Once Upon a Christmas Night...

by Annie Claydon

  ‘Sorry.’ None that Reena needed to hear or that Jess wanted to tell her. If she didn’t think about it, maybe it would go away.

  ‘You just spent a weekend with Greg in one of the romance capitals of the world. Don’t give me sorry. Give me something more substantial.’

  Right. Well, she’d spent both days with Joe, after Greg had been unable to get away on Sunday either. They’d walked for miles and seen some of the sights, but that probably wasn’t what Reena wanted to hear. And Jess wasn’t about to go into details about her nights.

  ‘We saw the Trevi fountain.’ If she didn’t elaborate on the we then that sounded just the kind of thing that Reena wanted to hear. It was actually just the kind of thing that Jess wanted to be able to say.

  ‘Yeah? That’s so-o-o romantic. Did you throw a coin in?’

  ‘Of course I did. What do you take me for?’

  Joe had told her to turn her back and throw the coin over her shoulder. And when Jess had been a little too eager and thrown too high, the coin had hit something, bounced back and skittered across the paving stones until Joe had trapped it under his foot. He’d said that hitting the water on her second try was enough to ensure her return to Rome, but Jess wasn’t so sure about that.

  ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘It was. We had a lovely time.’ Just not the one her heart had wanted. She’d rather have been locked in the sluice room for the weekend with Greg. The thought made her smile. They could save that till next weekend maybe.

  ‘So how was yours?’ Best change the subject now, while she’d merely given the wrong impression, rather than telling any actual lies.

  ‘Oh, fine. Good, actually. I got a lot done. I’ve finished all of the costumes for the carol singers.’

  ‘Yeah? That must have taken you a while.’

  Reena shrugged. ‘It wasn’t as difficult as we’d thought. Is that all now?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got the model, the costumes, the carol sheets and enough books for the storytellers.’ Jess counted everything off on her fingers. ‘I’ve printed out all the documents and photos to go with the model and sorted out the rota for the ward visits. So, not counting any last-minute emergencies, I think we’re all done.’

  ‘With two weeks to spare.’ Reena thought for a moment. ‘Is that making you as nervous as it does me?’

  ‘Yes. Feels all wrong, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Mmm. We should do it all now, before anything has a chance to go pear-shaped. Anything can happen in between now and Christmas.’

  Jess squeezed Reena’s arm. ‘Nothing’s going to happen. We’re just not used to being ready in such good time.’

  ‘That was down to you. If you hadn’t started planning all this in August, we’d be running around in everdecreasing circles and ever-increasing panic.’

  Jess grinned. At least someone seemed to notice what she did. ‘Hang tight. Nothing’s going to happen between now and Christmas. You’ll see.’

  ‘Have you got some time tonight?’

  Jess looked at him as if it was a trick question. ‘Yes. Why? What’s up?’

  ‘Shaw Industries has just vaporised. I’ve got a spare evening.’ Greg had meant it as a joke but was surprised to find that a part of him rather liked the idea. Jess obviously approved of it as well.

  ‘In that case, is there anything particular you want to do?’

  ‘Actually, there is. I’ll meet you in the canteen after I finish my shift.’

  They rode together through the dark streets, the windows of the taxi streaked with freezing rain.

  ‘You like this, don’t you?’ She tipped her face up towards his.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Rushing me off somewhere without telling me where we’re going or what we’re doing.’

  ‘I like surprising you.’ The line felt like… it felt like just a line. Something to say to keep the peace and prompt a smile.

  ‘You mean you like a fait accompli.’ She grinned up at him. ‘If you don’t tell me where we’re going then I don’t have a chance to object.’

  She had a point. ‘You mean I’m afraid of what you might say?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Terrified. You scare the living daylights out of me.’

  She bumped her shoulder against his and laughed. Funny, that. The way he was in absolute earnest and yet it didn’t even occur to Jess to believe him.

