The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

CHAPTER THREE

HE CAME down the stairs so quietly that Corinne didn’t hear him, and he had a moment to stand watching her as she worked in the kitchen.

The steak smelled good, and suddenly he was transported back to the early days of their marriage, when steak had been a luxury. But somehow she had managed to wring the price out of the meagre housekeeping money they had.

They had been partners-laughing at poverty, competing with each other in loving generosity, squabbling to give each other the last titbit. But that was long ago.

The years had barely touched her, he thought. The slim, graceful figure that had once enchanted him was the same, two children later.

She had been gorgeous at eighteen-beautiful, sexy, witty, knowing her own power over young men and enjoying it. They had all competed for her, but Alex had made sure that he was the one who won her.

Her face had changed little, except that it was thinner, and the ready laughter no longer sprang to her eyes. They were still large, beautiful eyes but there was a sad caution there now.

‘It’s ready,’ she called, seeing him.

Like every meal she had ever cooked him it was excellent-the wine perfectly chosen, the salad exactly as it should be.

Their last meeting had been three months ago, and it had ended in a fierce quarrel. Since then there had been communication between lawyers, and the odd phone call that had left each of them resolved that it should be the last. Her invitation for Christmas had been delivered through a letter addressed to his office.

‘Thank you for letting me come,’ he said quietly.

‘I didn’t think you would. I was amazed that you actually turned up early. What happened? Did something more important fall through?’

He winced.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at once. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘There’s nothing more important than being with my family,’ he said emphatically.

‘It means the world to the children.’

‘What about you, Corinne?’

‘Never mind about me. This is their time.’

‘But I do mind about you. It’s ours too, isn’t it?’

‘Well, it’s a chance for us to be civilized with each other. We haven’t done much of that lately.’

‘And that’s all?’

‘Yes, that’s all. I’m not your wife any more-’

‘The hell you aren’t!’ he said with the swift anger that sometimes overtook him these days. ‘We’re not divorced yet, and maybe we never will be.’

She regarded him with a quizzical air that was new to him. ‘You have to win every negotiation, don’t you? But you won’t win this one, Alex. So why don’t we just leave it there? I don’t want to spoil this holiday.’

‘Is there someone else?’

The question jerked out of him abruptly, without finesse, tact or subtlety.

She sat silent.

‘Tell me,’ he insisted.

‘No, there’s nobody else. I don’t want anyone else. That’s not why I left you.’

‘Just to get away from me, huh?’

‘If you care to put it that way-yes. But why must we put it that way or any way? It’s Christmas, Alex. Let it go.’

‘All right,’ he said hastily.

As she set coffee before him she said, ‘How about you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Do you have someone else?’

‘Do you care?’ he growled.

‘If you can ask, so can I,’ she said lightly.

‘Except that you broke up this marriage. That hardly gives you a stake in the answer.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re right. Do you want a drop of brandy in that?’

‘Thanks.’

As she was pouring the brandy he said, ‘The answer’s no.’

She didn’t answer directly, but she took his cup and carried it and her own into the next room, where the tree glowed.

‘Sit down and relax,’ she said. ‘You look dead on your feet.’

He leaned back in an armchair, closing his eyes, desperately tired in a way that had nothing to do with work. Mercifully he felt the strain begin to drain away, leaving him as close to being relaxed as he ever came.

‘How did it go after I left the hospital?’ Corinne asked. ‘Did the children recognise you?’

‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘At least, they didn’t show it if they did.’

‘Mitzi would have shown it,’ Corinne said at once. ‘She’s got no subtlety, that little one. Her riding instructor says she has no nerves, but lots of nerve.’

‘Riding instructor?’ Alex queried. ‘She’s learning to ride too?’

Corinne shook her head. ‘Just her. Bobby gave it up.’

‘Don’t tell me he was afraid?’ Alex said sharply.

‘No, not afraid. Bored. It just didn’t interest him, and there are other things he wants to do. But Mitzi is crazy about horses, so she does it instead.’

