Christmas Wishes: From the Sunday Times bestselling and award-winning author of romance fiction comes a feel-good cosy Christmas read

by Sue Moorcroft

  She advanced further, sinking onto the edge of the sofa. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Not really.’ Even his lips were white. ‘My brother Mattias called. Dad’s had a heart attack. I didn’t want to scare Josie by letting her hear my end of the conversation. Nan Heather said she’d keep the girls in the kitchen. She’s a kind soul.’ His voice cracked and he covered it with a cough.

  Forgetting her own worries, Hannah fell on her knees beside his chair. ‘Oh, no! Poor Lars!’

  Nico wiped his eyes on his sleeve. ‘It was such a shock. His neighbour found him collapsed in the garden so he was very cold. She covered him with blankets until the ambulance could take him to hospital in Jönköping. The one in Eksjö is closer but didn’t have the right bed available. Nässjö doesn’t have its own A and E.’ Twin tears oozed from the corners of his eyes and he wiped them away. ‘When Mattias said … I thought the worst.’ His voice broke again.

  She grasped his cold, hard hand. ‘Do you know how Lars is now?’

  ‘Conscious. Exhausted. Confused.’ He gave a half-laugh half-sob. ‘Mattias says he’s grey, but trying to joke about an elephant sitting on his chest. Luckily, everything’s booked for me to fly to Sweden in two days anyway. Vivvi and Loren can’t take Maria after all so I’ve got the documentation sorted for her to come with us – including clearing it with social services. This morning Maria’s case worker visited and said she might be able to arrange respite instead but I’m still not having Maria go off to strangers. I’ll manage somehow.’

  Hannah held his hand tighter. ‘Josie’s very good with her and maybe your mum will have the girls while you visit Lars?’

  He managed a smile. ‘Apparently she’s rushed to the hospital. Who would have thought it? She told Mattias that they’ve been “sort of seeing each other again”. I’m not sure how that will go down within the family considering they split when I was fourteen.’

  From the kitchen came a wail. ‘Maria’s awake,’ he said, wiping his eyes more rapidly.

  ‘I’ll go to her while you get yourself together,’ Hannah offered. ‘Nan can’t get her out of the buggy with her arm in a cast.’ She gave his hand a last squeeze then slipped back into the kitchen. Josie was undoing Maria’s straps while Nan clucked, ‘There, there, my duck.’

  Maria’s face was red and crumpled. ‘Mydad?’ she whimpered.

  ‘He’ll be here in a minute,’ Hannah said soothingly. Cautiously, because she hadn’t had much to do with children, she lifted the little girl up and cuddled her.

  ‘Mydad,’ Maria whimpered again.

  Instinctively, Hannah held her closer, finding it poignant that Maria didn’t call for her mum. ‘Two minutes and he’ll be here,’ she crooned, rocking Maria while Nan found a plastic beaker and poured apple juice and water into it. ‘Here’s a drink. That’s lovely isn’t it?’

  ‘Juice,’ Maria said more happily and took several gulps.

  ‘Is Dad coming?’ Josie glanced at the dining room door.

  ‘He’s finishing his call,’ Hannah said soothingly. ‘Who won at snap?’ If Nico hadn’t yet dried his tears he wouldn’t want Josie to see them.

  Josie allowed herself to be distracted. ‘One game each. This one’s the decider.’

  ‘You play and Maria can watch. I’ll make drinks,’ Hannah suggested brightly, popping Maria onto a chair now she’d cheered up. She made Josie a glass of juice and tea for her and Nan, putting it on the dresser where Nan could reach it but Maria wouldn’t knock it over. Then she carried a cup to Nico, closing the door behind her.

  He looked more his normal self now, on his feet and eyes dry, if a bit pink. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, thanking her as he took the mug she proffered. ‘It was the shock. I knew as soon as I saw Mattias’s name that there was something wrong because I’m always the one to ring or email.’ He drew in a long breath through his nose as if fighting emotion again. ‘It’s as if being separated during our teen years has all but severed our fraternal tie.’ He stopped. ‘I’m babbling. Still in shock.’ He sat down again suddenly. ‘I’m a mess. Loren’s gone into rehab.’

  ‘I didn’t know that about Loren,’ Hannah said softly, feeling sorry for Nico and the way everything was landing on him at once. ‘That’s why you agreed to take Maria to Sweden with you?’

