A Nanny for Christmas (20 page)

'It—it must be,' Phoebe stammered, feeling totally banal.

Dominic said, 'Shall I ask Carrie to bring in tea for us all?'

Serena laughed up at him. 'Tea, darling? Don't say there's no champagne to welcome me home.' She gazed round the room, giving a rapturous sigh. 'Oh, I've been away far too long.' She gave Tara a quick hug. 'But Mummy's back now, sweetie. And everything's going to be all right.'

She gave Dominic another swift smile. 'And you don't have to worry about Christmas; I've got it all arranged. I've ordered everything and they're bringing it later this afternoon. A tree, food, wine—everything.'

'But we've got a tree,' Tara pointed out, puzzled.

'Yes, sweetie, I noticed.' The lopsided angel was sent a disparaging look. 'But wait until you see the one I've bought. I'm sure we can find somewhere else for that one,' she added dismissively.

'And Carrie's done all the food,' Tara went on.

'Sweetie.' Serena's voice became slightly metallic. 'Don't keep trying to spoil all Mummy's lovely surprises, or I shall be sorry I came.' She paused. 'Would you like to see what else I've brought you?'

'We usually exchange presents on Christmas morning,' Dominic put in quietly.

'Oh, I can't wait that long.' Serena pointed to a large flat box tied with ribbons. 'It's in there.'

'It' turned out to be a fun fur coat. Watching Tara parade up and down in it obediently, Phoebe decided it was tacky and hateful, then berated herself for being a bitch.

The puppy decided to wake up, and began to wander round the room.

'He wants to go out,' Dominic said abruptly. 'Come on, Tara, we'll take him into the garden. Carrie won't want any more messes in the house.'

'Poor Carrie,' Serena said as the door closed behind them. 'I wonder if she's still adequate for the job.'

'Very much so,' Phoebe returned evenly.

'Well, I shall have to judge that for myself.' She glanced round. 'Heaven knows when this room was decorated last. I shall have to take the entire house in hand.'

'Over Christmas?' Phoebe asked in bewilderment. 'I know it's different in the States, but here everything closes down until New Year.'

'Then I shall just have to be patient.' Serena leaned back against the cushions, crossing her endless legs. 'But I've got plenty of time.' The crimson lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. 'I told Dominic I was coming for Christmas, but that isn't strictly true. I've had a lot of time to think things over, and I've decided that we should reconcile—for Tara's sake.'

Phoebe felt as if a hand had closed round her throat and was squeezing the life out of her. But her voice sounded surprisingly normal. 'Does Mr Ashton know this?'

'Not yet.' Serena stretched languidly, full breasts thrusting against the boucle dress. 'Actually I thought I'd tell him tonight—in bed. That's always the best time.'

The dark blue eyes swept over Phoebe. 'Now go and find some champagne, will you, dear? I want to celebrate.'

The lopsided angel's bearing had not improved during her transfer to the nursery, Phoebe thought sadly as she made sure the fir tree was secure in its pot, before she went to bed.

During the afternoon, two vans blazoned with the names of famous London stores had arrived, and Serena's Christmas had been duly unloaded, to Tara's bewilderment and Carrie's silent outrage.

As a consequence, the drawing room was now occupied by a six-foot, glittering artificial tree, a symphony in gold and silver.

During dinner, Serena had turned up her nose at the beautifully roasted haunch of venison, protesting that nearly everyone was turning to vegetarianism these days.

But not teetotalism apparently, Phoebe thought drily, having observed how much champagne the lovely Serena had put away.

She had also noticed how totally absorbed Dominic seemed in his ex-wife. How his eyes never seemed to leave her for a moment. The idea of a reconciliation was becoming less absurd by the minute.

He's like a puppet, Phoebe told herself unhappily. All she has to do is twitch the strings.

The final straw came when Phoebe went into the drawing room after dinner and found a tell-tale pile of chewed wood and torn fabric on the rug. The puppy had unearthed her sewing from beneath the sofa and destroyed Tara's dolls. Phoebe could have wept as she hastily bundled the damp scraps onto the back of the fire before Tara, who'd been allowed to stay up for dinner, saw them.

All in all, it's been one hell of a day, she thought wretchedly, turning off the nursery light.

