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‘As if. It looks good. It’s even vertical. That’s a miracle in itself. So, where are the decorations?’
He worked his way out from under the tree and stood up, brushing bits of vegetation off his cashmere sweater. Probably not the best choice of garment for the task in hand, but with Georgia in the house he didn’t seem to be able to think clearly. ‘In my study. Come and have a look.’
She followed him to the room that they’d christened the music room, under her bedroom. There was a desk in there positioned to take advantage of the views over the garden, and apart from the laptop on the desk, there was nothing to give away that it was an office. She wondered how much work he did here, or was planning to, or if it was just a weekend cottage.
Some cottage, she thought drily.
There was a stack of boxes beside the desk, and he pulled one of the boxes off the pile and opened it on the desk. ‘I’m not convinced they’re child-friendly.’
Probably not, she thought, eyeing the expensive packaging. The decorations were all immaculately boxed, individually wrapped in tissue paper and made of glass. Beautiful though they were, she wasn’t in a hurry to put them in reach of Josh.
‘Not good?’ he asked, and she shrugged.
‘They’re lovely. Beautiful, but they aren’t really safe within his reach. He’s a bit small to understand about cutting his fingers off.’
Sebastian winced. ‘We could put them higher up, out of his reach.’
‘We could. And we could decorate the lower part with other things. And they aren’t all glass. Look, these ones are traditional pâpier maché, it says. They’ll be all right, and I can make gingerbread stars and trees, and decorate them with icing—have you got icing sugar and colourings?’
He raised his hands palm-up and pulled a face. ‘How would I know?’
‘You put the stuff away in your kitchen?’
He shook his head. ‘My mother put a lot of the food away. She was here when it arrived. I was still in London.’
‘Ah. Well, in that case we’ll have to go and look or be imaginative. There are fir trees in the grounds. We can find fir cones and berries and things—’
‘May I remind you that everything in the garden is submerged under a foot of snow?’ he said drily, and she smiled.
‘I’m sure you’ll manage. Coloured paper? Glue? Sticky tape?’
He had a horrible feeling the tree was going to end up looking like a refugee from a craft programme on the television, but then Josh crawled through the kneehole of the desk pushing his stapler along the floor and making ‘vroom vroom’ noises, and he suddenly didn’t care what the tree looked like. He just wanted Josh to be safe, and happy, and together they could have fun making stuff for the tree.
Well, Josh could. He wasn’t sure he’d be so thrilled by it, but hey. Josh was just a kid, and Sebastian wasn’t going to put his own feelings before the child’s. No way.
‘Let’s put this lot on the top half,’ he suggested, ‘and I’ll go and see what I can find in the garden while you make the biscuits. I’m sure I’ve got ribbon and sticky tape and coloured wrapping paper left from the presents.’
She smiled, her whole face softening. ‘Thanks. That would be great. OK, Josh, let’s go and make the tree pretty, shall we?’
‘Lights first,’ Sebastian said, picking up the box.
‘Do they flash?’
‘No they don’t,’ he said, appalled. ‘Nor are they blue. Christmas tree lights should be white, like stars.’
‘Stars twinkle,’ she pointed out, and started singing ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star’, but he’d had enough. Laughing in exasperation, he turned her shoulders, gave her a little push towards the door and followed her back to the sitting room, trying really, really hard not to breathe in the scent of her perfume.
* * *
‘Your mother rang.’
He paused in the act of tugging off his boots and met her eyes. ‘Ah. I sent her a text earlier saying the lane was impassable and Christmas wasn’t going to happen tomorrow. What did you say to her?’
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Nothing. I’m not that stupid. She rang the house first, and I heard the answerphone cut in, and then she rang your mobile. It came up on the screen.’
‘Right. OK. I’ll go and call her.’
‘So did you find fir cones and berries?’
‘Fir cones. Not berries. The birds were all over them, and I thought their need was greater, but I’ve got some greenery. I’ve left it all out here to drip for a bit. Something smells good.’
‘That’s the biscuits.’
‘Mmm. They probably need testing. Did you make spares?’ he asked hopefully.
She shook her head, then relented and smiled at him when he pulled a disappointed face. ‘I’m sure there’ll be breakages.’
