Around the base brightly coloured parcels, decorated with shiny bows, crowded together, spilling lavishly over the floor.
The whole thing presented a picture of generous abundance. It was a family tree, meant to stand in a home, surrounded by happy children eagerly tearing the wrapping from the parcels, revealing longed for gifts.
Instead, it stood in the corner of Alex Mead’s huge office. The presents were fake. Any child removing the pretty wrapping paper would have found only empty boxes.
But no child would do so. The whole confection had been designed and carried out by Alex’s secretary, Katherine, and as far as he was concerned she had wasted her time.
She entered now with some letters in one hand and a newspaper in the other, and he noticed that she couldn’t resist glancing proudly at the tree as she passed.
‘Sentimentalist,’ he said, giving her the brilliant grin that won him goodwill at every first meeting. Often the goodwill was short-lived. It didn’t take long for rivals and associates to discover the predator who lived beneath the charm.
‘Well, it looks nice,’ she said defensively. ‘Honestly, Alex, don’t you have any Christmas spirit?’
‘Sure I do. Look at your bonus.’
‘I have and it was a lovely surprise.’
‘You earned it, Kath. You did almost as much as I did to build this firm up.’
He was a generous man where money was concerned. Not only her bonus but that of several other vital employees had been more than expected. Alex knew how to keep good staff working difficult hours.
‘Some of them want to come in and thank you,’ she said now.
‘Tell them there’s no need. Say you said it for them, and I said all the right things—Happy Christmas, have a nice time—you’ll know how to make it sound good.’
‘Why do you have to try to sound like Scrooge?’
‘Because I am Scrooge,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Liar,’ she said, with the privilege of long friendship. ‘Scrooge would never have let his employees go a day early, the way you’re doing. Most firms keep everyone there until noon, Christmas Eve.’
‘Yes, and what’s the result? Nobody does any work on Christmas Eve morning. Half of them are hung over and they’re all watching the clock. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.’
She laid the newspaper, open at the financial page, on his desk. ‘Did you see this?’
It was the best Christmas gift an entrepreneur could have had. There was a page of laudatory text about Mead Consolidated and its meteoric rise, its impact on the market, its brilliant prospects.
Backing this up was an eye-catching photograph of Alex, his grin at its most engaging, telling the world that here was a man of charisma and confidence who could steer his way skilfully through waters infested by sharks. You would have to look very closely to see that he was one of them.
The picture was cut off halfway down his chest, so it didn’t show the long-limbed body that was just a little underweight. He was thin because he forgot to eat, relying on nervous energy for nourishment, just as he relied on nervous force to make an impact.
It was Alex’s proud boast that he had no nerves. The truth, as Kath knew, was that he lived on them. It was one of the reasons why he looked older than his thirty-seven years, why his smile was so swift and unpredictable, and why his temper was beginning to be the same.
When she’d come to work for him his dark eyes had sparkled with ambition and confidence and his complexion had had a healthy glow. The glow was gone now, and there were too often shadows under his eyes. But he was still a handsome man, only partly through his looks. The rest was a mysterious talisman, an inner light for which there were no words.
She had been on business trips with him and seen the female heads turn, the eyes sparkle with interest. To his credit he had never collected, although whether that was out of love for his wife or because he couldn’t spare the time from business, Kath had never quite decided.
“‘Here’s the one to watch,’” she read from the newspaper. “‘By this time next year Mead Consolidated will threaten to dominate the market.” Well, you might try to look pleased. It’s so brilliant you might have written it yourself.’
He laughed. ‘How do you know I didn’t?’
‘Now you mention it, you probably did. You’re conceited enough for anything.’
‘So conceited that if I’d written it I wouldn’t have stopped at “threatened” to dominate. That’s not good enough for me. I have to be at the top, and I’m going to get there.’
‘Alex, you only started eleven years ago, practically working from a garden shed. Give yourself time.’
‘I don’t need time. I need Craddock’s contract, the biggest that’s ever come my way.’
‘Well, you’ve got it.’
‘Not until he’s signed it. Dammit, why did he have to get this tomfool idea about going to the Caribbean?’
George Craddock, the man whose signature he was determined to get by hook or by crook, had been all set to sign when he’d been struck by the notion of a gathering on the tiny Caribbean island that he owned. He’d called Alex about it that very afternoon.
‘And a big contract signing party to end it,’ Alex groaned now. ‘It’s a pointless exercise because the deal’s already set up.’
‘So why the party?’ Kath asked.
‘Because he’s old, foolish and lonely and has nobody to spend Christmas with him. So I have to forget my plans and catch a plane tonight.’
‘Weren’t you supposed to be seeing your family over Christmas?’
‘Part of it. I was going to arrive tomorrow and stay until the next day. Now I’ll have to call Corinne and explain that I’ve been called away. I just hope I can make her understand.’
Tact prevented Kath from saying, Sure, she understands so well that she’s divorcing you.
‘You should have told Craddock to get stuffed,’ she told him robustly now.
‘No way! You know how hard I’ve fought for this contract, and I’m not going to see it slip through my fingers now.’
Seeing disapproval on her face he said, defensively, ‘Kath, there’ll be other Christmases.’
