SNOWED IN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE

by Caroline Anderson

  Asking for trouble, and she’d got it, with bells on.

  He needed you.

  And you needed him, every bit as much.

  ‘Josh, come on, let’s take these things downstairs and we can go and have breakfast with Grannie and Grandpa!’

  ‘Now?’

  She nodded, dredging up a bright smile from somewhere. ‘Yes. Look. The farmer’s cleared all the snow from the lane. We can get out now, and go to Grannie’s house.’

  ‘Bastian come?’

  Oh, here we go. ‘No, darling. Sebastian lives here.’

  ‘Us live here.’

  ‘No. We can’t, Josh. It’s not our house, and anyway, we’ve got a house already.’

  He stuck his chin out. ‘Want Bastian.’

  So did she, but it wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime.

  She picked up the travel cot, slung the changing bag over her shoulder and pulled up the handle on her case. ‘Come on, downstairs, please.’

  She trundled the case to the top of the stairs, then picked it up and struggled down the first few steps.

  Then a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her, the case was removed from her grasp, the travel cot removed from the other hand and Sebastian carried them down to the kitchen without a word.

  ‘Anything else up there?’

  He met her eyes, but warily, and she felt hers skitter away. ‘No. That’s everything. There’s just the train set. I packed it up last night. Oh, and the bag of presents in your room.’

  He nodded, went and got everything and returned, putting the train set boxes on the big kitchen table where they seemed to have shared so many important moments in the last few days.

  Josh was trailing him, talking to him non-stop, asking if they could live there, if he was coming for breakfast with Grannie, if they were coming back.

  He either didn’t understand Josh, which was possible, or didn’t want to understand, which was much more likely.

  ‘Josh, leave Sebastian alone, we can’t stay here and he’s not coming with us,’ she said softly, and he started to cry.

  ‘Hey. Don’t cry, little guy,’ Sebastian said, finally relenting and crouching down to Josh’s level. ‘Mummy’s right. You can’t stay here, you have to go home to your house, and I can’t come with you because I have to stay here in mine.’

  ‘Me stay here,’ he said, and he wrapped his arms tightly round Sebastian’s neck and hung on.

  A pained expression crossed his face for a fleeting second, and he hugged him briefly, but then he gently but firmly disentangled the little boy’s arms and prised him away, setting him down on the floor and standing up. ‘Come on, Josh, don’t cry. You’re going to see your Grannie.’

  But Josh’s arms were wrapped round his legs now, and Georgie unwrapped them and picked him up, sobbing piteously, and Sebastian pushed past her and pulled on his coat and sloshed across to the coach-house to get her car out.

  He was gone longer than she expected, but then she heard the car pull up. ‘The traction seems fine, the slush is really wet,’ he said as he came back in, leaving the car running just by the door. ‘The drive’s fine and the lane’s clear. I just drove down to have a look. You should be OK.’

  OK? She doubted it, but she nodded and pulled her coat on, one arm at a time with Josh still in her arms, and then while Sebastian put their luggage in the car, she sat down on a chair to put Josh’s coat on.

  He wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘Come on, Josh,’ she pleaded, but he just made it even harder, burrowing into her and hiding his hands, so she carried him out to the car as he was and strapped him in.

  ‘Will he be all right without it?’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ she said crisply. ‘Look, I think I’ve got everything but it’s really hard with Josh, he carts stuff about all over the place. If you find anything, maybe you could pile it all up and my father could come and collect it.’

  He nodded. ‘Or I can post it to you.’

  ‘They can do that,’ she said, reluctant to give him her address. She really, really didn’t need any more scenes like this one.

  And then there was nothing more to say but goodbye, and thank you.

  For what?

  For opening his home to her, but not his heart?

  For making love to her one last time, so she could treasure it in the cold, lonely hours of the nights to come?

  For saving her son’s life?

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said gruffly. ‘Both of you.’

  Her eyes flooded with tears, and she nodded. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything except stand there mutely and blink away the stupid, stupid tears—

  His thumbs were gentle as he wiped them away.

  ‘Don’t cry, George. We’re no good for each other.’

  But they had been. All this time, the last few days, they’d got on really, really well. Except for the times they hadn’t.

  She tried to smile, but it was a shaky effort.

  ‘Goodbye, Sebastian. And thank you. For everything.’

  Going up on tiptoe, she pressed a gentle, rather wistful kiss to his lips, and then turned and walked out of the door, her head bowed against the rain, her eyes flooding with tears as she left the man she’d never stopped loving standing on the step behind her.

  * * *

  She didn’t look back.

  He was glad. If she had, he might have weakened, said something.

  Like what? Begging her to stay?

  He opened the gates remotely from the hall, watched on the security camera as her car turned out of the drive and headed left, the direction the farmer had cleared already.

  The car slithered a little, and he frowned. He had his coat on. His keys were in his pocket. He had to make sure she was safe.

  He followed her, staying well behind out of sight, and ten minutes later he cruised by the end of her parents’ drive.

