The Perfect Christmas

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Come to bed with me,’ he said, and the need she’d thought was slaked rose up again so that the breath jammed in her lungs and her heart skidded against her ribs. Putting her hand in his, she stood up with him and followed him up the stairs to his room.

  Then the shyness came back, and when he’d stripped off his clothes she was still standing there fully dressed, her arms wrapped around her waist, her confidence fading by the second.

  ‘Julia?’ he murmured.

  ‘Can we turn off the lights?’

  He laughed softly. ‘Why? You’re lovely. I want to see you.’

  ‘I’m not lovely,’ she protested. ‘My boobs droop and my stomach sags and I’ve got stretch marks…’

  He laughed at her, just for a moment, then he realised she was serious and he drew her stiff, unyielding body into his arms and rocked her hard against his chest.

  ‘Oh, you silly girl. That isn’t what it’s all about. Come on.’

  ‘Please. I want the light off.’

  ‘OK.’

  He turned the top light off, but left the landing light on and the door open slightly, so they could see to move around the room. She turned away and removed her clothes, then slid between the chilly sheets with a shiver.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, but she shook her head.

  ‘It’s been such an awful day,’ she said, the memories suddenly crowding back in the dark so that she wished she’d braved it and left the light on.

  ‘You’re freezing. Come here,’ he said, and tucked her up against his powerful body. His leg wedged between hers, his lips tracked over her face and throat and down over her breasts, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and by the time he returned to her mouth she was shuddering with need.

  David moved over her, his body trembling with passion held in check, and then they were moving together, driving out the memories of the day and replacing them with warmth and life and strength.

  Julia felt the first ripples of release wash over her and cried out, and his body shuddered in response, driving into her until the sensation swamped her and she sobbed his name over and over again as he arched against her with a wild cry.

  Then he slumped onto her, shifting his weight so he lay slightly to one side, his chest heaving against hers and his heart thundering in the aftermath of release.

  Still locked together, they lay silent as their bodies calmed and slowed, and then, still together, drifted into sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JULIA woke to the warmth of David’s body and the firm, solid weight of his thigh between hers. They were sprawled together in his bed, face to face, and his hand lay by her breast, the back of it just grazing the sensitive skin as she breathed in and out.

  As if he’d been waiting, his eyes opened and his lips quirked into a contented smile.

  ‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he murmured, and his voice was gruff with sleep and tantalised her.

  ‘I have to go to work,’ she told him, and he groaned and pulled her into his arms.

  ‘No,’ he grumbled gently.

  ‘Yes.’

  His sigh was deep, the breath teasing her hair. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He shifted, just far enough to turn his head and look at the clock. ‘Oh, hell. It’s only five-thirty. Ten more minutes.’

  He nuzzled into the side of her neck, and she felt the familiar stirrings of desire deep inside her.

  ‘No,’ she said, pushing him away with a breathless little laugh.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I need a shower.’

  He gave a gusty sigh and rolled away from her onto his back, his arm flopping above his head. ‘Go on, then. I’ll follow you.’

  She slid out of the bed into the morning chill and went through to the bathroom. There was no lock, but it didn’t worry her. She didn’t think there was any way he was going to stir for at least another half-hour.

  The bathroom was warm, courtesy of the heated towel rail, and she turned on the shower and stepped into the stinging spray. Wonderful. She turned her face up to the water and stood there for a moment, and then let out a tiny shriek of surprise as David’s arms slid round her from behind.

  She relaxed against him, relishing the feeling of his warm, hard body against her back. ‘This is becoming a habit,’ she scolded softly, and he chuckled and buried his lips in her hair.

  She tried to turn round but he wouldn’t let her. Instead he picked up the soap and lathered her, his hands tracing her body intimately until she was whimpering with need and her legs were giving way. She felt the first shock waves start to wash over her, and then he turned her, lifting her against him and driving into her as the climax ripped through her.

