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The Millionaire's Christmas Wish
Lucy Gordon


The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish Lucy Gordon
Alex Mead, wealthy and successful, realises that he needs to woo his wife and children this Christmas. Just how was he going to do it?
Christmas is a time for joy and love. The shops are
packed, children are singing carols; we are all busy
buying and wrapping presents, and arranging family
feasts. In the midst of all this, take a little time for
yourself and enjoy one of our short Christmas treats by
some of our favourite authors.

CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE
IT WAS the most glorious Christmas tree in the world: eight feet high, brilliant with baubles, tinsel and flickering lights, with a dazzling star shining from the top.
Around the base brightly coloured parcels, decorated with shiny bows, crowded together, spilling lavishly over the floor.
The whole thing presented a picture of generous abundance. It was a family tree, meant to stand in a home, surrounded by happy children eagerly tearing the wrapping from the parcels, revealing longed for gifts.
Instead, it stood in the corner of Alex Mead’s huge office. The presents were fake. Any child removing the pretty wrapping paper would have found only empty boxes.
But no child would do so. The whole confection had been designed and carried out by Alex’s secretary, Katherine, and as far as he was concerned she had wasted her time.
She entered now with some letters in one hand and a newspaper in the other, and he noticed that she couldn’t resist glancing proudly at the tree as she passed.
‘Sentimentalist,’ he said, giving her the brilliant grin that won him goodwill at every first meeting. Often the goodwill was short-lived. It didn’t take long for rivals and associates to discover the predator who lived beneath the charm.
‘Well, it looks nice,’ she said defensively. ‘Honestly, Alex, don’t you have any Christmas spirit?’
‘Sure I do. Look at your bonus.’
‘I have and it was a lovely surprise.’
‘You earned it, Kath. You did almost as much as I did to build this firm up.’
He was a generous man where money was concerned. Not only her bonus but that of several other vital employees had been more than expected. Alex knew how to keep good staff working difficult hours.
‘Some of them want to come in and thank you,’ she said now.
‘Tell them there’s no need. Say you said it for them, and I said all the right things—Happy Christmas, have a nice time—you’ll know how to make it sound good.’
‘Why do you have to try to sound like Scrooge?’
‘Because I am Scrooge,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Liar,’ she said, with the privilege of long friendship. ‘Scrooge would never have let his employees go a day early, the way you’re doing. Most firms keep everyone there until noon, Christmas Eve.’
‘Yes, and what’s the result? Nobody does any work on Christmas Eve morning. Half of them are hung over and they’re all watching the clock. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.’
She laid the newspaper, open at the financial page, on his desk. ‘Did you see this?’
It was the best Christmas gift an entrepreneur could have had. There was a page of laudatory text about Mead Consolidated and its meteoric rise, its impact on the market, its brilliant prospects.
Backing this up was an eye-catching photograph of Alex, his grin at its most engaging, telling the world that here was a man of charisma and confidence who could steer his way skilfully through waters infested by sharks. You would have to look very closely to see that he was one of them.
The picture was cut off halfway down his chest, so it didn’t show the long-limbed body that was just a little underweight. He was thin because he forgot to eat, relying on nervous energy for nourishment, just as he relied on nervous force to make an impact.
It was Alex’s proud boast that he had no nerves. The truth, as Kath knew, was that he lived on them. It was one of the reasons why he looked older than his thirty-seven years, why his smile was so swift and unpredictable, and why his temper was beginning to be the same.
When she’d come to work for him his dark eyes had sparkled with ambition and confidence and his complexion had had a healthy glow. The glow was gone now, and there were too often shadows under his eyes. But he was still a handsome man, only partly through his looks. The rest was a mysterious talisman, an inner light for which there were no words.
She had been on business trips with him and seen the female heads turn, the eyes sparkle with interest. To his credit he had never collected, although whether that was out of love for his wife or because he couldn’t spare the time from business, Kath had never quite decided.
