Once Upon a Christmas Night...

by Annie Claydon

  He had to get them to see him. Had to make them know that he was home at last. He knew that Jess would welcome him. He could sit by the fire with her and warm himself. Watch the light from the flames sparkle on the baubles on the tree. He would give everything he had in exchange for just five minutes, to hold her and his son and tell them both that he loved them.

  The need was so great that it felt like a living, breathing thing. Greg made a lunge for the window, but found himself dragged backwards. Something was pulling him, back across the fields. However hard he tried to struggle, however much he instructed his sleeping mind to change the course of the dream, he couldn’t. He fell, and felt the frozen ground, sharp against his face. Rolling over, he managed to get a glimpse of where he was being carried to so inexorably.

  The glittering, ice-cold, steel and glass of the City were growing closer and closer. Looming over him, blocking out everything else. Greg tried to look back towards the old farmhouse, which currently housed everything that he cared about. But he couldn’t.

  Twisting, fighting with his bonds, roaring with frustration, he started to fall.

  Greg landed on the polished wooden floor, banging his head on the coffee table on the way down. There was something digging in his ribs and on closer inspection it turned out to be his laptop. He cursed, disentangled himself from the power cable and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  Five minutes past midnight. He still had work to do but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered tonight. How long had he been asleep? It seemed like hours, but the music CD he’d put on a while ago was still playing quietly in the background. Greg stood up and stretched. Maybe an early night would do him good. He was still half-asleep anyway, caught in the world of that crystal-clear dream. Tomorrow things would seem different.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘HAPPY CHRISTMA-A-A-S!’

  ‘Happy Christmas.’ Jess smiled down at the little girl in the reindeer costume, trying to catch some of the child’s excitement for herself.

  ‘Ah, Jess. I’ve been looking for you.’ Gerry caught his daughter’s hand.

  ‘Hi, Gerry. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m supposed to be a ghost, right?’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m assuming that means deathly pale.’

  ‘Well, the make-up’s great. Just be careful you don’t get carted off to A and E.’

  ‘You think I overdid it, then?’

  ‘Just a little. Do you think that people like to see their doctors looking worse than they feel?’

  ‘In my experience most people don’t notice. But perhaps I’d better go and wash some of it off. Will you keep an eye on Emma for me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ There wasn’t much else to do. All of the volunteers had turned up and were getting on with their allotted tasks. Which was a shame, really. Something approaching a crisis might have taken Jess’s mind off what seemed like a vast, empty void of today and tomorrow.

  It was her own fault. She’d turned down every invitation for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day on the basis that she’d be somewhere else. Just as long as her friends and family didn’t get together and realise that she hadn’t been with any of them, she’d be okay.

  ‘Unca Greg’s going to be Father Christmas.’

  ‘What’s that, sweetie?’

  ‘Father Christmas. With presents.’ Emma was clearly shocked that Jess didn’t know about Father Christmas.

  ‘Ah, that Father Christmas. You mean the one who squeezes down your chimney every year to bring you presents?’

  Emma nodded. ‘Look, there he is.’ She pointed over Jess’s right shoulder

  ‘But he’s not here yet. He won’t come until you put your stocking out tonight.’

  ‘No.’ Emma rolled her eyes. ‘He’s here.’

  ‘Well, perhaps he’s just taken the reindeer out for a bit of a run before their big night.’

  Jess turned, her gaze following the line of Emma’s pointing arm. Just as expected, Father Christmas wasn’t standing behind her. But Greg was.

  She let go of Emma’s hood and the little girl flew into his arms. Greg hoisted her high and Emma squealed with laughter.

  The only man she wanted. A laughing child in his arms. Here at the hospital, one of the ‘Christmas Volunteer’ badges pinned to his red sweater. Having to look at everything she’d lost, right there in front of her, was making Jess feel sick.

  ‘Jess.’

  Her name on his lips was all she wanted to hear, and everything she couldn’t bear to. Jess scanned the corridor, praying that Gerry would return soon.

