A Daughter For Christmas

by Cathy Williams

  By now Leigh wished that the ground would open up and swallow her. Or, even better, open up and swallow him.

  ‘I’m not implying...’ Not implying what? Her mind came to a grinding halt.

  ‘Look, to put it plainly, you’re a child.’

  ‘I most certainly am not!’

  ‘No?’ He raised his eyebrows, still amused. ‘Perhaps that’s the wrong way of putting it.’

  ‘There’s no right way of putting it,’ Leigh said stiffly and with all the composure left at her command. ‘I know exactly what you’re saying,’ She could feel the tiny pulse in her neck beating hard. She had a vision of herself—short hair, boyish build, flat chest, an androgynous, gamin figure, with all the wealth of her inexperience showing in her face.

  ‘No, you absolutely do not know exactly what I’m saying.’

  She didn’t want to hear this. On the other hand, some masochistic instinct made her yearn to hear every unpleasant word.

  ‘There’s no need to elaborate,’ she said, before he could launch into a sarcastic diatribe on her lack of feminine graces. ‘We all have our types, and I’m very relieved, actually, that you’ve been honest with me.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘I most certainly am. Definitely.’ She wished in passing that she had a long mane of hair which she could have tossed dismissively over one shoulder.

  ‘Good.’ He smiled and began to walk towards her. When he was next to her he paused, bent slightly and whispered, ‘But what about me? How do I know that I’m safe?’

  ‘Because,’ she said, staring straight ahead of her, ‘you’re as little my type as I am yours.’

  ‘And what is your type?’

  ‘I happen to like caring, sensitive, artistic men.’ She thought of Mick, her vanished ex-boyfriend, and conveniently chose to forget how much he had irritated her.

  ‘Oh, what a relief. Now, shall we continue with the rest of the day?’ He moved away and began to put on his coat, and she slowly turned around to look at him. All that masculine appeal, she thought, definitely not for me. She found that she was breathing a great deal easier now that there was some distance between them.

  ‘Just one more question,’ she said.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘What about your lodger?’

  ‘What about my lodger?’ His voice remained exactly the same, but she had a swift, powerful feeling that something within him had stiffened at the mention of his lodger. Why did he have a lodger, anyway? Most peculiar.

  ‘Where does he live?’

  ‘It’s not a he, it’s a she.’

  ‘Well, where does she live?’

  ‘Is it relevant?’

  ‘Who is she?’ Leigh asked, made curious more by his lack of response on the subject than because she really cared one way or the other.

  ‘A friend of the family,’ Nicholas told her abruptly. ‘And she lives in the converted basement.’

  Leigh frowned and imagined a harmless old lady, a great-aunt of sorts. It would make sense if he was taking care of some ageing, distant relative who had nowhere else to live. It was also reassuring to know that there would be someone else in the house—another female.

  ‘So, does she have meals with you?’ she asked, more out of politeness than anything else. She pictured a cosy scene of Nicholas and his great-aunt, sharing dinner every so often. With this mysterious family friend, or relation, or whatever, in the background, she suddenly felt a great deal less daunted at the prospect of moving in.

  ‘She has her own access to where she lives and comes and goes as she pleases. Now, if we could...’ he consulted his watch then looked at her ‘...wrap up this subject and move on?’

  ‘Of course.’ She snapped out of her reverie. ‘Where to now?’

  ‘The school. While we’re on that subject, do you drive?’

  ‘I have my licence,’ Leigh answered, ‘but no car. For a while, after the accident, I drove Jen’s, but we had to sell it to help pay off some of the debts.’

  ‘How do you get Amy to school?’ he asked, as he manoeuvred the car out of the drive.

  ‘Walk.’ She looked sideways at him and added cryptically, ‘It’s what those things called legs were made for, after all.’

  ‘Well, the school we’re about to see is too far from the house to make walking an option...’

  ‘There must be a bus, in that case.’

  ‘Perhaps. It’s immaterial, anyway, because I shall be getting you a small, run-around car—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘I’m not.’ He shot her a look, half frowning. ‘And I hope that damned pride of yours isn’t going to get in the way of common sense.’

  ‘Pride? Pride? One minute I’m a gold-digger, and after whatever I can get my hands on. The next minute I’m too proud to accept anything from you! Could you make your mind up?’

  He laughed under his breath. ‘Touché,’ he remarked. ‘However, a car would make life a lot easier for you.’

  ‘I’m sure it would but—’

  ‘No buts. I intend to get it. If you decide not to drive it then by all means feel free to leave it standing in the garage. You’re quite welcome to spend forty minutes fighting your way to school on public transport.’

  Which reduced her to silence, as he no doubt, she thought, knew that it would.

  The school further proved the efficiency with which he got his own way. It was everything she could possibly want in a school for her niece. There was not a single flaw she could find, and she could tell from the satisfied smile on his face as they left that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  ‘So,’ he said, over lunch, ‘any questions?’

  ‘You seem to have sorted everything out,’ Leigh conceded, racking her brains to come up with some clever point he might have missed.