He felt his mouth twitch. ‘I’m sure it can be arranged even if there aren’t. Stick the kettle on, I’m starving and I could do with a drink. I’ll go and call my mother and then we can have lunch.’
He went into the study and picked up the phone, listened to the message and rang her. ‘So how is it? Are you cut off, too?’
‘Yes, and your brothers aren’t here, either. They were coming up last night but of course they watched the news and thought better of it. They’re spending Christmas together, though, so they’ll be fine.’
‘So you’ll be alone?’
‘Well, we hope not. We were still hoping you might be able to get out with your Range Rover to collect us.’
‘No chance. It’s head high in the lane and I don’t see it thawing with the weather so cold and clear. We’re going to have to postpone Christmas for days, I’m afraid. It could be ages before they get through here with a snow plough.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, how disappointing. And I can’t bear to think of you spending your first Christmas there on your own.’
Except, of course, he wouldn’t be, but there was no way he was telling her that. ‘I’m more worried for you,’ he said, hastily moving the subject on. ‘I don’t know what you’re going to eat, I’ve got all the food here at this end.’
‘Well, don’t try and keep it. Just have it and enjoy it and we’ll worry about restocking later. At least it’s only us, and I’m sure I’ve got things in the freezer. We’ll be fine, but be careful with all that food at yours and freeze anything you can’t use in time. You don’t want to get food poisoning eating it past its use-by date—’
‘Mum,’ he said warningly, and she sighed.
‘Sorry, but you can’t stop me worrying about you. Big as you are, you’re still my son.’
If only that was true, he thought with a pang, but he didn’t go there because he knew that in every way that mattered, he was. Well, his heart knew that, and now, after all these years, he was finally able to accept it. His head, though—that still wanted answers—
He heard a noise and realised that Josh had followed him into the study and was crawling around on the floor with the stapler vrooming again, and he swivelled the chair round and watched him out of the corner of his eye while he listened to his mother making alternative plans and telling him how they were going to get together with the neighbours and it would all be fine, and they’d see him soon.
And then Josh stood up under the desk and banged his head, and started to cry.
‘Hang on.’ He dropped the phone and scooped Josh up into his arms, cross with himself for not anticipating it so that now Josh was hurt, and cross with Georgia for letting him out of her sight so that it could happen in the first place.
And he was hurt. Real tears were welling in his eyes, and without thinking Sebastian sat back in his chair, cuddled him close and kissed his head better, murmuring reassurance. Josh snuggled into him, sniffing a little, and from the phone on the desk he could hear his mother’s tinny voice saying, ‘Sebastian? Sebastian, whose child is that?’
Why hadn’t he just hung up? But he hadn’t, and there was no way round this. He picked up the receiver with a sigh and prepared himself for an earbashing.
‘It’s Georgia Becket’s little boy—’
‘Georgie’s? I didn’t know you were seeing her! How long’s this been going on?’
‘It’s not. It isn’t,’ he told her hastily. ‘She was on her way home for Christmas yesterday afternoon and the other road was blocked so she tried the short cut and got stuck outside the gates. And it was almost dark, so the obvious thing to do was let them stay. I was going to take her home today, but the weather rather messed that up so we’re just making the best of it, really.’
Shut up! Too much information. Stop talking!
But then of course his mother started again.
‘Oh, Sebastian! Well, thank goodness you were there! Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been—it doesn’t bear thinking about, her and her little boy—’
‘Well, I was here, so it’s fine, and it’s only till the snow clears so don’t get excited.’
‘I’m not excited. I’m just concerned for her. How is she? That poor girl’s been through so much—’
‘She’s fine,’ he said shortly, and then added, ‘She’s making gingerbread decorations for the tree at the moment.’
Why? Why had he told her that? It sounded so cosy and domesticated and just plain happy families, and his mother latched onto it like a terrier.
‘Oh, how lovely! She always was a clever girl. She was so good for you—I never did understand why you let her go, but you were behaving so oddly then, I expect you just drove her away. I don’t suppose you ever talked to her, explained anything?’
He said nothing. He didn’t need to. His mother was on a roll.
‘No, of course you didn’t. You weren’t talking to anyone at that time, least of all us.’ She sighed. ‘I wish we’d told you sooner. We should have done.’
