A Mummy for Christmas (6 page)

There were photos of her and Tony when they were engaged, on their wedding day and honeymoon. Silly pictures, sensible ones, along with postcards from his overseas trips and a birthday card. Her eyes blurred as she reached the pictures of her pregnant stomach getting bigger and bigger.

Tears fell unrestrained as she reached the final photo. It showed her, holding a piece of paper which said
alone and free, you and me, together forever baby.
It had been taken just before she'd left on that final car trip. Yvette had taken the camera to print off all the pictures and put them into the album.

Slowly, she removed every single picture of Tony, bar one. That way, if her daughter ever found her, she could at least see what her father had looked like. Carly picked up the scissors and cut every photo in half before chucking them all into a bag and sealing it.

Carly tossed the bag into the dustbin and rubbed her eyes. She should have done this a long time ago. Move on, let go of the past and start over properly. She glanced at the clock. Time to go to work and try to persuade Stan to…

What? Give her a second chance? He wanted to know the real story behind her. She'd never told anyone. Could she trust him?

What if he did to her what her editor had done to him? Did she have a choice? On reflection, Stan didn't seem the type of man to gossip all over town. He was honorable and upright and… Carly shook her head. Tony had professed to be a Christian, and that was about as far from the truth as it was possible to get.

Stan however was different. Perhaps he was the genuine article.

She stood and glanced in the mirror. She looked dreadful. Well, too bad. This was as good as it was going to get. She grabbed her bag and headed to the car. Driving still sent shivers of fear running through her, even now. But she was determined to face that fear. Going everywhere by bus or train simply wasn't practical.

Turbridge Mill was a huge windmill on the edge of the Chilterns. Now a restaurant and craft center rather than a working mill, it was a fairly popular tourist destination. Carly found a parking space and stifled a smile as she saw the Christmas shop appeared to be really busy. Maybe she should call in there, pick up a new ornament for Haley-Jo's tree.

Compared with the warmth of the car, it was freezing outside, but at least it had stopped raining for now. Carly pulled her hat tightly around her head and tugged on her gloves. She put her bag on her shoulder and glanced around the car park, wondering where Stan would be waiting. A car door shut behind her, and she turned.

Stan crossed the gravel towards her. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Shall we?” He led her over to the door in the base of the windmill and opened it for her.

Carols played, and fairy lights and tinsel hung from everywhere possible. An enormous tree stood by the huge cogs that once turned the mill's sails. “You suppose they got that tree from the shop next door?” Carly asked.

“Probably. Haley-Jo loves it in there. We have to go at least once a month.”

“You must hate that.”

He shrugged. “I'm not anti-Christmas
per se
, just anti the commercialism of it.” He looked at the waiter. “Hi, I have a table for two booked under the name Fuller.”

“Yes, sir, this way.” He led them around to a table by the window.

Stan pulled the chair out for Carly and held it while she sat. “No one has ever done that before,” she told him.

He sat down and shrugged his coat over the back of his chair. “It's the little things like common courtesy that make all the difference.”

“What can I get you both to drink?” the waiter asked as he handed them menus.

“Lemonade with ice and lemon,” Carly said.

“Make that two.”

“How was New York?” Carly asked, wishing her heart would stop this ridiculous pounding. She couldn't afford to fall for another man, let alone one she was meant to be interviewing. He seemed so kind, but all men were the same, weren't they?

“New York was pretty. They still have snow on the ground. The flight was uneventful, and I even managed to pick up a couple of things for Haley-Jo. Not what she wants, mind you.”

“They didn't have a ‘new mummy' shop, then?”

“No.” Stan gave her a wry smile. “What about you? Are you ready for Christmas?”

“I don't decorate, like I already said. I don't celebrate or do anything. It's just another day. I normally lie in until about midday, have a microwave meal, and then go for a long walk or just curl up by the fire and catch up on my reading.”

“I can't imagine being alone or not celebrating. Don't you have any family at all?”

