Once Upon a Christmas (11 page)

‘That’s better. At least you’ve got your colour back. Let’s get moving.’

He turned to Sean and she realised that his inflammatory statement had been a ploy to rouse her to anger. Which meant he must have guessed how close she’d been to tears.

She gave a reluctant laugh, acknowledging once more just how clever he was.

It was much easier to get down the mountain feeling annoyed and irritated than it was feeling scared and tearful.

In the end it took several hours to get down safely and the two women were immediately transferred to A and E in the MRT ambulance.

Jack drove Bryony home, the swirling snow falling thickly on the windscreen. ‘If this carries on we’re going to be busy in A and E,’ he said, his eyes searching as he glanced at her.

‘I’m OK.’

He nodded. ‘Thanks to your ice axe technique. You did well. That’s if you overlook the fact that you fell in the first place.’

She gaped at him. ‘I did not fall,’ she protested. ‘The mountain slipped out from beneath me.’

‘It wasn’t my fault I crashed the car, Officer,’ Jack said, mimicking her tone. ‘The road suddenly moved.’

Bryony pulled a face. ‘What’s it like being so damn perfect, Jack?’

‘I’ve learned to live with it,’ he said solemnly, ‘but I realise it’s tough on those who struggle around me.’

‘You can say that again,’ she muttered darkly, dragging off her hat and scraping her hair back from her face. ‘One of these days I’m probably going to shoot you.’

‘Is that before or after I save you from falling over a cliff?’

She groaned. ‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’

‘Probably not.’ He pulled up outside her house and
switched the engine off. ‘So are you going to invite me to supper tomorrow night?’

There was a gleam in his eyes and she felt butterflies flicker inside her stomach. ‘I have a date with Toby,’ she croaked, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Of course you have.’ He was silent for a moment and then he smiled. ‘Another time, then.’

He leaned across to open the car door for her and she fought against the temptation to lean forward and hug him. He was so close—and so male …

Suddenly she wished she didn’t have the date with Toby. She would rather have spent an evening with Jack.

But then she remembered Lizzie’s Christmas list. She shouldn’t be spending her evenings with Jack. It was a waste of time.

‘Lizzie and I are going to choose our Christmas tree tomorrow,’ she said, telling herself that spending time with Jack during the day didn’t count. ‘Do you want to come? She’d love you to join us, I know she would.’

Jack grinned. ‘Will I have to play Weddings?’

‘Probably, but you’re getting very good at it now so I don’t see the problem.’

‘All right, I’d like to come.’

‘Goodnight, then, Jack,’ she said softly, undoing her seat belt and gathering up her stuff. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And she scrambled out of the car without looking back.

‘I
WANT
the biggest tree in the forest.’ Lizzie clapped her hands together and beamed at Jack, her breath clouding the freezing air. She was wearing pink fleecy trousers tucked into pink fleecy boots, a bright, stripy scarf wrapped round her neck, and she was bursting with excitement. ‘The tree has to be big if Santa is going to fit my present under it.’

Bryony chewed her lip and exchanged glances with Jack. ‘You know, sweetheart,’ she said anxiously, ‘I’m not sure we gave Santa enough notice to find a daddy. That’s a pretty big present.’

‘He’ll manage it,’ Lizzie said happily, stamping her feet to keep warm, ‘because I’ve been extra good. Sally stole my gloves in the playground and I didn’t even tell.’

Jack frowned. ‘Someone stole your gloves?’

‘They were new and she liked them.’

Jack looked at Bryony. ‘Another child stole her gloves?’

‘It’s fine, Jack,’ Bryony said hastily, knowing just how protective Jack could be of Lizzie. ‘She’ll sort it out.’

‘You should speak to her teacher.’

‘It’sfine, Jack!’
Bryony shot him a warning look. ‘Now, let’s go and choose this tree, shall we?’

Jack sucked in a breath and smiled. ‘Good idea.’ He took Lizzie’s hand in his. ‘We’ll get you some new gloves, peanut. Any pair you want. We’ll choose them together.’

