The Baby Who Saved Christmas

by Alison Roberts

  ‘Maybe they took pity on my mother when they saw how frightened she was. Or how much she wanted the baby of the man she loved.’ Alice’s voice was low. She was talking aloud to herself rather than trying to make conversation with someone she now knew she could never connect with.

  Another derisive sound from Yvonne Laurent made her lift her chin and stare back at her, probably with the same kind of disgusted look she had been subjected to herself. This was unexpectedly devastating and a part of her needed to hit back.

  ‘Perhaps it was André who made different arrangements,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he paid the clinic an even more exorbitant fee so that he could keep my mother safe. From you...’

  ‘No. My son would not have done that. His racing career was everything to him. He was young. He could not have kept doing it if I hadn’t provided the funding and he knew that was going to stop if he had anything more to do with a—a waitress who’d been stupid enough to try and catch him by producing an unwanted brat. She wasn’t the only one. He was pursued by a great many like her. Les salopes... Trash...’

  Alice stepped back as if she could get out of range of such venom. Her steps took her closer to the cot where Jacquot lay sleeping. It was then that fear stepped in. Not for herself—it didn’t matter what this woman thought of her—but she was suddenly and dreadfully afraid for this innocent baby who was in danger of being brought up by a woman who was giving every impression that she was incapable of compassion, let alone love.

  ‘And Jacquot?’ she heard herself whisper. ‘Is he an unwanted “brat” as well?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Yvonne Laurent snapped. ‘He is a legitimate child and the heir to the Laurent name and fortune.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘If you think you’ll be getting any money from me, mademoiselle, think again. Maybe I wasn’t careful enough the first time I tried to deal with you but I will not be making that mistake again.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘I am giving you some advice. Go back to the village you came from and do not ever come here again.’

  Alice’s inward breath was a gasp of horror. ‘Jacquot is my brother...’

  ‘No.’ The word was final. ‘Jacques Laurent is my grandchild. My only grandchild. You...’ The rings on her hand flashed again in a gesture that could have been used to brush dust from a polished surface. ‘You are rien. Nothing.’

  ‘You don’t care a jot about him,’ Alice hissed. ‘You haven’t even looked at him since you came into this house.’

  Madame Laurent’s eyebrows rose just a little. Enough to suggest a refined astonishment.

  ‘The child will have the best care that money can provide. And I will raise him to be as much of a credit to the Laurent name as his father was.’

  Alice let out a long breath. ‘I wish I’d met my father,’ she said slowly. ‘I wish I could have thanked him for making sure I didn’t grow up here—with you as my grandmother. I was genuinely loved and that...that is of far more value than anything money can buy.’

  The moment’s silence was brief.

  ‘Have my grandson ready to travel by tomorrow afternoon. And be ready to leave yourself. I do not wish to see you again.’

  And with that, Madame Laurent turned and left the nursery, having not taken a step closer to Alice. Or any nearer the cot that contained her only grandchild.

  Alice was shaking from head to toe as she did something that would probably be frowned on by any baby-care guides. She lifted a soundly sleeping infant so that she could hold him in her arms and press her cheek gently against his downy head.

  ‘I won’t let it happen,’ she whispered. ‘I love you. Your uncle Julien loves you too, I know he does...and...and I love him...and I wouldn’t have fallen in love with anyone who could let this happen so I know that you will be safe...’

  * * *

  Alice came downstairs as Madame Laurent’s car was on its way to the front gates.

  She looked pale. Shocked even.

  Yvonne Laurent had looked a little pale herself when she’d come down a few minutes ago but that was understandable. To be presented with a relationship to an adult was a very different thing from meeting a vulnerable child and they would both need time.

  And it wasn’t really his business, was it? Nothing had changed. On leaving, Madame Laurent had only confirmed that she would be here tomorrow afternoon with their agreement legally documented.

  So he smiled at Alice.

  ‘All is well that ends well—is that how you say it?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘A good result. I did not expect Yvonne Laurent to be so understanding. To agree to more than I had requested, in fact.’

  ‘I... I don’t understand...’

  Alice had stopped moving. She sank down and sat very still, staring at him.

  ‘There will be no need to go to court. She has agreed that I will be a part of Jaquot’s life. That I will see him regularly and that, in the future, when she is no longer able to devote her life to her grandson, I will become his guardian.’

  ‘Devote her life to him?’ Alice looked horrified. ‘Are you kidding? She doesn’t care a jot for him, Julien. I don’t think she even loved her own son. She wouldn’t even look at Jacquot and she certainly isn’t going to acknowledge me as his sister. She’s an evil woman, can’t you see that? She said the most horrible things about my mother. About me...’

  The anguish in Alice’s eyes was unbearable and it was too much like the kind of pain Julien had seen in other eyes, so long ago. It wasn’t something he could fix and it might make things worse if he tried. To get too involved would only bring pain and hadn’t he caused enough of that already? He was still too raw to cope with fresh wounds. He hadn’t been able to protect Colette so what made him think he could help Alice?