He was silent, swallowing his disappointment. Corinne eyed him sympathetically.

‘Come out of the nineteenth century,’ she chided.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘In those days you could have told Bobby what he had to be interested in, but not now. He doesn’t have to ride a horse just because you wanted to and couldn’t.’

Alex’s father had mucked out stables for a racehorse trainer. Alex had grown up surrounded by beautiful animals, none of which he had been allowed to touch.

‘And it has to be your son who carries on your dream, doesn’t it?’ Corinne pursued. ‘Somehow a daughter isn’t the same. Pure nineteenth century.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he growled.

‘No, it isn’t. It’s the way your mind works. But you ought to go and see Mitzi ride, see how good she is.’

‘All right, I will.’

‘You’d be proud of Mitzi. She’s a real natural. In fact, I think you ought to learn yourself.’

‘Me? Take riding lessons?’

‘Why not? You used to tell me how it was your dream when you were a boy. What’s the point of making all that money if you don’t spend some of it making your dreams come true?’

It flashed across his mind that he was too busy earning it to enjoy spending it, but all he said was, ‘Sure, and let my six-year-old daughter make rings round me!’

‘Well, she’s bound to at first, because she’s had some practice and you’re just a beginner,’ Corinne said, ‘but I’m sure she’d make allowances for you.’

He gave a reluctant grin at her teasing. Suddenly he remembered, ‘She says she wants a Marianne doll set, the one in the riding suit. What’s she talking about?’

“‘Marianne” is the latest craze. It’s a doll that comes with its own lifestyle-ballgown, ballet tutu, riding habit.’

‘Where do I get one?’

To his bewilderment Corinne rocked with laughter.

‘You don’t think I left it to the last minute, do you? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. People have been trampling each other to death in toy shops for the last two months. Don’t worry, I’ve got one tucked safely away. You can give it to her, if you like.’

‘Do you think I haven’t bought her a present?’

‘No, I think you’ve probably got her something very expensive. But what she wants is that doll, and if you give it to her you’ll be her hero.’

‘Thanks,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’d like that. And she also wants a necklace.’

‘I’ve got that too,’ she assured him.

‘Like I said earlier, you’re really well organised. I could do with a few like you in the firm.’

‘Funny, Jimmy says the same.’ Corinne laughed. ‘Only he says they need me in the army. It makes me wonder how the country has muddled along without me for so long.’

Alex scowled. He didn’t want to talk, or even think, about Jimmy.

‘Anyway, Mitzi’s easy to understand,’ Corinne went on. ‘Bobby is more complicated, and it’s much harder to know what he’s thinking. Did he recognise you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alex said slowly. ‘I honestly don’t know. He didn’t say anything, but-Corinne he was just a few inches away from me. Surely he must have recognised his own father?’

‘It was a very complete disguise,’ she reminded him. ‘The wig and the hair and the padding. And he wasn’t expecting you to arrive today.’

The words, And he hasn’t seen you for weeks, hung in the air.

‘Did he tell you what he wanted?’ Corinne asked. ‘I think I’ve got that covered too, but I’d be glad of any “insider tips” you picked up.’

Oh sure, he thought, my son said he wanted me home for Christmas, like it was an impossible fantasy. He reckons he has a ‘sort of’ father, and he’s bracing himself for when I let him down.

‘Hey, there!’ Corinne was waving. ‘Anybody home?’

‘Sorry!’ he said, forcing himself to smile. ‘No, I didn’t get any inside information. You’ll have to tell me. What’s his big interest?’

‘Drawing, painting-anything to do with art.’

‘Doesn’t he like soccer or any sports?’

‘He watches them on television, but his interests are the quiet ones.’

‘Corinne, are you sure? He’s never said anything about drawing to me.’

‘Of course not. He knows you wouldn’t like it. But he’s passionate about drawing and painting since he discovered that he has a talent for it. He’s just getting deep into water-colours now, and if you gave him something connected with that he’d be thrilled. But I’ll bet you’ve bought him a pair of riding boots.’

