Lucy Gordon - The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish Read online

  Alex stood in the doorway and boomed, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ to an accompaniment of shrieks from the rows of beds. When it quietened, Corinne murmured, ‘First bed on the right, Tommy Arkright, broken pelvis. Fascinated by ghosts.’

  Whoever had planned this had done it well, Alex realised as soon as he began talking to Tommy. The name, the ailment and the interest were all accurate, and when Tommy unwrapped his gift, which turned out to be a book of ghost stories, it was a triumphant moment.

  It was the same with the next child, and the next. From being self-conscious, Alex began to relax, and even to enjoy himself. In part this was due to the knowledge that he was unrecognisable. Not that people here would have known him anyway, but the total anonymity still made him feel easier.

  He was in a good temper when he came to the end of the ward and turned in the doorway for a final wave and a cry of, ‘Goodbye, everyone.’

  ‘Goodbye, Santa!’ came the answering roar.

  ‘I’ll say this for that Bradon woman,’ he growled as they headed down the corridor towards Butterfly Ward. ‘She prepared the ground properly.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Every detail was right. Good preparation is the secret.’

  ‘I agree. But why do you give the credit to her?’

  ‘Didn’t she organise all this?’

  ‘No, I did, you rotten so-and-so,’ she said indignantly. ‘I personally went round every child, asking questions, trying not to be too obvious about it.’

  ‘You?’ His surprise was unflattering but she told herself she was past being bothered by him now.

  ‘Yes, me,’ she said lightly. ‘Feather-brained Corinne who can just about manage a shopping list, remember? I prepared the ground, gathered intelligence, surveyed the prospects—er—’ She clutched her forehead, trying to think of other businesslike expressions.

  ‘Appraised the situation?’ He helped her out. ‘You did a great job.’

  ‘So did you.’

  ‘Much to your amazement,’ he said with a grin that she could just detect behind the beard.

  ‘You see over there—’ she said, not answering directly ‘—the Christmas tree in the corner?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When you’ve finished on Butterfly Ward that’s where you go and sit. I’m off to collect Bobby and Mitzi, and I’ll be back as soon as possible.’

  ‘Are you going to tell them it’s me?’

  ‘No, I think it will be nicer not to. Let’s see if they guess.’

  ‘Of course they’ll guess. I’m their father.’

  She did not reply.

  On Butterfly Ward it was the same as before, except that now he was full of confidence and performed his part with a touch of swagger that went down well.

  Corinne stayed long enough to see him settle in before leaning down to murmur, ‘I’m off now. Back soon.’

  It was only a few minutes’ drive to the house where the party was being held. Bobby and Mitzi piled into the car, wearing party hats, clutching gifts and giggling.

  ‘No need to ask if you had a good time,’ Corinne said.

  ‘And now we’re going to see Father Christmas,’ Mitzi yelled gleefully.

  Bobby touched Corinne’s arm and spoke quietly. ‘Is Daddy still coming?’

  ‘Yes, darling, he’s still coming.’

  ‘He didn’t cancel while we were at the party?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  He searched her face.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Until then Corinne had been feeling in charity with Alex, but at the sight of Bobby’s painful anxiety she discovered that she could hate him again. No man had the right to do that to a child, to destroy his sense of security in his parents, so that every moment of happiness had to be checked and re-checked to discover the catch.

  ‘Darling, I give you my word. Daddy has not cancelled and he isn’t going to.’

  He settled into the car, apparently satisfied.

  ‘By the way—’ she said as she drove to the hospital ‘—Uncle Jimmy had an accident. He fell over on the icy road and broke his collar-bone.’

  They were loud in their cries of dismay.

  ‘Will Uncle Jimmy be in hospital for Christmas?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘I don’t know. They’re putting him in plaster now. When I’ve delivered you to Santa I’ll go up to see him.’

  At the hospital she took them straight to where Alex should be sitting by the tree, only half expecting him to be there.

