A Mistletoe Proposal

by Lucy Gordon

  She gasped for Roscoe’s hands had suddenly tightened.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Did that last one-?’

  ‘Struck right home,’ he agreed, drawing her head down against his chest once more. ‘You brood about it, which is nonsense because she and her new love have other things to talk about apart from you. But you picture them laughing, and wonder how you could ever have trusted her so much.’

  ‘And then you don’t want to trust anyone again,’ she whispered. ‘So you promise yourself that you won’t.’

  ‘But it isn’t so easy. If you go through life drawing away from people, at last you turn into a monster. I don’t want to turn into a monster, although several people would probably tell you that’s what I am.’

  ‘Sometimes it feels safer,’ she agreed.

  ‘I won’t believe anyone’s ever said it of you.’

  ‘Why? Because I’ve got a pretty face? Haven’t you ever heard of a pretty monster? It’s all part of the performance, you see. The lad who was here the first night, the one I half crippled, don’t you think he sees me as a monster?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you are one,’ he said with a touch of anger in his voice. ‘Stop this.’

  ‘I led him on, didn’t I? You’d think I’d know better by now, but a girl must have some fun in her life. You knew that, even then. That’s why you hired me.’

  He groaned and raised his hands to cover his eyes. ‘And this is what he did to you? Your fiancé?’

  ‘Or maybe I was always like that. It’s hard-wired into me and it took him to bring it out.’

  ‘You don’t really believe any of that stuff.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I believe.’

  ‘I will because someone’s got to show you how to see yourself straight. You’re as beautiful inside as you are out.’

  She pulled herself up on the bed so that she could see him better in the dim light and pull his hands down.

  ‘We’ve known each other only a few days,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I’ve known you a lot longer than that. I knew it when I saw you in the graveyard, swapping jokes with a headstone. It was the kind of mad, daft-’

  ‘Mutton-headed,’ she supplied.

  ‘Glorious, wonderful-I knew then that you had some secret that was hidden from me, that you could teach it to me and then I’d know something that would make life possible.’

  He lay looking up at her, defenceless, all armour gone, nothing left but the painful honesty with which he reached out to her.

  Pippa felt dizzy, knowing that she’d come to one of those moments when everything in her life might depend on what she did now. Roscoe’s eyes told her that this was her decision, and she was stunned by how quickly it had come to pass. Just a few days.

  He was reasonably attractive without being handsome. Yet the experience he’d given her tonight-of peace, joy and safety-had astounded her by outshining all other experiences in her life, and now the desire to kiss him was the strongest she had ever known. The tantalising half kiss he’d once given her had lived with her ever since, taunting and teasing her onwards to discover everything about him.

  His eyes asked a silent question. Would she kiss him? The decision was hers.

  And yes! Yes! The answer was yes!

  As she adjusted her position he saw her intention and opened his arms. A little smile curved her lips, one she hoped he would understand. He did understand. The same smile was there on his own lips as she leaned forward, closer-closer-

  The doorbell shrieked.

  In an instant the spell died. They froze in dismay.

  ‘At this hour of night?’ Pippa whispered, aghast.

  Stiffly, she moved off the bed and made her way to the front door, calling, ‘Who is it?’

  The voice that answered appalled her.

  ‘Pippa? It’s Charlie. Let me in.’

  She turned to see Roscoe standing in the bedroom doorway. Horrified, they stared at each other. Nothing more terrible could have happened.

  ‘Let me in,’ Charlie cried.

  ‘No, I can’t,’ Pippa called back. ‘Charlie, go home; it’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, please, Pippa. I’ve got something to say that you’ll be glad to hear. Open up!’ He rapped on the door.

  ‘Stop making so much noise,’ she cried. ‘You’ll wake my neighbours. Just give me a minute.’

  She was talking for the sake of it while her gaze frantically went around the apartment, seeking evidence of Roscoe’s presence. He was doing the same, seizing his baggage, hurrying with it into the bedroom. When he was safely out of sight, Pippa opened her front door.

  Charlie immediately came flying through and seized her in his arms.

  ‘What…what do you think you’re doing?’ she spluttered.

  ‘Telling you that I’ve given in. I’ll do it your way. I’ll tell the police about Ginevra. I’ve been thinking for hours, and I know I have to do what you think is right.’ He searched her face. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’

  ‘Pleased?’ she snapped. ‘Of all the selfish schoolboy pranks-waking me at this hour to tell me something you could have sent in a text message. How old are you? Ten?’

  She was consumed by rage. At this moment she could almost have hated the silly self-centred boy.

  ‘Oh, sorry!’ he said. ‘Yes, I suppose it is a bit late.’

  ‘Get out, now!’

  Reading dire retribution in her eyes, he backed out hastily, gabbling, ‘All right, all right. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

  He was gone.

  She listened as the footsteps faded, followed by the sound of the elevator going down. Roscoe emerged from the bedroom, walking slowly, not coming too close to her.

  The memory of what had so nearly happened was burning within her. Another moment and she would have been in his arms, kissing him and receiving his kiss in return. She had wanted that so much and come so close-so close-and it had been cruelly snatched away.

