A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  ‘Oh, Gabriela.’ Her mother shook her head. ‘Of all the things I regret, and there are many when it comes to my relationship with you, not making it home those times is at the top of the list.’ She drew in a shuddery breath. ‘I don’t have an excuse. I just got sucked into life in the refugee camps. Christmas, with all its over the top eating and drinking, seemed so far removed from what I was seeing.’

  ‘I didn’t need someone to celebrate Christmas with. I needed my mum home with me.’

  ‘I know.’ She blinked and stared up at the ceiling, seeming to gather herself before looking back at Gabby. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Why, Mum? Why did you spend so much time away from me?’

  Her mother’s expression hardened. ‘We’ve never spoken much about your father, have we? There’s a reason for that. He broke my heart.’ She reached to sip at her drink before setting it back on the table. ‘I was twenty-six, working in Mexico to help in the aftermath of a hurricane, when I met a local doctor there.’ Her expression became distant. ‘He was the cliché; tall, dark and handsome, and I fell for him quickly, and completely. For many months we lived together and worked together. Until I fell pregnant.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘He wanted me to get rid of you, but I refused. You were made in love, at least I thought so. I hadn’t planned it, but when I knew I was pregnant I wanted his child.’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘No.’ She let out a shaky breath. ‘And when I decided to keep you, he didn’t want me either.’

  Gabby felt a pinch on her heart. It was impossible to look at the agony on her mother’s face – thirty years on, yet still so vivid – and not feel sympathy for the young woman who’d fallen pregnant and been rejected. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I stayed in Mexico, thinking if he saw me growing in size with his baby, he’d change his mind. He didn’t. Not while I was heavily pregnant and waddling round the refugee camp. Not when I had you. In fact, he refused to even look at you. Refused anything to do with either of us. In the end his ignoring me hurt so much that I left and came home.’ Her eyes, when they met Gabby’s, were filled with regret. ‘Every time I looked at you, your olive skin, your deep brown hair, your dark eyes, I was reminded of him. In the end, I couldn’t stand it.’

  ‘So you hired a nanny and went back to work.’

  She nodded, a tear slipping down her weathered cheek. ‘To my shame, yes. And the more I was away, the easier it became to stay away. By the time I realised how selfish I’d been, it was too late. We’d become so distant, and you were so independent. I felt you didn’t need me any more, so I stayed with the charity. The place I felt wanted.’

  ‘I had to protect myself.’

  ‘I know. And it haunts me to know that.’

  Silence filled the room. Gabby wanted to feel strong enough, forgiving enough, to put her arms around her mother and tell her she understood. Maybe one day she’d be able to, but for now the hurt, built up over thirty years, was too deep.

  Her mother cleared her throat. ‘Well, I seem to have done a lot of the talking. I think it’s your turn now. Perhaps you can tell me why you’re so upset with the man who owns the jacket.’

  Owen felt the tug on his heart as he looked at Zoe. She’d got dressed without him asking her to; green tights twisted beneath a pink skirt, topped with a yellow jumper. And now she was putting on her coat.

  ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘I can see that. Ready for what, exactly?’ Though he had a pretty good idea.

  ‘To get the tree!’ She bounced up and down. ‘You promised last night and there are only two more days to go. We have to get a tree. And decorate it.’

  His eyes swivelled to the room his dad was using. The room with the closed door. ‘Zoe, sweetheart, I’m not sure we can.’ As he watched all the joy flood from her face, he cursed his bad luck this Christmas. Looks like he was destined to let both the women in his life down.

  ‘Why?’ Her eloquent blue eyes looked utterly dejected.

  ‘After you’d gone to bed last night, my dad had a fall. He’s not up to coming with us and we can’t leave him on his own.’

  Slowly the door in front of them creaked open and his dad appeared in his dressing gown, clutching the once abandoned walker. He glared at Owen, his face unshaven, his grey hair uncombed. ‘Don’t let this little girl down. Go and buy her a damn tree.’

  As Zoe squealed with excitement, Owen returned his father’s look, glare for glare. ‘Be a big help and go and feed the chickens, will you, Zoe? Just like my dad taught you yesterday.’