‘Among other things,’ Alex growled. ‘I suppose you don’t want me to give them to him?’

‘That’s up to you.’

‘Sure!’ he snapped. ‘Like I’m going to dig my own grave by giving him something he doesn’t want, thus proving I’m the useless father that you claim! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Once in a blue moon Corinne lost her temper. She did so now-big time!

‘Don’t be stupid, Alex! I know it’s hard, but try not to be laughably, moronically stupid. If that’s what I wanted I wouldn’t be warning you now, would I?’

‘No,’ he said hastily. ‘Sorry. I didn’t-I just fly off the handle sometimes. I don’t mean to. I shouldn’t have said it.’

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s the children who matter. Just try to see Bobby as he is, and not as “Alex Mead’s son.” How I’ve come to hate “Alex Mead’s son”!’

‘What the devil do you mean by that?’

‘He’s a character who’s hung around our home ever since Bobby was born. He has plenty of “boy’s interests.” He likes the “manly” sports and anything that involves getting dirty. He’s got no time for art or music or thinking, and he’s the opposite to Bobby.

‘That boy has spent his life so far pretending to care for things that bore him rigid because that was the only way to get your attention. He knew ages ago that he didn’t fit the picture of your ideal son. In fact, the only person I know who does fit it is Mitzi.’

He was silent, too shocked to speak.

At last she got up and brought him another brandy.

‘Thanks. I need it.’

When he’d revived his courage a little he managed to ask, ‘If I’m so hateful why does he bother to pretend?’

‘Because he adores you,’ Corinne said. ‘He worships you. He’d go through fire and water for you. Haven’t you got that through your thick skull yet?’

She broke off and gave a sigh of frustration. ‘We’re quarrelling again.’

‘Yeah, well-’ He shrugged, sharing her frustration.

He was saved from needing to say any more by the sound of his cellphone coming from the hall. He answered it with relief.

It was Mark Dunsford, his assistant, as zealous about business as he was himself. Mark was jealous of Kath, who had been with Alex longer and had his total trust. He tried to compensate by giving himself to the job, body and soul, twenty-four hours a day, and making sure that his employer knew it.

‘I just wondered if you had any final instructions for me,’ he said now.

‘No way. It’s Christmas. Get off home to your family.’

‘I don’t have a family.’

‘Well, get off home, anyway. Or wherever you get off to.’

‘Wherever I am, I’ll be keeping an eye on things. I thought that you would be, too.’

‘Mark, lighten up. It’s Christmas. There’s nothing to keep an eye on.’

‘All right, but perhaps you’d better give me a contact number where you are. I know I can call the cellphone, but another number is always useful.’

He hesitated. Nothing was likely to happen, but it was as well to be prepared.

‘OK. The phone number of this house is-’

He stopped. Corinne had wandered out into the hall and was looking at him, her head on one side.

‘No,’ he said. ‘This is a private number. I can’t give it out and I’d rather you didn’t contact me at all. In an emergency, use the cellphone, but it had better be life or death or there’ll be trouble. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’

‘But-’

‘Goodbye, Mark.’

He hung up and looked at Corinne with a touch of defiance.

‘Thank you,’ she said warmly.

He put out his hand and she took it between both of hers. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a great Christmas.’

Her eyes were as warm as her voice and he tightened his hand. But the next moment she stepped back, smiling and saying, ‘It’s time for bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.’

Next morning the snow lay thick on the ground as they had Christmas Eve breakfast.

‘Are we going to see Uncle Jimmy?’ Mitzi asked.

‘No need,’ Corinne said. ‘I’ve already called the hospital and he can come home. I’m going to fetch him later. You three can go shopping.’

The children cheered, but a few minutes later Alex took her aside.

‘It’s a bit soon for him to be leaving hospital, isn’t it?’

‘Hospitals don’t encourage people to stay over Christmas, and it’s only a collar-bone. I can look after him here. Jimmy’s been kind to me.’

She saw him scowl and said firmly, ‘Alex, I am not leaving him to spend Christmas in hospital. Besides, you’ll be the gainer.’

