A Mommy for Christmas (18 page)

She was still looking at the photo of Tracy and her boyfriend, but there was something about his stillness that brought her eyes up from the photo to his face. ‘James?'

‘It's from Amanda Symes,' he said, his voice like gravel as he read it out. ‘“Steve died peacefully at home on Sunday. We were all with him. It was very calm and dignified. Thank you for all your support…”'

His voice cracked, and he dropped the card on the desk and pushed his chair back, then swore, quietly but comprehensively.

‘Sorry. I was hoping they'd have Christmas together, but maybe it's better this way.' He stood up. ‘Right, I've got things to do. I'll catch up with you later.'

She watched him go, his eyes shuttered, and if the phone hadn't been ringing and the ward staff hadn't been clamouring for her attention, she would have put her head down on her desk and howled.

 

‘Happy Christmas!'

Kate prised open her eyes and found Rory standing by her bed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Happy Christmas, sweetheart,' she said, and reaching out for him, she gave him a big hug. ‘Where's your daddy?'

‘Right here, with a cup of tea for you. I'm sorry about the noise. Happy Christmas.'

She laughed and levered herself up the bed. ‘Happy Christmas yourself,' she said, taking the tea from him and drawing him down with her other hand to kiss his cheek, trying to ignore the fact that he was dressed only in a pair of pyjama bottoms hanging loosely on his lean hips. ‘So where's Freya?'

‘Asleep. It's only six, and the excitement of meeting all the other children last night seems to have worn her out. Not Rory, though. He's as bright as a button.'

‘I've got presents under the tree,' he said, clambering up onto her bed and settling down at her feet. ‘Lots of them. Are you going to get up?'

‘In a minute, when I've had my tea,' she said with a laugh. ‘Goodness, you're in a hurry. It's very early.'

‘I know,' he said, looking crestfallen. ‘Daddy says we have to be quiet because of all the others sleeping in the other house, but I expect they'll want their presents, too, so if we make lots of noise they'll know they can get up and then they'll be happy, too!'

James was rolling his eyes, and she stifled a chuckle. ‘Just give me five minutes, Rory, OK? I need to drink my tea and wake up, and then I'll come down.'

‘OK,' he said, sliding off the bed and grabbing James by the hand. ‘Come on, Daddy, we can go and squash the presents and see if we can guess.'

‘Hang on, I need a jumper on, I'm freezing. Now, shush, don't wake Freya.'

They went out, and she listened to Rory trying so hard to be quiet while he was fizzing inside, and smiled.

Oh, she couldn't stay there, lying in her bed while he was so excited. And Freya was stirring, so she pulled on her slipper socks and her dressing-gown, went through to the bedroom next door and lifted her out of the cot, gave her a cuddle and changed her nappy, then took her downstairs.

‘Guess who I found?' she said, and Rory jumped up and ran over and gave her a big, slobbery kiss.

‘Happy Christmas!' he said, bubbling over with excitement, and Freya wriggled out of her arms and ran over to James and swarmed up him with a huge smile.

‘Ch'is'mas!' she said happily, and gave him one of her special baby kisses, and when he looked up at Kate, she could see the happiness in his eyes, and she couldn't help but be glad for him.

If she'd done nothing else, she'd given them this Christmas, and with a new year about to dawn, maybe he'd be able to move on.

It would be without her, she knew that, especially after seeing him yesterday when he'd opened Amanda's card. Beth was still too big a part of their lives, his heart still too raw, but maybe one day…

And then he patted the sofa beside him and invited her over, and her mother's words came back to her.

Of course, you could solve the problem at a stroke.

How?

By volunteering.

For what? To be his nanny?

No. To be his wife.

Could she be the wife he needed? The mother of his children?

Oh, please, God, yes, she thought. But she didn't think he was going to ask her, and she didn't have the courage to volunteer…

 

They opened their presents, and Kate's eyes filled when she unwrapped her sweater.

‘Oh, James—it's like my favourite one! Oh, it's lovely—and it's real cashmere! Oh, you shouldn't.'

No. He probably shouldn't, but it was so pretty, and he loved her so much.

What?

‘Go and try it on,' he said, choked, just to get her out of the room, but she shook her head. ‘In a minute,' she said, and came over to him and kissed him. Properly. On the lips, in front of his children. ‘Thank you.'

‘My pleasure,' he said, trying to smile, but emotions were crashing through him and it was all he could do to breathe.

‘Here—there's one for Freya,' she said, pulling a present out from under the tree, and gradually his lungs started to work again and his mind began to function and somehow he managed to get through the rest of the happy mayhem without falling apart.

How could he have been so stupid? She didn't want him. She was just being sweet to them all, but she had a life, a career, a grand master plan that didn't include him and his damaged little family, and he'd better remember that.

But then she handed him a present from her—a book on restoring Edwardian houses, and she'd signed it, ‘With all my love, Kate.'

With all her love?

Really?

Or was it just a figure of speech?

 

Something was wrong.

He seemed—what? Distant? Preoccupied? Unhappy?

Missing Beth again, of course. Oh, stupid, stupid her, to imagine she could compete with a ghost.

‘Right, everyone, let's get washed and dressed and go over to the house!' she said with what was surely too much enthusiasm, but the children scrambled to their feet and ran for the stairs, and she followed them up, James in her wake, and at the top he stopped her.

‘So what happens now?' he asked.