  ‘Now, there’s just the question of when you and Amy will be moving in.’

  ‘After Christmas?’

  ‘Why wait?’

  ‘It seems the most convenient time. I mean, I wouldn’t want to disrupt any plans you may have made.’ Once again she had the unnerving sensation of being caught on a runaway train.

  ‘I’ll be the one to decide whether to disrupt my plans or not. As for the question of convenience, the sooner you move the better. I get the feeling that you may have one foot through the door, but the other foot is poised to take flight at the slightest opportunity.’

  ‘I don’t know what gives you that impression,’ Leigh said, reddening.

  ‘The fact that you seem unconvinced that you did the right thing in coming to me.’

  Was she that transparent? Or was he just very astute when it came to reading other people’s personalities? Either way, it was something she found vaguely disconcerting. She didn’t want to be transparent. There was nothing mysterious in transparency.

  Why do I want to be mysterious? she thought. What a ridiculous notion. She had never had any admiration for women who played coy games and cultivated the dubious habit of saying one thing and meaning another. She preferred the forthright approach. So why did it sting a little that Nicholas Kendall’s impression was that she was an emotional and sexual simpleton, barely out of high school?

  ‘What about the weekend?’ he was saying, and she dragged her thoughts back to the matter in hand.

  ‘This weekend?’ She looked at him with open-mouthed amazement, as though the suggestion had come totally out of the blue. ‘Move? Into your house?’

  ‘Correct on all three counts.’

  ‘That’s too soon. This is all happening way too fast. Amy barely knows you!’

  ‘Which is something that can be rectified when she moves into my house.’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that you might just succeed in frightening her off?’

  ‘No, and I don’t think it’s occurred to you either.’

  ‘It’s just a little too...rushed,’ Leigh persisted stubbornly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because... Amy’s school... The t
rip there and back...’

  ‘Will take half an hour. If I recall, you were prepared to keep her there indefinitely, inconvenient or not.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘It’s precisely the point.’ He leaned towards her. ‘You came to me, Leigh Walker. You waltzed into my life with a bomb in your hand. But my world has its rules.’

  ‘So you keep saying, and I’m more than prepared to recognise that you’re her father and you have a say in what she does, but until recently you haven’t been a fixture in her life...’

  ‘Which, as we both know only too well, had nothing to do with me!’

  She ignored the bite in his voice and ploughed on. ‘That’s not the point. The point is that I know her better than you do and, while I’m ready enough to compromise, I won’t be steamrollered into anything. I’ll discuss it with Amy and let you know.’ She wasn’t looking at him. ‘If I think that it’s going to be too upsetting for her, the suddenness of it all, then you’re just going to have to take my word for it and postpone it until she’s become accustomed to the idea.’

  ‘Fine,’ he replied curtly. ‘Just so long as this isn’t a ploy to stall what has to be done.’

  ‘Why should I want do to that?’ Leigh looked at him with what she hoped was wide-eyed innocence.

  ‘Because,’ Nicholas snapped, ‘it would simply be far more comfortable for you if my only contribution involved money.’

  ‘Oh, we’re back to that now, are we?’

  He didn’t bother to reply to that. He signalled for the bill, paid, without looking at the amount—a habit which Leigh viewed with great disapproval—then said, as they sipped the remainder of their coffee. ‘What about furniture?’

  ‘I have a few sentimental things I’d like to bring with me, nothing very cumbersome, and, of course, there are all Amy’s toys. The rest I’m quite happy to sell. What’s left of it, anyway. Quite a bit had to be sold off during the course of the last few months to go towards expenses.’

  ‘You should have come to me sooner. But let’s not get into that.’ He gave a short, mirthless laugh and leaned back in his chair so that he could cross his legs.

  ‘No,’ Leigh said awkwardly. What was it about his body, reclining in the chair like that, that brought to mind images of something untamed, darkly and unashamedly powerful? She found herself picturing those long, clever fingers, caressing, touching, exciting. She blinked rapidly, alarmed at that sudden meandering of her thoughts, and it occurred to her that at no point had there been any mention of a woman. Was he involved with anyone? Surely that might change with the addition of a young child?

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  She refocused her eyes on him. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because your face is very expressive. You’re too young to have learnt the art of concealing your thoughts.’

  ‘Please stop referring to me as young.’ She looked at him, unexpectedly insulted by his description. ‘And it just occurred to me that I don’t know whether or not you’re...involved with anyone.’

  ‘No, you don’t, do you? Why does it matter one way or the other?’

  ‘Because,’ Leigh said patiently, ‘a woman might not take kindly to discovering that you have a seven-year-old daughter.’

  ‘If a problem of that nature arises,’ he drawled, ‘you’ll be the first to know.’

  Which didn’t say anything much but now that her mind had turned to the possibility it seemed intent on dwelling on images of women, women to whom he might be attracted. He had made it abundantly clear that young wasn’t his type, and she imagined that he would be attracted to mature, voluptuous women with big breasts and full, pouting lips. Blonde, bouffant hair everywhere, she supposed. High heels and long, red nails.