  He made the taxi stop at the entrance to a mews so that he could walk with her on his arm, down the dark, deserted street. She could look around, get an idea of what the place was like.

  ‘You like this?’

  She shrugged, looking around her. ‘Very nice.’

  Maybe she’d like it a little better when she knew what they were doing there. Greg withdrew the estate agent’s key from his pocket and located the front door that he wanted.

  She was watching him gravely now. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘This property’s for sale. I wanted you to take a look at it.’

  ‘You’re thinking of moving?’

  Greg didn’t reply. All he needed to do was to get her inside and then maybe she’d fall in love with the place, the way that the blurb on the property had promised.

  The rooms were surprisingly large inside the mews cottage. Jess imagined that in the daytime they’d be light as well. The furniture had been cleared and the walls were painted white, as if to give prospective buyers a blank canvas for their own imaginations. It was an amazing place. She couldn’t think why he would want to move when his current location seemed to fit his needs so well, but as he obviously did, this looked like a place where he could be happy.

  ‘There’s a good school just around the corner.’

  ‘Bit of a long way from my place.’ An alarm bell began to clatter quietly in the back of her head. Like next door’s smoke detectors going off.

  ‘I was thinking that this could be your place. If you wanted.’

  If only. ‘I don’t know, Greg. We said we’d leave that decision for a while. Not rush things, just because I’m pregnant.’

  ‘I’m not moving. This place is just for you.’

  Jess looked around. Swallowed hard. The house was lovely. More than enough space for her and her baby. A little walled garden at the back and shops just down the road. ‘Greg it’s lovely, but… ’

  ‘If you don’t like this one, my estate agent tells me that there’s plenty of choice.’

  ‘I imagine there is. How much is this cottage on the market for?’ Jess couldn’t make a stab at an exact sum but she knew it must be a lot. Probably more than she wanted to hear.

  He shrugged. ‘I can afford it. The only thing that matters is whether you like it or not.’

  Jess could feel tears. Dammit, she wasn’t going to cry. Tears would only give Greg the impression that she was labouring under a surfeit of happiness and that really wasn’t the case. ‘It’s a lovely thought, Greg, and I do appreciate it, really I do. But I’m happy where I am.’

  ‘I know. But you could be happier here.’ He looked around. ‘Or if you weren’t, at least you’d have a bit more room to be as happy as you were before.’

  ‘I can’t afford to run this place, Greg. This is a private mews, there must be some kind of charge for upkeep. And the shops… ’

  ‘What’s wrong with the shops?’

  ‘Well, they’re great, but they’re all speciality shops. The kind of place I go into once in a blue moon. They’re far too expensive for me to use all the time.’ Jess stopped. She knew she was sounding ungrateful. But these were the kinds of practicalities that she had to think about. Babies didn’t come cheap, and she was going to have to watch her budget.

  ‘I thought of that.’ Greg sat down on a pretty little window seat that looked out onto the garden and pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Here.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Jess almost didn’t take it. She really didn’t like the look of it.

  ‘It’s a formal offer. I want to support you a
nd the baby, and I want that support to be legally yours. If anything happens to me, I don’t want anyone to be able to take it away from you.’

  ‘Greg.’ If he had been trying to make her feel miserable and embarrassed, he couldn’t have done a better job.

  ‘Look, Jess, I heard what you said about being independent. I understand that you don’t want our relationship to affect our child. This means that it doesn’t. It gives you a place to live and an income, no strings attached. It’s a good place to start from.’

  ‘Greg, no.’ This was all too much. He’d sprung it on her so quickly and she couldn’t think straight.

  ‘Just read it. It gives you a much better income than you have now and is index-linked. There’s provision for school fees, a college fund and a small trust fund for our child. A place to live—here if you want or wherever else you choose.’

  He could do this. He could buy her, and her child, so easily. ‘And what about the things I said I really wanted, Greg? What about your time? Your love? A father to go to for advice when our child needs it? Are they itemised in here too?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘You can’t make those things part of a contract, Jess.’