“‘Here’s the one to watch,’” she read from the newspaper. “‘By this time next year Mead Consolidated will threaten to dominate the market.” Well, you might try to look pleased. It’s so brilliant you might have written it yourself.’
He laughed. ‘How do you know I didn’t?’
‘Now you mention it, you probably did. You’re conceited enough for anything.’
‘So conceited that if I’d written it I wouldn’t have stopped at “threatened” to dominate. That’s not good enough for me. I have to be at the top, and I’m going to get there.’
‘Alex, you only started eleven years ago, practically working from a garden shed. Give yourself time.’
‘I don’t need time. I need Craddock’s contract, the biggest that’s ever come my way.’
‘Well, you’ve got it.’
‘Not until he’s signed it. Dammit, why did he have to get this tomfool idea about going to the Caribbean?’
George Craddock, the man whose signature he was determined to get by hook or by crook, had been all set to sign when he’d been struck by the notion of a gathering on the tiny Caribbean island that he owned. He’d called Alex about it that very afternoon.
‘And a big contract signing party to end it,’ Alex groaned now. ‘It’s a pointless exercise because the deal’s already set up.’
‘So why the party?’ Kath asked.
‘Because he’s old, foolish and lonely and has nobody to spend Christmas with him. So I have to forget my plans and catch a plane tonight.’
‘Weren’t you supposed to be seeing your family over Christmas?’
‘Part of it. I was going to arrive tomorrow and stay until the next day. Now I’ll have to call Corinne and explain that I’ve been called away. I just hope I can make her understand.’
Tact prevented Kath from saying, Sure, she understands so well that she’s divorcing you.
‘You should have told Craddock to get stuffed,’ she told him robustly now.
‘No way! You know how hard I’ve fought for this contract, and I’m not going to see it slip through my fingers now.’
Seeing disapproval on her face he said, defensively, ‘Kath, there’ll be other Christmases.’
‘I’m not so sure. Children grow up so fast, and suddenly there aren’t other Christmases.’
‘Now you’re being sentimental,’ he said gruffly.
That silenced her. ‘Sentimental’ was Alex’s strongest term of disapproval.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the best of moods. Go home, Kath. Have a nice Christmas.’
‘And be in early on the first day,’ she said in a reciting tone.
‘I never need to tell you that.’
When she’d gone he sat down tiredly and stared at the phone. What he had to do could not be put off any longer. If you had to break a promise it was best to do it quickly and cleanly.
He hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble with Corinne. She was used to the demands of his job, and the fact that it often took him away from his family. The only time she’d ever fought him about it was at Christmas.
And it would have to be Christmas now, wouldn’t it? he thought, exasperated. Just when he’d wanted to put a good face on things and show that he wasn’t a neglectful father, as she’d accused him!
He’d planned to join her and the children tomorrow, just for one day, because that was all he could spare. But he would have arrived, overflowing with presents, and they would have been impressed whether they liked it or not. They would have had to be. He would have seen to that.
So the sooner he called, the better. Dial the number, say, I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan—
He reached for the phone.

CHAPTER ONE
‘MUM, it’s the best Christmas tree we’ve ever had. A tree fit for Santa.’
Bobby was nine, old enough to have his own ideas about Santa, kind enough not to disillusion his adults.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it, darling?’ Corinne agreed, regarding her son tenderly.
The tree was five feet high and covered in tinsel and baubles which had been fixed in place by eager, inexpert hands. Perhaps the star on top was a little wonky, but nobody cared about that.
‘Do you think Dad will like it?’ Bobby wanted to know.
‘I’m sure he will.’
‘You will tell him I did it, won’t you? Well, Mitzi helped a bit, but she’s only a little kid so she couldn’t do much.’
‘She’s six years old,’ Jimmy said, from where he was standing behind Corinne. ‘It’s not that long since you were six.’
‘It was ages ago,’ Bobby said indignantly.
Jimmy grinned. He was a cheerful young man with a round face that smiled easily, the kind of man who seemed to have been designed by nature for the express purpose of being an uncle.