‘You should.’
His voice was harsh, and he heard her suck in her breath. ‘Well, whatever, you be nice to her. Don’t you dare hurt her again, Sebastian, she doesn’t deserve it. And—try talking to her. Tell her what was going on then, how you were feeling about the adoption and everything. How you still feel. I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s a lovely girl and it would be wonderful if you got back together. I’d love to see you happy, and that poor little boy of hers...’
He swallowed hard, pressing his lips briefly to Josh’s dark, glossy hair. ‘Well, you can put all that out of your head. It’s over. It was over years ago, and it’s just not going to happen. Look, I’ll give you a call when I know more, but in the meantime you take care and don’t let Dad overdo it shovelling snow. I know what he’s like about clearing the drive.’
‘I’ll pass it on, but I can’t guarantee he’ll listen. And I’m sorry we aren’t going to be with you, but I’m really glad Georgie is. And her little boy. You’ll have so much fun together. How old is he?’
‘Two. He’s two—well, two and a bit.’ The same age I was...
His mother sucked in a breath. ‘Oh, Sebastian! He’s going to love it! I remember your first Christmas with us—’
‘Mum, I’ve got to go. I’m expecting a call. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
He ended the call abruptly and put the phone down, and then swivelled the chair to find Georgie standing there watching him thoughtfully.
‘What’s not going to happen?’
‘Us,’ he said shortly, and put Josh back on his feet. ‘What can I do for you?’
She could think of a million things, none of which he’d want to hear and all of them disastrous for her emotional security. ‘Nothing. I was looking for Josh and I heard him crying. What happened?’
‘He stood up under the desk. He’s fine now, aren’t you, little guy?’
Josh nodded, and she held out her hand to him. ‘Lunch is ready when you are,’ she told Sebastian. ‘Come on, Josh. Let’s go and have something to eat.’ And she left him to follow them in his own time.
* * *
Great. His mother must have heard Josh cry and asked who he was, which would have opened a whole can of worms.
She’d have to apologise for that because it was her fault, of course, for letting Josh run off like that, but she’d been busy rescuing the biscuits from the Aga and one minute he was there and the next he was gone.
Interestingly, though, it sounded as if his mother, unlike hers, wanted them back together. Well, as he’d said, it just wasn’t going to happen. It was so not going to happen! Been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it.
And so did he, and from the sound of his voice he wasn’t any more keen than she was. He’d certainly cut his mother off short when she started asking questions about Josh.
She towed him back to the kitchen and shut the door to keep him there so he didn’t cause any more havoc, and sat him down at the table. She’d made cheese and caramelised onion chutney sandwiches, a big pile of them, and there were little golden brown trees and stars cooling on a wire rack on the worktop.
There were even a few failures. Sebastian would be pleased. Or he would have been. Now, with his mother sticking her oar in and putting him on the defensive, things might not be so jolly. She sucked in a deep breath when she heard the door open and forced herself to smile.
‘You got lucky,’ she told him. ‘Some of the gingerbread trees were cracked so we can’t use them for decorations. And I found some packets of stock cubes which would make perfect tree ornaments if I wrapped them up. Can you spare them for a few days?’
‘Probably. You could take some out just in case we need them, but no, that’s fine, go for it.’ And dropping into a chair, he picked up a sandwich and bit into it. ‘Nice bread.’
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, don’t look at me, I just raided the kitchen. It was entirely your PA’s choice. I suggest you give her a substantial bonus.’
‘I already did.’
She laughed and shook her head, then put the kettle on again to make tea and sat down opposite him. ‘I’m sorry I let Josh give me the slip. It must have been—awkward with your mother.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You know what she’s like.’
‘I do. She loves you, though, even though you fight with her all the time. You do know that?’
‘Of course I know that.’ He frowned and pushed back his chair. ‘Look, I’ve got work to do, so I might just take a pile of sandwiches and disappear into my study. I’ll see you later.’
Oh, great, she’d driven him out. It wasn’t hard. All she had to do was mention his mother and it was enough to send him running. She felt her shoulders drop as he left the room, and let out a long, slow breath.
