Xandra was sitting cross-legged on the bed, Santa hat perched on her head, while his father occupied an armchair beside it. He was laughing at something she’d said and it was obvious that they were on the same wavelength, despite the generation gap. That they liked one another. Were friends. Everything that he and his father were not. Everything that he and his daughter were not.
They both froze as they saw him.
‘I was just coming,’ Xandra said, immediately defensive.
‘No problem,’ he lied. ‘We were a bit early.’
‘Is this Annie?’ his father asked, looking beyond him. ‘Xandra’s been telling me all about you.’
‘Oh, dear…’ she stepped forward, hand extended-a scene reminiscent of every news clip he’d ever seen of a royal hospital visit ‘…I don’t like the sound of that!’ Then, ‘How d’you do, Mr Saxon?’
‘I do very well, thank you,’ he said. ‘Certainly well enough to get out of here.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
George wondered how many times she’d done that. Visited a total stranger in hospital, completely at ease, sure of her welcome.
‘Xandra is a tonic,’ he said. Then, finally turning to grudgingly acknowledge him, ‘You’ve managed to drag yourself into the garage, I see.’
‘Mike is picking up the Bentley in an hour.’
The nod his father managed was as close as he’d ever come to a thank you and he thought that was it, but he said, ‘We’ve been looking after his cars ever since he started the business. I’m glad we didn’t let him down.’ And then he looked up. ‘Thanks, son.’
The words were barely audible but he’d said them and it was George’s turn to be lost for words.
It was Annie who broke the silence. ‘Where’s Hetty?’
‘She went to the shop to get Granddad an evening paper,’ Xandra said, watching them both.
‘You could die of boredom in here,’ his father said, with considerably more force in his voice than the day before. ‘I don’t care what that doctor says, I’m going home tomorrow.’
‘Dad…’ he protested.
‘Your mother will take care of me,’ he said stubbornly, the brief moment of rapport already history.
Annie’s hand grabbed his before he let slip his first response, which was to tell him not to be so selfish.
‘We’ll all take care of you,’ Xandra said quickly, looking at him, her eyes pleading with him to say that it would be all right. As if what he said actually mattered.
They were all taking tiny steps here and for a moment he clung to Annie’s hand as if to a lifeline. She squeezed his fingers, encouraging him to take the risk, throw his heart into the ring.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, ‘I’m sure we’ll manage. Especially since Annie is staying on for a while to help out.’
‘Really?’ Xandra grinned. ‘Great. You can help me put up the decorations.’
‘Thank you,’ Annie said, but she was looking at him. ‘I’d like that.’ Then, turning to his father, ‘But you really must listen to the doctor, Mr Saxon. If you come home too soon, you’ll be back in here for Christmas.’
His father regarded her thoughtfully. Then, taking note of the way their hands were interlinked and apparently putting one and one together and making a pair, he smiled with satisfaction. ‘Maybe you’re right, Annie. I don’t suppose another day or two will kill me.’
Setting himself up for yet another disappointment that he’d get the blame for, George thought, and removing his hand from hers, he said, ‘We’d better go, Xandra. Mike is coming for the car at four.’
She bounced off the bed, gave her granddad a hug. Then, transferring the Santa hat from her own head to his, she said, ‘Behave yourself. And don’t let Gran stay so late tonight. She was too tired to eat last night.’
‘Really?’ He shook his head. ‘Silly woman. I’ll make sure she leaves early.’
‘Thanks for thinking about your gran,’ he said as they headed for the car.
‘She can’t bear to leave him there on his own.’ She turned to Annie. ‘They absolutely dote on one another, you know. It’s really sweet.’ Then, taking advantage of his approval, she said, ‘Can you drop me off in town? I’ll catch the bus home.’
‘I thought we’d decided that you’re grounded.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ she said. ‘But this isn’t for me. We’ve only got indoor lights. I’ll have to get some new ones for the outside tree.’ Then, ‘Annie could come with me if you like. Just to make sure I don’t have any fun.’
‘Actually, I could do with a run at the shops,’ Annie said before he could voice his objection to the idea of Lady Roseanne Napier, her underwear stuffed with cash and about as street-smart as a newborn lamb, let loose in the Christmas crowds with only a teenager for protection. ‘I came away with the bare minimum.’
The look in her eye told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘I’ll do my absolute best to make sure that neither of us have any fun,’ she assured him. ‘Although I can’t positively guarantee it.’
Xandra’s face lit up. Annie did that to people, he thought. Lit them up. His mother, his father, his daughter. They all responded to that effortless charm, the natural warmth she exuded, but he’d done a lot more than just light up.
He’d lit up, overloaded, blown every fuse in his brain as he’d surrendered, had let down a barrier he’d been building against the world ever since the day when, years younger than Xandra, he’d understood that he was on his own.
Only now, when he knew that any kind of relationship between them was impossible, did he understand just how exposed he’d left himself.
Keeping his distance emotionally from this woman who was so far out of his orbit that he might as well be on Mars was now an absolute necessity. As was keeping her safe. But forbidding her to leave the house wasn’t an option either.
‘It’s Friday so the shops will be open late, won’t they?’ he asked.
‘I suppose.’
‘In that case, if you’re prepared to wait until after Mike’s collected the Bentley, I’ll take you both into town. We could pick up the takeaway on the way home.’
It sounded reasonable but he wasn’t looking at Annie, knowing that she’d have raised that eyebrow a fraction, telling him that she was winning this stand-off hands down, instead concentrating on his daughter, willing her to say yes.
‘You want to come shopping with us?’ She sounded doubtful.
‘Same deal as always,’ he replied. ‘I drive, you do the hard work.’
‘That means you’re going to have to carry your own bags to the car,’ Annie said. ‘Obviously, as a lady of rather more advanced years, I will expect him to carry mine.’ She laid the lightest emphasis on the word ‘lady’. She tilted an eyebrow at him. Taunting him. No, teasing him. ‘Do you have a problem with that, George?’
‘I can live with it,’ he said, refusing to meet her gaze, afraid he might just break down and laugh. He was too angry with her to laugh. Too angry with himself for wanting to wrap his arms around her, hold her, kiss her, beg her never to leave because most of all he wanted her.
‘What a hero,’ she said gently. ‘And the three of us could put up those trees while we’re waiting.’
And right there and then, knowing that Christmas brought her a world of pain, he thought his heart might break that she would do that for his daughter. For him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THREE hours later, the car parked, her arm tucked firmly in George’s-it was clear he wasn’t going to let her stray from his side-Annie stood in the centre of Maybridge. There were lights everywhere and a brass band was playing Christmas carols as crowds of shoppers searched out presents for their loved ones.
Somewhere, in her subconscious, she knew this was how Christmas was meant to be, but now she was touching it, feeling it as she was jostled by shoppers laden with bags, excited children who’d spotted ‘Santa’ in a