  He staggered, his body shuddering in release, and then lowered her gently to her feet, his arms wrapped round her, her head tucked under his chin so she could hear the pounding of his heart and feel the rise and fall of his deep chest as his breathing slowed and he recovered.

  Then he eased away from her and bent his head, taking her lips in a lingering kiss under the pelting water of the shower. It streamed over them but they ignored it until they couldn’t breathe, then they broke apart, laughing, and he smoothed the rivers of hair from her face and kissed her again, just lightly.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, and the water seemed to turn to ice.

  Julia backed away, his words echoing in her head, and reality slammed home.

  What was she doing? She’d never meant to let things go so far, and now here they were, in the shower again, and David was telling her he loved her—

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice hollow with shock and panic. ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘No. No, really, you don’t. It’s just sex, David. That’s all. Just sex.’

  He stared at her for a moment, stunned, then shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, throwing her a towel.

  ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s far more than that.’

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head again in denial. ‘You’re wrong. It’s just hormones—just a basic human urge. Believe me, I know.’

  ‘Really?’ he said, and his voice was hard and cold. ‘Surely, if it was just sex I’d go for a nubile, pert eighteen-year-old, not a widowed mother of nearly thirty who’s got droopy boobs and a sagging stomach and stretch marks.’

  She recoiled, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, and he shook his head in disgust.

  ‘Your words, not mine,’ he said, jabbing a finger at her. ‘But you might want to think about it.’

  ‘You bastard,’ she whispered, pain ripping through her, tearing her apart. It was Andrew all over again, pouring scorn on her body, shredding her confidence, using her—

  ‘No, I’m not the bastard,’ he said, his voice still harsh, but then he let out his breath on a ragged sigh. ‘I’m not here for sex, Julia, I’m here for love, because I love you, not your body—not that there’s anything wrong with your body—’

  ‘Liar,’ she cut in savagely. ‘Don’t backtrack. You said what you meant.’

  ‘No, I said what you said. And anyway, it’s irrelevant. Whatever your body might or might not be like, did you notice me having trouble finding you attractive last night? Or again this morning?’

  ‘You couldn’t see me last night.’

  ‘I didn’t need to—I just needed to feel you, and you felt fine. You felt wonderful. You felt like you—and I love you.’

  Her hands flew up to cover her ears. ‘No!’ she wept, not daring to believe him and be led once again into that tangled web of lies. ‘I don’t want to hear it!’

  ‘Tough. It’s not my fault. And don’t blame me for loving you, it’s not something I have any control over. But I do love you, and it’s real. I won’t lie and pretend otherwise just because you feel threatened by it. I’m sorry.’

  She sank down onto the edge of the bath, the horror of what they’d done washing over her again and again. ‘I didn’t want this,’ she said in a stran
gled whisper. ‘I knew it was wrong. I knew this would happen.’

  David flung the towel at the rail and turned to her, hands on hips, his beautiful body rigid with tension. ‘You should have thought of that before, then, instead of encouraging it and leading me on and allowing it to happen,’ he said savagely. ‘You’re not the only one that can get hurt, you know. I’m vulnerable too—just like anyone else.’

  His eyes were locked with hers, the anger in them terrifying her. She felt tears spill down her cheeks, and dashed them away. ‘I never meant to do this,’ she said brokenly. ‘I really didn’t.’

  ‘No,’ he said, his voice deadly quiet, ‘nor did I. It’s a pity I didn’t listen to you—a pity we ever met—but don’t worry. The lesson’s well learnt.’

  He yanked open the door, letting in a stream of frigid air. ‘Get dressed. I’m taking you home.’

  They were mercifully busy at work. Ridiculously busy for a weekend, but extra staff had been called in to deal with the aftermath of the scaffolding collapse, and they could just about cope.