They walked amongst the trees and Lizzie sprinted up to one and tilted her head back, gazing up in awe.

‘I like
this
one.’

Bryony looked at it in dismay. ‘Lizzie, it’s the tallest tree here!’

‘I know.’ Lizzie stroked the branches lovingly, watching as the needles sprang back. ‘I love it. It’s big. Like having the whole forest in your house. And I like the way it smells.’ She leaned forward and breathed in and Bryony sighed.

‘It won’t fit into our living room, sweetheart. How about that one over there—it’s a lovely shape.’

Lizzie shook her head, her hand still locked around one branch of the tree she’d chosen as if she couldn’t quite let it go. ‘I love this one. I want this to be our tree.’

Bryony closed her eyes briefly. ‘Lizzie—’

‘It’s a great tree and we can always trim the top,’ Jack said firmly, and Bryony lifted an eyebrow.

‘You’re planning to lop six feet off the top?’

He grinned. ‘If need be.’ He squatted down next to Lizzie, his hair shining glossily black next to the little girl’s blonde curls. ‘The lady likes this one. So the lady gets this one.’

‘You need to learn to say no to her, Jack.’

‘Why would I want to say no?’ He scooped Lizzie into his arms and grinned at her. ‘So you want this tree?’

Lizzie nodded and slipped her arm round his neck. ‘Can I have it?’

‘Of course.’ Still holding the child, Jack slipped a hand into his pocket and removed his wallet. ‘Here we are, Blondie. Merry Christmas.’

Bryony shook her head. ‘I’ll pay, Jack.’

‘My treat.’ His eyes locked on hers, his expression warm. ‘Please.’

She hesitated and then smiled. ‘All right. Thanks.’

Lizzie tightened her arms round Jack’s neck. ‘Why do you call Mummy Blondie?’

‘Because she has blonde hair, of course.’

‘But I have blonde hair, too.’

Jack gave a start. ‘So you do! Goodness—I never noticed.’

Lizzie gave a delicious chuckle. ‘Yes, you did. I know you’re joking.’ She hugged him tight and then looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Jack …’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t tell me, you want to go home and play Weddings?’

‘No.’ She lifted a small hand and touched his cheek. ‘I asked Santa for a daddy for Christmas.’

Jack went still. ‘I know you did.’

‘Well, now I wish I’d asked him to make you my daddy,’ Lizzie said wistfully. ‘I love you, Jack. No one plays Weddings like you do.’

Bryony swallowed hard, the lump in her throat so big it threatened to choke her.

‘Lizzie …’ Jack’s voice sounded strangely thick and his hard jaw was tense as he struggled to find the right words.
‘I can’t be your daddy, sweetheart. But I’ll always be here for you.’

‘Why can’t you be my daddy? I know Mummy loves you.’

Bryony closed her eyes, fire in her cheeks, but Jack just gave a strange-sounding laugh.

‘And I love your mummy. But not in the way that mummies and daddies are supposed to love each other.’

Bryony rubbed her booted foot in the snow and wished an avalanche would consume her. But there wasn’t much chance of that in the forest. So instead she looked up and gave a bright smile.

‘But Santa is going to choose you a great present,’ she said brightly. ‘I know he is, and in the meantime we’d better buy this super-special tree before anyone else does. It’s the best one in the forest and I can see other people looking at it.’

Lizzie’s eyes widened in panic. ‘Hurry up, then!’ Bryony took Jack’s wallet and went to pay while he opened the boot of the four-wheel-drive and manoeuvred the huge tree inside, with Lizzie jumping up and down next to him.

‘Most of the needles have just landed on the inside of the vehicle,’ he muttered to Bryony as they climbed into the front and strapped Lizzie in. ‘I think we might be decorating twigs when we get it home.’

Bryony glanced at him, wondering if he realised that he’d called her house ‘home’.