  Her car was there, and her father was carrying her things in, her mother was holding Josh and Georgie was lifting the bag of presents out of the front of the car.

  She was safe. Home, and safe.

  Duty discharged.

  He went home, turned into the drive and saw the soggy remains of the snowman wilting gently on the lawn beside the drive. His nose had fallen out, and one of his eyes, and the scarf had definitely seen better days.

  He left it there. It seemed wrong to take it off until the snowman had gone completely, and anyway, it was already ruined.

  * * *

  Everything, he discovered, seemed wrong.

  The house, which until Monday had seemed calm and peaceful and a haven, was silent and empty.

  The kitchen echoed to his footsteps. The boot room had a little coat, a snuggly jacket and two pairs of wellies missing from it. And under the table was a toy car.

  He picked it up, tossing it pensively in his hand. It was a toy Josh might never have played with, if things had been different. If he hadn’t been here. If the snow had come a little earlier, or she’d stopped a little later.

  If nothing else, Josh and his mother were still alive, they still had each other and they could move on with their lives. And so could he.

  Even if the house echoed with every sound he made.

  He made some toast and coffee, took it through to the study and paused en route to check the little sitting room.

  And saw the Christmas tree, festooned with all the little toys and sticks and fir cones Georgie had made at the kitchen table and Josh had put on the tree.

  There were no gingerbread trees or stars left.

  Or at least, only one. High up, out of Josh’s reach.

  He left it there, left it all there and went into the study and phoned his mother.

  �
��Hi. The lane’s clear. When do you want to come?’

  ‘Oh. That was quick. Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You tell me, darling,’ his mother said softly. ‘How’s Georgie?’

  ‘She’s fine. Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Are you coming over, or not?’

  ‘Oh, we’re coming, whenever you’re ready for us. Andrew and Matthew are here, too. Shall we come now?’

  ‘That would be fine. Come as soon as you like.’

  ‘Do you have anything left to eat, or do you want us to get something on the way?’

  He gave a slightly strangled laugh. ‘There’s plenty here. I’ve got a joint of beef. We can have it for dinner tonight.’

  And maybe having a full house would drown out the echoes...

  * * *

  ‘I knew it.’

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘That you’d be upset.’

  Georgie put the tea towel down on the worktop and rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, don’t start—’

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry, but you look so—’

  ‘Mum...’

  ‘OK. Point taken. I’ll back off. So—how was your Christmas?’

  Wonderful. Heartbreakingly wonderful.

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ she said. ‘He did us a huge favour, he made a real effort to be nice to Josh who’s completely idolised him as you might have guessed, and it’s over now and I’d rather just forget it. How was yours?’

  ‘Oh, quiet. We missed you. We were on our own, of course, so I put the turkey in the freezer, but I’ve got a chicken in the fridge so we could have it for supper or even a late lunch. We’ve still got most of the trimmings. We could still make it a proper Christmas dinner.’

  She forced a smile. She wasn’t really hungry, but she owed her mother the courtesy of good manners. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you. Want me to peel some potatoes?’

  ‘If you like. It would be nice to have your company, and Josh seems happy enough for now with his Grandpa and the train set.’

  Except for the word ‘Bastian’ that seemed to crop up in every conversation...

  * * *

  He went back to London as soon as his parents and brothers went.

  He hadn’t intended to, but the empty house was driving him insane, so he loaded up the car with a ton of fresh food out of the pantry and took it to the refuge. He was never going to get through it, so there was no point in wasting it.

  He also took back a lot for the office staff, things his PA had over-supplied in her enthusiasm but that would keep until the office reopened and yet more for the refuge. Tash had really overdone it.

  And then he went back to work.

  He hadn’t intended to do that, either, but he was there before the office reopened, sitting at his desk filling his time and his mind with anything rather than Georgie and her apparently rather lovable little boy. Not that there was a lot to do until everyone was back, so in the end he gave up and just walked the streets and went to the theatre and the odd art exhibition, watched the fireworks on New Year’s Eve from the window in his apartment and wondered what the New Year would bring.

  Nothing he was about to get excited about.

  Then he went back into the office at the crack of dawn on the second of January, champing at the bit and ready to get on. Anything rather than this agonising limbo he seemed to be in.

  Tash sashayed into his office, humming softly to herself, and stopped dead. ‘Hey, boss, what are you doing back? I thought you’d be there till next week. I wasn’t expecting you in till Monday.’

  He looked up and met his PA’s astonished eyes. Her hair was pink this week. Last week it had been orange—or was it the week before? ‘It’s a bit quiet in the country.’

  She frowned, and perched on the edge of his desk, twisting her hair up and anchoring it with a pencil out of the pot.

  ‘Really? I thought you liked that.’

  ‘I do.’ He did. He had. Until Georgie came.

  ‘So how was the food? Did you get through it all?’

  He laughed. ‘Not really. I’ve brought a lot in for everyone—I thought we could have a sort of random buffet to welcome everyone back.’

