not to say he could have bought her something better, but it flashed through his mind that this was one more thing she’d done without him.

  How many other things, now and in the future?

  Corinne had on a thick sheepskin jacket and jeans which showed off her long, slim legs, and seemed in high spirits this morning.

  ‘You were rotten to poor old Jimmy,’ she chided Alex.

  ‘I advised him to rest and take care of himself, and he was only too glad to accept. He really is feeling poorly, so how can you blame me?’

  ‘Very clever! You know, if there was one thing about you that got up my nose more than any other it was your way of making your most self-interested actions seem perfectly virtuous.’

  ‘But what possible ulterior motive could I have for wanting Jimmy to stay at home?’ he asked innocently. ‘You’re not suggesting that I was scheming to be alone with you?’

  A sideways glance showed her that he was grinning.

  ‘If I wasn’t driving I’d thump you,’ she said, falling in with his humorous mood. It was hard to be anything but cheerful in the brilliant white scenery around them.

  She reckoned that must be the reason for her new sensation of well-being this morning. It was strange how she had awoken full of contentment, almost happiness, and the feeling had lasted so that now she felt oddly light-hearted, like a teenager again.

  The shabby old car saw them safely through the treacherous conditions and into the shopping centre car park. They went from store to store, bagging the washing machine first and then working their way down the list.

  ‘Doll’s house!’ Alex said, seeing Bellam’s. ‘Quick, before they sell out of number five.’

  ‘Number four,’ Corinne objected. ‘That’s what I promised her.’

  ‘That’s a little out of date,’ Alex said cautiously.

  ‘What have you been up to?’

  ‘Who? Me?’ Under her suspicious gaze he confessed, ‘Mitzi and I discussed it and came to a joint decision that number five was a better choice.’<
br />
  ‘You mean you bribed her?’

  ‘Bribed is a harsh word.’

  ‘But true.’

  ‘Let’s hurry,’ he said diplomatically.

  Just inside the shop they found a counter with a sale of tiny Christmas trinkets that nobody had bought. To Corinne’s surprise Alex lingered there a surprisingly long time, but she didn’t see whether he bought anything because an assistant asked her if he could be of help and she hurried to claim the doll’s house.

  Alex secured the last number five available and bore it out of the shop in triumph, refusing the shop’s suggestion of delivery.

  ‘Next Monday?’ Alex echoed, aghast. ‘If I don’t take it home now I won’t live that long.’

  The box was so big that it blocked his view, and Corinne had to guide him into the elevator, then out and to the car.

  ‘A bit to the left—bit more—stop.’

  ‘Corinne, I can’t see a thing,’ came a muffled voice from behind the box.

  ‘It’s all right, trust me. Take two steps forward. Oh, dear!’

  ‘What does “Oh, dear!” mean?’ came a plaintive cry.

  ‘There are some steps just ahead. Go slowly. That’s it. Put your foot down very carefully.’

  ‘I didn’t need telling that!’

  ‘Now another one—and another—just one more. Now you’re on land again. Walk forward.’

  ‘Will you please stop laughing?’

  ‘Who’s laughing?’ she chuckled, opening the back of the car so that he could edge the box through and finally release it.

  ‘I need something to eat after that,’ he said.

  They found a café and tucked into fish and chips.

  ‘That’ll teach me to make rash promises,’ he said, grinning. “She never warned me it was almost as big as a real house.”

  ‘Alex,’ she said abruptly, ‘how long can you stay?’

  ‘That’s up to you.’

  ‘As long as you like. I have to return to work on Monday, but there’s no reason for you to go.’

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a job.’

  ‘Don’t I give you enough to live on? You should have said—’

  ‘You give me far more than I need. That’s why I can afford to work part-time. I get the kids off to school first, then I go in to work. In the afternoon my neighbour collects them and they stay with her until I come home. Don’t pull a face. They like going there. She’s got a dog they can play with.’

 

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