  At least he had protected Jacquot to the best of his ability.

  And he could protect himself. He could feel himself turning inwards already, in search of that safe place.

  ‘I expect that communication was difficult. Perhaps she wasn’t able to express herself very well in your language.’

  ‘Her English was perfect,’ Alice said. ‘Better than yours.’

  If anything, her gaze was more intense now. ‘You love Jacquot. You can’t let this happen to him.’

  She was looking at him the way she had when he’d told her so much about his childhood. As if she wanted to wave her magic wand and make him feel better.

  Make him feel loved...

  He couldn’t go there. He didn’t want to feel loved because that’s how it all started. The need to give back. To love in return and to give everything you had. Then all you could do was wait for the inevitable pain when it got ripped away from you.

  Just a few more steps and he could be in that safe place again. Couldn’t Alice understand?

  ‘You make everything about love,’ he said. ‘But that gets in the way of thinking with your head and not your heart and that’s a dangerous path where too many people get hurt. Yes, my heart knows I love Jacquot but my head knows that what has been arranged is best. For everyone.’

  Alice’s eyes were huge in her pale face. ‘You’re afraid to take that path but you know that’s what really matters. For everybody. Especially Jacquot...’

  * * *

  Her heart was breaking. She could feel it happening and the pain was unbearable.

  The barriers were there again and more solid than ever.

  The doubts she’d had during that awful time of waiting in the nursery surfaced again and this time they had vicious claws.

  Julien had never said he loved her. He’d never even hinted that their time together would continue. He’d given her this special day because he’d known it was going to be their last and...and he’d been relieved when it was over. Look at the way the pleasure had been sucked out o
f the day when the woman at the hat stall had suggested they were a real family.

  The spell had been broken then and now it was no more than a little sparkly dust. It would take no more than a heartfelt sigh to send that dust into oblivion.

  He’d told her all along that it wasn’t real. That it wasn’t simply his work that stopped him from being able to raise a child. That he didn’t want to...

  Was there any point in trying to tell him that Jacquot’s grandmother was an evil monster? What could she do? He’d been offered the perfect solution in which he could stay in that safe place he’d invented. The place where he didn’t have to take the risk of truly loving.

  Or being loved.

  It was so obvious that Alice had reached the end of the road. That she was defeated.

  ‘It makes no difference that I’m his sister, does it? That I can love him with all my heart and soul?’

  That I could love you like that, too...

  But she couldn’t tell Julien that she loved him because he didn’t want to be loved. Being rejected by Madame Laurent was one thing. To invite rejection from Julien was another thing entirely. Why make this even worse for herself?

  And he wasn’t going to tell her that he loved her because...because he didn’t. It was that simple. He didn’t know how to. She’d been right. She’d been no more than a distraction during a difficult time.

  ‘I know you love Jacquot.’ Julien’s tone softened. ‘And I...’

  Something flashed in his eyes. It was a fleeting glimpse through the barriers. An echo of the ‘thing’—that extraordinary connection they had found with each other. Oh, God...had she been wrong? Was he going to say that he loved her? That would change everything. They could fight this together. And win...

  ‘And I must thank you for everything that you’ve done for him.’

  The disappointment was crushing. Why did she keep buying into that fairy-tale when she should know better by now? Alice dropped her gaze so that Julien wouldn’t see her pain.

  ‘Maybe, one day, I can arrange for you to see him again but, for now, things must be as they are. Je suis désolé.’

  Alice stared at her hands. It was really over.

  ‘I’m sorry, too,’ she whispered. ‘More than you’ll ever know.’

  Julien was moving away. Towards the grand salon. Towards her father’s office perhaps?

  ‘I have to speak to my solicitor. Madame Laurent is returning tomorrow and it might be easier for you if you are not in the house. I will arrange for someone to come and care for Jacques until I get back from Paris. Marthe perhaps. And I will see if a flight can be arranged to take you home. Would you prefer to fly into Glasgow or Edinburgh?’

  Alice pushed herself to her feet and turned her back as she prepared to head back upstairs. Her response felt strangled. Like her heart.

  ‘Edinburgh.’

  * * *

  It was so late by the time he had all the arrangements in place there was no time for anything more than another strong cup of coffee, a shower and a change of clothes before his taxi would arrive to get him to his early flight to Paris.

  Julien left the printout of the plane ticket to Edinburgh he had finally managed to secure on the kitchen table where Alice would find it when she came down for breakfast. He had also printed out the voucher for the taxi that would come and collect her. Marthe would be here by then and he would be getting on his return flight from Paris. By the time he was landing in Nice, her plane would have just taken off. They would both be in the sky at the same time, but flying in very different directions.

  He would never see her again.

  Along with the ticket and taxi voucher, Julien left the colour image he had used the technology in André’s office to print. The photograph of Alice, with Jacquot in her arms, at the Christmas market in Nice.

  He owed her at least a small memento.

