by Kate Hardy
‘What about winding?’ Zac’s dad asked. ‘Oh, my God. My mum pats him on the back. That’s going to damage his spine, isn’t it?’
‘It could cause problems, yes,’ Jamie said. ‘Colic drops are a better way of managing wind for Zac.’
‘And drying him after a bath. Mum says you have to pat a baby dry,’ Zac’s mum said. ‘So we might’ve broken his leg that way. Oh, my God.’
‘Use a support sponge in the bath,’ Anna said. ‘And you could try drying his creases with a hairdryer on a cool setting rather than by patting him dry.’
‘And dressing him. Those sleep suits. You have to wrangle him into them, sometimes.’ Zac’s dad looked horrified. ‘I might’ve broken his arm. Or that might be how his leg broke.’
‘It’s worth looking for clothes that open wide so you can put Zac on the clothes, then fasten the outfit around him,’ Anna said.
‘Maybe Mum can make him something,’ Zac’s dad said.
‘It’s a lot to take in.’ Zac’s mum bit her lip. ‘I’m going to be terrified to touch my boy in case I hurt him. But not being cuddled isn’t good either. I just... I don’t know how to deal with this.’
‘We can put you in touch with a support group,’ Jamie said. ‘Talking to other parents who’ve been in your situation will reassure you much more than we can.’
‘But we do have leaflets as well,’ Anna said. ‘The main thing is we have a diagnosis so we can make sure everyone supports you—your health visitor, your family doctor, and information for nursery and school as he gets older.’
‘Because of the brittle bones, Zac’s more likely to have some hearing loss, so he’ll need his hearing tested before he starts school and then every three years,’ Jamie said. ‘We’ll get a cast sorted out for his leg now, and you can get in touch with us at any time if you’re worried.’
Once they’d finished treating Zac and his parents had taken him home, Anna turned to Jamie. ‘Thank you.’
‘Hey, you would’ve had to call me in for the fracture anyway,’ he pointed out.
‘But you were so good with the parents.’
‘I hope so. It’s our job.’ He smiled at her. ‘Are you free for lunch?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sadly, I have a hot date with acres of paperwork and a very big mug of coffee. But if you’re free this evening, I have an idea.’
‘A Christmassy idea?’
‘Wait and see.’ She tapped her nose.
* * *
It was incredibly Christmassy—a carol service at Temple Church, the round Crusader church in the middle of London.
‘This is one of my favourite places in the city,’ Anna said. ‘I love the Crusader effigies here and the little lions and dragon at their feet, and the grotesques in the nave. It’s worth looking at them after the service.’
‘I’ve lived in London for most of my life, but I’ve never been here before,’ Jamie admitted.
‘It’s not open at the weekend, so you’d have to take a day off to visit,’ she said. ‘But with my oldest brother being an architect, I’ve been taken to all kinds of incredible buildings. This one survived the Great Fire of London but it was really badly damaged in the Second World War. But they’ve done a fabulous job of the restorations.’
‘And how,’ Jamie said, looking up at the incredible vaulted ceiling. There was a huge Christmas tree in front of the Norman doorway beneath the rose window, scattered with white lights and huge baubles; enormous pillar candles in wrought-iron and glass lanterns lit the choir stalls. The church was absolutely packed, and there was something both peaceful and moving in the sound of the congregation singing carols along with the choir.
It was fine until they got to ‘Silent Night’; it had been Hestia’s favourite carol and Jamie’s throat closed up to the point where he just couldn’t sing the first verse.
He sensed Anna glancing anxiously towards him. He really needed to be fair to her. She’d brought him here because it was something she loved and wanted to share with him. So he needed to see the joy in this—to do what she did. He thought of her words to him on Wednesday night. ‘You need to make the best of what you have... Look for the happiness.’
Look for the happiness and be the man he wanted to be instead of letting himself get mired in regrets. In the third verse, he found his voice again and sang along. The words that stuck in his head were ‘love’s pure light’: that was what he could see right here, right now, in the church.
After the service, Anna showed him her favourite grotesques in the nave; and then they filed out with the rest of the congregation.
‘Was it...?’ Anna’s sea-green eyes were wide with worry.
‘It was perfect,’ he said softly. ‘Thank you. And I’m glad I shared it with you. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather be with, right now.’
Her eyes filled with tears, and one spilled over.
He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. ‘Anna. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘You haven’t. Just... You looked a bit upset earlier.’
‘“Silent Night”. It was Hestia’s favourite carol.’
‘It’s mine, too. She had good taste.’
‘Yeah.’ He took her hand. ‘Shall we walk along the river to London Bridge?’
‘I’d like that,’ she said.
They wandered hand in hand along the Embankment, and all felt right in Jamie’s world: as if something had tilted and everything had slid into place. Right here, right now, with this woman, he realised that he was actually happy. That he could see a future, for the first time in a very long while. It wasn’t going to be easy, and they’d have to be painfully honest with each other over the question of having a family, but he really wanted to make this work.