She shook her head. “Not apart from my mother, but we haven't spoken in years.”

The waiter came over, putting off Stan's next inevitable question at least for a minute or two. “Are you ready to order?”

Carly looked at the menu, panic setting in at the prices. “I don't know…”

Stan touched her hand. “This is on me because I invited you. Do you like chicken?”

She nodded.

“Then we'll both have the roast chicken and seasonal veg, please.” Stan sipped his drink as the waiter took the menus and vanished.

Carly looked at him, not wanting to be beholden to him. This wasn't meant to be a date; they should at least go Dutch.

Stan smiled. “And don't even think about offering to pay. You're bringing supper tonight, remember? It's only fair.” He sipped his drink. “So, we're here to talk about you. What happened to stop you talking to God?”

“The thing is…” Carly took a large breath and wished her glass held something stronger than lemonade. “I've never told anyone this, and I'm not sure I can now. At least not without crying or making a total numpty of myself.”

“I have a whole packet of tissues in my pocket,” Stan said with a smile. “And your relationship with God is important.”

“Really?” Her hackles rose.

“Yes, really.”

“Hmmmm.” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “OK. I met Tony in a club. It was one of those whirlwind romance things. He was tall, dark, handsome, and charming. Oh, so charming. He could talk the hind leg off a donkey and still convince it to go for a run afterwards. We were married within a couple of months, and he moved into my flat. He was away on business a lot, but when he was home things were great. Or so I thought.”

She sipped the drink. “Anyway, we'd been married about four months when I discovered I was pregnant. I was thrilled to bits. Tony wasn't.” She paused as the meals arrived.

Stan reached over and took her hands to say grace.

Carly shivered. As Stan looked up, she caught his gaze. Tony had never held her hand. At least not voluntarily
.

Stan turned her hand over, his fingers running over her palm. “I always imagined journalists would have ink-stained fingers.”

“We use computers now rather than typewriters. Which is a good thing as without autocorrect, I can't spell for toffee.”

“Then it's probably a good job they don't pay you in toffee.” He let go of her hand.

“Yeah.” Carly could still feel the echo of his touch and had to force herself to act normal and pick up the cutlery. She took a small bite. “Like I said, I was more pleased than Tony was,” she continued. “He blamed me, said I should have been more careful and ‘now' wasn't the right time for us to have a baby.” She chewed slowly. “I was looking at the photos I have left before I came out. Anyone would think we were happily married.”

“You weren't?”

She shook her head. “He traveled more and was home less and less often. I discovered he was seeing someone else and always had been.”

“I'm sorry.”

She shrugged and looked at her plate. She ate for a moment, unsure how much of the truth to tell him, then looked up. “Her name was Kat. I rang his mobile, and she answered. I can still hear her voice now. ‘Hello, Tony's phone, Kat speaking
.'
He denied it at first, but then admitted it. He said marrying me had been the worst mistake of his life, and he wanted a divorce. He came home, packed his bags, and left.”

Stan swallowed and looked at her. “Him walking out wasn't your fault, you know that, right?”

Carly picked up her glass and swirled the liquid, watching the lemonade splash over the ice. “I don't know so much. I was infatuated with him, the proverbial would have walked over hot coals for him, he said jump, and I'd ask how high. I grew up fast once he left. Anyway, the weeks passed, and I was going to the hospital for a late scan because I wanted a home birth. I was thirty-five weeks, couldn't see my feet, the whole beached whale effect.”

She paused to eat a couple of bites. This wasn't easy, but part of her felt relieved that someone else knew the truth. “It was raining and the ring road was busy. I remember seeing Tony and his other woman in the car next to me at the lights. He pulled away faster than I did. He always did have this boy racer mentality once he got behind the wheel of his sports car.”

Stan reached over and took her hands in his. “It's OK, Carly. Take your time.”