‘How?’

‘I’ll be spending a lot of time with Jimmy, leaving you with the children. So, you make the most of it.’

For a man who wanted to be with his children it was a good bargain. But ‘I’ll be spending a lot of time with Jimmy’ had a melancholy sound.

Alex became aware that Bobby was signalling to him, and remembered.

‘So, tell me how the school play went,’ he said, tweaking Mitzi’s hair. ‘I want to know all about it.’

She produced her photo album so fast that it was clear she’d had it ready, and they began turning the pages together. There she was in a green hat and green costume with bells, giving the world her wide, gap-toothed grin.

Alex gave her an answering grin, but it was too late to smile back at her. It was only a week ago but that mischievous imp was already gone for ever.

Along with many other things.

After that he made a good job of it, showing an enthusiasm that Mitzi, the unsubtle, accepted at face value. When she’d gone away happy he met Bobby’s eyes, silently asking the child if he’d done all right. And his nine-year-old son nodded in approval.

They split into two parties. Corinne headed for the hospital, while Mitzi and Bobby piled into Alex’s car and directed him to the shopping precinct.

It was quieter than Alex had expected, with most shoppers having finished the day before. On the lower floor an amateur brass band played carols, with spectators joining in. Bobby and Mitzi enthusiastically sang ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks’ while Alex, suddenly inspired, sang ‘While Shepherds Washed their Socks,’ at the top of his voice, until compelled to desist by the glares of a large woman shaking a collecting box.

Under her reproving gaze he put a very large donation into the box and scurried away, his children clinging to his hands and rocking with laughter.

‘Oh, Daddy, you are funny.’ Mitzi giggled.

‘I used to sing that at school,’ he remembered. ‘It got me into trouble then, too.’

Strolling around later, Mitzi noticed something that made her gasp with joy.

‘Daddy, look! Santa Claus!’

The precinct’s Santa was just embarking on his last stint, complete with grotto and tree. Mitzi looked up at her father eagerly, but Bobby touched her arm and shook his head.

‘We already saw Santa,’ he urged. ‘Yesterday.’

‘We saw him last week too,’ she pointed out, ‘and the week before.’

Alex watched to see if his son would be stuck for an answer. But he wasn’t.

‘They were just pretend Santas,’ he said. ‘The one we saw last night was the real Santa.’

‘How do you know?’ she demanded rebelliously.

‘I just do.’

‘How?’

‘I do.’

Mitzi subsided, apparently satisfied with this brand of logic. Bobby looked up at his father and received a wink, which he returned.

‘Why don’t we go in there?’ Alex said, pointing quickly at a store that sold books, CDs and various related items.

As soon as they were inside he struck lucky, coming across a display of ‘Marianne’ picture books, with one prominently displayed featuring Marianne as a rider.

‘Has she got that?’ Alex muttered to Bobby.

‘No.’

‘Here.’ He shoved some notes into Bobby’s hands. ‘You get it while I distract her.’

The teamwork went like clockwork. In a short time Bobby was back with a parcel wrapped in anonymous brown paper.

‘What’s that?’ Mitzi demanded.

‘What?’ Bobby looked innocently around.

‘That!’

‘I don’t see anything. Do you, Dad?’

‘Not a thing.’

Making a covert purchase for Bobby was harder, because he couldn’t use Mitzi as an agent. But he struck lucky, noticing a series of video cassettes titled ‘Water-colour Technique’. Managing to catch the assistant’s eye, he mouthed, ‘How much?’ pointing at Bobby to explain the reason for silence.

She indicated the price and Alex produced his card. The videos vanished and reappeared safely wrapped.

Luckily, Bobby had started bickering with Mitzi and noticed nothing.

‘How about something to eat?’ Alex asked. All this undercover work was exhausting.

They found a café and Alex studied the menu, but the other two knew what they wanted.

‘Cocoa and cream buns,’ Mitzi said blissfully.

‘Yes, please,’ Bobby chimed in at once.