  There was no time, though, for idle chat. No time for anyone to look closely at Julia and think anything other than that she looked tired and shocked. They knew she’d been at the scene of the collapse and had helped all day in Theatre, and any doubts anyone might have had about her cheerfulness could easily be blamed on that.

  It was just as well. She felt as if the slightest word, the merest glance would reduce her to tears. All day she waited to hear David’s voice, convinced he’d come in to see his patients of the day before, but he didn’t. He stayed resolutely away, and she told herself she was glad.

  She lied. She ached for him, on this day of all days, the anniversary of Andrew’s death. It had been just as dawn had broken on the morning of the twenty-third of December four years ago that the police had come to tell her he was dead.

  And as dawn had broken today, so her heart had shattered all over again.

  Fool, she thought. It’s taken you four years to put your life back together, four years to get things on track, and you have to go and do this!

  She’d have to change her job, of course. She couldn’t work with David, not now. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them. Perhaps she’d move back towards her parents, she thought, or maybe down to Hampshire. No, not Hampshire. She couldn’t afford the house prices.

  She thought of Katie’s school friends, of Andrew’s parents who for all their faults loved their little granddaughter to bits, and she thought of her friends and colleagues. She couldn’t leave them all behind. Not again.

  And now he wouldn’t teach her about the garden, she thought, and that last silly little thing was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  Sally Kennedy found Julia sobbing in the sluice and, assuming it was because of the strain of the day before, she sent her home early. Not very. It was nearly two, only just over an hour before the end of her shift, but she was all in.

  The day before had taken its toll and, coupled with a lack of sleep and the emotional parting from David that morning, it was enough to send her straight to bed the moment she got home.

  She found three messages on her answering machine from the Revells who had heard about the accident in the shopping precinct, and rang them to assure them she was all right.

  ‘Could you keep Katie until tomorrow for me, though?’ she asked. ‘I know it’s a nuisance, but I have to work in the morning and I had a horrendous day yesterday—I didn’t get my day off at all. I’d really appreciate the rest.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mrs Revell said. ‘Today, of all days, we’ll keep her with us.’

  Julia closed her eyes. They were grieving, of course, for their son, the apple of their eye, the man who in their eyes had done no wrong.

  Well, maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it had been her all along, in which case David would thank her in the end.

  She hung up and crawled into bed, waking in the night to an unidentified hollow ache. Then she remembered, and the pain crashed over her again and nearly swamped her.

  She rose early next morning and bathed, put on make-up to cover the ravages of her tears and went to work absurdly early.

  Angie was pleased to see her. They were still running flat out and had been all night, and she joined in with the morning drug round and the taking of the obs. She took report, Angie handed her the keys and went off duty, and she carried on with all the million and one things that still needed doing, dispensing brittle little smiles right and left and hanging on by a thread.

  And then David appeared.

  She was just coming out of Mr Burrows’s room, and her stride faltered for a second. His mouth was tight and he looked straight through her.

  ‘Good morning, Sister,’ he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion.

  She swallowed the obstruction in her throat. ‘Good morning,’ she managed, amazed that she managed to speak at all.

  ‘How is Mr Burrows?’

  Mr Burrows. Oh, lord. How was he? She made herself concentrate. ‘Improving. His bowel sounds have returned. He’s had sips of water and he’s tolerating it well.’

  He nodded. ‘We can try him on something bland today. Nothing much—low residue liquid feed, I think.’

  ‘Right. I’ll sort that out.’

  ‘And you can remove the catheter—see if we can get his bladder working properly again. Is he walking yet?’

  Walking? Oh, lord. ‘Um—yes. With assistance. He’s walked round the room.’

  ‘Good. Right, I’d better have a word.’

  He stood in front of her, and after an agonised second she collected herself and moved out of his way so he could go through the door. She took another second to compose her face before following him, and conjured up a smile for Mr Burrows.

  While David talked to him and examined him, she stood motionless, hanging onto her control by a thread. She’d known he’d be cool to her. She’d expected it, and she’d expected it to hurt. She’d just had no idea it could hurt so much.