Hot tears spilled over and she hastily wiped them away. “Then there were squealing brakes and something hit my car flipping it over and sending it into the cars ahead. When I woke I was in hospital and three months had passed. When I asked about Tony, they told me that Tony and ‘his wife' were dead. That's what they called her. Turns out, I was his second wife, only he was still married to the first. And to make things worse, it turned out the registrar at our wedding was a mate of his, so we were never really married in the first place. Hence me using my maiden name. They weren't involved in my accident but were murdered in a robbery gone wrong a few weeks later.”

Stan stroked her hands with his thumbs, the movement oddly comforting. “I'm so sorry. What happened to the baby?”

“My mother told me they'd done an emergency caesarean, but they couldn't save her.” Tears fell like a waterfall, and her voice wavered. “Six months later, I came across some paperwork-- my mother had allowed my daughter to be adopted. The baby'd been put into foster care when she was two-weeks old and then adopted before I woke up. I can't even trace her until she's eighteen.”

Stan handed her a tissue. “Why didn't your mother care for her?”

Carly blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “No idea. I assume because of who her father was. But I didn't ask. Anyway, that's me. I stopped going to church around the time Tony left me. I was ashamed of what people would think and say. Then, I stopped reading my Bible and praying as I was mad at God for letting Mam take my baby. And I haven't spoken to her since, either.”

“God didn't do it to be mean to you.”

She held his gaze, struggling not to lose her train of thought. She had to finish what she'd started. “I know, but I said some pretty awful things to Him. I shouted and screamed. You don't want to know what I said.”

“Can't be any worse than what I said after Julie died. It's OK to ask God why. I have done loads of times. I'll never know why bad things happen, but I do know it'll work out in the end.”

“How did you keep your faith?”

“I guess I never let go. See, God never lets go of us. Even when we're mad at Him, He still loves us.” Stan paused. “People get mad and say things they don't mean in the heat of the moment. It happens in families all the time, but it doesn't erase everything that's been before. That love is still there. God loves you, Carly, the same way He always has and always will. Nothing you can do or say can put an end to that.”

Carly buried her face in her hands. She wished she could believe that, but too much had happened. She sucked in a deep breath and then caught sight of her watch. Her stomach twisted. “I have to go. I've got twenty minutes to get to my next appointment.” It wasn't far and she might just have time to pop into that Christmas shop first. “Is it still OK for tonight?”

Stan nodded. “Of course. About half past five?”

“Sounds good.” She shrugged into her coat and picked up her bag. “Thanks for lunch and for listening.” Then she made as hasty an exit as decently possible, not liking the way her long buried feelings were being stirred up and coming to the surface.

She headed into the Christmas shop and couldn't believe the number of ornaments and trees and lights. She had no idea what to choose, but found herself drawn to a display of teddy bears. Maybe she'd just pick one she liked and hoped it'd appeal to Haley-Jo.

~*~

Stan finished his meal slowly, not really paying attention to what he was eating. He tossed a couple of twenties on the table and headed out to his car. He leaned against it and looked up at the sun peeking through the clouds. Carly's words resonated within his mind. The other side of the adoption coin. He'd lived with being the adopter for so long now, that he'd scarcely considered what it was like for the birth mothers who gave up their children to make it possible for people like him to become a parent. He'd just been thankful for the chance he'd been given.

Had Haley-Jo's mother given her up willingly? What if she tried to find her in ten years' time? Where would that leave him? He and Julie had always planned to tell Haley-Jo when she was old enough to understand, but after Julie died, he hadn't wanted to. Was that him being selfish, or was he simply looking out for his daughter's best interests? She'd lost her mother. How could he rip everything else she'd ever known away from her, too?

Stan got into the car and rang the adoption agency and asked for an appointment. Amazingly, he got one immediately. He didn't suppose they'd tell him anything, but he had to try.

An hour later he was back in the car. Haley-Jo's parents were dead, hence her being put up for adoption as a newborn. There was no reason he ever needed to tell her. One less thing to worry about. He drove to his mother's house and rang the doorbell.