‘But what about your lunch?’ Alex objected. ‘If I take you home already full your mother will kill me.’

‘It’s real cream,’ Bobby pointed out.

‘Lots and lots of it,’ Mitzi said ecstatically.

‘Does Mummy allow you to eat cream buns before lunch?’

They considered.

‘No,’ Bobby said regretfully.

‘No,’ Mitzi agreed.

‘Well, then!’

Bobby regarded him innocently. ‘But Mummy isn’t here.’

Alex made the mistake of engaging him in debate.

‘But aren’t you equally bound by her rules even when she’s absent?’

‘No,’ Bobby explained. ‘Because it’s Christmas, so she might have changed her mind, just this once. We don’t know, do we?’

‘I suppose we don’t,’ Alex said, eyeing his son with new respect. ‘Mind you, I’ve got my phone. We could call and ask her.’

‘That wouldn’t be fair,’ Bobby said quickly. ‘Mummy’s very busy, doing last-minute things. We shouldn’t interrupt her.’

‘Ah!’ Alex gave this idea his full attention. ‘You think we could simply assume her agreement-out of consideration for her?’

‘Yes,’ Bobby said firmly.

They shook hands.

‘When you want a job,’ Alex told him, ‘come to your old man. The thought of you arguing on the other side scares me stiff. You’ve got every trick.’

‘I learned them from my dad.’

‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Alex said at once. ‘I’m not taking the blame for your devious mind.’

Bobby grinned.

They each had three cream buns and two cups of cocoa, and Alex thought he’d never tasted anything so delicious. Then they went home to confess to Corinne. But she wasn’t fazed.

‘Fine. It’ll save me cooking a big lunch. Uncle Jimmy’s here, kids.’

Overjoyed, they dashed into the next room where Jimmy, swathed in plaster, was reclining on the sofa. Alex followed and was in time to see them climbing up beside him, moving carefully, not to hurt him.

Mitzi was on his uninjured side and put her arms about him. ‘Poor Uncle Jimmy,’ she said. ‘Is it very bad?’

‘Not really,’ he said cheerfully.

‘What did you do?’

‘Fell in the road,’ he said at once. ‘Silly me.’

Alex regarded him with mixed feelings. It was decent of Jimmy not to have blamed him. On the other hand he couldn’t like him, especially as Mitzi was greeting him with real affection. Bobby was less effusive, but he was on Jimmy’s injured side.

‘Tea up!’ Corinne called, entering with a cup.

She handed it gently to Jimmy, who smiled, receiving it, while Mitzi solicitously plumped up his cushions.

A shiver went through Alex. It was absurd, of course, but for a moment they had looked like a family.

The stockings and socks were in place, hanging from the mantelpiece. Jimmy, clowning, had produced one full of holes, which had reduced the children to fits of laughter.

‘Right now, you two,’ Corinne said. ‘Bed.’

‘Mummy, we haven’t left things for Santa,’ Mitzi urged. ‘In case he gets hungry and thirsty.’

‘What do you want to leave, pet?’

‘Jam tarts and milk,’ Mitzi said at once.

‘Ginger biscuits,’ Bobby said. ‘And some beer.’

‘You can’t leave beer,’ Mitzi said, scandalised.

‘Why not? He’d hardly be drunk in charge of a reindeer after just one beer!’ Bobby said.

‘But it won’t be just one,’ Mitzi pointed out. ‘’Cos he’ll have been to lots of other people first, and drunk what they left, and-’

‘Well, they won’t all have left beer,’ Bobby argued.

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

Corinne tore her hair. ‘Break it up, you two. Peace on earth, goodwill to all men.’

‘And all women?’ Jimmy suggested.

‘Especially all the women,’ Corinne clowned. ‘They’re so busy cooking for everyone.’

‘I’d do it for you if I had more than one arm.’

‘Yeah, sure you would,’ she jeered.

‘You’re a hard woman.’

They grinned at each other. Alex tried to tell himself that they were like brother and sister, but there was something about the cheerful ease of their relationship, the way they shared the same sense of humour, that troubled him.