‘We normally go over to the house and meet up for coffee, then we head up the hill to the church for the family carol service. Then we all help with lunch, and after that we lie around eating nuts and chocolates and Turkish delight for as long as we can bear it, and then we have tea. It can be quite full on, so I don't know how much of it you want to be involved in.'

His eyes clouded, and he nodded. ‘Well—perhaps we should amuse ourselves till lunch, then,' he said, and she realised it had sounded as if she didn't want them.

She gave a quick shake of her head in denial. ‘James—I only meant you might find it all a bit much. I didn't want you feeling obliged to join in if you didn't want to. But you're
really
welcome. We want you here.'

‘Do you?' he asked, his voice curiously brittle. ‘Do you want me here?'

She couldn't lie, but the truth…

‘Yes,' she said, giving him the truth in the end, because there was no other way to go. ‘Yes, I do want you here. Very much.'

His mouth softened, and he smiled. ‘Then we'll come over now, and we'll tough it out, and eat the nuts, and if the children haven't been sick we'll have tea, and then we'll come back here and I'll try to get them to sleep.'

 

The sweater was gorgeous on her.

It was a perfect fit, and it was as much as he could do to keep his hands to himself and not stroke it. He behaved, though, all through the noisy greetings and the kisses and the bustle and jostle of getting them organised for church, then in the church he was mercifully at one end of a pew with the children between him and Kate, and then at lunch she was seated opposite him next to her brother Michael, so it was easy.

But then later, when the noise had died down and the children were playing a little more sensibly and the adults were sprawled by the fire, he sat in a chair with Freya asleep on his lap and she came and sat down on the floor at his feet and leant against his legs, and he couldn't resist it any more. His hand found her shoulder and squeezed it, and she slid her hand up and caught his fingers and held them, right there in front of all her family.

And it would be so easy to imagine it could last for ever, that he could be here with them next Christmas and the Christmas after and the one after that…

Freya stirred, and he eased his hand away and looked down at Kate's enquiring, upturned face.

‘All right?' she asked, and he nodded.

‘I'm going to take her back to the barn and change her nappy,' he murmured.

‘Want me to come?'

Did he? Was this the time to tell her that he couldn't do this any more, that he needed to get out of here and stop pretending that they belonged, stop playing Happy Families and get back to normal?

‘I'm fine,' he said. ‘You stay and enjoy your family. Could you keep an eye on Rory for me? We won't be long.'

‘Of course.'

He took Freya over to the barn, changed her nappy and lay down with her, but she wouldn't settle again, so he braced himself and went back to the fray.

 

He was in the sitting room alone, with just the fairy-lights on, and she hesitated in the doorway.

‘James?'

He looked up, but she couldn't read his expression in the dark. ‘Hi. Is the party finally over?'

‘Oh, they'll go on for hours,' she said with a little laugh, ‘but Michael and Louise have gone home, so I thought I'd come and keep you company.'

‘You don't have to do that.'

Oh, he was so wrong there. She absolutely had to do that. She'd missed him horribly. ‘Would you rather be alone?'

‘No. Of course not. I've been waiting up for you.'

She went in and perched on the end of the sofa and tried to read his eyes. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Yes, I'm fine,' he said quietly. ‘It's just all a bit—you know. Happy Families.'

Her heart contracted. ‘Oh, James. I'm sorry.'

‘No, don't be,' he said, reaching for her hand and drawing her down beside him. ‘It's been wonderful. The kids have had a brilliant time, and so have I. It's just—well, it would be too easy to get carried along by it, to imagine we're really part of it, but it isn't real, and we'll be going home soon. I mustn't let myself forget that.'

She wished she could read his eyes.

‘The other night you said you could get used to it—sitting here with me with the children asleep upstairs,' she said, her heart pounding.

‘I could,' he said softly. ‘I so easily could. I have. And I'll miss you, when we go. Miss all of you, but you especially. I know you're not interested in us—I mean, why would you be? We're a strange little family, just about managing to keep our heads above water, with a house that needs so much doing to it that if I start now and work every weekend and evening for the next ten years it might almost be fit to live in.'

‘Not if you can afford to pay someone to do it. You've got the job, you know. I saw the clinical director yesterday. They want you, so your money problems are over.'

Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and she saw his rueful smile. Saw it, and didn't really understand it.

‘I've got it?' he murmured. ‘They haven't even interviewed me yet.'

‘Of course they have. And they've seen a few others. They'll want to talk to you formally, of course, but it's yours if you want it.' She felt a sudden fear that he was going to leave. ‘You do want it, don't you?'

His laugh sounded bemused. ‘Well, yes, of course I want it. It'll be fantastic—but it isn't really the nuts and bolts I was thinking about. Not the house, or the job. It's us.'

‘Us?' she echoed, hardly able to breathe.

‘Yes, us—if there is an “us”. I'm hoping against hope that there is—that there will be. You see, I've just realised, in the last—what, twelve hours or so?—that I love you. And so when I go home without you…'

Her heart lurched. ‘You love me?'

‘Oh, yes, Kate,' he sighed. ‘I love you. But it's OK if it's a problem to you. I won't make it difficult at work, but I thought you ought to know.'

‘Oh, James.' She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both, a funny strangled little sob that could have been either.

‘Kate, don't laugh.'

‘I'm not. Not really. Only—it's not a problem to me, James, because I love you, too.'