  But of course he was there! Alex had run his pride up this flagpole and it was really no surprise that he was doing well. He had one child on his knee and another standing beside him, while their mother looked on, smiling. There were three others waiting.

  Corinne inched forward carefully, keeping her eyes on Bobby and Mitzi, waiting for the moment of recognition.

  It didn’t come.

  Of course it was the beard and hair, she realised. The disguise was magnificent. It would be different when they were closer.

  At that moment Alex looked up. His eyes went first to Corinne, then to the children, then back to Corinne, while his eyebrows signalled a question. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head.

  She took them to the end of the little queue, said something to them and walked away.

  Alex was glad that he’d bothered to dress up properly when he heard one child mutter, just audibly, ‘He looks like a real Santa, Mummy.’

  At last his own two children stood before him, Mitzi keeping back a little. It was weeks since he’d seen her, and he’d forgotten how fast children grew. Her hair, which had been short, was now long enough to wear in bunches which stood out from her head, giving her the appearance of a cheeky elf. He couldn’t help grinning at the picture she presented.

  But right now she was solemn and seemed unwilling to come forward.

  ‘Go on,’ Bobby urged her.

  But she shook her head.

  ‘She’s a bit shy,’ Bobby confided to Santa.

  ‘But I’m—’ He checked himself, and amended the words to, ‘But I’m Santa Claus. Nobody is shy of me.’

  He waited for one of them to say, Daddy! But neither of them did.

  Of course, he thought. They were pretending not to know, enjoying the joke.

  He leaned down to Mitzi. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?’ Big mistake. Mitzi was surveying him, wide-eyed with astonishment.

  ‘But I already told you. I put it in my letter. Didn’t you get it?’

  ‘Of course I did,’ he improvised hastily.

  Over her head his frantic eyes met Bobby’s. The boy mouthed ‘Marianne doll set.’

  Since he’d never heard of this, Alex had to signal bafflement with his eyebrows. Bobby mouthed it again, more emphatically, and this time Alex understood. ‘Ah, now I remember. You want a Marianne doll set,’ he echoed, and saw his daughter’s eyes light up.

  ‘The one in the riding habit,’ his son mouthed at him.

  ‘The one in the riding habit,’ Alex repeated.

  Mitzi’s beaming smile told him he’d got it right.

  ‘But is that all?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t there anything else you’ve thought of since?’

  Mitzi hesitated until her brother nudged her gently and whispered, ‘Go on.’

  Emboldened, the little girl reached up to say, ‘And can I have a necklace?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Alex said.

  Suddenly the little girl hugged him. He tensed, thinking of the beard that might be dislodged. But it held, and he became aware of her arms, holding him without restraint.

  She had hugged him before, but not like that. Now he knew what he had always sensed in her embraces. It had been caution. And it wasn’t there now.

  Before he had time to take in the implications, she had released him and moved aside, making room for her brother, who came in close.

  But before addressing Santa he wagged a finger at his sister.

  ‘Don’t wander off,�
�� he told her severely.

  She stuck out her tongue.

  ‘Does she give you much trouble?’ Alex asked with a grin.

  ‘She’s OK most of the time,’ Bobby said seriously. ‘But sometimes she won’t do as I say ’cos I’m not very much older than her.’

  It was a three-year difference, but a sudden inspiration made Alex say, ‘About five years?’

  Bobby looked pleased. ‘Not quite as much as that,’ he admitted. ‘But almost. And it’s a great responsibility being the man of the family.’

  ‘The man of—? Don’t you have a father?’

  Bobby made a face. ‘Sort of.’

  Alex felt an uneasy stillness settle over him.

  ‘What do you mean, sort of?’

  ‘Well, I don’t really know him very well,’ Bobby said. ‘He’s not around much.’

  ‘I expect he’s busy,’ Alex said.

  ‘Oh, yes, he’s always very busy. Too busy for us. He and Mummy aren’t together any more.’

  ‘Do you know why that is?’ Alex asked carefully.

  Bobby gave a shrug.

  ‘They were always rowing, and Mummy cried a lot.’