He held Anna’s hand all the way to London Bridge, all the way to the station at Bank, all the way on the tube until they were back in Muswell Hill, and all the way back to her front door.
‘Come in for hot chocolate?’ she asked.
Not ready to leave her yet, he agreed.
Except they didn’t actually get to making the hot chocolate. Although she put the milk in the microwave to heat through, Jamie spun her into his arms and kissed her. It was sweet and light and frothy at first, but then he nuzzled her lower lip and her lips parted, inviting him to deepen the kiss.
By the time he broke the kiss, his head was spinning.
‘Stay with me tonight?’ Anna asked, her cheeks pink and her eyes glittering.
How could he resist? ‘Yes.’
This time, she kissed him, and the next thing he knew he’d scooped her up into his arms.
‘I’m too heavy,’ she protested.
‘You’re perfect as you are,’ he said, meaning it. ‘Though I do need directions.’
She smiled. ‘Right out of the kitchen, second door on the right.
He carried her through to her bedroom, switched on the light, closed the curtains, and then set her down on her feet. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked quietly.
‘Very sure,’ she said. ‘I know we said we weren’t going to rush things, but...’
Her smile was shy, and so cute that it broke down the last of his resistance.
He liked Anna. More than liked her. He was halfway to being in love with her. And it looked as if she felt the same way about him.
So he kissed her. Undressed her. Let her undress him. Made love with her—sensibly, because she had condoms tucked in the drawer of her bedside cabinet. He’d intended maybe to slide out of bed once she was asleep and leave quietly, but he was warm and comfortable and it felt right having her curled in his arms. So he gave in to the yearning to stay, and fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and their arms wrapped around each other.
* * *
On Saturday morning, Anna woke first.
Oh, help.
&n
bsp; They hadn’t planned this.
She had absolutely no idea how he was going to react this morning. Would he back away, horrified at losing control? Would he be shy? Or had they both moved past everything to a new understanding?
Before she could worry herself silly about it, his eyes opened.
‘Hey,’ he said.
And his smile was sweet and warm and everything she could wish for.
‘Hey, yourself,’ she said lightly. ‘I, um...’ Then she stopped. What did she say?
‘Yeah. I don’t know what to say either,’ he admitted. ‘But I have no regrets about last night.’
Which made everything feel all right. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘how about breakfast?’
‘Wonderful,’ he said. ‘And I’ll help you make it.’
CHAPTER TEN
ON TUESDAY JAMIE was in Theatre all day. He came out to a message from Anna.
Last Christmassy thing to convince you tonight. Meet you at the hospital entrance at five.
Her eyes were sparkling when he joined her at the hospital entrance, so tonight was clearly something she was looking forward to, he thought. But he had absolutely no idea what she’d planned, and she refused to give him a single clue.
When they got off the Tube at Covent Garden, he assumed that it was to see the Christmas decorations. But when she led him through the streets and he saw the iconic building with its glass front, the fan-shaped window and the columns, he stopped and stared. ‘The Opera House.’
‘Exactly,’ she said, smiling. ‘There’s nothing more Christmassy than a performance of The Nutcracker—well, except maybe for a trip to the panto.’
The Nutcracker. Hestia’s favourite ballet. The one he’d seen her dance in so many, many, times, as the beautiful Sugar Plum Fairy.
The last ballet she’d danced professionally.
It felt as if someone had just dropped an enormous weight on his head from a great height.
‘My best friend and her husband had tickets for tonight, but he’s gone down with the flu and she’s feeling rubbish, too. She offered the tickets to me, so, I thought we—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Jamie?’
‘No. I can’t do this,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Anna. I just can’t.’
She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Because of Hestia.’ He took a deep breath. ‘She was a ballet dancer. She taught ballet. This was her favourite. The last time I came here, I saw her dance in The Nutcracker. So I—I just can’t go into the theatre now and watch it. I’m sorry.’
She looked stricken. ‘Jamie, I’m so—’
‘I need to be on my own,’ he cut in. ‘It’s me, not you.’ The fault was so very much his. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t do this. Stay and enjoy the show. The ballet’s wonderful. Just... I can’t.’ And then he turned and walked away, before he howled his pain and frustration to the sky.
* * *
Anna stared at Jamie’s retreating back.
She’d had absolutely no idea that Hestia had been a ballet dancer, or she would never have brought Jamie here.
What she’d planned as a treat, as a lovely surprise that he’d enjoy as much as she would, had turned into an utter nightmare.
She’d never meant to hurt him. She’d thought they’d grown closer since Friday night, when she’d fallen asleep in his arms; they’d spent most of the weekend together, except when she’d had a shift on Sunday and he’d visited his family, and he’d stayed over at her flat again last night. She’d started to think that maybe they had a future.
How very wrong she’d been.
She’d rushed him into this. Too much, too soon.
And she wasn’t sure if what they’d had could be repaired. Part of her wanted to go after him, to apologise properly and try to make things right; but he’d been very clear that he wanted to be alone. Going after him and trying to get him to talk might make things even worse. He clearly needed to process things on his own.