  ‘Right. Absolutely right.’ She proffered the envelope back towards him and he didn’t move to take it so she laid it on the window seat, next to where he was sitting.

  ‘Jess, I know that I’ve been busy recently.’ His face was stony now. She was alone in the house with a complete stranger. ‘But things will be different. Everything will settle down in time.’

  That was another piece of advice that her mother had drummed into her. Never go into marriage thinking that you can change a man, because it won’t happen. Her mother had learned that the hard way with her father. This wasn’t marriage, it was a contract. One that would bind her, and her child, to him. ‘I don’t want this, Greg.’

  ‘You mean you don’t want me.’

  How could he think that? ‘I mean that I don’t want my life, my child’s life, to be spent waiting for you. However much you can provide in a material sense, if you can’t be there, it means nothing.’ Tears began to trickle down her face. She was being inflexible, she knew that. But clinging to what was familiar was all she knew how to do right now. It had been her mother and herself, just the two of them. She had the blueprint right there.

  ‘Jess, you’re being impractical. What’s wrong with accepting an easier life?’

  ‘That’s it, though. It’s not an easier life, or a better one.’

  ‘And what is? Living in a flat that’s too small, counting the pennies? If that makes you feel virtuous, fine. But I’m not going to let you limit my child’s opportunities.’ There was no anger in his voice. Just a flat assertiveness that was colder and crueller than any emotion.

  ‘Not going to let me? Greg, listen to what you’re saying, please. My flat is perfectly adequate for me and the baby. You can’t make me move.’

  ‘No?’

  This was how he did business, then. Jess supposed that he’d learned this kind of attitude in the boardroom. He’d become used to getting whatever he wanted.

  ‘Just try it.’ She turned on her heel and made for the front door. Behind her she could hear his footsteps.

  ‘Jess.’ His hand appeared over her shoulder, holding the door shut. ‘Look, I didn’t mean that. But think about this. It’s all very well to be independent, to be able to fend for yourself if you have to, but this is crazy. I have a right to give my child a decent place to live. You can’t just throw that back at me and tell me that you’re all right on your own.’

  She turned to face him, her back pressed against the door. ‘You’re wrong, Greg. You think that spending money is going to absolve you of every other responsibility. Well, it doesn’t. My child can’t be bought. That’s nonnegotiable, and if you want me to sign something then you can put that in your contract.’

  ‘Ah. So all of a sudden it’s your child. I don’t have to be a doctor to know that you didn’t manage to conceive it all on your own.’

  She’d had enough of this. She’d tried not to be angry and resentful, but these days rage seemed to be simmering beneath the surface most of the time. And now it had broken free, like some living, breathing being.

  ‘You don’t need to be a doctor at all, do you? You’re determined to throw away your career for the sake of Shaw Industries. What else are you going to throw away? Me? Our child? You’re not going to get that opportunity, Greg. I’m not going to let you tie me up with contracts and agreements so that I lose who I am. Because who I am is all I have to give to my child.’

  ‘You think it’s so easy.’ He almost spat the words at her.

  ‘No. I think it’s hard. You’re the one who’s taking the easy way out, and that’s your prerogative. But don’t expect me to just fall into line and support you in it any more, because I can’t. I don’t want it for you, or for me, or for the baby. That’s the end of it.’

  They stared at each other. The lines had been drawn and there was no going back now. He was too like his father. She was too like her mother. It had never had the faintest chance of working, they’d just been beguiled by friendship and great sex.

  ‘Let go of the door, Greg.’

  ‘I’ll take you home.’

  ‘The door.’

  ‘Okay, then, I’ll call a taxi.’

  ‘I can find my own way home. Let go of the door.’ Jess had to get out of there. Couldn’t bear to look at him and see everything that she’d lost. He looked the same, but inside he was so very different.