  He nodded, cradling his teacup. ‘I got the call when we were in the pub on Sunday but I couldn’t say anything with Josie listening.’ He looked directly at Hannah and added, ‘All there is between Loren and me is Josie and, via kinship link, Maria.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. That wasn’t how he’d made it sound over that last uneasy meal in Stockholm but now didn’t seem the time to ask for clarification.

  He returned to the immediate issue. ‘I was wondering about bringing our flights forward to tomorrow but I haven’t begun packing yet.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Dad doesn’t seem in immediate danger.’

  ‘I thought I was having a shitty day but you’ve put it in perspective,’ she said. And remembering how much better she’d felt when Josie had thrown her arms about Hannah, she leaned in and gave him a good hard hug. ‘Why don’t I make soup and sandwiches for us all? Nan loves having kids around. I don’t have to go out again until after two.’

  Nico didn’t even pretend to fight this plan. ‘Thank you.’ He followed Hannah into the kitchen, smiling and telling Josie calmly that Farfar wasn’t well so it was a good job they were going to Sweden anyway.

  Josie agreed, ‘Good job!’ and turned to Maria with an exaggerated gasp of excitement. ‘We’re going on an aeroplane in two more sleeps!’

  Maria made the same noise, beaming, too young to get what was going on but happy at whatever made her sister happy.

  Hannah began heating soup while Nan gave Nico and the girls directions on setting the dining table. ‘The one in the kitchen doesn’t have room for us all.’ She observed the obvious warmth and love between Nico and the girls. Happily child-free till now, for the first time she wondered if she’d been missing out.

  After a jolly meal, Hannah checked her bank account and saw the second thousand pounds had arrived from Cassie Carlysle – bloody Albin’s money still hadn’t arrived – so she said, regretfully, ‘I have to go up to Carlysle Courtyard.’ She grabbed her laptop and paperwork, eager to get the handover done now she’d been unceremoniously dumped.

  Soon she was driving past the cheerful yellow and green Carlysle Courtyard sign with a pang. She parked and found Simeon awaiting her in the office. ‘Right,’ she said crisply, glad she didn’t have to deal with Christopher again or even Cassie. ‘I haven’t had time to prepare this handover so we’ll have to wing it.’

  ‘Of course. I’m very sorry about this, you know.’ Courteously, Simeon pulled out a seat for her.

  It was an empty apology because he could have refused to comply with Christopher reinstating him. ‘Thanks,’ she said, briefly. ‘Bullet points: by the weekend, all the shops will be trading; the Christmas Opening is on the nineteenth.’ She worked through everything she’d slaved over, sharing contact details and her and Nico’s beautiful spreadsheets, then the extensive scheduled social media posts. ‘That’s it,’ she wound up an hour later. ‘You have the log-in details. Posters and flyers need to be distributed. If you have any questions you can text me.’ She scribbled down her phone number.

  Then she realised Simeon was gazing at her, a small smile playing around his mouth. ‘Anything else?’ she queried, poised to drag on her coat and shake the dust of Carlysle Courtyard from her boots.

  ‘Fancy dinner this evening?’ he asked.

  She gaped. ‘With you?’

  ‘There’s a lovely old mill bistro opened near Bettsbrough. Shall we give it a try?’ He smiled boyishly.

  It was a perfectly pleasant invitation but it rankled that he didn’t bother to thank her for her hard work and making the handover so easy for him or acknowledge the impact on her income of his return. ‘Thanks, but I’m busy,’ she said, snapping shut her laptop.

  He edged
closer. ‘Choose your evening.’ He didn’t make it a question.

  He reminded her overwhelmingly of Albin – born in comfortable circumstances and regarding ordinary girls as playthings. ‘Good luck with Carlysle Courtyard,’ she said. And left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Back in Middledip, she found Nan watching TV and flopped down beside her on the sofa to catch her up on the disheartening events at Carlysle Courtyard. ‘So I won’t be working there any more,’ she concluded with a sigh.

  The old lady massaged the fingers of her injured arm and frowned thoughtfully. ‘Christopher isn’t usually so bullish. That boy of theirs, he’s disappointed them so often it’s made him touchy.’

  Hannah took over massaging Nan’s fingers, gentle with the loose papery skin and dainty bones. ‘Cassie said something similar,’ she admitted.

