The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘Actually, Mitzi was right,’ Santa confided, holding up a glass with beer in it. ‘Drinking from the can is awkward when you’ve got a beard.’

  He poured milk from the carton into the other glass and the two of them sat sipping and sharing tarts.

  ‘So what happened?’ he asked. ‘Did your dad show up?’

  ‘Yes, just like you said. A day early. How did you know?’

  Santa hesitated. ‘Inside information.’

  ‘Do you know everything?’

  ‘No,’ Santa replied at once.

  ‘So you can’t tell me how long he’s going to stay?’

  ‘I already did, when we talked yesterday. Longer than tomorrow.’

  ‘But after that?’

  ‘What do you really want him to do?’ Santa asked thoughtfully

  ‘Stay as long as possible.’

  Santa looked at him keenly. ‘Are you hoping I’ll wave a magic wand?’

  But his thoughtful son shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He has to want to, or there’s no point.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Santa agreed. ‘You can’t make people choose what you’d like them to.’

  ‘You mean he doesn’t really want to stay with us?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he does. You’re his family, and he loves you all more than anything else on earth, even if he doesn’t always show it very cleverly. But he got confused and other things got in the way. Now he’s trying to find the way back to the place where he took the wrong turning, but it isn’t easy. The road seems different when you’re looking backwards. But you could help him.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that. You have to sense it for yourself. But you will. Don’t worry.’

  Santa indicated the tree.

  ‘Have you got your presents sorted out?’

  ‘Yes. I got a scarf for Mum and a picture book for Mitzi.’

  ‘And your dad?’

  ‘Well-I got him a pair of cufflinks.’

  ‘It sounds like a good choice, so what’s the problem?’ Bobby’s voice had hinted that all was not well.

  ‘I got him something else too, but I’m not sure if I should give it to him.’

  ‘If it’s from you, he’ll love it,’ Santa said without hesitation. ‘You can rely on that.’

  ‘Can I show it to you?’

  ‘That would be really nice.’

  ‘It’s upstairs.’ Bobby went to the door, then hesitated. ‘You won’t go away?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  Bobby vanished and reappeared a moment later with a large, flat object that he put into Santa’s hands, switching on a side lamp so that he could see.

  It was a picture of a family sitting under the trees by water, evidently having a picnic. There was a man in a red shirt, a woman in a green and white dress, a small boy of about five and a toddler in a pink dress. It had been painted in water-colours by an inexperienced but talented hand.

  ‘Did you paint this?’ Santa asked in a strange voice.

  Bobby nodded. His eyes were on Santa’s face.

  ‘I think you should definitely give it to him,’ Santa said at last.

  ‘You think he’ll understand?’

  ‘You put a lot of work into it, and he’ll think it’s wonderful that you took so much trouble to please him.’

  ‘But will he understand?’ Bobby asked with a touch of desperation.

  ‘Yes,’ Santa said decisively. ‘He will.’

  ‘Everything?’

  Santa put his hand on the child’s shoulder. ‘He’ll understand everything that you want him to understand,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

  A smile of pure, blinding relief broke over Bobby’s face.

  ‘You’d better go and wrap it now,’ Santa said. ‘I have a lot of other houses to visit.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  At the door Bobby paused and looked back. ‘I didn’t used to believe in you. But I do now.’

  He vanished quickly.

  The brilliant sunlight flashed and glinted off the water and bathed the river-bank with warmth. The man and the woman picnicking under the trees leaned back in the welcome shade and smiled at each other with secret knowledge.

  ‘That was good,’ he said. ‘The best I ever tasted. Happy birthday, darling.’

  She didn’t answer in words, but she blew him a kiss. Her arms were curled around the two-year-old girl sleeping in her arms, but her eyes, full of love, were on the man.

  ‘It’s not much of a birthday for you, though,’ he mused, ‘having to do the catering for a picnic.’

  ‘You helped.’