  She forced herself to concentrate.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could go home for Christmas?’ Mr Burrows was saying.

  David glanced at his watch, his face expressionless. ‘Christmas—that’s tomorrow.’ He sounded almost bemused, and after a second he seemed to shake himself slightly. ‘Um, I don’t know if that would be a good idea. You aren’t well enough to be discharged.’

  ‘Oh, I know that,’ Mr Burrows said quickly. ‘I just wondered, well, if I could go home for the day, or part of it.’ He hesitated, then added in a low voice, ‘It might be my last Christmas.’

  David nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. Yes, I think you could. I think you should. Go in the morning—about ten or so. Have a very quiet day, and come back before six. We’ll give you the special diet and any pills you’ll need during the day, but so long as your bladder’s working and your bowel is comfortable, I don’t see why not.’

  The man’s face crumpled with relief. ‘Thank you,’ he said with sincerity. ‘Thank you so much. I was dreading tomorrow.’

  David straightened his shoulders, stiffening slightly, and Julia felt another arrow of pain. Mr Burrows wasn’t the only one dreading it.

  ‘Right. Well, have a good Christmas. I’ll see you on Boxing Day—and don’t overdo it.’

  ‘I won’t. And Merry Christmas to you, too.’

  ‘Thank you.’ David turned on his heel and nearly fell over Julia. His hands came up instinctively to steady them both, but then he dropped her like a hot brick and exited the room with a muttered apology.

  ‘He seems a bit preoccupied today,’ Mr Burrows said thoughtfully, looking after him with a puzzled frown.

  ‘I expect he’s just busy,’ Julia said. ‘A lot to do before the holiday period.’

  She straightened the sheets, flashed Mr Burrows what she hoped would pass for a smile and shot into the kitchen. She was trembling from top to toe, her cheeks were chalk white and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

&nbs
p; The Ghost of Christmas Past? Or Christmas Present?

  Which reminded her, she still hadn’t got anything for Katie. Damn. And she was coming home at one, just after Julia got home from work, so there would be no time to shop for her before then.

  They’d have to go to town that afternoon, and she’d have to let Katie choose her own present, unless she could lose her for a moment and do it surreptitiously.

  She looked at her watch. Nine-thirty. Just two and a half hours to go before she was off duty and could escape.

  Well, she couldn’t hide in the kitchen for the entire morning, no matter how much she might want to. She drank a glass of cold water, straightened her shoulders and walked out of the door—slap into David.

  ‘I was looking for you,’ he said. His voice was strained and his eyes were fixed somewhere in her hairline. Far from looking for her, she thought, he was hardly even looking at her. Then he held something out to her, something hard and square, wrapped in Christmas paper with a little shiny red bow on top. ‘This is for Katie,’ he said. ‘It’s a mug with retriever puppies on it. Perhaps you could give it to her for me—and, ah, say goodbye.’

  He thrust it into her hands and turned on his heel, striding away, his shoulders rigid, his hands rammed down into the pockets of his coat.

  She stared after him, her throat aching, and then her eyes dropped to the parcel in her hands. He’d bought her daughter a present, and not just any present. Not a plastic toy or an inappropriate book or a jumper that didn’t fit, but a mug with her beloved puppies on it.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she stared down at her feet and blinked hard. Don’t cry, she told herself. Not here. Don’t start, you won’t be able to stop. Just hang on.

  ‘Julia?’

  A pair of feet appeared beside hers, and she looked up at Sally.

  ‘Oh, love, is it David?’ she asked, and Julia nodded.

  ‘Don’t be nice to me. Whatever you do, don’t be nice to me.’

  Sally gave a crooked little grin. ‘OK, I won’t. Mrs Harrison’s bowel appears to be working again—she’s just had explosive diarrhoea through her stoma and overflowed the bag. Want to give me a hand?’