  He let go of the door and she pulled it open, almost stumbling out of it. She didn’t hear it close behind her, but she didn’t hear his footsteps either. She was alone, all the way to the high street, and then every step of the way home.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HE HAD TO find some kind of viable solution to this. It was obvious that things weren’t going to work between Jess and him, she’d flung everything he’d offered her right back in his face. They’d have to come to some sort of agreement, though, for the baby’s sake.

  ‘This is it, then, Jess.’ He had been talking to her all evening as if she was there, trying to reason with her. He knew that she wasn’t going to budge and neither was he. ‘This is the end of it.’

  He re-read the email he’d written to his solicitor. If he and Jess couldn’t work things out between them, he’d pay for someone to advise and represent her, and it would be a matter for the lawyers to negotiate. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted it, but it looked as if wanting and getting were two entirely different things these days.

  The cursor hovered over the ‘send’ button. This was the only way forward. No regrets and no more conversations with her when there was nothing here but empty air.

  ‘Goodbye, my love.’

  He clicked ‘send’ and his laptop responded with a tone, signifying that his email was on its way. Greg flopped back onto the sofa. In the morning he’d wake up and realise that he’d done the right thing.

  A Future Christmas…

  It was like a waking dream. Greg’s heart was still beating hard, as if he had fought his way out of some cloying danger, which he couldn’t remember but which still clung to him, like a broken cobweb.

  It was Christmas Eve. He was walking across the fields to his mother’s house, the warm glow of the windows beckoning him home. Outside a horse-drawn carriage clattered past on its way into the village, and when Greg looked through the front window of Rosa’s house it seemed perfectly natural to find a scene that looked like something from a Christmas card—a blazing fire, a Christmas tree and four figures dressed in Victorian costume.

  Jess sat by the fire, talking to his mother. A little to one side Ted sat in a chair, watching a boy of about three play with a hoop and stick. Greg noticed, with some surprise, that Ted seemed to have acquired a set of side whiskers, along with his frock coat and starched collar.

  He focussed on Jess’s face. Pink cheeks in the firelight, small hands
folded in her lap. A sudden jolt of longing transfixed him to the spot, leaving him helpless and begging for some release from this. He had no idea whether Jess would respond to him differently in her new guise, but he didn’t care. Just to touch the elaborate folds of her dress. To hear the silk rustle as she moved.

  This wasn’t right. He was just dreaming. He’d read the slim volume that Jess had given him from the library, and this was the kind of thing that happened when fiction combined with fact in the unconscious mind. Greg had heard about cognitive dreaming, and wondered whether he could change things, make them a little more realistic.

  With an effort of will the picture merged and morphed into something different. Jess, in front of the fire, dressed this time in jeans and a warm sweater. She looked tired, the way any mother of a young child would. But where was his child? Greg craned against the window to catch sight of him.

  He wasn’t there. For the first time Greg realised that he was freezing cold, his silk business suit doing nothing to keep out the snow and the biting wind. All the same, he had to try and find his son. Working his way around to the kitchen window, he peered in.

  He was there, with his grandmother, helping to make mince pies. Covered in flour, he was laboriously fashioning pastry circles with a plastic cutter. Greg found himself grinning. The boy had something of himself about him, dark hair and olive skin. But his face was that of an angel. Jess’s face. Large hazel eyes that seemed to effortlessly combine intelligence and mischief. The way he laid his work out so neatly, his tongue trapped between his lips in concentration. He was just like his mother.

  Ted appeared at the back door, stamping the snow from his wellingtons and throwing off his coat. The boy ran to him and he swung him into the air. Then Jess, at the kitchen doorway, smiling, happy. Or at least that was the way it seemed. By some preternatural sense that the dream afforded him, Greg knew that the smile was just for show, and that the single tear she brushed from her cheek wasn’t one of happiness.

  Greg was starving, freezing, right outside the window, but no one seemed to notice. He tried to tap on the pane but his arms were suddenly heavy. Looking down, he saw wide metal cuffs, soldered tightly around his wrists. Chains binding him.