  ‘Jess.’ He tried again. This time his voice was quieter. More tender.

  ‘Greg. Hello.’ She focussed wildly on the volunteer’s badge. ‘You’ve come to help. Thanks.’

  He grinned. ‘It’s an excuse.’

  She imagined it was. This wasn’t Greg’s world any more and the only way that he would be here was if he had an ulterior motive. ‘Even if it is, we’ll put you to work. I’ll take help wherever I can get it.’ She felt herself redden. It had probably been the wrong thing to say to Greg on almost every level that she could think of.

  He didn’t take the advantage that she’d handed him on a plate. ‘I wanted to see you, Jess.’

  ‘I got the letter from your solicitor. I’ve done as he suggested and contacted one of the people on his list.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m here about.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to say.’ She saw Gerry approaching out of the corner of her eye and Greg turned to follow the line of her gaze.

  ‘Gerry. Mate, you look awful.’ He grinned, handing Emma back to her father. ‘Sure I can’t… ?’

  ‘Don’t you start.’ Gerry shot him a baleful look and Emma squealed with happiness. ‘Since neither of you seem to appreciate my ghastly visage, I’ll take my daughter to see Father Christmas.’

  ‘Unca Greg?’ Emma beat on her father’s shoulder excitedly.

  ‘No, darling. We’re going to see the real one.’ Gerry glared at them both, took Emma’s hand and walked away.

  ‘He’s going in the wrong direction.’ Jess couldn’t bear another moment of this. Not when Greg looked so much like the man that she had first kissed last Christmas and so little like the one he’d become in the intervening year.

  ‘He’ll work it out. Jess, wait, please.’ He laid his hand on her arm.

  ‘I can’t, Greg.’ If she stayed any longer she was going to start crying. She’d done enough of that in the last two weeks.

  ‘You can.’ He moved closer. Close enough for her to catch his scent. Indefinable, but it was his alone.

  ‘This is all in the hands of the lawyers now. We’re probably not even allowed to be talking to one another.’

  ‘We can do as we please. And, anyway, I’m not sure that lawyers are the right way to go any more. I’ve changed my… agenda.’

  ‘No.’ If only he had. Her own heart wanted to believe that he had, but the tiny heart beating inside her? That was to be protected at any cost.

  ‘I want you to come with me.’

  ‘Where to?’ Dammit, he’d hooked her in. She wasn’t going to go with him so it didn’t much matter.

  ‘Just take the step. Come with me.’

  ‘When I don’t know where you’re going?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘No, Greg. I can’t.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve, Jess. Don’t you believe in the magic?’

  She sighed. ‘What is this, a fairy story? You think that just because it’s Christmas everything’s going to turn out okay.’ She turned, flicking her finger against one of the gold bells on the Christmas Tree. ‘See? Nothing. It doesn’t even ring.’

  ‘Maybe you just can’t hear it.’

  Jess rolled her eyes. ‘And maybe you’re having aural hallucinations. Anyway, your timing’s way out. It’s not even Christmas Day yet.’

  He raised one eyebrow. ‘The first step is believing. If we believe… ’

  ‘I belie
ve, Greg. But I believe in reality, not an idealised view of the world. Things don’t just go away because you refuse to recognise them.’

  ‘I meant if you believe that things can change then you can find a way to change them. If you don’t come with me now, I will be back.’

  Jess was under no illusions on that score. But she knew that whatever Greg’s intentions were, he wasn’t going to be able to keep them up for long. The company would drag him away. It would always drag him away, and no one could just click their fingers and make it disappear.

  ‘That’s up to you. Don’t expect my answer to be any different.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay. See you, Jess.’ He turned and walked away. Stood aside as someone negotiated a wheelchair through the wide doors into the reception area and then strode out into the square outside the hospital.

  He’d given up so easily. Another trait that Jess didn’t recognise. He’d be leaving after Christmas, and then he’d have other things on his mind. She couldn’t compete with Shaw Industries, and she didn’t have the energy to try.