He was in the army, on two weeks’ leave, and had gladly accepted Corinne’s invitation to spend Christmas. They were only third cousins, but, with no other family, they had always clung to their kinship.
‘You thought you were a big man at six,’ he reminded Bobby.
‘I was,’ the child said at once. ‘And I’m an even bigger one now. Put ’em up.’
He lifted his fists, boxer-style, and Jimmy obligingly responded with the same stance. For a moment they danced around each other, Jimmy leaning down to get within the child’s range.
Suddenly he yelled, ‘Help! He got me, he got me,’ and collapsed on the floor, clutching his nose.
At once Bobby, the tender-hearted, dropped down beside him.
‘I didn’t really hurt you, did I, Uncle Jimmy?’ he asked anxiously.
Jimmy wobbled his nose and spoke in a heavy nasal whine. ‘I dink you spoiled by dose.’
Bobby giggled.
In falling, Jimmy had dislodged some of the presents and the two of them began to pile them up again. Corinne helped, trying not to be too conscious of the parcel with the tag that read, To Daddy, with love from Bobby.
‘Daddy will like it, won’t he, Mummy? I got it specially with my pocket money.’
‘Then he’ll love it, whatever it is,’ she assured him. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’
Bobby shook his head very seriously. ‘It’s a secret between me and Daddy. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No, darling, I don’t mind.’
She watched how carefully he replaced the box under the tree, and her heart ached for him. Both children loved their father so much, and had been let down by him so often. And the more he failed them, the more anxiously they loved him.
But he would make up for it this time, she thought desperately. Please, don’t let anything go wrong. Make him be here.
When Bobby had gone away, Jimmy murmured, ‘That has to be the sweetest-tempered kid in the world.’
‘Yes, and it scares me. He’s wide open to be badly hurt by Alex.’
‘But that won’t happen, will it? Alex gave his word that he’d arrive on Christmas Eve.’
Corinne made a face. ‘Yes, but a promise to us was always conditional on business.’
‘But not at Christmas?’ Jimmy said, shocked.
‘Especially at Christmas, because that was when he could steal a march on all those wimps who spent it with their families.’
‘But he promised to spend this Christmas with you and the kids.’
‘No, what he promised was to arrive on Christmas Eve and leave on Christmas Day.’
‘So little time? Then surely you don’t have to worry about him cancelling that?’
‘I wish I could believe it. Do you know? I’m not sure the children even realise that our marriage is over. They hardly see less of him now than they did then. Apart from the fact that we’ve moved house, not much has changed.
‘I don’t mind for myself, but if he disappoints Bobby and Mitzi again I’ll never forgive him.’
‘And you’ve put up with that all these years?’
‘Yes,’ she said, almost in a tone of surprise. ‘Until the day came when I wouldn’t put up with it any more. And now we’re separated, soon to be divorced.’
Put like that it sounded so simple, and that was how she wanted to leave it. This wasn’t the time to speak of the pain, misery and disillusionment she’d endured as she had finally given up the fight to save her marriage.
It had been twelve years, starting in unbelievable happiness. And perhaps unbelievable was the right word, because she had believed the impossible.
At eighteen you convinced yourself of whatever suited you. You thought you could marry a tough, ambitious man and not suffer for it. You told yourself that love would soften him, that he would put you first, not every time, but often enough to count.
When that didn’t work you told yourself that the babies would make a difference. He was so proud of his children. Surely at least he would put them first?
‘He can’t have missed everything, surely?’ Jimmy asked now.
‘No, he was there for some birthdays, even some Christmases. But I always knew that if the phone rang he’d be off somewhere.’
Jimmy looked into her face, trying to see past the wry resignation to whatever she really felt. He doubted that she would let him catch a glimpse. She’d perfected that cheerful, unrevealing mask by now. That was what marriage to Alex Mead had done for her.
To Jimmy’s loving eyes there was little change from the dazzling bride of twelve years ago, gloriously blonde and blue-eyed in white satin and lace, unwittingly tormenting him with the opportunity he’d missed. But opportunities sometimes came again to a man who was patient.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘is there somewhere I can hide my costume so that the kids don’t find it?’