  ‘Did I? Oh, you mean when I dropped the butter?’

  They laughed together.

  ‘Wouldn’t you rather have had a big night out?’ he asked. ‘Fancy restaurant, champagne, everything of the best?’

  She looked down at the little girl sleeping in her arms. ‘You’ve already given me the best,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, this is as good as it gets.’

  Suddenly she chuckled.

  ‘What?’ he demanded, looking around. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s that bright red shirt you’re wearing. It’s so un-you. You’re usually so sober-suited.’

  ‘On the contrary, this is the real me. The suit is a uniform, although sometimes it gets to feel like a second skin.’

  ‘So the truth is that you’re a bit of a devil?’ she teased.

  He winked. ‘You know more about that than anyone.’

  He shifted position to get closer to her, but then something that came into view made him leap to his feet.

  ‘Bobby, not so near the water. Come back here.’

  He dashed over and scooped up the five-year-old child, who chuckled with delight as his father carried him back to the picnic.

  ‘Whadaya mean by giving your old man a heart attack, eh?’ he demanded as he sat down beside his wife. ‘What’s the big idea?’

  As he joked he buried his face against the child, who screamed with laughter.

  ‘Don’t scare him,’ the woman protested.

  ‘He’s not scared of me. He’s my boy. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the little boy firmly, putting his arms around his father’s neck.

  The man turned his head to smile at the woman. ‘Do you have any idea how much I love you?’ he whispered.

  She gave a soft laugh. ‘Not a clue. You’ll have to tell me.’

  He leaned sideways to kiss her, and she leaned towards him. It was awkward because they were each holding a child, but they managed somehow between love and laughter. And the little boy in his father’s arms went contentedly to sleep.

  Alex awoke with a start and found that he was already sitting up. The dream had been so clear, like being taken back four years to relive the moment.

  He’d seen it all again-the trees, the water, the sun. More than that, he’d felt again the blissful contentment of that day.

  This is as good as it gets.

  That had been his feeling. When had he known it since?

  He’d thought of it as something between himself and Corinne. Who would have imagined the little boy was imprinting it all on his mind, to carry there for years until his hands had the skill to reproduce it, like a silent reproach to the adults who had let the happiness slip through their fingers?

  He discovered that he was shaking and pulled himself together. He’d been lucky. He’d remembered in time.

  Bobby looked in. ‘C’mon Daddy. We’re opening presents!’

  He pretended to lie down again. ‘Already? I was hoping for a lie-in.’

  ‘Daddy!’

  He grinned and allowed himself to be hauled downstairs in pyjamas and dressing-gown. ‘Sorry about this,’ he told Corinne. ‘I wasn’t given any choice.’

  ‘You and me both,’ she said, laughing. She’d managed to dress, but only in hastily flung on jeans and sweater, before getting to work in the kitchen.

 
; ‘Mummy, can we open the presents now?’ Mitzi cried.

  ‘Just a moment, pet. Let Uncle Jimmy come downstairs.’

  When Jimmy had come cautiously down and settled on the sofa it was time to start. The children first, tearing off gaily coloured paper with excited screams.

  Alex held his breath as Bobby opened the water-colour videos and then became totally still, so that Alex feared the whole thing had misfired. But then Bobby looked at him with eyes so full of incredulous joy and relief that Alex’s own eyes blurred suddenly.

  With Mitzi he scored a double hit, giving her not only the Marianne book but a pair of riding boots. They were too large, but Alex immediately clutched his head, swore he couldn’t understand how the mistake had happened, and offered to change them as soon as the holiday was over, and Mitzi was happy.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Corinne murmured appreciatively when she had him alone for a moment.

  ‘Even those of us who are moronically stupid have our clever moments,’ he riposted.

  ‘Oh, don’t be smug.’

  His gift to her was a small bottle of expensive perfume, one he’d bought for her in the past. He had thought it a safe present, but suddenly it seemed intimate enough to draw down her disapproval. But she only thanked him with an impersonal smile and said nothing more. He found himself strangely relieved, almost as though he’d been afraid.