  He’d got more, too, in the back of the car, but he’d drop that off later at the refuge, to kick the New Year off.

  Pity he couldn’t seem to kick his year off. Off a cliff, maybe.

  ‘So how was your Christmas?’ he asked belatedly.

  She gurgled with laughter. Positively gurgled, and flashed a ring under his nose.

  He grabbed her hand and held it still, studying the ring in astonishment. ‘He did it?’

  ‘He did. In style. Took me to a posh restaurant and went down on one knee and everything.’

  He chuckled, and stood up and hugged her. ‘I’m really pleased for you, Tash. That’s great news.’

  Her smile faltered and she pulled a face. ‘Yeah. That’s the good news.’

  ‘And the bad?’ he said, with a sense of impending doom.

  ‘He’s got a job offer. He’s moving to America for a year—to Chicago—and he wants me to go with him.’

  He sat down again, propping his ankle on his knee, his foot jiggling. This was not good news—well, not for him. ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as you can replace me.’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘I’ll never be able to replace you, Tash, but you can go as soon as it’s right for you. I’ll manage.’

  ‘How?’

  He grazed his knuckles lightly over her cheek. ‘You’re not indispensable,’ he said gently. ‘But I will miss you and there’ll always be a place for you here if you want to come back.’

  ‘Oh, Sebastian, I’ll miss you, too,’ she said, and flung her arms around his neck. ‘I wish you could be happy. I hate it that you’re so sad.’

  ‘I’m not sad,’ he protested, but she gave him a sceptical look.

  ‘Yes, you are. You’ve been sad ever since I’ve known you. You don’t even realise it. I don’t know who she was, but I’m guessing you’ve seen her over Christmas, because your eyes look even sadder today.’

  He looked away, uncomfortable with her all too accurate analysis.

  ‘Since when were you a psychotherapist?’ he asked brusquely, but it didn’t put her off. Nothing put Tash off, not when she felt she was on the scent. Maybe it was just as well she was leaving—

  ‘Is she married?’

  He gave up. ‘No. Not any more.’

  ‘Well, there you are, then. Do you love her? No, don’t answer that, it’s obvious. Does she love you?’

  Did she?

  ‘Yes. But we’re not right for each other. Sometimes love’s just not enough.’

  ‘Rubbish. It’s always enough. Talk to her, Sebastian. I know you. You never talk about anything that matters to you, not really. The only thing you get really worked up about is the refuge, and you never talk about why.’

  ‘It’s a good cause.’

  She rolled her eyes and pulled the pencil out, shaking her hair down around her shoulders in a shower of shocking pink.

  ‘Go and see her,’ she said, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest with the end of the pencil to punctuate every word. ‘And talk. Properly.’

  She dropped the pencil on the desk and swished out of the door. ‘Want a coffee before you go?’ she asked over her shoulder.

  Go? ‘Who said anything about going?’ he yelled after her, but she ignored him, so he sat down again and stared out of the window at the river.

  It was brown with silt from all the run-off after the thaw, and it looked bleak and uninviting.

  Like his house.

  Was Tash right? Was he sad all the time? />
  He swallowed hard. Maybe. He hadn’t always been. Not while he was with Georgie. She’d taken away the ache, made him feel whole again. And this Christmas, with Josh—he’d been happy.

  ‘Forget the coffee,’ he said, snagging his coat off the hook in Tash’s office on the way past. ‘Don’t forget the food. It’s in the board room. Share it out. And tell Craig he’s a lucky man.’

  ‘Break a leg,’ she yelled after him, and he gave a little huff of laughter.

  He wasn’t really sure what he was doing, and he was far less sure that it would work, but he had to do something, and dithering around for another nine years wasn’t going to achieve anything.

  It was time to talk to Georgie. Time to tell her the truth in all its ugly glory.

  * * *

  He went home first.

  Not to his flat, but to the house.

  He’d dropped off the extravagant goodies at the refuge on the way, and wished them all a happy New Year, and then he drove back up to Suffolk and let himself in.

  He needed the files, so he could show her. And the test results. Everything.

  And then he just had to convince her parents to give him her address in Huntingdon.

  It wasn’t easy. Her mother was like a Rottweiler, and she wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

  ‘Why do you want to see her?’

  ‘I need to talk to her. There are things I need to tell her.’

  ‘You’ve hurt her.’

  He opened his mouth to point out that she’d left him, and shut it. ‘I know,’ he said after a pause. ‘But I want to put it right.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘That’s between me and Georgie, Mrs Becket. But I don’t want to hurt her, and I especially don’t want to hurt Josh.’

  ‘But you will. If you go there, you will.’

  ‘Not if I don’t go when he’s awake.’

  She seemed to consider that for a moment, but then her husband appeared behind her shoulder and frowned at him.

  ‘I don’t know whether to shake your hand for saving their lives or punch your lights out,’ he growled, and Sebastian sighed.

  ‘Look, this is nothing to do with Christmas. This is about me, and things about me that she doesn’t know. Things I should have told her years ago.’