She looked in on Tara before she went to her own room. The little girl had become horrendously overexcited, had made a scene about the puppy not being allowed to sleep in her room and had had to be dissuaded from wearing her fun fur to bed. But now she was fast asleep.

I ought to feel glad for her, Phoebe thought, a lump in her throat. This is what she's always wanted—her mother and father together again. But I can't. I can't...

There was another irritation when she arrived in her room and discovered she'd left her bag, and the book she was reading, downstairs in the small sitting room, where she'd spent the rest of the evening, having .decided she could take no more 'happy families' in the drawing room.

At first she determined to do without them. But it was unlikely she would get to sleep immediately, she realised. She had far too much on her mind.

I'll go downstairs and fetch them, she decided, tightening the sash of her robe.

Moving quietly on slippered feet, she descended the stairs to the main landing and paused in the dim light, hearing a door open somewhere.

Serena Vane came out of her room. She was wearing a totally sheer black chiffon nightdress which displayed every curve of her perfect body.

Standing in the shadows, Phoebe watched her cross to Dominic's door, turn the handle quietly and slip inside.

The reconciliation, she thought numbly, was complete.

'
S
OMETIMES
,' said Serena, directing a misty look at the camera, 'it takes time to establish where one's true priorities are. I'm just thankful I found out before it was too late.'

The television crew from the local station had taken over the house early that morning, and now the recorded interview was in full swing.

The attractive brunette who was asking the questions looked down at her notes. 'Does this mean you'll be pursuing your career in this country from now on, Miss Vane?'

'I'm considering a number of options,' Serena said softly. 'But I haven't ruled out a return to Hollywood.'

'Even though you've been sacked from
Heart of Steel?'

'I'm afraid you've been misinformed.' Whatever the state of her heart, there was a note of steel in Serena's voice. 'The director and I had artistic differences, but our parting was a mutual decision, and perfectly amicable.'

'And your relationship with Bryn Stratton—was that an amicable parting too?'

Serena smiled sadly. 'Bryn will always be a very dear friend, and on that basis we're still in touch. Shall we leave it at that?'

The interviewer smiled back. 'So you're aware that he's been booked into a Beverly Hills clinic for drug and alcohol abuse?'

Serena's pause was fractionally too long. 'As his friend, I prefer not to discuss his problems.'

So she didn't know, thought Phoebe, who was trying to be unobtrusive at the back of the room, and keep an eye on a bored and miserable Tara at the same time.

They'd had over a week of interviews, from Fleet Street tabloids to the local weekly paper, and each time Tara had been trotted out for the photographs in one of the lace-trimmed dresses that Serena had brought with her for the purpose.

Even Dominic had appeared in a couple of them, Phoebe reflected unhappily. He'd stood unsmilingly on the steps while Serena clung to his arm.

Serena had come home because she couldn't bear to be parted from her little girl any longer, was the message being peddled, and this was the first time it had been really called into question. Festival TV seemed to have done their homework.

'And you're staying with your ex-husband over Christmas—isn't that rather unusual?'

Serena shrugged. 'Christmas is a time for families. Where a child is concerned, one must forget past, foolish differences.' Her smile became radiant. 'As far as I'm concerned, I've simply come home.'

The interviewer looked at Tara, who was sitting next to her mother and looking uncomfortable in a black velvet dress with a pleated muslin collar.

'And what about you, Tara? Are you going to be an actress like your mother?'

'Mummy says I am,' said Tara. 'She says I'm going to have a film test.'

The journalist's eyes flicked back to Serena. 'Is that so? Is Tara going to be the new child-star sensation?'

Serena's laugh was melodious. 'Oh, she's far too young to be considering anything like that. I want her to have a happy, untrammelled childhood.'

'But you said...' Tara began, then subsided as the protective maternal arm tightened around her shoulders and the interview was wound up.

Serena snapped her fingers imperiously in Phoebe's direction. 'Have the coffee served, will you?' she said, rising from the sofa and marching over to embark on a low-voiced but clearly furious argument with the show's producer.

'So what part do you play in this touching domestic drama?'

Phoebe, pouring coffee, turned to see the interviewer, Jilly Mason, smiling at her.

'Very minor,' she returned constrainedly. 'I'm Tara's nanny.'