He was playing Santa at Hawksmere Hospital that evening, roped in by Corinne, a member of the ‘Friends of Hawksmere Hospital.’
‘It means going round the wards, ho-ho-ho-ing,’ she’d said. ‘And then you settle down in the grotto for the children who can walk out of the ward, or who happen to be in the hospital visiting someone.’
And Jimmy, good-natured as always, had agreed, just to please her.
‘You can put it in the boot of my car,’ she said now. ‘I’ll be leaving at five to take Bobby and Mitzi to a kids’ party. When I’ve dropped them off I’ll come back for you at six, and deliver you to the hospital by seven.’
‘Yes, sir!’ He saluted.
‘Idiot!’ She laughed.
‘I’m paying you a compliment. You’ve got this organisation thing down to a fine art,’ he said admiringly.
It was true; she was good at arrangements. Years of last-minute changes of plan, because Alex had been called away, had made her an expert.
‘At eight o’clock,’ she resumed, ‘I collect the kids and take them to the hospital, where they’ll find Santa already in place. They’ll never dream it’s you.’
‘What about coming home?’
‘Easy. When Bobby and Mitzi have finished I’ll take them to the “Friends” office on some errand that I’ll suddenly remember, while you get changed. When we leave the office we bump into you. We’ll say you’ve been visiting a friend.’
‘By the way, Alex won’t mind my staying here, will he?’
‘It doesn’t matter if he does,’ she said firmly. ‘Our marriage is over in all but name, and he has no say. Besides, you and I are related.’
Which wasn’t quite fair because she knew how Jimmy had always felt about her. But that was something she wasn’t ready to confront just yet.
‘It could be such a happy time,’ she said, ‘if only that phone doesn’t ring. But I’ll bet you anything you like that in the next few minutes Alex will call and say, “Corinne, there’s been a change of plan.” And I’ll be expected to be “reasonable” and not “make a fuss”.’
Her voice rose sharply on the last words, making her bite it back with an alarmed look at the door in case Bobby or Mitzi could hear.
‘Hey, steady.’ Jimmy gently took hold of her shoulders. ‘That’s all over, remember?’
‘It’s not really over.’ She sighed. ‘Not while Alex and I share children who can be hurt by him.’
‘In the end they’ll see him for what he is.’
‘But that’s just it. I don’t want them to see him for what he is. I want them to go on believing in him as the most wonderful, glorious father there ever was, because that’s what they need.’
‘Just don’t let yourself be hurt by him.’
‘No, that can’t happen any more.’
‘I wish I believed that.’
‘Believe it. I’m completely immune. Whatever was between Alex and me was over a long time ago.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘Honestly.’
‘Mummy!’ came a shriek from the garden. ‘Uncle Jimmy! Come and look. It’s going to be a white Christmas.’
It wasn’t merely snowing; it was coming down in drifts, huge, thick snowflakes that settled and piled up. Jimmy immediately bounded out into the garden to join the children in a game. Corinne stood in the window, watching them jumping about and laughing. Dusk was falling and the only light came from the house. Through the driving snow she could only just make out the fast moving figures. They could have been anyone.
They could have been the newly-weds, blissful in their first Christmas, hurrying together through the snow to the shabby little flat that had been their first home.
And the happiest, she recalled now.
The next one had still been happy, but they had already been in their first proper house, with Alex promising her ‘a palace by next year’. She hadn’t wanted a palace. All she had asked was for her joy to last, but the first cracks were already appearing.
Even so, she hadn’t realised yet that she had a rival, a beloved mistress called Mead Consolidated. And, as years had passed, the rival had grown all-consuming. How wearily used she had grown to the phone calls, and Alex’s voice saying, ‘There’s been a change of plan.’
But not this year, she thought desperately. I don’t mind for myself, but don’t let him disappoint the children.
The phone rang.