‘I’m not so sure. Children grow up so fast, and suddenly there aren’t other Christmases.’
‘Now you’re being sentimental,’ he said gruffly.
That silenced her. ‘Sentimental’ was Alex’s strongest term of disapproval.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the best of moods. Go home, Kath. Have a nice Christmas.’
‘And be in early on the first day,’ she said in a reciting tone.
‘I never need to tell you that.’
When she’d gone he sat down tiredly and stared at the phone. What he had to do could not be put off any longer. If you had to break a promise it was best to do it quickly and cleanly.
He hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble with Corinne. She was used to the demands of his job, and the fact that it often took him away from his family. The only time she’d ever fought him about it was at Christmas.
And it would have to be Christmas now, wouldn’t it? he thought, exasperated. Just when he’d wanted to put a good face on things and show that he wasn’t a neglectful father, as she’d accused him!
He’d planned to join her and the children tomorrow, just for one day, because that was all he could spare. But he would have arrived, overflowing with presents, and they would have been impressed whether they liked it or not. They would have had to be. He would have seen to that.
So the sooner he called, the better. Dial the number, say, I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan—
He reached for the phone.
CHAPTER ONE
‘MUM, it’s the best Christmas tree we’ve ever had. A tree fit for Santa.’
Bobby was nine, old enough to have his own ideas about Santa, kind enough not to disillusion his adults.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it, darling?’ Corinne agreed, regarding
her son tenderly.
The tree was five feet high and covered in tinsel and baubles which had been fixed in place by eager, inexpert hands. Perhaps the star on top was a little wonky, but nobody cared about that.
‘Do you think Dad will like it?’ Bobby wanted to know.
‘I’m sure he will.’
‘You will tell him I did it, won’t you? Well, Mitzi helped a bit, but she’s only a little kid so she couldn’t do much.’
‘She’s six years old,’ Jimmy said, from where he was standing behind Corinne. ‘It’s not that long since you were six.’
‘It was ages ago,’ Bobby said indignantly.
Jimmy grinned. He was a cheerful young man with a round face that smiled easily, the kind of man who seemed to have been designed by nature for the express purpose of being an uncle.
He was in the army, on two weeks’ leave, and had gladly accepted Corinne’s invitation to spend Christmas. They were only third cousins, but, with no other family, they had always clung to their kinship.
‘You thought you were a big man at six,’ he reminded Bobby.
‘I was,’ the child said at once. ‘And I’m an even bigger one now. Put ’em up.’
He lifted his fists, boxer-style, and Jimmy obligingly responded with the same stance. For a moment they danced around each other, Jimmy leaning down to get within the child’s range.
Suddenly he yelled, ‘Help! He got me, he got me,’ and collapsed on the floor, clutching his nose.
At once Bobby, the tender-hearted, dropped down beside him.
‘I didn’t really hurt you, did I, Uncle Jimmy?’ he asked anxiously.
Jimmy wobbled his nose and spoke in a heavy nasal whine. ‘I dink you spoiled by dose.’
Bobby giggled.
In falling, Jimmy had dislodged some of the presents and the two of them began to pile them up again. Corinne helped, trying not to be too conscious of the parcel with the tag that read, To Daddy, with love from Bobby.
‘Daddy will like it, won’t he, Mummy? I got it specially with my pocket money.’
‘Then he’ll love it, whatever it is,’ she assured him. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’
Bobby shook his head very seriously. ‘It’s a secret between me and Daddy. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No, darling, I don’t mind.’
She watched how carefully he replaced the box under the tree, and her heart ached for him. Both children loved their father so much, and had been let down by him so often. And the more he failed them, the more anxiously they loved him.
But he would make up for it this time, she thought desperately. Please, don’t let anything go wrong. Make him be here.
When Bobby had gone away, Jimmy murmured, ‘That has to be the sweetest-tempered kid in the world.’
‘Yes, and it scares me. He’s wide open to be badly hurt by Alex.’
‘But that won’t happen, will it? Alex gave his word that he’d arrive on Christmas Eve.’
Corinne made a face. ‘Yes, but a promise to us was always conditional on business.’
‘But not at Christmas?’ Jimmy said, shocked.
‘Especially at Christmas, because that was when he could steal a march on all those wimps who spent it with their families.’
‘But he promised to spend this Christmas with you and the kids.’
‘No, what he promised was to arrive on Christmas Eve and leave on Christmas Day.’
‘So little time? Then surely you don’t have to worry about him cancelling that?’
‘I wish I could believe it. Do you know? I’m not sure the children even realise that our marriage is over. They hardly see less of him now than they did then. Apart from the fact that we’ve moved house, not much has changed.
‘I don’t mind for myself, but if he disappoints Bobby and Mitzi again I’ll never forgive him.’
‘And you’ve put up with that all these years?’
‘Yes,’ she said, almost in a tone of surprise. ‘Until the day came when I wouldn’t put up with it any more. And now we’re separated, soon to be divorced.’
Put like that it sounded so simple, and that was how she wanted to leave it. This wasn’t the time to speak of the pain, misery and disillusionment she’d endured as she had finally given up the fight to save her marriage.