  They watched the TV together for a while. It was a documentary about World War II. Nan had been a teenager for most of the war, had known gas masks and evacuees and how people had helped each other.

  ‘I chatted with Nico after you’d left,’ she said suddenly. ‘He was so looking forward to his trip home. But now he’s worried about his dad and managing Maria. You can’t expect as much of a two-year-old as you can an eight-year-old if there’s a lot of hanging about in hospitals.’

  Hannah considered what she knew of Nico’s circumstances. ‘I know he left their old nanny behind in London and his cousin has uni. Maybe he has relatives in Sweden who’ll help.’

  Stiffly, Nan edged round to face Hannah. Her age showed in the sad drooping of her wrinkles. ‘I asked him. No grandparents left alive and no aunts, uncles or cousins who aren’t busy working. He says he’ll try and get a temporary nanny from an agency when he gets there, if he has to. Cost a packet, I bet.’

  ‘Poor Nico. He’s stepped up to have Maria and been left to cope with the extra hassle.’ Hannah thought of the sunny toddler and her chatty big sister. Lovely kids, but lively.

  ‘You speak Swedish,’ Nan said.

  Hannah swung her gaze on her grandmother. ‘And …?’

  ‘Those little girls know you.’ Nan pursed her lips and her wrinkles reassembled in a new pattern.

  ‘Barely!’ Hannah protested instinctively. ‘I’m not a nanny. I know nothing about kids. Nan, you’re not suggesting I save the day by volunteering to go with them, are you? It would be like one of those non-empowering chick flicks when a woman offers herself as a support act to a man.’ Especially when she’d just heard he wasn’t trying again with his ex-wife after all.

  The lines of Nan’s face deepened. ‘You’re not going to be working at Carlysle Courtyard. You could track down that Albin and get your money back while you were there.’

  ‘I’m not here to work at Carlysle Courtyard. I’m here to help you. I can’t leave while your arm’s in a cast. I know Rob and Leesa are back but they have full-time jobs.’ Hannah patted her grandmother’s soft, crepe hand. She thought about being back in Sweden, with Nico, and a wistful note crept in. ‘It’s a point about Albin but you need someone to get your meals and help with zips and things.’

  A few minutes later Hannah popped out to Booze & News to buy Oxo cubes for the supper casserole, glancing down Little Lane in the direction of Honeybun Cottage and hoping Lars was OK and Nico would cope. She hadn’t missed that he’d been too upset to eat properly at lunchtime, though he’d put on a show for the kids. She rarely heard Nico complain. He set his jaw and tackled every obstacle. She felt guilty about her waspish remark to Nan about women supporting men. It hadn’t been Nico who’d made her position untenable, like her ex-boyfriend Luke; or taken her business from her, like Albin; or viewed her as a potential date instead of taking her seriously as a person, like Simeon. But she couldn’t abandon Nan, even if Nan was the one to suggest it.

  The shop door gave a ting and clattered shut behind her. She chatted to Melanie, whose op had been postponed because of pressure on beds, then hurried home again, a box of beef Oxo in her pocket but thinking more about Nico than casserole.

  She found her grandmother replacing the phone in its wall cradle. ‘Right,’ Nan said briskly. ‘I’ve telephoned Brett to settle our differences.’

  ‘Blimey, that’s an about-face.’ Hannah halted, wrong-footed.

  Nan grimaced. ‘I suddenly saw how self-centred I’ve been. My refusal to speak to Brett tied you to me and the village. You’re a wonderful granddaughter to have given up so much time but Brett’s invited me to stay with him. So that frees you up.’ Nan gave Hannah a very direct look.

  ‘Frees me up to act as Nico’s nanny?’ she asked slowly, trying to keep up with this dizzying change in circumstances and examine how she felt about it.

  Nan grasped Hannah’s hand with her one good one. ‘It wouldn’t be about being Nico’s nanny. It would be about being his friend. He needs one.’ As an afterthought she added, ‘And just don’t think about you being a woman and him being a man.’

  Yeah, right.

  Nico was exhausted. The girls, driven by Josie’s overexcitement about flying to Sweden, had run up and down stairs yelling until Maria’s cheek collided with Josie’s elbow, making Nico end the game and Josie grouse at her howling little sister for spoiling everything. It had taken cuddles, bath time and an extra special Mydad-created bedtime story about a unicorn called Maria before she’d go to bed. Nico had sent Josie up a scant hour later, saying gently but inflexibly, ‘Read quietly until you feel sleepy.’