'Rather you than me,' Jilly said candidly. 'A mate of mine worked on the publicity for your boss's last film and says no salary is worth it. I must say she got up my nose, too. This was supposed to be just a heart-warming piece about family reunions at Christmas.' She paused. 'Is her husband really taking her back?' she asked, too casually. 'I note he's not around today.'

'As I said, I'm just the nanny,' Phoebe returned, tight- lipped. 'I don't pry into my employers' affairs.'

'You don't need to pry to know about dear Serena's affairs,' Jilly said lightly. 'They've been well documented. Among her other pretty ways, of course. My friend says the studio have had enough, and the Snow Queen will never work in Hollywood again. But the little girl's a different matter. I reckon Serena sees her as a blank cheque.'

She walked away to talk to the cameraman, leaving Phoebe to stare after her with sudden uneasiness.

'I hate this dress,' Tara said, throwing the black velvet onto the bed and clambering back into jeans and sweatshirt. 'It itches. And I hate having my picture taken all the time. 'It's boring.'

'Any more grumbles to get off your chest?' Phoebe asked mildly, brushing the child's tumbled curls, and Tara pondered for a moment.

'Why is Mummy so cross sometimes?'

'I'm sure she doesn't mean to be,' Phoebe soothed, although, if she was honest, Serena's mercurial temperament was driving the whole household up the wall.

Except Dominic, of course, she reminded herself painfully. Maybe the passionate nights made up for the violent mood swings in the daytime.

Although he doesn't see many of them, she thought, because he's at work. And she's always calmed down and all smiles when he comes home in the evening.

Tara's lips trembled. 'She's going to be even crasser because I talked about the film test. It's supposed to be a big secret.'

Is it? Phoebe thought, biting her lip. And why is that, I wonder?

Aloud, she said, calmly, 'Then it's a pity you find photographs boring. If you're going to be in films, the camera will be on you all the time.' She paused. 'Are you sure that's what you want?'

Tara wrinkled her nose pensively. 'I don't want to leave you and Daddy.'

'Well, that's not likely to happen. The law says you have to stay with Daddy.'

'But when he and Mummy get married again, she'll be able to take me back to California. She said so.'

Phoebe swallowed. 'Well, yes,' she said slowly. 'I— I suppose she will.'

'Will you and Daddy come with us?' Tara asked anxiously. 'And what's going to happen to Muggins?'

'Muggins will stay here with Carrie,' Phoebe said reassuringly. 'He'll have learned to behave by then.'

The puppy had continued to cause chaos in the house. Newspapers and magazines were regularly shredded, the lower branches of Serena's gold and silver tree were looking threadbare and bedraggled, and he'd chewed through the flex of the fairy lights.

'Pity they weren't on,' Dominic had commented caustically.

But Muggins' nadir had been finding its way into Serena's bedroom—in which she still maintained a presumably token presence—and destroying her cream suede boots.

Oblivious to the fact that she'd introduced the vandal into the house, Serena had hysterically demanded that the puppy be put down, while Tara, in floods of tears, had begged for his life.

'Oh, God,' Dominic had said wearily, caught in the middle. 'I suppose I'll have to take him in hand.'

Which was why Muggins now accompanied Dominic to the office each day, and was learning a more responsible attitude to life.

When Phoebe and Tara went downstairs the television crew had gone, and so, apparently, had Serena, in a taxi and a temper, to do some shopping.

'Why didn't she ask me to go with her?' Tara asked woefully.

The million-dollar question, Phoebe thought bitterly. For a woman with a new-found dedication to her only child, Serena seemed to spend the minimum of time in her company. And surely she'd exhausted the attractions of Westcombe and Midburton as shopping centres by now.

She smiled down at the little girl. 'Because she knew I was going to take you out to pick some holly,' she said. 'Run and find your boots.'

They spent a muddy, hilarious afternoon, and came home with the car boot full. In addition, at Tara's insistence, Phoebe had called at the garden centre and bought some mistletoe.

Serena had returned by the time they reached home, and, Carrie informed them grimly, was resting and didn't want to be disturbed.

Phoebe occupied the time until supper by decorating the hall and dining room, with Tara's eager assistance. The mistletoe was hung ceremoniously from the central chandelier in the hall.