  She turned, blind to everything other than misery and the certain knowledge that she’d done the right thing. She cannoned into the Christmas tree and stumbled back again in a cloud of sparkly dust.

  ‘Hey… Careful!’ Gerry was on his way back through Reception, Emma perched on his shoulders. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Eh? Yes, of course.’ Jess decided that Emma would probably be easier to fool than Gerry. ‘Did you see Father Christmas, sweetie?’

  ‘No. Daddy can’t find him.’

  ‘Really? Where do you think he is, then?’

  ‘That way.’ Emma pointed in the opposite direction from which they’d just come. ‘But he was here.’

  ‘Here? I didn’t see him.’

  Emma leaned forward and brushed her hand across Jess’s hair. ‘He made you sparkly.’

  Gerry shrugged. ‘You can’t argue with that. Do you want to come and see if we can track the man down?’

  ‘He’s in the little sitting room next to the canteen. Follow the signs for the grotto.’

  ‘A grotto! D’you hear that, Em? Shall we see if we can find it?’

  Jess leaned over the basin in the ladies’ room and tried to shake some of the sparkle out of her hair. She guessed it didn’t matter too much, it was Christmas after all, but if she was going to go to any of the wards, it probably wasn’t a good idea to go shedding bits from the Christmas tree everywhere.

  Last Christmas everything had been so easy. It had been easy to believe in Greg, easy to work with him, easy to kiss him. He’d taken her on journeys that she’d thought were hopeless, defied the flat line on the monitor and kept working. The old Greg had taught her that you didn’t stop while there was still some thread of life, some chance that a heart would start to beat again.

  There was no chance. She had to be realistic. If she didn’t let this go now, there would only be further pain and disappointment, which would drive yet another wedge between them. She couldn’t risk that, for the sake of her child.

  The look he had given her just now. That old, challenging look that defied the odds and had, on more than one occasion, saved someone. Jess’s heart beat a little faster. In the mirror she could see her reflection, a hint of his defiance in her eyes. Then, hardly aware of having made a decision, she turned and ran for the door.

  The courtyard outside the main entrance was full of people, but the one person she wanted to see wasn’t there. She searched the faces desperately and then she saw him. Standing by a parked taxi, chatting to the driver.

  ‘Greg!’ She hollered at the top of her voice and began to run towards him. He turned on the instant and when he saw her he smiled.

  ‘You haven’t brought your coat.’

  Jess realised that she was shivering in the crisp, morning air. ‘No. I’ll go back and get it.’

  ‘No, you won’t.’ He took his leather jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. ‘Get in.’

  The driver already seemed to know where to go, cutting through back roads and emerging again onto the main streets, which were decked with lights and heaving with last-minute shoppers.

  ‘Let me take that.’ She still had her clipboard clutched to her chest and he tugged at it. She relinquished it with as much grace as she could manage and he slipped it into the carrier bag that lay next to him on the seat.

  ‘It’s not going to make any difference, Greg.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘I’m coming because you asked me to. But things aren’t going to change, you’ve made your decisions.’

  He nodded. ‘And you’ve made yours?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve made mine.’ Jess glanced at the sliding window between them and the driver and saw that it was firmly shut. They had some measure of privacy, probably up to about the level of a quiet sneeze. She’d keep her voice down.

  ‘And that’s not going to change. You won’t consider moving out of your comfort zone.’

  She opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t fair, and then decided that it probably was. ‘I’m out of my comfort zone now.’

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, me too. And that’s exactly where we both need to be.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE TAXI SPED across the river and turned up towards the City then bumped into a quiet cul-de-sac. They drew to a halt outside a three-storey building, separated from the road by railings and a neat portico over a solid, black-painted door.

  Greg caught up his bag, got out of the taxi and paid the driver. Waited for Jess to follow and then took the steps up to the doorway in one stride, pulling the old-style bell handle.