  Josie had given him a sulky look but complied.

  He suffered the look nobly. The sitting room looked as if there had been a bombing raid. If the girls were going to continue to be batshit crazy until he got them to Sweden his frustrations would be off the scale. He felt sick whenever he thought about his big, gentle dad in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. Mattias would be doing everything needed, Nico knew, but he wanted to jump on a plane, be with his family now, not the day after tomorrow. The two little girls upstairs prevented him acting on the urge.

  Righting a red plastic toy crate in the sitting room he scooped Barbie-sized clothes and accessories into it one-handed as he called his brother. They’d already arranged that if he was at the hospital Mattias would have his phone set to vibrate so it wouldn’t disturb others. He answered, ‘Do you want to talk to Dad? He’s brighter this evening.’

  Relief flooded through Nico. ‘That would be fantastic.’ He could hear the background noise of the ward as the phone was passed over.

  Lars sounded tired but very much himself. ‘Don’t think this means you’re excused a trip to the rink next week.’

  Nico laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare. Have you been having chest pain?’

  ‘A little,’ admitted Lars. He broke off to cough. ‘I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t have time to be ill.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve had to make time,’ Nico broke in, caught in his anxiety for his father.

  ‘Looking forward to seeing you on Friday,’ Lars said, obviously not wanting to pursue that. ‘Here’s your brother.’

  Mattias came back on the line and the noises of the ward receded. ‘I’ve come out into the corridor. He’s exhausted,’ he told Nico, sounding uneasy.

  Queasiness swept Nico and he got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry not to be able to get there tomorrow—’

  ‘There would be no point,’ Mattias interrupted. ‘That’s when he’ll have his angiogram. He’s almost bound to need intervention – either stents or bypass surgery.’ He blew out a sigh. ‘They’ve suggested short visits in the evening. Mum’s here all the time! You wouldn’t think they’d been divorced twenty-two years. She’s cornering doctors and giving nurses instructions like the most anxious of relatives.’

  Nico digested this. He realised his hand was full of Barbie shoes and let them clatter into the toy crate. ‘Wow. How’s Dad reacting?’

  Mattias half-laughed. ‘They were holding hands when I got here tonight. Ironic, really. When we needed them together, they split up. Although you took up Dad’s tim
e anyway.’ He switched subjects. ‘Do you need fetching from the airport on Friday?’

  ‘I’ll have a rental car,’ Nico answered automatically, still working on Mattias’s words. ‘I spent a lot of time with Dad because of the ice hockey.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, I’d better get back to the ward,’ said Mattias. ‘See you soon.’

  Nico was left holding a silent phone and frowning.

  His uneasy thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the kitchen door. When he answered, he found Hannah, holding a padded bag.

  ‘Hope I’m not imposing.’ Her coat hood framed her face. ‘I made this casserole for Nan and now she’s made things up with her boyfriend and he’s swept her off to a restaurant and as I need to talk to you anyway I thought we might share it. Unless you’ve eaten already.’

  He stood back to let her in. ‘Thank you! Eating together would be great. The girls wanted cheese on toast for supper, which I didn’t fancy.’ Now here was Hannah with something that smelled delicious and suddenly he discovered an appetite.

  She stepped inside, roses in her cheeks from the chill evening. ‘It’s in an insulated thingy so it’ll still be hot.’

  ‘I’ll warm plates,’ he said, unexpectedly soothed by the domestic feel to these arrangements. ‘Fancy a glass of wine?’

  Hannah did and before long they were each sitting down steaming casserole and chilled chablis. Nico raised his glass to clink it with hers. ‘I’m never sure where British casserole ends and stew begins.’

  ‘Me neither,’ she admitted cheerfully, lifting her glass of gleaming white wine too. ‘Casserole sounds posher.’

  ‘Whatever you call it, it’s delicious,’ he said, tasting succulent beef that fell apart on his fork. It was nice to feel a normal kind of hungry.

  She entertained him as they ate by telling him that her project at Carlysle Courtyard was her project no more. Though she was light and amusing, he was sure being publicly and shockingly shoved aside must have been distinctly unfunny.