  Her gift to him had been as impersonal as her smile-a scarf of very fine cashmere, beautiful but meaningless. It told him nothing beyond the fact that she wanted the children to see them being friendly.

  The present-giving was nearly over and there were only a few small items left around the base of the tree.

  Alex found himself studying them in hope, but none seemed exactly right. The severity of his disappointment shocked him. He was grown up, for Pete’s sake! Grown-ups didn’t get upset because the right gift wasn’t under the tree.

  Yet for a moment he was a child again, fighting back the tears because Mum had bought the wrong book and shrugged the mistake aside with, ‘Oh, well, it’s the same thing, really, isn’t it?’ And he couldn’t explain that it wasn’t the same thing at all because she had more important things to worry about than his feelings.

  Then he saw his son gradually easing something out from behind an armchair, and relief swept him.

  ‘This is yours,’ Bobby said, holding out the brightly wrapped parcel.

  ‘Thank you, son.’

  Alex unwrapped it slowly, revealing the picture inside-a water-colour of the happy family sitting by the river. As he gazed at it he became aware of his son watching him, full of tension, waiting for what he would say.

  ‘It’s beautiful, son. Did you do it?’

  ‘Yes, I painted it myself.’

  ‘But how do you recall that day? You were only five years old.’

  ‘You remember, Daddy?’ Bobby asked breathlessly.

  ‘Sure I do. It was Mummy’s birthday, and we went out for a picnic. You wandered too near the water and I had to run and grab you. That was a great day, wasn’t it?’

  Bobby nodded. Corinne’s eyes were on Alex.

  ‘Do you remember?’ Alex asked her.

  ‘Oh, yes, it was lovely.’

  ‘You’ve even got the details right,’ Alex said, returning to the picture. ‘Right down to that red shirt.’

  ‘Mummy still has it,’ Bobby said.

  ‘Really? Well, that’s lucky.’

  Corinne was suddenly doing something else. Alex couldn’t even be sure she’d heard the words, although they seemed to sing in his own ears.

  Mummy still has it.

  It changed everything. Suddenly he was no longer fighting darkness.

  He put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

  The rest of the day was standard-issue Christmas-turkey, plum pudding, crackers filled with silly jokes and funny hats, Christmas cake, more crackers. Alex faded contentedly into the background, doing nothing that might spoil the atmosphere.

  There was the odd awkward moment. From somewhere Jimmy produced a sprig of mistletoe and wandered into the kitchen where Corinne was cooking. Alex heard a giggle, then a silence that tested his control to the utmost. But he forced himself to stay where he was.

  And nothing could really spoil the one blazingly beautiful gift that had been given to him unexpectedly.

  Corinne had kept the red shirt. He could live on that for a while.

  Alex insisted on helping with the washing-up.

  ‘You can’t ask the kids and spoil Christmas for them,’ he explained. ‘And poor Jimmy isn’t up to it.’

  ‘Poor Jimmy!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘You’re a smug hypocrite, you know that?’

  He grinned. ‘It’s what I’m good at.’

  She gave a reluctant laugh and accepted his help.

  ‘I’ll wash,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where to put things. Pinny?’

  ‘The only one I have,’ she said defiantly, ‘has flowers on it.’

  ‘I’ll be brave.’

  He looked so ridiculous in the flowered apron, with a garish paper hat still on his head, that Corinne’s heart melted. He did a good job too, washing and rinsing properly, and it reminded her of how domesticated he was. He’d always done his share in the old days.

  ‘What made you pick this house?’ he asked. ‘You could have had something better.’

  ‘You mean more expensive? I don’t think it comes any better than this. It has a big garden, is full of atmosphere, and the kids love it because it’s a house where they can be untidy.’

  Bobby appeared in the doorway.

  ‘What is it, darling?’ Corinne asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Did you want something?’