‘Are you getting a tree yourself, Jack?’ she asked, and he shook his head, holding the wheel firmly as he negotiated the rutted track that led out of the forest onto the main road.

‘What’s the point? I’m going to be working for most of it.’ He glanced at Lizzie who was listening to a tape through her headphones and not paying any attention. ‘And, anyway, Christmas is for children.’

Bryony gave him a searching look. ‘Are you coming to Mum’s this year?’

Jack concentrated on the road. ‘I don’t know. Sean wants to be with Ally and the kids so I’ve said I’ll work.’

‘You come every year, Jack.’ Bryony frowned. ‘Lizzie would be so disappointed if you weren’t there. All of us would. You’re part of our family. At least come for part of it.’

‘Maybe.’ His shrug was noncommittal and she sighed.

‘I know Christmas isn’t your favourite time of year.’

There was a long silence and then he sucked in a breath, his eyes still on the road. ‘Christmas is for families, Blondie. I don’t have one.’

Bryony bit her lip. ‘Have you heard from your mother lately?’

‘A postcard six months ago.’ He turned the wheel to avoid a hole in the road. ‘She’s with her latest lover in Brazil.’

Bryony was silent and he turned to look at her, a mocking look in his eyes. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m thirty-four. I certainly don’t expect my mother to come home and play happy families after all this time. I think that’s one game we never mastered in our house. When everyone else was unwrapping presents around the tree, my parents were at different ends of the house nurturing grievances.’

‘Jack—’

‘And that was a good thing.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘If
they ever met the rows were so bad I used to run and hide in the garden. Once I was out there all night and they didn’t even notice. I always used to think that was why we had such a big house with so much land. Because no one wanted to live next door to anyone who argued as much as my parents.’

His experience was such a contrast to her own happy childhood that Bryony felt suddenly choked.

‘You used to come to us.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave a funny smile. ‘You were the perfect family.’

Bryony looked at him, suddenly wondering for the first time whether that had made it worse for him. ‘Was it hard for you, being with us?’

He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t hard, Blondie. You always made me feel as though I was Santa himself from the moment I walked through the door. How could that be hard?’

Bryony smiled. She used to stand with her nose pressed against the window, waiting for Jack to arrive. Longing to show him her presents.

‘You were just like Lizzie.’ His voice softened at the memory. ‘I remember the year you had your ballet dress from Santa. You wore it with your Wellington boots because you were dying to play outside in the snow but no one could persuade you to take it off. You were in the garden building a snowman in pink satin and tulle. Do you remember?’

‘I remember tearing it climbing a tree.’ Bryony laughed. ‘I just wanted to keep up with my brothers.’

On impulse she reached out and touched his leg, feeling
the rock-hard muscle under her fingers. ‘Come for Christmas, Jack. Please?’

He gave her a funny, lopsided smile that was so sexy she suddenly found it hard to breathe. ‘Better see what Santa produces for Lizzie first,’ he said softly, turning into the road that led to her cottage. ‘I might not be welcome.’

Bryony slumped back in her seat, the reminder that she’d so far failed to solve the problem of Lizzie’s Christmas present bursting her bubble of happiness.

What was she going to do about Lizzie’s present?

At some point soon she was going to have to sit her little girl down and tell her that Santa couldn’t deliver a daddy. Otherwise Christmas morning was going to be a disappointment.

Trying to console herself with the thought that there must be something else that Lizzie would like for Christmas, Bryony realised that Jack had stopped the car.

‘Ready to unload this tree?’ He glanced behind him and winced. ‘I can’t believe you chose a tree that big.’

Lizzie pulled the headphones off her ears and giggled. ‘It wasn’t Mummy, it was you, Jack.’

‘Me?’ He looked horrified as he jumped out of the car with athletic grace and turned to lift the little girl out. ‘I chose that?’

Lizzie was laughing. ‘You know you did.’

‘Well, we’d better get it in your house, then.’

