He unwrapped the first gift, revealing a pile of half-a-dozen white linen handkerchiefs, each hand-embroidered with a monogram, DB. ‘You made these yourself?’
She nodded, happy that he seemed pleased with them. ‘I like to sew. Go on. Open the other.’
He did as she asked, drawing from the wrapping paper a black silk pouch with a woven cord clasp. ‘What is it? It’s beautiful.’ He ran a finger over the Chinese dragons.
‘It’s a pouch for your tobacco.’
He shook his head and she saw his eyes were misted. ‘No one, no one, has ever gone to the trouble to make something for me. It must have taken you ages.’
‘I did it in the evenings when Jasmine was in bed. I wanted to give you something personal.’
‘Thank you, Evie. It means a lot to me.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Did you get something for yourself?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t need anything.’
‘I have something for you. It’s an heirloom I want you to have. Wait here.’
He disappeared into the study and she could hear him unlocking the door to the desk. He returned with a small leather box, slightly faded and worn around the edges. ‘It belonged to my mother and my grandmother before her. I’d like you to have it.’
Evie flipped the box open to reveal a gold ring with a pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds. She swallowed. ‘Did this belong to Felicity before me?’
Douglas looked aghast. ‘No, of course not. No one’s worn it since my mother. She died when I was ten.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ She put it on her finger and held out her hand. ‘So delicate and it fits perfectly. Thank you, Doug.’
Later that night as she lay awake in bed with a sleeping Douglas beside her, she remembered how he had looked horrified at the idea of Felicity owning the ring. She didn’t think he’d been appalled at her suggestion that he’d been insensitive enough to have given her something that had once belonged to his late wife. No, it was the idea of giving Felicity the ring in the first place that was abhorrent. Maybe things weren’t quite as she’d thought.
17
Jasmine was overcome with excitement on Christmas morning. It was Evie’s first Christmas in the presence of a child, and she found the little girl’s pleasure infectious. Jasmine cried out with delight when she opened a box to find a grinning Shirley Temple doll inside. Even Douglas managed to crack a smile, and was willingly drawn, once the Christmas dinner had been consumed, into assisting his daughter in the construction of a Bayko suburban house, with its own garage made of bakelite bricks held together by steel rods.
From time to time, Evie glanced at her finger where the ring Douglas had given her sparkled. She watched her husband playing with their daughter, and contentment suffused her. It had been a long and difficult road but she believed that at last she had arrived. She was home. Douglas may not love her, and she no longer thought she loved him either since her feelings for Arthur had surfaced. But they had reached an accommodation with each other. She was growing used to his unpredictability and volatility and he was beginning to show her some respect that might one day evolve into something more – especially once the baby arrived. Evie sent up a silent prayer that it would be a boy. But if it wasn’t, they would keep trying until he had the son and heir he longed for.
Douglas looked up from where he and Jasmine were lying on the floor, the plastic pieces spread out in front of them. His eyes and mouth twitched slightly in an approximation of a smile.
Jasmine, intercepting the glance, called over to Evie. ‘Come and help us, Mummy. There’s so many pieces. Please!’
Reluctant to break into such a rare father and daughter communion, Evie hesitated, but Douglas reached a hand up and drew her down to join them on the floor. ‘You’re not getting off so easily. We’ll be here all night otherwise.’ He rolled his eyes in mock frustration.
‘Nonsense. You’re loving it! Every man’s dream is to build things.’ But inside, a wave of triumph and happiness swept over her – she was part of a family again. Less than a year ago, back in Hampshire, she wouldn’t have dreamed it could be possible. She hitched her skirt up and knelt beside Douglas and Jasmine and was soon as absorbed in the task as they were.
The family construction project was interrupted when the door opened and Veronica and Arthur came into the room.
‘Merry Christmas, one and all!’ Veronica called loftily, no sign of the previous day’s anger in her demeanour. Heart sinking, Evie scrambled to her feet.
‘What a touching little scene!’ Veronica’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. ‘You’re playing happy families!’
To Evie’s amazement, it was Douglas who replied, ‘Not playing, Veronica.’
A look of annoyance flickered over Veronica’s face, but she recovered, plastered on a fake smile and said to Jasmine, ‘We’ve brought your Christmas gift.’ She thrust an elaborately wrapped parcel into the child’s hands.
Jasmine opened it to reveal a doll’s tea set and immediately expressed her thanks.
Waving a hand airily, Veronica said, ‘Now surely it’s your bedtime, little girl? Time for the grown-ups to play.’
Evie suppressed her rising fury. In response, Arthur squatted down on the floor beside Jasmine and the model house and said, ‘I’ve always wanted to have a go at one of these. When I was a boy I’d spend hours making things with my Meccano set.’
Veronica gave an exaggerated sigh and what was obviously a forced and false laugh. ‘Boys will be boys,’ Her voice was patronising. Addressing Evie, she said ‘What does a girl have to do to get a gin sling around here?’
As if summoned by magic, Aunty Mimi appeared with a tray of canapés, followed by Benny, who