  ‘And for that matter,’ he was saying. ‘I don’t want you to feel that your social life is in any way restricted by living under my roof. No more than it was restricted before.’

  Did she have a social life? Of sorts, she supposed. She had kept in touch with her friends from art college, and occasionally they went to the movies or out for a cheap meal, but with Amy that had become difficult, and now cheap meals out in the evening had been replaced by quick lunches and, of course, there was no boyfriend.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said politely.

  ‘Male friends can come and go, but clearly within limits.’

  What was that supposed to mean? ‘I don’t entertain an entourage of men,’ she informed him coolly.

  ‘No.’ He looked at her lazily. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so, but I felt I might as well make the point.’

  The point being, she thought later, that women like me don’t attract men in droves. The point being that I am, in fact, one of the genderless.

  She told herself that she was relieved at that because sexual attraction was the very last thing she wanted.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THERE was no yell of joy down the telephone line when Leigh told Nicholas that she had decided that they would be moving in on the weekend. His voice was clipped and she imagined him sitting in front of his desk, impatiently waiting for her to say what she had to say and clear off the line so that he could get back to the tiring business of running his empire.

  Over the past couple of days she had done rather more delving into his background. She had gone to the library during her lunch-hours and buried her head in business magazines, flicking through countless articles. She had even managed to locate a centre spread on the rise and rise of Nicholas Kendall, which had been written only a few months previously when he had launched a successful take-over of an ailing automotive components firm.

  It seemed that in addition to the sprawling network of businesses, inherited from his father, his heart lay in the buying of sick firms, which he then proceeded to turn into viable concerns to be sold later at great profit. A few were listed in the article and there appeared to be no common link between them, which seemed to be where his genius lay. He could turn anything around.

  There was a picture of him, standing amidst the employees of one such firm, and they all appeared to be smiling, which led her to think that they had either been drugged into acquiescence for the photo or else they didn’t know the first thing about Nicholas Kendall at all.

  She searched very carefully for any revelations about his private life, any indication of women lurking in the background, but the Financial Times and other such publications were clearly uninterested in Nicholas Kendall, the private man.

  ‘I can’t talk at the moment,’ she heard him saying, which instantly made her hackles rise. ‘Meet me at the club in forty minutes.’

  ‘I’m at work,’ Leigh informed him. Did he think that she was lazing about at home, doing nothing in particular?

  ‘Leave it.’

  And he replaced the receiver so that the argument forming on her lips was cut off before it could even begin.

  Throughout the entire trip by Underground and foot to his club she could feel her temper mounting.

  If this sort of summary approach was any indication of what it would be like to work for him then she would have to tactfully inform him that it wasn’t going to work out. Did he simply imagine that she was at his beck and call, whatever the time of day or night?

  She arrived at the club ten minutes late, and was shown immediately to the sitting room, where he was waiting for her with his briefcase open on the small, round table in front of him, talking into his cellphone. He waved her to sit down and continued his conversation, without looking at her.

  He had removed his jacket, which was slung over the back of the spare chair, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows.

  Leigh sat back in her chair, crossed her legs and scrutinised him from under her lashes. He was purported to be something of a financial wizard in the City. His pronouncements were treated with respect and the merest hint that he might be buying a company was often enough to send its shares soaring.

  When he had finished talking on the telephone he cl
icked it off, stuck it in his briefcase and afforded her a long look.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘There was really no need for you to drag yourself away from your desk to meet me here,’ Leigh said, fairly ungraciously. ‘I really only phoned you to say that we will be able to move in on the weekend after all.’

  ‘Have a cup of coffee.’

  There was a tray on the table with various silver jugs and a plate of oddly shaped, home-made biscuits. He poured her a cup and handed it to her.

  ‘I’m out of the country until Friday and it’s better if we discuss arrangements face to face. I take it that Amy was not too alarmed at the prospect of moving house?’

  Actually, there had been no scene at all. She had accepted the proposal with the unquestioning, placid acceptance that children sometimes showed in the face of what most adults would consider monumental upheavals.

  When? had been her first question, and Leigh had thought, When? What about how come? Or, since when do we know that man well enough to move in with him? Or even, I don’t want to leave my home.

  ‘I managed to persuade her that your kind offer had come at a very good moment, what with the bank about to take the house, and that it might be a good idea to move in sooner rather than later. Of course, she’s a little bit nervous about the whole thing. I mean, you can understand that. She barely knows you.’

  ‘I like him,’ Amy had said when Leigh had asked her what she thought of Nicholas Kendall. ‘I think he’s kind.’ It had flashed through her head that ‘kind’ was hardly the word to describe someone basically mean, ruthless, domineering, overbearing and arrogant.

  ‘Are you sure that you’re not describing your own reactions to the prospect of moving in with me?’

  Leigh reddened and sought temporary refuge in her cup of coffee. ‘I’m not in the least nervous about the move, as a matter of fact. However—’ she eyed him unwaveringly ‘—since you’re going to be employing me I think we should be quite clear on what the job entails.’

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise at that ‘Precisely what you’re doing at the moment, I should think.’