Laughing and grumbling, Jack dragged the tree inside the house and proceeded to secure it in a bucket with his usual calm efficiency.

Bryony gazed upwards and shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s bent at the top.’

‘It’s perfect,’ Lizzie sighed, and Jack nodded solemnly.

‘Perfect.’

Bryony rolled her eyes, forced to accept that she was outnumbered. ‘OK. Well, we’ve got it now, so let’s decorate it.’

They spent the rest of the afternoon draping the tree with lights and baubles until it sparkled festively. Lizzie produced a pink fairy to go on top of the tree and Jack lifted her so that she could position it herself.

Then Jack went into the garden and cut boughs of holly from the tree and they decorated the fireplace.

Bryony produced mince pies and they sat on the carpet, admiring their decorations and enjoying the atmosphere.

Bryony smiled as she looked around her. ‘I feel Christmassy.’

‘That’s because of the size of the tree,’ Jack told her, his handsome face serious as he bit into a mince pie. ‘Any smaller and you wouldn’t be feeling the way you’re feeling now.’

But watching him and Lizzie fighting over the last mince pie, Bryony realised that the warm Christmassy feeling that she had in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the tree and everything to do with the three of them being together. They felt like a family.

But they weren’t a family.

Jack didn’t want to be part of a family.

Watching Lizzie climbing all over him, dropping crumbs over his trousers and the carpet, Bryony wondered if he realised that he actually
was
part of a family.

Whether he liked it or not, he was a huge part of her life. And she couldn’t imagine it any other way, even if
ultimately she found a daddy for Lizzie. And just thinking of how she was going to tell Lizzie that Santa hadn’t managed to produce a daddy on Christmas Day filled her with overwhelming depression.

Suddenly needing to be on her own, Bryony stood up. ‘I need to get ready. Toby’s picking me up at seven,’ she said brightly, ‘and I don’t want to smell like a Christmas tree.’

She half expected Jack to say something about her going out with Toby. After all, he’d been less than enthusiastic about her other attempts to date men. But he just smiled at her and carried on playing with Lizzie.

Feeling deflated and not really understanding why, Bryony ran herself a deep bath and lay in a nest of scented bubbles for half an hour, telling herself that she was going to have a really great evening with Toby.

She was going to wear the black dress again.

And it was nothing to do with Jack’s comments about her having good legs, she told herself firmly as she dried herself and dressed carefully. It was just that the dress suited her and she knew that Toby was planning to take her somewhere special.

She spent time on her make-up and pinned her hair on top of her head in a style that she felt suited the dress.

Finally satisfied, she walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, where Jack was making Lizzie tea and playing a game of ‘guess the animal’.

‘You’re a tiger, Jack.’ Lizzie giggled, watching with delight as he prowled around the kitchen, growling. ‘Do I have to eat sprouts? I hate sprouts. Can I have peas instead?’

‘Never argue with a tiger,’ Jack said sternly, putting
two sprouts on the side of her plate. ‘Eat up. They’re good for you.’

Lizzie stared at them gloomily. ‘I hate things that are good for me.’

‘He’s only given you two,’ Bryony said mildly, turning to lift two mugs out of the cupboard. When she looked back the sprouts had gone. Lizzie and Jack were both concentrating hard on the plate, neither of them looking at her.

‘All right.’ Bryony put her hands on her hips, her eyes twinkling. ‘What happened to the sprouts?’

Lizzie covered her mouth and gave a snort of laughter and Jack tried to look innocent.

‘Did you know that tigers love sprouts?’

Lizzie smiled happily. ‘If Jack was my daddy I’d
never
have to eat sprouts.’

Jack shot Bryony a rueful look and ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘Lizzie, angel, we’ve got to talk about this.’

But before he could say any more, the phone rang. Bryony picked it up, expecting it to be her mother ringing about the babysitting arrangements for that evening.

It was Toby and when she finally replaced the receiver she was silent.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jack was feeding Lizzie the last of her fish fingers. ‘Is he going to be late?’