For a moment she couldn’t move. Then, in a burst of anger, she snatched up the phone, and snapped, ‘Alex, is that you?’
‘Yes, it’s me. Look, Corinne, there’s been a change of plan—’
On the last lap of the journey the snow began to come down even harder. Alex cursed and set his windscreen wipers to go fast.
It had been an awkward sort of day, with people forcing him to change course at the last moment, which he disliked. First Craddock and his mad Caribbean party, then, just as he was reaching out to call Corinne, the phone had rung.
It had been Craddock’s secretary to say that her boss had been rushed to hospital with suspected appendicitis. The whole trip was off. The signing would have to be done later.
The upside was that he could call Corinne and say he would be there a day earlier.
‘Alex, that’s wonderful. The children will be thrilled.’
‘OK, I’ll be there tonight, but I’m not sure when. The traffic’s difficult.’
‘We’re going out, but I’ll leave the key in a little box in the porch. Maybe you’ll be there when we get back.’
‘Fine. I’ll see you.’
The snow was coming down harder, and his car began to slide over the road. He slowed, but then more snow seemed to collect on his windscreen.
Why had she insisted on moving out to the very edge of London instead of staying in the mansion he’d bought her? It was a beautiful house, full of everything a wife could possibly want, but she had fled it without a backward glance.
And where had she chosen instead? A dump. A cottage. He knew he was exaggerating because it was a five-bedroom detached house, far better than where they’d lived when they were first married, but nothing compared to what he’d given her later.
It still hurt when he thought of the home he’d provided for her. The price had been extortionate, but he’d paid it willingly, thinking how thrilled Corinne would be.
It had had everything, including a paddock for the pony he intended to buy as soon as Bobby had learned to ride. Those riding lessons had been a kind of eldorado in his mind. How he would have loved them in his own childhood! And how different the reality had been!
But, for Bobby, everything would be perfect.
As always, he felt something melt inside him when he thought of his children, Mitzi, wide-eyed and appealingly cheeky. Bobby, quiet, self-assured even at nine, rapidly growing up to be a companion to his father.
And then Corinne had blown the whole dream apart. He’d come home one day to find the beautiful house empty and his family gone.
When he’d seen her again she’d talked about divorce, which he didn’t understand. There was nobody else for either of them, so who needed divorce? He’d refused even to consider it.
He had thought his firmness would make her see sense and come home, but she had quietly refused to budge. She would wait out the divorce, if necessary.
She didn’t actually say that the important thing was to be away from him, but the implication hung in the air.
He was nearing his destination now. He had never been there before, and darkness and snow made it hard to find the way. It was this road—no, the next!
Relieved, he swung the car into the turning and immediately saw a man crossing in front of him, moving slowly.
What happened next was too fast to follow, although later his mind replayed it in slow motion. The man saw him and began to run, and at the exact same moment he slammed on the brakes. The sudden sharp movement made the car skid over the ice that lay on the road beneath the snow.
It was the merest bad luck that the car went in the same direction as the man. Whether he, too, slithered on the ice or the car actually touched him nobody could ever be sure. But the next moment he was lying on the ground, groaning.
Alex brought the car to a cautious halt and got out. By now a woman had appeared from a house and hurried over to the victim. She was wrapped up in a thick jacket whose hood concealed everything about her head.
‘Jimmy? Oh, God, Jimmy, what happened?’
‘That idiot was going too fast. Hell, my shoulder!’
He winced and, clutching his neck, gasped with pain.
‘Corinne, can you give me your arm?’
‘Corinne?’
Alex drew back the side of the hood to her indignation.
‘Hey, what are you—? Alex! Did you do this?’
‘He slipped on the ice.’
‘Which I wouldn’t have done,’ Jimmy said, ‘if you hadn’t been going too fast to stop.’
‘I was barely doing—’
‘Shut up both of you,’ she said fiercely. ‘This isn’t the time.’
‘Right. I’ll call an ambulance.’
