by Helen Brooks
Kay struggled into a sitting position, holding out her arms as she said, ‘Pass her to me, Mitchell, please.’
She sat cradling Emily to her as she heard voices in the bedroom next door but it was too much effort to try and distinguish what was being said. If Mitchell would be prepared to stay for just an hour or two so she could sleep a while she would be all right, Kay told herself. It was the combination of a sleepless night on top of the flu that had knocked her for six.
She came to with a start a little while later, staring bleary-eyed at Mitchell, who had just marched into the room. ‘Everything’s settled,’ he said briskly, reaching down for Emily who was fast asleep on Kay’s lap. ‘You’re coming home with me.’
‘What?’ She was still in one of the weird catnap dreams she’d been having since the flu hit; she had to be. He couldn’t really have said what she’d thought he’d said.
She saw him hand the still-sleeping Emily to Henry, who had appeared in the doorway, and then he turned back to her, saying, ‘Georgia and Emily will need a couple of changes of clothing and their night things. Where are they?’
‘Mitchell.’ She struggled to get the words past the cotton wool in her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere. What are you talking about?’
‘I’m taking you all to my place.’ It was not an invitation, more of a decree.
‘No way.’ She wasn’t that ill. ‘I’ve far too much to do here for Christmas.’
‘Christmas has been moved.’ He eyed her impatiently. ‘All the presents you and your mother had hidden from the twins are in the back of my car concealed under a blanket. There’s also some of their toys from their toy boxes so they’ve got something to play with over the next couple of days. Once we’ve packed their clothes we’re done.’
Done? Done? Was he mad? ‘My mother, our clothes…’ she said weakly.
‘All in the car.’
‘You’ve put my mother in your car?’ she said faintly.
‘Not in the boot with the other things,’ he qualified with dry amusement at her horrified tone.
If she hadn’t have felt so rotten she would have glared at him. ‘Her pills—’
‘I’ve told you, all taken care of,’ he said with the touch of irritation she’d noticed on other occasions when he considered she was labouring a point. He had walked across to the twins’ wardrobe as they’d been speaking, opening it and taking various clothes, underwear and night attire from the hanging space and shelves inside. ‘That’ll do.’ He put the mound on Emily’s bed. ‘Where’s a suitcase?’
‘There’s a big sports bag on top of the wardrobe,’ she answered in a whisper, her throat hurting badly. She couldn’t argue with him, she didn’t have the strength, but she couldn’t believe this was happening, and with her mother’s consent too. Consent? She dared bet her mother nearly bit his hand off, so quickly did she agree to Mitchell’s offer. They’d certainly tied it all up tight while she’d been dozing.
‘I’ll take this bag to the car and come back for you,’ he said quietly, looking down at her with unfathomable eyes once the clothes were packed.
‘We…we surely can’t all fit in,’ she murmured.
‘I came in the Voyager,’ he said briefly.
‘Oh, right.’ She didn’t know he had one. He seemed to have a vehicle for every occasion, she thought with a slight touch of flu hysteria as he left the room.
It was only when she heard his footsteps going down the stairs that it dawned on Kay he must have planned to take them back to his place all along if he’d brought the huge people carrier. She wasn’t quite sure how that made her feel but now was not the time to explore her emotions, she told herself muzzily. She made a great effort and got to her feet, her legs feeling as if they didn’t belong to her.
She was halfway down the stairs when he came in the front door and he swore, softly but a very rude word, she thought primly.
‘What are you trying to do, Kay? Prove a point by breaking your neck?’ he grated out angrily, glaring at her as she wobbled on the last step.
‘Don’t shout at me,’ she muttered weakly. ‘I’m not one of your female slaves who only live to do your bidding.’
‘I wish.’ He shook his head at her as she clung to the post at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Look at you, dead on your feet and still determined not to give an inch. Superwoman is allowed to be ill, you know. Even the most magnificent of the species have off-days.’