They’d agreed to spend Christmas together and ignore the past for Josh’s sake, but the past just kept getting in the way, one way or the other, and tainting the atmosphere, as if it was determined to have its say.
She looked out of the window, but the snow was still there, and it was even snowing again lightly, just tiny bits of dust in the air. Was it ever going to thaw so they could escape?
Not nearly soon enough. She cleared the table, gave it a wipe and smiled at her son.
‘Are you going to help me ice the decorations for the tree?’ she asked, but he was more interested in eating them, so she gave him a pile of little bits to keep him occupied and piped white ‘snow’ onto the trees and the stars through the snipped-off corner of a sandwich bag, which seemed to work all right until it split and splodged icing on the last one.
She saved it for Sebastian and took it in to him with a cup of tea, knocking on the open door before she went in.
He didn’t seem to be working. He was sitting with his feet on the corner of the desk, his fingers linked and lying loosely on his board-flat abdomen, and he glanced at her and frowned.
‘Sorry. My mother just got to me.’
‘Don’t apologise. It was my fault for not keeping a closer eye on Josh. Here. I messed up one of the biscuits. I thought you might like it, and I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’
‘Thanks.’
He dropped his feet to the floor and sighed. ‘I wish this damn snow would clear,’ he muttered, and she gave a short laugh.
‘I don’t think there’s any chance. I think it’s got it in for us. It was snowing again a moment ago.’
‘I noticed.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s Josh?’
‘Eating broken biscuits.’
‘I thought they were mine?’
‘You walked out, Sebastian.’
‘Well, it makes a change for it to be me.’
She sucked in a breath, took a step back and turned on her heel and walked away. She got all the way to the door before she stopped and turned back.
‘I didn’t walk out,’ she reminded him. ‘You drove me out. There’s a difference. And if you had the slightest chance, you’d do it again, right now. But don’t worry. The moment the snow clears, I’ll be out of here, and you’ll never have to see me again.’
‘Wait.’
His voice stopped her in the doorway, and she heard the creak of his chair as he got up and crossed the room to her.
She could feel him behind her, just inches away, unmoving. After a moment his hands cupped her shoulders, but he still didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just stood there and held her, as if he didn’t quite know what to say or do but wanted to do something.
She turned and looked up into his eyes, and they were troubled. Hers probably were, too. Goodness knows there was enough to trouble them. She let her breath out on a long, quiet sigh, and lifted her hand and touched his cheek, making contact.
Even though he’d shaved that morning she could feel the tantalising rasp of stubble against her palm, and under her fingers his jaw clenched, the muscle twitching.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I know it wasn’t just you. I know I wasn’t easy to live with. I’m not. But—we have to do Christmas for Josh, and I really want to do it right, and I know I said we wouldn’t talk about it and I just broke the rule. Can we start again?’
She dropped her hand. ‘Start what again?’
He was silent for long moments, then his mouth flickered into a smile filled with remorse and tenderness and pain. ‘Christmas. Nothing else. I know you don’t want more than that.’
Didn’t she? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure, but then it wasn’t what he was offering, so she nodded and stepped back a little and tried to smile.
‘OK. No more snide remarks, no more cheap shots, no more bickering. And maybe a bit more respect for who we are and where we are now?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Sounds good to me,’ he said gruffly, and he smiled again, that same sad smile that brought a lump to her throat and made her hurt inside.
How long they would have stood there she had no idea, but there was a crash from the kitchen and she fled, her heart in her mouth.
She found Josh on the floor looking stunned, a biscuit in his hand, the wire rack teetering on the edge of the worktop and a chair lying on its side, and guilt flooded her yet again.
‘Is he all right?’
‘I think so.’ She gathered him up, and he clung to her like a little monkey, arms and legs wrapping round her as he burrowed into her shoulder and sobbed. ‘I think he’s probably just frightened himself.’
And her. And Sebastian, judging by the look on his face.
He reached out a hand and laid it gently on Josh’s back. ‘Are you OK, little guy? You’re really in the wars today, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve told him so many times not to climb on chairs.’
‘He’s a boy. They climb. I was covered in bruises from falling off or out of things until I was about seventeen. Then I started driving.’