  A strange feeling went through Alex. Corinne had never let him see her cry. Not for a long time.

  ‘Did she tell you why she cried?’ he asked.

  Bobby shook his head.

  ‘She doesn’t know I’ve seen her and I have to pretend not to, because she doesn’t like anyone to know.’

  ‘So you don’t know why?’

  Bobby shook his head.

  ‘Perhaps she misses your dad?’ Alex ventured.

  ‘I don’t think so. He’s nasty to her.’

  ‘How?’ Alex asked, a touch more sharply than he’d meant to.

  ‘I don’t know, but when they talk on the phone she cries after she’s hung up. But he doesn’t mean to be nasty,’ Bobby added quickly. ‘He just doesn’t know how people feel about things.’

  Alex hesitated for a while before saying, ‘So maybe it’s better that they’re not together?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Bobby said, shaking his head vigorously. ‘He’s coming home for Christmas and it’s going to be brilliant—that is—if he really comes.’

  ‘Has he said he will?’

  ‘Yes, but—’ Bobby’s shrug was more eloquent than a thousand words.

  Alex could not speak. There were too many thoughts swirling around in his head, and they were all of the kind he found hard to cope with. The best he could manage was to put his arm around Bobby’s shoulders and squeeze.

  ‘You think he’ll back out?’ he asked at last.

  ‘I keep telling myself he’ll be there,’ Bobby said. ‘It isn’t for long. Just Christmas Eve until Christmas Day. He could spare us that, couldn’t he?’

  ‘I should think he could spare you more than that,’ Alex managed to say in a voice that he hoped didn’t shake too much.

  ‘Could you fix it?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘You want me to arrange for him to stick around for longer than that?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Bobby disclaimed quickly, as though saying that nobody should ask for the impossible. ‘Just make sure he’s there for when he said he’d be.’

  ‘All right. It’s a promise.’

  Bobby searched his face anxiously. ‘You really mean it?’

  ‘You think I can’t do it?’

  Bobby shook his head, his eyes fixed on Santa with a look in them that was almost fierce.

  ‘You can do anything,’ he said, ‘if you really want to.’

  The air seemed to be singing in Alex’s ears. He wondered if he’d imagined the emphasis in the last words.

  ‘Then I promise,’ he said.

  ‘Honestly? Dad will be here until Christmas Day, and he won’t leave early?’

  Alex was swept by a mood of recklessness. ‘I can do better than that,’ he said. ‘He’ll arrive early, and he’ll stay longer than Christmas Day.’

  He waited for the effusion of joy. It did not come. If anything, the fierce scrutiny on the child’s face intensified.

  ‘Really and truly?’ he asked. ‘Cut your throat and hope to die?’

  ‘Of course. When I give my word, I keep it.’

  ‘That’s what he says,’ insisted Bobby. And suddenly it was a child’s voice again, forlorn and almost on the edge of tears.

  Alex put his hands on both Bobby’s shoulders.

  ‘He will be there tonight,’ he said. ‘You have my solemn promise. Word of a Santa!’

  Bobby nodded, as though satisfied.

  ‘Now,’ Alex said, ‘tell me what you want for Christmas.’

  ‘But I just did,’ Bobby said.

  ‘That’s it? Nothing else?’

  ‘That’s the thing that matters. And you said I could have it. You promised.’

  ‘Yes, I did. So you just go on home and see what happens.’

  Bobby smiled, and for the first time it was the happy, natural smile of a child. It made Alex feel as though he had been punched in the stomach.

  ‘All right, you two?’ It was Corinne, appearing suddenly. ‘Move along. Father Christmas still has customers.’

  Another three children had joined the little queue, and Bobby and Mitzi moved off to join their mother.

  ‘How’s Uncle Jimmy?’ Bobby asked. ‘Can he come home?’

  ‘We might get him home tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see. Come on, let’s be off home. Goodbye, Santa.’

  ‘Goodbye, Santa,’ they chorused.

  Alex raised a hand in a gesture of farewell and turned back to his next ‘customer’ with reluctance.