  Jess jumped when the door was opened almost immediately. No time to focus on the engraved brass plate at the side of the door. A young woman, who seemed to know Greg, stood to one side.

  They might just as well have stepped back two hundred years. Polished dark wood doors, a huge, gilt mirror and a pair of high backed wooden chairs, next to a small Regency table with magazines displayed neatly on it. It was a waiting area, but clearly one that people didn’t spend much time waiting around in. Just enough to phone upstairs, and for someone to hurry down to meet a valued client.

  ‘Thanks, Sarah.’ Greg gave her a smile. ‘Is he in?’

  ‘He’s waiting for you in his office. Would you like to go straight up?’ Sarah smiled at Greg and then Jess, the same well-regulated smile. ‘Can I take your coat?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Jess handed Greg’s coat to her.

  ‘Shall I bring up some coffee?’

  Greg nodded. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’ He reached into his bag and pulled out a parcel, which was obviously a well-wrapped bottle, proffering it to her. ‘Happy Christmas.’

  Sarah’s veneer slipped a little and she blushed. ‘That’s very nice of you… ’

  ‘We won’t keep you too long. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do today.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time. We always stay open until lunchtime on Christmas Eve.’ Sarah disappeared with Greg’s coat and left them alone to climb the long staircase, which curved up through the centre of the building. It was almost dizzying, drawing the eye upwards to the ever-decreasing circles above her head.

  ‘I love this staircase.’ He leaned close, as if that was some kind of secret. ‘Apparently it’s one of only a few in London that are quite this shape.’

  ‘Yes. It’s lovely.’ Jess had given up now. No more questions, no more let’s get this over with. It would all play out, and then Greg would go home and she’d go back to the hospital.

  He chuckled, placing his hand lightly on her back and steering her across the first floor landing to an open door, where a middle aged man in impeccable pinstripes stood.

  ‘Charles.’

  ‘Greg.’ The man extended his hand. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Well, thank you. I appreciate you being here today. Jess, this is Charles Hamlin. Of Hamlin, Grey and… ’

  ‘Hamlin.’ Charles chuckled as if this was a very
old joke that still somehow managed to tickle him. He held his hand out to her and she grasped it shakily. ‘Dr Saunders. A pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘Jess, please. Nice to meet you too.’

  ‘Sit down, please.’ He waved her towards one of two chairs that were set in front of a large slab of mahogany piled high with papers, strewn with various knick-knacks and lit by a reading lamp with a green shade.

  Jess looked around at the book-lined office. Charles was a lawyer of some sort. Anger spurted through her veins and she almost turned and ran, back down the aristocratic staircase and into the street, where she might be able to breathe again. She felt Greg’s hand again, light on her back. Stay. Please stay.

  She should get out of there right now, but somehow she couldn’t. Maybe it was because Greg seemed so different, so much like the man he’d once been. The man she’d follow into any darkness, through any unknown door, because she trusted him.

  She drew herself up as straight as she could, pretended that she wasn’t wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with sparkle all over it, and sat down. She crossed her legs tightly, and wished that Greg would give her back the clipboard so she could either shield herself or hit him with it, whichever turned out to be appropriate. At that moment Sarah appeared behind them with coffee, on what looked suspiciously like a silver tray. What had she got herself into?

  Greg had placed another bottle-shaped parcel from his bag on Charles’ desk, and he unwrapped it while Sarah was pouring the coffee. His smile turned into a beam of approbation as he examined the bottle. ‘I say. Thank you, I shall enjoy that immensely.’

  Greg grinned and Jess shot him a pleading look. If he didn’t get down to business by the time she’d finished her coffee, and maybe one or two of those rather nicelooking biscuits, she was going to lose her nerve and she’d be out of there.

  ‘I don’t want to keep you. Perhaps we can start over coffee.’ Greg seemed to sense that she was getting restive.

  ‘Of course. Dr Saunders… Jess… I assume that Mr Shaw has explained why we’re here this morning?’