She gave him a dry look. ‘Thanks. It’s really good to know what’s in store.’
He smiled at her over her son’s head, and this time it was a real smile. His soft chuckle filled the kitchen, warming her, and she sat down on the righted chair and hugged Josh and examined him for bumps and bruises and odd-shaped limbs.
Just a fright, she concluded, and a little egg on the side of his head, but that could have been from standing up under the desk.
‘Tea?’ Sebastian offered, and she nodded.
‘Tea sounds like a good idea. Thank you.’
‘Universal panacea, isn’t it? When all else fails, make tea.’
He put the kettle on and went back to his study to bring his mug and the uneaten biscuit, pausing for a moment to take a few deep breaths and slow his heart rate. He’d had no idea what they’d find, and the relief that Josh seemed to be OK was enormous.
Crazily enormous. Hell, the little kid was getting right under his skin—
He strode briskly back to the kitchen, stood his mug on the side of the Aga so it didn’t cool any more and made her a fresh mug.
‘How is he?’
‘He’s fine, aren’t you, Josh? It’s probably time he had a nap. I usually put him down after lunch for a little while. I might go up with him and read for a bit while he sleeps.’
He frowned as he analysed an unfamiliar emotion. Disappointment? Really? What was the matter with him?
‘Good idea. I’ll get on with my work, and then we’ll decorate the tree later.’
* * *
‘Mistletoe?’
He’d cut mistletoe, of all the things! Like that was really going to help—
‘I know, I know,’ he sighed shortly, ‘but it is Christmassy, and everything else was out of reach or too tough, and I could cut it with scissors, and I have no idea where the secateurs might be. I made sure it didn’t have berries on, either, in case Josh should try and eat them, because they’re poisonous. But there is one bit of holly—for the Christmas pudding.’
She tipped her head on one side and eyed him in disbelief, trying not to laugh. ‘The Christmas pudding?’
‘Absolutely. You have to have a bit of holly on fire in the middle of the Christmas pudding when it’s brought to the table. It’s the law.’
She suppressed a splutter of laughter. ‘Is that the same law that says that lights must be white? My, aren’t we traditional?’ she teased, but he just folded his arms and quirked a brow.
‘Absolutely. Christmas is Christmas. It has to be done properly. Have you got a problem with that?’
She smiled slowly. ‘Do you know what? You’ve got a good heart, Sebastian Corder, for all you’re as prickly as a hedgehog. And no, I don’t have a problem with that. Not at all.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Good. Right. So, what’s next?’ he asked, avoiding her eyes and fluffing up his prickles.
Still smiling, she handed him the boxes of stock cubes and a few other little things she’d found that could be wrapped, and they sat down at the table, gave Josh a piece of paper and a pencil to do a drawing, and made little parcels for the tree.
She’d snapped off some twigs from a shrub outside the sitting room window, and once the other parcels were done they made them into little bundles to dangle on the tree.
‘Finger,’ he demanded, and she put her finger on the knot and he tugged the gold ribbon tight, and made a loop to hang it by.
‘You’re good at this. You might have found your vocation.’
‘I have a vocation.’
‘What, making money?’
He sighed and put the little bundle of sticks down on the growing pile.
‘George—’
She raised her hands. ‘It’s OK, I’m sorry, cheap shot.’
‘Yes, it was. And I don’t just spend it all on myself. I employ a lot of people, and I support various charities and organisations—and I really don’t need to explain myself to you.’
She searched his eyes. ‘Maybe you do,’ she said softly. ‘Maybe you always did, instead of just rushing off and doing.’
‘Yeah, well, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then, and as you were kind enough to point out to me when I was asking about David, it’s actually none of your business. Now, are we going to finish this tree or not?’
He got to his feet, scooping the little parcels up in his big hands and heading out of the door. She grabbed the fir cones, ribbon and scissors and stood up. He was never going to change, never going to compromise. The word wasn’t even in his vocabulary.
‘Josh, come on, we’re going to decorate the tree,’ she told her son, and he wriggled down off the chair and followed her into the sitting room.
CHAPTER SIX
‘IT LOOKS GOOD.’
She put the baby monitor on the coffee table, sat down at the other end of the sofa and studied the tree with satisfaction.