  ‘Sure. Cluck, cluck.’

  As she ran off giggling, Owen turned back to his dad. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like I told you last night. Fine.’

  Owen huffed. ‘So fine you’re back to using the walker?’

  His dad’s eyes darted away from him. ‘A precaution. I’m never steady on my feet first thing in the morning.’

  Owen wanted to call him on it – the last two days he’d walked into the kitchen with his crutch to get breakfast – but what was the point. The guy was more stubborn than a mule digging its hooves in. ‘I’m not taking Zoe out until I’m convinced you’re okay to be left on your own.’

  ‘Bloody ridiculous.’ His father turned round and pushed the door shut.

  ‘Not as ridiculous as you insisting you’re fine when you’re not,’ Owen shouted through the door.

  Cursing again under his breath, Owen walked into the kitchen, watching through the window as Zoe talked to the chickens. Christmas without a tree was unthinkable to Zoe. Somehow he’d have to find a way to get one, even if it meant phoning up and getting one delivered, which admittedly sucked most of the fun out of it. Thankfully online shopping had at least taken care of her extra presents.

  While he was debating what to do, his phone rang.

  ‘Hilda. Everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Cooper.’ Owen sighed, but kept quiet. Getting his PA to call him by his first name wasn’t high on today’s priority list. ‘I wanted to know if there was anything in particular you needed me to do before I finish tomorrow.’

  Owen winced guiltily. He’d forgotten that today he was meant to be working. Tomorrow he’d taken off … to go on holiday with Gabby.

  His heart weighed down with misery, he slumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Actually, I’m going to take today as annual leave, so if you could amend the system, that would be great. And if you’ve nothing to do, you’ve my permission to take yourself off home and get ready for Christmas.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’ll catch up on the items waiting in my in tray. I like to keep busy.’ The way she said it, the slight catch in her voice, made him wonder if work was actually what kept her going. ‘I hope you have a pleasant holiday.’

  ‘Ah.’ He felt the usual stab of regret, followed by the ache of longing. ‘My plans had to change.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  Just then he heard the door to his father’s room open, and his father shuffle out, holding his crutch not his walker. Stupid damn fool. Slowly the cogs in his brain started to turn. ‘Actually, Hilda, before you go home, would you mind doing me a huge favour and popping here for a bit?’

  ‘Certainly. I can be there in half an hour.’

  ‘You’re a superstar. Thank you.’

  After ending the call, he allowed himself a small smile.

  Owen parked up outside his house, climbed out of the car and surveyed the damage. Maserati’s weren’t designed to carry Christmas trees. Fact. It looked bloody ridiculous, the top half sticking out of the passenger window, the rest of it jammed inside, scraping against the soft leather seats.

  Zoe flung open the rear door and jumped out. ‘Come on, we have to get it inside and put it in water, like the man said.’

  Owen didn’t want to disillusion her by telling her the tree had probably been out of water for the best part of four weeks. ‘You go in and open the back door. I’ll bring it round.’ As she ran
off he surveyed the problem, wondering how best to get it out without damaging his precious car. He’d given up worrying about pine needles. The gung-ho way the man at the garden centre had ‘helped’ him put the tree in, had ensured he’d be finding the damn things all year.

  With a lot of internal swearing – he’d had the occasional slip in front of Zoe, and she’d taken him to task over it – he manoeuvred the tree through the back door and into the kitchen. ‘Where do you want it, Zoe?’

  ‘Here.’ She pointed to the end of the hallway. Not a bad place, but they’d only see it when they walked through. Still, it was her Christmas, her choice. He’d just manhandled it into the right spot when she shook her head. ‘Oh no. We can’t have it here. It’s too far away from where we’ll sit.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Pick it up again. I remember now. I want it in the other room where the telly is.’

  ‘Please?’

  She gave him a heart melting smile. ‘Pleeeeeeease, Owen.’

  Heaving it onto his back, again, Owen trudged through to the sitting room. And came up short. There was his dad, smiling again. And Hilda. Smiling too.

  It was a Christmas miracle.

  Zoe ruined the sentimental moment by squealing and pointing her finger to where Clarissa was sitting on the curtain rail. ‘The budgie got out.’