‘Anyway, I vote for jam tarts and milk,’ Jimmy insisted.

‘I vote for ginger biscuits and beer,’ Alex said at once. ‘I think Santa gets left a lot of milk, and beer will come as a nice change for him.’

In the end they compromised, which meant that Bobby left out a can of beer and some biscuits, while Mitzi stubbornly left out a carton of milk, jam tarts, and two glasses.

‘Why two?’ Bobby demanded.

‘So that he doesn’t have to drink milk and beer out of the same glass,’ she riposted.

‘He won’t drink the milk at all.’

‘He will.’

‘He won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘That’s enough!’ Corinne roared. ‘Get to bed, both of you.’

They vanished.

‘I think I’ll go up too,’ Jimmy said.

‘You look all in,’ Corinne agreed. ‘Have you had your pills?’

She fussed over him until he’d taken his medication and at last, to Alex’s relief, Jimmy took himself off to bed.

‘That’s it!’ Corinne brushed the hair back from her brow. ‘I’m bushed.’

‘It’s been a great day,’ Alex said.

‘Yes, it has. You’ve been terrific.’

‘Have I?’

‘The kids are so happy. Haven’t you seen?’

But it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear.

‘What about you?’ he insisted.

‘It’s not about me. It’s about you and them. Alex, I’ve never seen them so much at ease with you. And Bobby-surely you’ve noticed how he-?’

He kissed her.

He did it so fast that she had no time to resist. Surprise had always brought him results in business, and for a moment he thought it was working here. Corinne didn’t try to push him away, but neither did she embrace him back. Instead, she remained so still that it finally got through to him.

‘Corinne-’

‘Alex, please don’t. It’s been so lovely. Don’t spoil it.’

‘Is it spoiling it to say that you’re still my wife and I still love you?’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ she begged.

‘Corinne, what is it? I thought that when we’d been apart for a while-’

‘I’d “see sense”? That’s how you think of it, isn’t it? You think I had to be crazy to leave you, and that I’ll realise I made a mistake.’

‘Are you going to say you didn’t?’

‘Yes, I am saying that. I wanted a home, husband and children, and all I got was the children. They’re lovely kids, but I wanted a husband as well.’

‘And you couldn’t love me?’

‘You weren’t there. You haven’t been there for years.’

His eyes kindled. ‘Tell me about this man you want to love. He wouldn’t be called Jimmy by any chance?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Is it? I can see that he’s a lot of things I’m not-things you might want.’

‘Yes, he is. He’s kind and dependable, and I always know where I am with him, but-’

Corinne checked herself, on the verge of saying, But he’s not you.

It had been a risk, asking Alex to stay for Christmas, but she’d told herself that she must take it for the children’s sake. Now she knew it had been a mistake. Her love was not sufficiently buried, or perhaps not sufficiently dead. It threatened her too often and too piercingly.

Alex watched her, willing her to say something that would ease his heart.

‘But?’ he urged. ‘But you haven’t forgotten “us.” Have you?’

‘No,’ she admitted unwillingly. ‘I can’t forget that. I’m not sorry we married. We were very happy back then, and I’ll never regret it.’

‘If we had the time over again-you’d still marry me?’

‘Oh, yes. Even knowing how it would end, I’d still do it.’

‘It hasn’t ended yet. We don’t know how it’s going to end.’

‘Alex-’

He took hold of her shoulders, very gently. ‘It’s too soon to say,’ he told her. ‘Don’t let’s rush to part, Corinne.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘I thought we had parted. I should have remembered that no position is ever final until you’ve agreed to it.’

‘Tell me that you don’t love me any more,’ he said insistently.

‘And you’re an ace negotiator, always knowing the other side’s weak spot.’

‘Then you do love me.’

‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I’m trying not to.’ She added reluctantly, ‘But it’s hard.’

He drew her against him, not kissing her this time but wrapping his arms about her body and holding her close while he rested his cheek on her head.

After a while he felt her arms slowly go around him, and they stayed there peacefully together for a long time.