She just had to hope that he’d talk to her later, when he’d had a chance to come to terms with his feelings. That they could find some sort of compromise.
What now?
She could just go home.
Jamie had told her to stay and enjoy the show. How could she enjoy it, knowing that she’d hurt him so badly?
Or maybe the music and the show she loved would help her move on from this. Take her away from this misery enough to give her some perspective.
Jamie had also said she was the sort of person who made lemonade when life gave her lemons. She rather thought it would be more like bitter lemon tonight. It was way too late to call anyone else to join her; the show started in fifteen minutes.
So she walked into the foyer, took one of the tickets from her bag, showed it to the usher and found her seat.
The auditorium filled up, and Anna was painfully aware of the empty seat beside her.
Why, why, why hadn’t she realised that petite, graceful Hestia would have been some kind of dancer? Why hadn’t she guessed that Hestia might’ve been a ballerina? Why hadn’t she asked Jamie to talk more about his late wife?
She felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes and tried to blink them away. No. She was going to take a step back, enjoy the show for what it was, let the music and the choreography and the costumes take her away from this.
Except it didn’t work.
All the way through the performance, she was thinking of Jamie and how she’d virtually scrubbed the top of his scars off with wire wool tonight.
Why hadn’t she asked him to go to the ballet with her first? It would still have hurt him, but not as much as this, when he was just faced with it. Why had she stupidly thought that a surprise was a good idea?
And as the sound of the celesta echoed through the auditorium to introduce the Sugar Plum Fairy, the tears slid down her face.
Hestia had been the love of Jamie’s life, so it was no wonder that he couldn’t recover from the pain of losing her and their baby. How stupid Anna had been to think that they could move on from their pasts together.
And how much Jamie’s rejection hurt. She’d kept apart from relationships ever since her marriage to Johnny had imploded; and now, the first time she’d let herself be vulnerable, the first time she’d taken that leap of faith, it had all gone wrong. Right at that moment, she felt as if she’d fallen over the edge of a cliff and her heart had broken into tiny shards all over again.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
They’d only known each other for a few weeks. So why did this hurt even more than the end of a five-year marriage? Why did it feel as if all the stars had gone out?
She should never have let her barriers down. Never have tried to reach Jamie. Never have let herself believe that she might actually be enough for someone—because she quite clearly wasn’t enough. All that closeness at the children’s Christmas concert, the way Jamie had felt as if he fitted right into her family and her world—it had all been an illusion. An illusion that had shattered along with her heart.
* * *
Jamie walked away from the Royal Opera House, thinking of Hestia dancing across the stage as the Sugar Plum Fairy. He was almost oblivious to his surroundings as he headed down the Strand, just putting one foot in front of the other and concentrating on moving away from Covent Garden. Eventually he found himself at Trafalgar Square, with the massive pine Christmas tree covered in white lights, almost guarded by the Landseer Lions and the fountains.
Hestia had loved the National Gallery, too. Van Gogh’s Sunflowers had been her favourite painting. She’d said it filled her with sunlight.
Swallowing hard, he cut down through Charing Cross to the river. Across the other side of the Thames, the London Eye was lit up, and the Christmas lights shimmered on the South Bank. He walked along the Embankment, past Cleopatra’s Needle, and down to Waterloo Bridge. H
e could hear the Christmassy music from Somerset House; it reminded him of the night that Anna had taken him to the skating rink. The night he’d kissed her accidentally for the first time. When they’d backed off from each other and agreed to be friends.
Except he hadn’t been able to resist her warmth and her sweetness.
They’d walked together along the river after the carol concert, hand in hand. He’d been full of peace and joy. The night they’d made love together for the first time.
Right now, everything felt in pieces. The loss and loneliness of losing his wife and his baby, the years of the whole world feeling empty, came back sharply.
Yet Anna had broken through his barriers. She’d filled his world with sunshine just as surely as Van Gogh had filled Hestia with sunshine. She’d taken the sting out of Christmas for him, taught him to find the joy in the lights and the love and the laughter. She’d been so careful to check with him that he was OK with each step, so sensitive and kind—until tonight, when she’d surprised him, though he’d never mentioned Hestia’s dancing to her so how was she to have known?
But it wasn’t just that she’d taken the sting out of Christmas for him. Being with Anna made the world feel a better place.
He liked her family, and he knew that his family would adore her. Yet here he was, on the verge of throwing it all away and going back to be mired in the misery of his past, focusing on what he’d lost and mourning what might have been.
He could see Anna’s face, stricken, when he’d told her that he couldn’t go to the ballet with her. She’d been so upset to think that she’d hurt him. It hadn’t been her fault. There wasn’t a mean or spiteful cell in her body. And he’d hurt her. He’d stamped on the joy she clearly found in The Nutcracker—not the same as Hestia’s, because Anna enjoyed the ballet as part of the audience rather than performing it. But he’d ignored everything; he’d simply walked away and shut her out.
As he leaned on the railings of the bridge, looking out over the Thames, it started to snow. Tiny flakes, not settling, but still snowing.