  His dad looked up with a start. ‘I let her out, lass. She likes to flap her wings a bit.’

  ‘But she’s going to escape.’ Zoe was beside herself, and the panic in her voice must have upset Clarissa because she flew off her perch, and out of the room.

  Owen froze. ‘Did you shut the back door, Zoe?’

  She hadn’t. Of course she hadn’t. Heart in his mouth, Owen ran through the hallway and into the kitchen. Arriving just in time to see Clarissa fly out of the door.

  Bollocks.

  To add to the chaos, with almost immaculate timing, his phone decided to ring. ‘Dad, Clarissa’s flown outside,’ he yelled. ‘Go and see if you can talk her back.’

  Snatching his phone out of his pocket, he saw Gabby’s name flash up and immediately pressed answer.

  ‘Gabby.’ His mind whirled with all the things he wanted to say to her. So many he couldn’t seem to pick one.

  ‘You left your coat.’

  Owen backed up as his dad hobbled through, clutching at his walker with Hilda by his side. Zoe was right behind them, looking horribly upset.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered distractedly.

  Zoe was starting to cry. ‘It’s my fault. I should have shut the door.’

  Owen tapped her on the shoulder, shaking his head vigorously, but he could see Zoe didn’t understand. ‘Look, Gabby, now’s not a good time.’

  ‘It never is.’ He cringed, remembering how he’d had to dismiss her the last time she’d phoned; when Stella and Zoe had turned up unannounced. ‘Please come and pick your coat up. I’d rather not have it in my house.’

  He couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. Loud, humourless laughter, bordering on hysteria. ‘The coat is the least of my problems right now. Bin it, give it to charity. Whatever you need to do.’ He watched in despair as Hilda, his dad and Zoe stood outside, staring up at the pear tree. Zoe with tears running down her face. All day he’d wanted to talk to Gabby but damn it, why had the universe decided it was time for her to phone now? ‘Sorry, Gabby, I’ve got to go.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Gabby was still seething as she drove her Audi carefully down Owen’s pothole riddled drive. He was the one who’d left his coat, yet here she was, bringing it back to him like a prize mug.

  You want to see him.

  She dismissed the voice. What she wanted was to get rid of the bloody coat, so she wouldn’t have to think about him every time she saw it.

  As if that’s going to stop you.

  Parking her Audi next to Owen’s Maserati, she frowned as she noticed an old Golf on the drive. Visitors? Was that why he didn’t have time to be civil to her on the phone? He had another woman with him?

  Bristling with anger she hauled his coat out of the small boot and rang on the doorbell. And rang again. ‘Come on, come on. I know you’re in there,’ she hissed. ‘The car’s a bit of a giveaway.’

  Still no answer. But hang on, were there voices coming from the back garden? Deciding she’d not come all the way here to take the coat back with her again, she stomped round to the back garden. And came to an abrupt halt.

  A pair of stepladders was perched against a pear tree. At the bottom of the ladders was a grey-haired man clutching a walking frame. And … wow, was that Hilda? Owen was standing on the top rung of the ladders, talking softly to … something in the tree?

  ‘There.’ A young girl with blonde hair tied in two odd-looking plaits pointed at the top of the tree. Zoe, Gabby guessed. ‘I can see her.’

  ‘That’s a pigeon, sweetheart.’ Owen shook his head. ‘There are two of them. They’re looking at me as if I’ve lost my marbles.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ As the words tumbled out of Gabby’s mouth, everyone spun round to stare at her. Owen looked shocked. Zoe, and what must be Owen’s father, looked curious. Hilda looked like she usually looked. Unruffled. Guarded. ‘Why are you talking to a tree?’

  ‘Clarissa’s in there.’ Zoe’s pretty little face looked miserable. ‘I left the back door open and she escaped.’

  ‘No.’ Owen’s voice was firm. ‘I told you before, Zoe. I was the one who left the door open. You did nothing wrong.’

  Gabby was almost afraid to ask. ‘Who’s Clarissa?’