  The boy shook his head. His eyes were fixed on Alex.

  Suddenly the little kitchen clock gave three clear chimes, and Alex understood.

  Three o’clock. The time when he had originally meant to leave. Bobby was watching him intently.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  It was a pleasure to see the smile that came over Bobby’s face, but in the very same moment Alex’s cellphone rang in the hall. Without a word, Bobby went and fetched it, handing it to his father, his face a careful blank.

  The screen was showing Mark Dunsford’s number, and for a moment Alex hesitated, tempted to shut it off without answering. But he didn’t.

  ‘Mark,’ he said in his most discouraging voice.

  ‘Simply checking to see if you need me,’ came his assistant’s tinny voice.

  ‘For pity’s sake, it’s Christmas Day!’

  ‘I just thought you’d like to know that I’m on the ball.’

  Alex ground his teeth. ‘Go and eat some Christmas cake, Mark, and don’t call me back unless it’s a real crisis.’

  He hung up. Bobby’s eyes were shining, but all he said was, ‘Are you coming back soon, Dad? We haven’t used up all the crackers.’

  ‘I’ll be there in a moment, son. Put this back for me, will you?’

  He handed him the cellphone and Bobby disappeared.

  ‘I’m glad you got rid of that man,’ Corinne said. ‘I don’t like him.’

  ‘Have you met Mark? Oh, yes, he came to the house once.’

  ‘Horrible man.’

  ‘I suppose he reminds you of me,’ Alex said wryly.

  ‘Not really. You were always full of fire and enthusiasm. It lit you up inside, and it was exciting. I remember once you got out of bed at one in the morning to work out some brilliant idea. Your eyes were shining and your voice had an edge, as though you’d seen a vision. I never knew what you were going to do next. But Mark Dunsford is a robot. He never had an original thought in his life, and he’s trying to make his name by standing on your shoulders. You should watch out for him.’

  The same thought had occasionally occurred to him. Now he marvelled at the shrewdness that had shown Corinne so much in one brief meeting.


  ‘That must be the first time you’ve said anything good about me and the business,’ he observed.

  ‘I grew to hate it because it always came first-before me, before the kids.’

  ‘You never understood how driven I felt.’

  ‘You’re wrong. I saw you being driven all the time. At first, like I say, it was exciting, but later I saw what it did to you. I used to dream that there’d come a time when you could ease up, but of course there never did, and it went on and on, getting worse and worse.’

  He gave a mirthless grunt of laughter.

  ‘Funny! I thought of it as getting better and better, because I could provide for you properly. A nice house, holidays-’

  ‘Half of which we ended up taking alone,’ she reminded him. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

  ‘But can’t you-?’

  She stopped him hurriedly. ‘Alex, it’s all right. It’s finished. It doesn’t matter any more. Let’s leave it.’

  The washing-up was done. Alex looked up at the sprig of mistletoe that Jimmy had fixed overhead.

  ‘Do I get a Christmas kiss?’ he asked, speaking lightly to take the sting out of the refusal he expected.

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  Moving quickly, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. He had a brief sensation of her sweetness, the faint tang of the perfume he’d bought her, the warmth of her breath against his face. Then she was gone before he could catch her.

  At the end of the day the last cracker had been cracked, the last silly joke read out, the last paper hat reduced to a crumpled wreck. Jimmy opted for an early night. Mitzi, already asleep, was carried to bed, and Bobby went without protest.

  ‘I’m going up now,’ Corinne said to Alex, who was drying a cup in the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll stay down for a little,’ he said. ‘There’s a late film I want to see.’

  ‘Goodnight, then.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  He kissed her cheek and she put her arms gently around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He held her close, swaying back and forth a little in a gentle rhythm.

  ‘It’s been a lovely day,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything, Corinne. Thank you for making it possible, and not driving me away.’

  ‘I could never want to do that,’ she said, raising her head and looking into his face.