‘Probably.’ The room was swimming again and she was forced to acknowledge the brief few steps had taken all her strength. ‘But if I don’t look after Georgia and Emily and my mother no one else will.’
‘Wrong.’ He picked her up as though she weighed nothing at all, his tone terse. ‘For the next few days you are all under my protection and you’ll damn well do as you’re told, woman. Why can’t you be more like Leonora? She doesn’t argue and fight over the simplest thing.’
Much as Kay loved her mother, she was hugely insulted. ‘I hate you,’ she said hotly, wincing at the pain in her head.
‘Perhaps.’ He stared down at her steadily, his silver-blue gaze so piercing she shut her eyes against it. ‘But hate is the sister of love.’
‘Huh.’ It was the most she could manage and she kept her eyes tightly shut.
‘I must be mad,’ he said softly, amusement warming his voice as he walked across the room to the front door, bending down and picking up a blanket he’d placed there and wrapping it round her, ignoring her protests. ‘I’ve got not just one redhead but four of them under my roof for Christmas.’
‘But the others don’t argue and fight over the simplest thing,’ she reminded him bitterly, still furious.
‘True.’
And he actually had the gall to chuckle as he stepped out into the icy afternoon, hooking the door shut behind him before striding down the path to the handsome vehicle waiting at the roadside, Henry at the wheel and her mother and the girls staring anxiously out of the windows, wrapped up like Eskimos.
Over the next couple of days Kay slept most of the time away, her mind more at rest when Emily threw off the worst of the bug overnight.
Mitchell insisted on calling in his own doctor to examine the houseful of patients, but he merely confirmed what had already been said and repeated the advice of rest, hot lemon and paracetamol.
Late Christmas Eve afternoon it started to snow, and for the first time since the flu had manifested itself Kay found she could lie and gaze out of the window without feeling as though her brain were going to break into pieces. She could hear sounds from downstairs; they had permeated her dreams once or twice over the last twenty-four hours, but she hadn’t been able to make herself respond. Now her lips twitched as she heard the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. The girls were all right, thank goodness. And Henry had said her mother was feeling a little better when he’d brought her some soup earlier.
She couldn’t miss being with the girls Christmas Eve. Kay forced herself to sit up, although it had been very pleasant lying in the warm cocoon with the aches and pains that had racked her body beginning to subside a little, and the big fat flakes of snow drifting past the window.
The room was luxurious—all the bedrooms were—the colour scheme one of soft golds and cream, and the carpet ankle-deep. Kay knew the twins’ room was to the right of hers and her mother’s on the left, but, apart from several very brief visits from Georgia and Emily, she had seen nothing of them. Henry had kept up a steady supply of light nourishing ‘invalid’ food, and Mitchell had made the odd appearance, but she had felt too out of it to do more than open her eyes for a few minutes at a time.
Kay flung back the duvet and swung her legs over the side of the bed, making her way slowly to the bathroom. It was a great effort and she had to rest several times before her toilette was finished, but eventually she was washed and dressed, her hair free of tangles and tied back from her face. She sat on the bed for a few minutes after she was ready, amazed at how tired she felt. In the past she’d
had the occasional heavy cold and labelled it the flu. She now made a mental note never to do that again. The real thing was so different.
Once she was on the landing she could hear children’s laughter and followed the sound. She noticed the staircase had been decorated with fresh garlands of holly and ivy and there were more in the hall once she reached the bottom of the stairs, but it was as she pushed open the drawing-room door and stood quietly surveying the scene within that she had her biggest surprise.
The room had been transformed into a glittering festive pageant, tinsel and ornamentation decorating the walls and every available surface or so it seemed to Kay’s dazed eyes, but it was the eight-foot Christmas tree that really drew the eye. It stood in regal splendour at the far end of the room, its branches bedecked with glittering trinkets, baubles and tinsel and the huge tub that held it surrounded with gaily wrapped parcels.