It had been twelve years, starting in unbelievable happiness. And perhaps unbelievable was the right word, because she had believed the impossible.
At eighteen you convinced yourself of whatever suited you. You thought you could marry a tough, ambitious man and not suffer for it. You told yourself that love would soften him, that he would put you first, not every time, but often enough to count.
When that didn’t work you told yourself that the babies would make a difference. He was so proud of his children. Surely at least he would put them first?
‘He can’t have missed everything, surely?’ Jimmy asked now.
‘No, he was there for some birthdays, even some Christmases. But I always knew that if the phone rang he’d be off somewhere.’
Jimmy looked into her face, trying to see past the wry resignation to whatever she really felt. He doubted that she would let him catch a glimpse. She’d perfected that cheerful, unrevealing mask by now. That was what marriage to Alex Mead had done for her.
To Jimmy’s loving eyes there was little change from the dazzling bride of twelve years ago, gloriously blonde and blue-eyed in white satin and lace, unwittingly tormenting him with the opportunity he’d missed. But opportunities sometimes came again to a man who was patient.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘is there somewhere I can hide my costume so that the kids don’t find it?’
He was playing Santa at Hawksmere Hospital that evening, roped in by Corinne, a member of the ‘Friends of Hawksmere Hospital.’
‘It means going round the wards, ho-ho-ho-ing,’ she’d said. ‘And then you settle down in the grotto for the children who can walk out of the ward, or who happen to be in the hospital visiting someone.’
And Jimmy, good-natured as always, had agreed, just to please her.
‘You can put it in the boot of my car,’ she said now. ‘I’ll be leaving at five to take Bobby and Mitzi to a kids’ party. When I’ve dropped them off I’ll come back for you at six, and deliver you to the hospital by seven.’
‘Yes, sir!’ He saluted.
‘Idiot!’ She laughed.
‘I’m paying you a compliment. You’ve got this organisation thing down to a fine art,’ he said admiringly.
It was true; she was good at arrangements. Years of last-minute changes of plan, because Alex had been called away, had made her an expert.
‘At eight o’clock,’ she resumed, ‘I collect the kids and take them to the hospital, where they’ll find Santa already in place. They’ll never dream it’s you.’
‘What about coming home?’
‘Easy. When Bobby and Mitzi have finished I’ll take them to the “Friends” office on some errand that I’ll suddenly remember, while you get changed. When we leave the office we bump into you. We’ll say you’ve been visiting a friend.’
‘By the way, Alex won’t mind my staying here, will he?’
‘It doesn’t matter if he does,’ she said firmly. ‘Our marriage is over in all but name, and he has no say. Besides, you and I are related.’
Which wasn’t quite fair because she knew how Jimmy had always felt about her. But that was something she wasn’t ready to confront just yet.
‘It could be such a happy time,’ she said, ‘if only that phone doesn’t ring. But I’ll bet you anything you like that in the next few minutes Alex will call and say, “Corinne, there’s been a change of plan.” And I’ll be expected to be “reasonable” and not “make a fuss”.’
Her voice rose sharply on the last words, making her bite it back with an alarmed look at the door in case Bobby or Mitzi could hear.
‘Hey, steady.’ Jimmy gently took hold of her shoulders. ‘That’s all over, remember
?’
‘It’s not really over.’ She sighed. ‘Not while Alex and I share children who can be hurt by him.’
‘In the end they’ll see him for what he is.’
‘But that’s just it. I don’t want them to see him for what he is. I want them to go on believing in him as the most wonderful, glorious father there ever was, because that’s what they need.’
‘Just don’t let yourself be hurt by him.’
‘No, that can’t happen any more.’
‘I wish I believed that.’
‘Believe it. I’m completely immune. Whatever was between Alex and me was over a long time ago.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘Honestly.’
‘Mummy!’ came a shriek from the garden. ‘Uncle Jimmy! Come and look. It’s going to be a white Christmas.’
It wasn’t merely snowing; it was coming down in drifts, huge, thick snowflakes that settled and piled up. Jimmy immediately bounded out into the garden to join the children in a game. Corinne stood in the window, watching them jumping about and laughing. Dusk was falling and the only light came from the house. Through the driving snow she could only just make out the fast moving figures. They could have been anyone.
They could have been the newly-weds, blissful in their first Christmas, hurrying together through the snow to the shabby little flat that had been their first home.
And the happiest, she recalled now.
The next one had still been happy, but they had already been in their first proper house, with Alex promising her ‘a palace by next year’. She hadn’t wanted a palace. All she had asked was for her joy to last, but the first cracks were already appearing.
Even so, she hadn’t realised yet that she had a rival, a beloved mistress called Mead Consolidated. And, as years had passed, the rival had grown all-consuming. How wearily used she had grown to the phone calls, and Alex’s voice saying, ‘There’s been a change of plan.’
But not this year, she thought desperately. I don’t mind for myself, but don’t let him disappoint the children.
The phone rang.
For a moment she couldn’t move. Then, in a burst of anger, she snatched up the phone, and snapped, ‘Alex, is that you?’
12 Stocking Stuffers Page 102