  He wasn’t sure how he got through the next few minutes. His mind followed Corinne and the children out of the hospital and into her car, watching them talking, wondering what they were saying.

  At last it was over and he was free to go. To his relief, Mrs Bradon joined him in the kitchen just as he finished changing. He would not have thought it possible that he could have been glad to see her.

  ‘What about the costume?’ he asked.

  ‘Just take it with you. Corinne will know what to do with it.’

  He packed up the costume into its bag and tossed it into the back of his car. On the journey, he wondered how much Corinne would have told the children after they left.

  When he reached the house he intended to go straight in. Instead, he found himself sitting in the silent car, trying to psyche himself into taking the next step.

  It should be his great moment. He would burst through the front door, keeping Santa’s promise and enjoying the look on his children’s faces.

  Without warning, his courage failed. He didn’t know why. His son had spoken like a child who loved his father and looked forward to seeing him. Yet he had said, ‘It isn’t for long, just Christmas Eve until Christmas Day. He could spare us that, couldn’t he?’

  Something about those words haunted Alex painfully.

  He could spare us that, couldn’t he?

  Was that how Bobby saw his father? Doling out his time in small, begrudged amounts?

  He did not want to go inside the house.

  Cowardice. The weakness he had always despised most.

  With sudden decision, he got out of the car. In the porch he hunted for the key that Corinne had left out for him, hearing sounds inside the house. There was her voice.

  ‘Bobby, what are you doing in the hall?’

  ‘Nothing, Mummy.’

  ‘Come and have an iced bun.’ That was Mitzi, a little more distant, sounding as if her mouth was full.

  ‘In a minute,’ Bobby replied. His voice still came from the hall.

  Then Corinne’s voice.

  ‘Darling, why are you watching the front door?’

  Suddenly, as though a spotlight had come on inside him, he saw his son’s face, staring at the front door with painful intensity, not daring to believe.

  He didn’t know where that light had come from, except that it had something to do with his talk with Bobby. It
lit all the world from a new angle, showing what had always been there, but which he’d never noticed.

  He turned the key.

  ‘Daddy!’

  The ear-splitting shriek came from Mitzi. Corinne was standing by the kitchen door, watching his arrival with pleasure. Only Bobby did not react. He stood completely still, his face a mask of total and utter disbelief.

  Alex wanted to cry out, But I promised you. You knew I was coming. Instead, he concentrated on hugging his daughter, who was almost strangling him with the exuberance of her embrace.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he said.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ she carolled.

  ‘Hey, don’t choke me,’ he said, laughing. ‘How’s my girl?’

  She gave him a smacking kiss, which he returned. Then it was time to face his son.

  Bobby was strangely pale. ‘Hello, Daddy,’ he said.

  ‘Hello, son.’

  To his dismay, Bobby held out his hand politely, almost as though meeting a stranger. Or a ghost.

  ‘Hello, Daddy.’

  Then he broke suddenly, as belief came rushing through, and flung himself against his father, burying his face against him.

  Alex’s arms closed protectively about his son as he felt the storm of emotion go through the child. He didn’t know what to do except stay as he was, trying to understand but feeling helpless.

  Looking up, he found Corinne’s eyes on him. Her expression was gentle but he had the feeling that she was conveying a warning.

  Bobby drew back to look at his father. His face bore the marks of tears, which he rubbed aside hastily. Alex brushed some of them away with his own fingertips.

  ‘It’s all right, son,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m home.’

  Bobby sniffed. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

  ‘Hey, is that any way to greet your old man? Crying? Shall I go away again?’

  It was a feeble joke and a badly misjudged one. Bobby clung to him, his eyes full of sudden dread, and Alex drew in his breath. He was floundering badly.

  ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily,’ he backtracked, saying anything that came into his head. ‘I’m here now and I’m staying. You’ve got me for Christmas, whether you like it or not.’

  Mitzi began hopping about, yelling, ‘Yippee, Yippee!’ Bobby, the thoughtful one, smiled.