The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish

‘What do you mean?’

‘Every detail was right. Good preparation is the secret.’

‘I agree. But why do you give the credit to her?’

‘Didn’t she organise all this?’

‘No, I did, you rotten so-and-so,’ she said indignantly. ‘I personally went round every child, asking questions, trying not to be too obvious about it.’

‘You?’ His surprise was unflattering but she told herself she was past being bothered by him now.

‘Yes, me,’ she said lightly. ‘Feather-brained Corinne who can just about manage a shopping list, remember? I prepared the ground, gathered intelligence, surveyed the prospects-er-’ She clutched her forehead, trying to think of other businesslike expressions.

‘Appraised the situation?’ He helped her out. ‘You did a great job.’

‘So did you.’

‘Much to your amazement,’ he said with a grin that she could just detect behind the beard.

‘You see over there-’ she said, not answering directly ‘-the Christmas tree in the corner?’

‘Yes.’

‘When you’ve finished on Butterfly Ward that’s where you go and sit. I’m off to collect Bobby and Mitzi, and I’ll be back as soon as possible.’

‘Are you going to tell them it’s me?’

‘No, I think it will be nicer not to. Let’s see if they guess.’

‘Of course they’ll guess. I’m their father.’

She did not reply.

On Butterfly Ward it was the same as before, except that now he was full of confidence and performed his part with a touch of swagger that went down well.

Corinne stayed long enough to see him settle in before leaning down to murmur, ‘I’m off now. Back soon.’

It was only a few minutes’ drive to the house where the party was being held. Bobby and Mitzi piled into the car, wearing party hats, clutching gifts and giggling.

‘No need to ask if you had a good time,’ Corinne said.

‘And now we’re going to see Father Christmas,’ Mitzi yelled gleefully.

Bobby touched Corinne’s arm and spoke quietly. ‘Is Daddy still coming?’

‘Yes, darling, he’s still coming.’

‘He didn’t cancel while we were at the party?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

He searched her face.

‘Are you sure?’

Until then Corinne had been feeling in charity with Alex, but at the sight of Bobby’s painful anxiety she discovered that she could hate him again. No man had the right to do that to a child, to destroy his sense of security in his parents, so that every moment of happiness had to be checked and re-checked to discover the catch.

‘Darling, I give you my word. Daddy has not cancelled and he isn’t going to.’

He settled into the car, apparently satisfied.

‘By the way-’ she said as she drove to the hospital ‘-Uncle Jimmy had an accident. He fell over on the icy road and broke his collar-bone.’

They were loud in their cries of dismay.

‘Will Uncle Jimmy be in hospital for Christmas?’ Bobby asked.

‘I don’t know. They’re putting him in plaster now. When I’ve delivered you to Santa I’ll go up to see him.’

At the hospital she took them straight to where Alex should be sitting by the tree, only half expecting him to be there.

But of course he was there! Alex had run his pride up this flagpole and it was really no surprise that he was doing well. He had one child on his knee and another standing beside him, while their mother looked on, smiling. There were three others waiting.

Corinne inched forward carefully, keeping her eyes on Bobby and Mitzi, waiting for the moment of recognition.

It didn’t come.

Of course it was the beard and hair, she realised. The disguise was magnificent. It would be different when they were closer.

At that moment Alex looked up. His eyes went first to Corinne, then to the children, then back to Corinne, while his eyebrows signalled a question. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head.

She took them to the end of the little queue, said something to them and walked away.

Alex was glad that he’d bothered to dress up properly when he heard one child mutter, just audibly, ‘He looks like a real Santa, Mummy.’

At last his own two children stood before him, Mitzi keeping back a little. It was weeks since he’d seen her, and he’d forgotten how fast children grew. Her hair, which had been short, was now long enough to wear in bunches which stood out from her head, giving her the appearance of a cheeky elf. He couldn’t help grinning at the picture she presented.

But right now she was solemn and seemed unwilling to come forward.

‘Go on,’ Bobby urged her.

But she shook her head.

‘She’s a bit shy,’ Bobby confided to Santa.

‘But I’m-’ He checked himself, and amended the words to, ‘But I’m Santa Claus. Nobody is shy of me.’

He waited for one of them to say, Daddy! But neither of them did.

Of course, he thought. They were pretending not to know, enjoying the joke.

He leaned down to Mitzi. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?’ Big mistake. Mitzi was surveying him, wide-eyed with astonishment.

‘But I already told you. I put it in my letter. Didn’t you get it?’

‘Of course I did,’ he improvised hastily.

Over her head his frantic eyes met Bobby’s. The boy mouthed ‘Marianne doll set.’

Since he’d never heard of this, Alex had to signal bafflement with his eyebrows. Bobby mouthed it again, more emphatically, and this time Alex understood. ‘Ah, now I remember. You want a Marianne doll set,’ he echoed, and saw his daughter’s eyes light up.

‘The one in the riding habit,’ his son mouthed at him.

‘The one in the riding habit,’ Alex repeated.

Mitzi’s beaming smile told him he’d got it right.

‘But is that all?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t there anything else you’ve thought of since?’

Mitzi hesitated until her brother nudged her gently and whispered, ‘Go on.’

Emboldened, the little girl reached up to say, ‘And can I have a necklace?’

‘Of course you can,’ Alex said.

Suddenly the little girl hugged him. He tensed, thinking of the beard that might be dislodged. But it held, and he became aware of her arms, holding him without restraint.

She had hugged him before, but not like that. Now he knew what he had always sensed in her embraces. It had been caution. And it wasn’t there now.

Before he had time to take in the implications, she had released him and moved aside, making room for her brother, who came in close.

But before addressing Santa he wagged a finger at his sister.

‘Don’t wander off,’ he told her severely.

She stuck out her tongue.

‘Does she give you much trouble?’ Alex asked with a grin.

‘She’s OK most of the time,’ Bobby said seriously. ‘But sometimes she won’t do as I say ’cos I’m not very much older than her.’

It was a three-year difference, but a sudden inspiration made Alex say, ‘About five years?’