  What she saw when she looked at him made a cold hand clutch her heart. His face was calm and untroubled. Whatever had happened to her, no earthquake had shaken him.

  ‘I’d better leave now,’ he said.

  ‘No!’ she said urgently. ‘That’s what you can’t do. He might linger downstairs, and then he’d see you.’

  Going to the window, she drew the curtain an inch and looked into the street below.

  ‘There’s his new car,’ she murmured. ‘But there’s no sign of him. I reckon he’s still in the hall, planning to come back up here.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Roscoe groaned. ‘I’ll have to stay for a while. Sorry.’

  A few minutes earlier she’d felt him tremble in her arms and known that he would gladly remain all night. Now he spoke as though staying with her was a duty that he dreaded.

  ‘I’ll stay out here,’ he said, settling on the sofa. ‘You take the bedroom.’

  The spell was broken. And that was good, she tried to tell herself. She’d had enough of spells.

  She lay awake for the rest of the night, and finally went out to find Roscoe on the phone to Angela.

  ‘Charlie’s arrived home,’ he said as he hung up.

  ‘Don’t mention Charlie to me,’ she said crossly. ‘Turning up like that in the middle of the night! Does he think nobody has a life apart from him? I feel really sorry for your mother, pinning so many of her hopes on that overgrown infant.’

  She was still full of nerves or she would have been careful not to say the next words.

  ‘She’s had so much to bear in her life already. Losing your father, knowing he killed himself-’

  Too late, she saw the strange look on Roscoe’s face.

  ‘How did you know that?’ he asked. ‘Charlie, I suppose?’

  ‘I already knew. David said something.’

  ‘So you’ve known from the start. You never mentioned it to me.’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t like it, and it was none of my business.’

  �
��That’s right,’ he said lightly. ‘Well, I’d better be going.’

  She could have kicked herself. Roscoe’s cool tension told her more than any words that he resented her for what she’d just revealed. In time, he might have told her, but he disliked her knowing without his being aware.

  ‘I’ll make you some breakfast,’ she offered.

  ‘No, I’d better be off. I’ll be in touch.’

  She doubted it. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  There was nothing to do but stand back while he collected his things. Suddenly a chill wind was blowing. He gave her a polite smile, thanked her for everything, just as he should, but something was mysteriously over. Worst of all was the fact that she couldn’t be sure what had ended, because she didn’t know what had begun. She only knew that the sense of aching loss was unbearable.

  Then a strange thing happened. Charlie became elusive. He didn’t call, wasn’t in his office and his cellphone was switched off. Without him, the trip to the police had to be postponed.

  After two days, Roscoe texted: Is Charlie with you?

  She texted back: I was about to ask you the same thing.

  The next time Pippa’s work phone rang it was the last person in the world she’d expected to hear from.

  ‘Biddy-or should I call you Ginevra? Where are you?’

  ‘Abroad; that’s all you need to know. Charlie’s a real gent, I’ll say that for him. I’m not coming back but I’ve written to the police and told them it was me in the shop, not him. I wasn’t going to, but then I got to thinking I owed him something, so I sent the letter from…the country I was in. I’m in a different place now, so the postmark won’t help them. But I wanted you to know about something else, so listen.’

  Pippa did so, growing wide-eyed as Ginevra’s information grew clear.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘That’ll be very useful. Where can I get hold of you?’

  ‘I’m moving around, but you can call this mobile number. I’ve sent you a copy of the letter so that you’ll know exactly what I told the police. ’Bye.’

  She hung up.

  Pippa sat, deep in thought. Then she made a call.

  ‘Gus Donelly? Good, I need your help, fast. Listen carefully.’ After a terse conversation she swept out, announcing, ‘I won’t be back today.’

  David, who’d been shamelessly eavesdropping, exclaimed, ‘Donelly? I seem to recall that he’s a private detective, and a very shady one. I hope you’re careful.’

  Pippa was not only careful but successful. Returning, triumphant, she knew she had all she needed to achieve a victory-thanks, ironically, to Ginevra.

  Charlie presented himself at her office with a shamefaced smile that was clearly meant to win her over. She dealt with him briskly.

  ‘So much for telling everything to the police! You offered a grand gesture that meant nothing. Now there’s no need. I’ll see you at the trial tomorrow. Now, go before I lose my temper.’

  He fled.

  The next day, they were all present in the courtroom- Angela clinging to Charlie’s arm, Charlie trying to read Pippa’s expression without success, Roscoe, aloof and isolated.

  The court assembled, the magistrates seated themselves, the accused were produced. Mr Fletcher entered the witness box and Pippa confronted him. There was nothing in her manner to suggest tension. On the contrary, she seemed at ease, cheerful and smiling. So that the sarcastic words that poured from her came as a greater shock.

  ‘Tell the truth, Mr Fletcher. You haven’t the faintest idea what actually happened that night, have you?’

  ‘I certainly have,’ he declared indignantly. ‘I gave a full statement to the police.’

  ‘Your statement is an invention. You should take up fiction writing, you do it so well.’

  ‘Here-’

  ‘You don’t know what really happened because you’d spent the evening in the pub. I gather you put away quite an impressive amount, far too much for you to be a reliable witness. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘No, it ain’t so. Nobody said I was drunk. The police never said so.’