  No. He owed her much more than that but if he began to count then it would only make everything more difficult. More painful.

  The picture said it all. That this time had been pretence. No more than a Christmas time fairy-tale and real life wasn’t like that.

  Could he leave without saying goodbye?

  No. Of course he couldn’t. The force that was still pulling him towards this extraordinary young woman was too overwhelming to even begin resisting and surely he could cope. He just needed to peep through the window of his safe place—he didn’t have to step outside it.

  There was no sound coming from the nursery but the door was ajar and there was the soft glow of a nightlight to be seen. Julien pushed the door open a little further but then he stopped, his planned speech of farewell and thanks evaporating.

  He’d heard Jacquot crying when he’d been downstairs and again when he was getting out of his shower but now the baby was a silent bundle in the cot and Alice was curled up in the chair asleep with her head in the crook of her arm. Her hair was a tangle of curls and her face looked as if tears had dried to leave streaks.

  If he woke her, would she cry again?

  And, if she did, would he be able to stop himself taking her into his arms and holding her close to his heart?

  Buying into that dream again for just a few moments longer? Making those promises he knew he had no hope of keeping? Making things worse for them both in the long run?

  It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, turning to walk silently away from that room, but it was best that he did.

  Best that he focused on what he had to do in a matter of only a few hours, which was to present to the world the face of a man whose absolute passion was his career. A career that might once have seemed as much of a fairy-tale as a happy family but was reality.

  And he had to hang onto that for all it was worth.

  Because, when all was said and done, it was all he really had to count on.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JULIEN HAD GONE.

  Alice knew that she and Jacquot were alone in the house from the moment she awoke.

  Because it felt like a part of herself was missing.

  The part she had given to Julien...

  Jacquot was still asleep after a fretful night, probably due to the distress he must have sensed in her, so she moved slowly and quietly around the nursery, her feet feeling as heavy as her heart. After a brief shower she packed her few items into the backpack she had arrived with. The photo of her parents—now more precious than ever—was tucked carefully back into the side pocket. The action reminded her of the photograph she’d found in André’s office of Jacquot’s parents and her vow to find some way to give it to him one day. She needed to remember to go and fetch it.

  It was still dark well after the baby stirred and Alice gave him his breakfast bottle and then bathed and dressed him. She gave him extra kisses and cuddles this morning and talked to him.

  ‘I’ll find you one day, sweetheart. I expect you’ll learn to speak English and I’m going to take French lessons, so by the time I see you again we’ll be able to talk to each other.’

  She thought of all the baby milestones Jacquot would have in the next few years, like saying his first words and taking his first wobbly steps. The pain of knowing she wouldn’t be able to witness or celebrate those milestones was astonishingly painful.

  She’d found what she’d come to France in the hope of finding. Someone that was family to her. Jacquot had accepted her from the moment they’d met. Even now, the memory of how she’d been the only one able to comfort him when he’d been sick and miserable brought a smile to her lips. One that twisted in what felt like grief as she acknowledged that this gift of family was going to be wrenched from her in a matter of just a few hours.

  And Julien hadn’t even said goodbye.

  The tears would come, nothing was surer, but Alice wasn’t going to let it ha
ppen in the scant time she had left with her little brother. So she pasted a smile on her face.

  ‘Shall we go downstairs, darling? So that Alice can have a cup of coffee?’

  There would be no warm, buttery croissants ready for her this morning but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t have eaten anything anyway. Her stomach already felt like a stone and that stone became a painful boulder when she walked into the kitchen to find what had been left on the table for her.

  The note was written in elegant handwriting. She could actually see Julien’s hand holding the pen as she picked it up. Those long, clever fingers that were capable of magic in the kitchen. And in the bedroom...

  Marthe would be arriving at ten-thirty a.m., the note informed her. Half an hour before her taxi was due to arrive to take her to the airport.

  ‘Merci, chérie,’ the brief note ended. ‘Au revoir.’

  Au revoir. One of the language lessons over a meal had been about saying goodbye. And this really meant goodbye. If you intended seeing someone again, you said something like ‘à demain’. Until tomorrow. Or ‘à bientôt’. Soon.

  The endearment was probably automatic. Like a London cab driver calling you ‘love’.

  It meant nothing.

  Except that wasn’t true, was it? She’d seen a part of Julien Dubois that instinct told her very few other people saw.

  That ‘thing’. That connection they’d found when they’d looked at each other in the bathroom mirror that first night had been an attraction that went very much deeper than anything physical. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Julien had felt it too. He was choosing to deny it. To run away.

  And she understood. She might hate it but she had thought about nothing else in the sleepless hours before she’d finally succumbed to exhaustion last night.

  She had told him that he was too afraid to take the path of love and it was true. He was protecting his heart but who could blame him when he’d lost everybody he’d given his heart to? His father had abandoned him at an impressionable age. He’d said himself that small children understood more than you would think and that was why he wanted to spare Jacquot the insecurity of having people fighting over his custody.