afraid.
Her gift to him had been as impersonal as her smile-a scarf of very fine cashmere, beautiful but meaningless. It told him nothing beyond the fact that she wanted the children to see them being friendly.
The present-giving was nearly over and there were only a few small items left around the base of the tree.
Alex found himself studying them in hope, but none seemed exactly right. The severity of his disappointment shocked him. He was grown up, for Pete’s sake! Grown-ups didn’t get upset because the right gift wasn’t under the tree.
Yet for a moment he was a child again, fighting back the tears because Mum had bought the wrong book and shrugged the mistake aside with, ‘Oh, well, it’s the same thing, really, isn’t it?’ And he couldn’t explain that it wasn’t the same thing at all because she had more important things to worry about than his feelings.
Then he saw his son gradually easing something out from behind an armchair, and relief swept him.
‘This is yours,’ Bobby said, holding out the brightly wrapped parcel.
‘Thank you, son.’
Alex unwrapped it slowly, revealing the picture inside-a water-colour of the happy family sitting by the river. As he gazed at it he became aware of his son watching him, full of tension, waiting for what he would say.
‘It’s beautiful, son. Did you do it?’
‘Yes, I painted it myself.’
‘But how do you recall that day? You were only five years old.’
‘You remember, Daddy?’ Bobby asked breathlessly.
‘Sure I do. It was Mummy’s birthday, and we went out for a picnic. You wandered too near the water and I had to run and grab you. That was a great day, wasn’t it?’
Bobby nodded. Corinne’s eyes were on Alex.
‘Do you remember?’ Alex asked her.
‘Oh, yes, it was lovely.’
‘You’ve even got the details right,’ Alex said, returning to the picture. ‘Right down to that red shirt.’
‘Mummy still has it,’ Bobby said.
‘Really? Well, that’s lucky.’
Corinne was suddenly doing something else. Alex couldn’t even be sure she’d heard the words, although they seemed to sing in his own ears.
It changed everything. Suddenly he was no longer fighting darkness.
He put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.
The rest of the day was standard-issue Christmas-turkey, plum pudding, crackers filled with silly jokes and funny hats, Christmas cake, more crackers. Alex faded contentedly into the background, doing nothing that might spoil the atmosphere.
There was the odd awkward moment. From somewhere Jimmy produced a sprig of mistletoe and wandered into the kitchen where Corinne was cooking. Alex heard a giggle, then a silence that tested his control to the utmost. But he forced himself to stay where he was.
And nothing could really spoil the one blazingly beautiful gift that had been given to him unexpectedly.
Corinne had kept the red shirt. He could live on that for a while.
Alex insisted on helping with the washing-up.
‘You can’t ask the kids and spoil Christmas for them,’ he explained. ‘And poor Jimmy isn’t up to it.’
‘Poor Jimmy!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘You’re a smug hypocrite, you know that?’
He grinned. ‘It’s what I’m good at.’
She gave a reluctant laugh and accepted his help.
‘I’ll wash,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where to put things. Pinny?’
‘The only one I have,’ she said defiantly, ‘has flowers on it.’
‘I’ll be brave.’
He looked so ridiculous in the flowered apron, with a garish paper hat still on his head, that Corinne’s heart melted. He did a good job too, washing and rinsing properly, and it reminded her of how domesticated he was. He’d always done his share in the old days.
‘What made you pick this house?’ he asked. ‘You could have had something better.’
‘You mean more expensive? I don’t think it comes any better than this. It has a big garden, is full of atmosphere, and the kids love it because it’s a house where they can be untidy.’
Bobby appeared in the doorway.
‘What is it, darling?’ Corinne asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘Did you want something?’
The boy shook his head. His eyes were fixed on Alex.
Suddenly the little kitchen clock gave three clear chimes, and Alex understood.
Three o’clock. The time when he had originally meant to leave. Bobby was watching him intently.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
It was a pleasure to see the smile that came over Bobby’s face, but in the very same moment Alex’s cellphone rang in the hall. Without a word, Bobby went and fetched it, handing it to his father, his face a careful blank.
The screen was showing Mark Dunsford’s number, and for a moment Alex hesitated, tempted to shut it off without answering. But he didn’t.
‘Mark,’ he said in his most discouraging voice.
‘Simply checking to see if you need me,’ came his assistant’s tinny voice.
‘For pity’s sake, it’s Christmas Day!’
‘I just thought you’d like to know that I’m on the ball.’
Alex ground his teeth. ‘Go and eat some Christmas cake, Mark, and don’t call me back unless it’s a real crisis.’
He hung up. Bobby’s eyes were shining, but all he said was, ‘Are you coming back soon, Dad? We haven’t used up all the crackers.’
‘I’ll be there in a moment, son. Put this back for me, will you?’
He handed him the cellphone and Bobby disappeared.
‘I’m glad you got rid of that man,’ Corinne said. ‘I don’t like him.’
‘Have you met Mark? Oh, yes, he came to the house once.’
‘Horrible man.’
‘I suppose he reminds you of me,’ Alex said wryly.
‘Not really. You were always full of fire and enthusiasm. It lit you up inside, and it was exciting. I remember once you got out of bed at one in the morning to work out some brilliant idea. Your eyes were shining and your voice had an edge, as though you’d seen a vision. I never knew what you were going to do next. But Mark Dunsford is a robot. He never had an original thought in his life, and he’s trying to make his name by standing on your shoulders. You should watch out for him.’
The same thought had occasionally occurred to him. Now he marvelled at the shrewdness that had shown Corinne so much in one brief meeting.
‘That must be the first time you’ve said anything good about me and the business,’ he observed.
‘I grew to hate it because it always came first-before me, before the kids.’
‘You never understood how driven I felt.’
‘You’re wrong. I saw you being driven all the time. At first, like I say, it was exciting, but later I saw what it did to you. I used to dream that there’d come a time when you could ease up, but of course there never did, and it went on and on, getting worse and worse.’
He gave a mirthless grunt of laughter.
‘Funny! I thought of it as getting better and better, because I could provide for you properly. A nice house, holidays-’
‘Half of which we ended up taking alone,’ she reminded him. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
‘But can’t you-?’