  ‘True, but then you’re a past master at seeming more sober than you are, aren’t you? As the police have found out to their cost before.’

  ‘I dunno what you mean.’

  ‘Then let me refresh your memory. About five years ago, there was a case that had to be dropped because you turned up in court the worse for wear.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Fletcher squeaked.

  ‘Perjury is a crime, Mr Fletcher, and you’ve just committed that crime. I have the papers here.’ She waved them. ‘The case had seemed to be watertight, but then you ruined everything, as the constable in question will tell us.’

  After that, it was over quickly. The policeman from the previous case, still furious at having his hard work undone by an unreliable witness, gave evidence that totally undermined Fletcher. The magistrate declared Charlie not guilty, then asserted that the case against the other three was also unsafe and should be dropped.

  The court erupted.

  Angela bounced around, throwing her arms about Charlie, then Roscoe, then Charlie again, squeaking and weeping with joy.

  Pippa was surrounded by people congratulating her. She smiled but concentrated on gathering up her papers, the very picture of an efficient lawyer who cared only about her case. She resisted the temptation to look around for Roscoe. Secretly, she was afraid he wouldn’t be there.

  The lawyers for the other three defendants regarded her in astonished admiration.

  ‘How did you do that?’ one of them demanded.

  Another one merely touched her arm, saying, ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  ‘You can call all you like,’ David said, appearing behind her. He’d taken the precaution of coming to watch. ‘Just remember she’s signed up to my firm for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘I can offer a very good fee,’ said yet another.

  ‘Forget it, she belongs to Farley & Son,’ David declared firmly.

  Angela embraced her wildly, declaring, ‘You’re a magician. You just waved a magic wand.’

  ‘No, it was really Ginevra who waved the wand,’ Pippa said. ‘She’s still got a soft spot for you, Charlie, especially after you helped her escape. Fancy telling me you were going to shop her to the police! You didn’t mean a word of it.’

  He had the grace to blush. ‘I sort of meant it,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But then it seemed such a terrible thing to do that I got her away fast.’

  ‘So I gathered. She wrote to the police telling them what had really happened, but that wouldn’t have been enough on its own. Anyone can take the blame for anything from a safe distance. That’s probably why she gave me all the other information about Fletcher’s past.’

  ‘But how did she know all that stuff?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘She has friends in the police,’ Pippa said cautiously.

  ‘Ah, yes, I see.’ He grimaced.

  ‘She told me what I needed, I hired a very good private detective and he did the rest.’

  She was talking mechanically. Something was missing. Where was Roscoe? What would he say?

  Then he seemed to appear from nowhere, standing before her.

  ‘You were wonderful,’ he said. ‘Past my wildest hopes. When you wouldn’t look at me just now I was afraid you were going to snub me. I guess I deserve it.’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m just glad things worked out for you.’

  ‘For me?’ he queried. He added quietly, ‘Or for us?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said huskily.

  ‘No, that’s what we still have to find out, isn’t it?’

  He took her hand, holding it between both of his. She met his eyes and saw in them-what? Everything she wanted? No, because she didn’t know what that was. But something that pointed the way.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘We still have to find out.’

  ‘Will you come to my home tonight? I don’t want to co
me to your place in case Charlie turns up.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she promised.

  Neither of them noticed Charlie standing a few feet away, his head on one side, a little smile of cheeky understanding on his lips.

  Back at the office that afternoon, she had a long talk with David, who made it clear that her value had dramatically increased. The word ‘partnership’ was mentioned.

  ‘Not right now, because it’s a bit soon,’ he said, ‘but we’ve got our eyes on you and will take drastic steps to stop you being poached by any other firm. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with a raise.’

  Her career was heading for the heights. She wondered when Roscoe would call her.

  The phone rang. She snatched it up. But it wasn’t Roscoe. It was Lee Renton, the impresario she’d last seen in The Diamond.

  ‘You were right,’ he boomed. ‘I do need a pre-nuptial agreement.’

  ‘I’ll get to work-’ Suddenly Pippa sat up straight in her chair as inspiration came to her. ‘Lee, could you do me a big favour?’

  ‘Name it.’

  She explained what she wanted.

  He listened with the occasional grunt, ending with, ‘Consider it done. I’ll be in touch.’ He hung up.

  The next call was the one she longed for.

  ‘I’m going home now,’ came Roscoe’s voice.

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ROSCOE’S apartment was high up in a tall, plain block, which once she would have said was typical of the man. But that was before she’d discovered the hidden, complex depths that meant there was no such thing as ‘typical’ of him.

  Who would ever have thought that this man would be waiting at his open door, would pull her inside and crush her in his arms as though he’d waited all his life for this moment? Or hear him say in a shaking voice, ‘I was so afraid you wouldn’t come.’

  ‘Never fear that. I’ll always come if you want me.’

  ‘And I’ll always want you.’

  He had even started to cook a meal for her. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage a microwave and between the two of them they managed to get something onto the table. There was much more to deal with this evening, but, as if by a silent signal, they were each taking it slowly.