  The man with the grey hair turned to her. ‘She’s my budgerigar. By the look of you, you must be Gabby.’ He shuffled towards her, using a walker to support him. ‘I’m Sidney, Owen’s dad.’ He glanced down at the frame and then back to her, giving her a wry smile. ‘I’d shake your hand, but I might keel over and the boy would shout at me again.’

  Gabby felt a smile tug her lips. ‘Does he often shout?’

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’

  The words were said with such feeling, Gabby couldn’t help it. She laughed. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be the other way round?’

  Sidney gave her another wry smile. ‘I’ve done my fair share of shouting, believe me. He was a pain in the backside growing up.’

  From his perch on the ladder, Owen cleared his throat. ‘Hello. We’re supposed to be catching a budgie here. Not going on a trip down memory lane.’ But his eyes, when they caught Gabby’s, held such warmth, such hope, she felt the pull on her heart.

  ‘We need to keep quiet.’ Hilda glanced at them all with what Gabby knew Owen called her schoolmistress expression. ‘I suggest you put Clarissa’s cage on the top of the ladders and leave it open with her favourite treat inside. We should all retreat out of the way, except for Sidney because she knows his voice. She’ll come down when she’s not so frightened.’

  Everyone did as they were told. Gabby watched as Owen took Zoe’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance as they put the birdcage on the ladders and moved to the patio.

  Damn him. It was hard to stay mad with a man who looked at you with such longing. And who showed such care, such affection, for his ex-girlfriend’s sweet-looking daughter.

  ‘A budgie in a pear tree,’ she mused, watching Sidney trying to coax Clarissa down. ‘I’m sure there’s a song in there somewhere.’

  Owen’s gaze darted towards her, sexy blue eyes brimming with amusement. ‘Two pigeons on the branch above. As close to turtle doves as we’re going to get.’

  Zoe looked between them, then pointed to the chicken coop and started to giggle. ‘Hens.’

  Owen laughed. ‘At least three of them. I bet they speak French, if pushed.’

  Zoe whipped round, pulling at his arm. ‘What else do we need? I can’t remember the song.’

  ‘Now you’re testing me. Lots more birds; calling birds, geese, swans, but we’ve got enough trouble with the ones we’ve already got. And while I’m happy to have five gold rings and watch ladies dance, I don’t wan
t leaping Lords, drumming drummers or piping pipers wandering through my house, thanks very much.’ He gave Zoe a little shove. ‘You’re trouble enough.’

  As Zoe started to giggle again, Gabby stared at the pair of them. Zoe’s not just the daughter of his ex, she realised with a start. The connection went deeper.

  Hilda clapped her hands. ‘Well done, Sidney.’

  Guiltily Gabby turned her attention towards the tree. Thankfully Clarissa was settled back in her cage, and Hilda was now smiling, yes actually smiling, at Owen senior. ‘Is it my imagination, or is something going on between Hilda and your dad?’ she whispered as Hilda helped Sidney close up the cage.

  Owen gave her a look so intense, it made her toes curl. ‘It’s my own love life I’m more worried about.’

  Before she could think of a reply, he strode off towards Hilda and took the cage from her hands, carrying it back into the house.

  Owen couldn’t believe Gabby was in his house, yet he couldn’t do a damn thing to try and keep her here. He desperately wanted to take her hand and rush her upstairs to the privacy of his bedroom. To talk to her, kiss her if the talking went well, then talk to her some more to make sure she absolutely understood how much she meant to him.

  But he had Zoe wanting to decorate the tree, Hilda with him still, talking to his dad, both of them keeping an eye on Clarissa to check she wasn’t suffering any ill effects from her flight to the pear tree.

  ‘How about you fetch the decorations we bought from the car, Zoe? I just need a quick word with Gabby.’

  Zoe gave him one of her looks that said she understood more than she should for a girl of her age. ‘Can Gabby help us decorate the tree?’

  He raised his eyebrows, giving Zoe a mental fist bump when she grinned cheekily back at him. The little matchmaker knew exactly what she was doing. Trying to school his expression into something a little less gleeful, and a little more contrite, he swivelled to face Gabby. ‘How about it? We’d love you to help us.’ When she narrowed her eyes, he added. ‘You look like an expert tree decorator.’

  ‘I do?’