Emily was lying on one of the sofas, which had been pulled close to the blazing fire, busily threading a paper chain with Henry, her mother was lying on another sofa close by in her dressing gown with a blanket over her legs, and Mitchell and Georgia were sitting together on the floor wrapping a parcel.
It was a charming scene, a homely and comfortable one, which suggested the five of them were totally at ease in each other’s company, and as Kay watched she felt suddenly cold. She was the one on the outside looking in. Ridiculous, maybe, but that was how she felt.
And then Emily looked up and saw her, her shriek of delight causing the others to glance towards the door. Within a moment Georgia was at Kay’s side, taking her hand and leading her over to sit beside Emily—Henry having moved—as both little girls began talking nineteen to the dozen.
‘Do you like the Christmas tree and everything, Mummy? We did it as a surprise for you.’
‘And there are presents for you and Grandma under the tree but we’re not allowed to say what they are.’
‘Ours are with Father Christmas. Uncle Mitch has written to tell him we’re here for Christmas so he can bring our sacks here.’
‘It’s taken us ages to get everything nice, Mummy.’
This last from Georgia was a little uncertain. Kay realised her face must be betraying her, but the ‘Uncle Mitch’ had hit her like a savage punch in the solar plexus. This was exactly what she’d feared, the reason she’d made it a policy not to date while the children were small, why she’d hesitated particularly with regards to Mitchell Grey. She didn’t want her girls to be made conversant with ‘uncles’. She knew friends in a similar situation to herself and no sooner had their children got used to one uncle than he disappeared and another took his place. Uncles were transient. It stood to reason, didn’t it, that if the fathers of the children weren’t prepared to stick around, uncles were going to be even less reliable? And Mitchell had already laid out the ground rules well in advance.
She had been foolish to think she could keep the two lives separate—that of having a light ‘friendship’ with Mitchell, and that of her real life with her babies. But it would have been all right, it would, if she hadn’t got sick.
She forced a bright smile to her face as she pulled Emily onto her lap, and put an arm round Georgia, who was standing at her knee. Pretend; don’t spoil their Christmas. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful, my darlings. You must have been so busy. I can’t believe it.’
Her gushing must have worked because both children’s faces became animated again, their chattering washing over her as she met Mitchell’s eyes. They were narrowed on her face, the ice-blue depths glinting as though he had read her mind.
She stared at him, knowing she ought to say something but her mind registering only the dark attractiveness at the root of his maleness. He was in a light shirt and jeans, his feet bare, and his hair looked ruffled. She had never seen it like that before. Usually it was ruthlessly sleek and impeccable, like him. This was another Mitchell; she was seeing yet one more facet of his complex persona and, if anything, although this being was more casual and laidback than any so far, it disturbed her the most. It was the most human, seemingly the most approachable, and it was an illusion.
‘Darling, how are you feeling?’ Her mother’s voice from the sofa some feet away brought Kay’s head turning. ‘We looked in on you an hour or so ago when I came down, but you were fast asleep.’
Kay forced another smile as she said, ‘A bit shaky but much better.’
‘This is my first time up too.’ Whether Leonora had guessed how she’d felt when she had watched them all from the doorway, Kay didn’t know, but her mother continued, ‘Not that you could really call it that when I was all but carried down here and then tucked up and forbidden to move. All this work has been done over the last day, apparently.’
‘The girls needed something to take their minds off missing their mother,’ Mitchell said softly, speaking to Leonora but with his eyes on Kay’s pale face.
Kay nerved herself to meet his gaze again. ‘You’ve been very kind to us, thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can’t believe all the trouble we’ve put you to.’
‘No trouble.’ He had risen to his feet when Georgia had rushed to meet her, his hands thrust in his pockets and his dark face inscrutable. ‘That’s what friends are for, after all.’
Colour flooded into her pale face. He had sensed her thoughts earlier.
‘Besides which, it’s given Henry and myself the chance to act like boys again, eh, Henry?’ His voice was mocking. ‘We might even be persuaded to build a snowman if the snow falls thickly enough over Christmas.’
‘I’ve never made a snowman.’ Georgia had left Kay’s side before she could stop her, walking across and tugging on Mitchell’s jean-clad leg to get his attention. ‘There was only a teeny weeny bit of snow last year and it melted.’
‘It did? That’s a shame, munchkin.’ Mitchell put out a hand and ruffled the child’s curls. ‘I tell you what, I’ll put in an order with Father Christmas to leave enough snow for a snowman this year. How about that? Then we can make one with big coal eyes and a carrot nose.’
‘Emily can’t go out into the cold.’ Georgia looked artlessly up at her hero. ‘She’ll have to stay inside and watch.’
‘No, I won’t.’ Emily’s lower lip began to tremble. ‘I want to build a snowman too.’
Four years old and they were fighting over him already, Kay thought helplessly. What was it about Mitchell Grey and the female race? Even her mother had a glow about her that wasn’t due to the heat from the huge coal fire burning in the hearth.
‘Emily will be fine all wrapped up in a day or two,’ Mitchell said firmly, his tweak of Georgia’s nose letting the tot know he wasn’t falling for it. ‘Building a snowman is a job for everyone to do together or not at all. Okay?’
Georgia nodded adoringly and Kay groaned silently. He had her feisty little Georgia eating out of the palm of his hand. They were going to hear nothing but ‘Uncle Mitchell’ for months after this.
‘Now, there just happens to be two early Christmas presents for two little girls I know on the Christmas tree.’ Mitchell grinned at the twins. ‘See if you can find them. Not under the tree, mind. On it.’
Emily was off Kay’s lap and across to the tree only seconds after her sister, and they found the parcels without any trouble. On opening, the boxes revealed two beautifully dressed, long-haired dolls, complete with muffs and capes and other accessories, identical but for the fact one doll was dressed in silver and the other in gold.
Kay watched as the girls came dancing back to thank Mitchell without any prompting, and when he said the dolls were from both himself and Henry they immediately went to Henry and hugged him too, before settling down on the rug in front of the fire and beginning to play with their new babies.
‘They’re two lovely little girls, Kay. You’re bringing them up very well.’
Henry was sitting with her mother now and as Mitchell joined her on the sofa Kay felt herself tense. ‘Thank you.’
‘How are you feeling?’ he aske
d softly.
He was sitting close but not too close. Nevertheless every nerve in her body had twanged and now she found herself utterly unable to break the hold of his eyes. ‘I…I’m surprised how weak I feel.’ She hadn’t meant to be so honest but the nearness of him had totally thrown her.
‘You haven’t eaten anything but mush for twenty-four hours,’ he said just as softly, his delineation of Henry’s superb homemade soups and soufflés grossly unfair, ‘besides which the news has been full of how this particular strain of influenza has young and old and everyone between off their feet. It’s nasty.’
‘Georgia still seems okay.’ She glanced towards the girls, their curls like living flames in the glow of the fire. ‘Right from a tiny baby, bugs just seem to bounce off her somehow, whereas poor Emily catches everything that’s going.’
‘It must have been tough being sole parent, especially when they were first born.’
Her hands twisted in her lap. ‘Sometimes.’ She kept her eyes on the two small heads. ‘But they more than made up for any difficulties,’ she said defensively, ‘and they’ve always been very happy children. They haven’t wanted for anything.’
‘I wasn’t criticising,’ he said soothingly, ‘and I can see what a great mother you’ve been and are.’
‘Perry would have been a terrible father. He only ever thought of himself and would have made their lives miserable. The fact that he has never even tried to see them proves that.’
‘Kay, for what it’s worth I think you did the only thing you could when you threw him out.’ He stared at her. ‘Were there people who said you should have stayed with him regardless?’ he asked quietly. ‘For the sake of the children?’