‘No need,’ Jimmy groaned. ‘We were on our way to the hospital anyway. Corinne, let’s just go. I’m sure it’s only a sprain and they can patch me up before I do my stuff.’
He climbed slowly to his feet, holding on to Corinne and refusing all offers of help from Alex. But when Corinne touched his arm he yelled with pain.
‘Be sensible,’ said Alex, tight-lipped. ‘If you don’t want an ambulance I’ll take you. Wait here!’
He strode off to where he’d parked. Jimmy, clinging to Corinne, gasped, ‘Corinne, please, anybody’s car but Alex’s.’
‘Fine. Mine’s just here.’
In a moment she’d opened the door and eased him into the passenger seat. She was starting the engine when Alex drew up beside her.
‘I said I’d take him,’ he yelled.
‘You don’t know the way. Wait for us in the house, Alex.’
She pulled away without waiting for his answer. Muttering angrily, Alex swung around to follow her. He’d just about recognised Jimmy from their wedding. As Corinne’s sole relative he had given her away, but his languishing looks had suggested that he would rather have been the groom.
Soon the main entrance of Hawksmere Hospital came into view. He followed Corinne and drew up behind her as she was opening the passenger door. From the way Jimmy moved he was more badly hurt than had appeared at first. Alex marched ahead into the hospital and up to the reception desk, emerging a few moments later with an orderly and a wheel-chair.
‘He’s right, Jimmy,’ Corinne said. ‘Let them take you in.’
Jimmy muttered something that Alex didn’t catch, which made Corinne exclaim, ‘To blazes with Santa Claus! It’s you that matters.’
They made a little procession into the hospital, the orderly wheeling Jimmy, Corinne beside them, and Alex bringing up the rear.
Once inside, Jimmy was whisked away to an examination cubicle. Now, Alex thought, he would get the chance to talk to Corinne, but she insisted on going too. There was nothing for him to do but sit down and wait, which he found the hardest thing in the world to do.
Relief came ten minutes later with the whirlwind arrival of an elderly lady of military aspect and forthright manner.
‘Where is he? I was told he’d arrived and we’re waiting for him.’
‘Who?’ asked Alex.
‘Santa Claus. Jimmy. Corinne promised he’d do it, but where is he?’
‘In a cubicle, having his shoulder examined,’ Alex said. ‘He met with an accident.’
‘Oh, dear! I do hope it isn’t serious. That would be most inconvenient.’
‘I dare say he’d find it inconvenient as well,’ Alex said sardonically.
She whirled on him like an avenging fury.
‘It’s easy for you to sit there and mock, but you don’t have a crowd of children who are expecting Santa to arrive with his sack and give out presents, and you’ve got to tell them that he isn’t coming.’
Alex was saved from having to answer this by the arrival of Corinne.
‘Mrs Bradon, I’m so sorry,’ she said at once. ‘Jimmy’s got a broken collar-bone and a cracked rib. I’m afraid he can’t be Santa.’
‘But can’t he be Santa with a broken collar-bone?’ Mrs Bradon asked wildly. ‘The children won’t mind.’
‘It’s being set now. He’s in a lot of pain,’ Corinne explained.
‘Well, they can give him something for that.’
‘They are giving him something, and it’s going to send him to sleep.’
‘Oh, really! That’s very tiresome!’
Alex’s lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. Mrs Bradon’s single-mindedness would have been admirable in a boardroom, but here it was out of place.
‘There must be a way around the problem,’ he said.
‘Like what?’ Corinne confronted him, eyes flashing. ‘This is your fault. You ran Jimmy down, driving like a maniac.’
‘I was doing ten miles an hour, if that. He slipped on the ice. He always was a slowcoach.’
‘Well, he can’t be Santa, whatever the reason, and it was your car.’
The sheer injustice of this took his breath away.
‘What does it matter whose car it was if I didn’t hit him?’
‘Jimmy says you did.’
‘And I say I didn’t.’
‘Will you two stop making a fuss about things that don’t matter?’ Mrs Bradon said crossly. ‘We have a crisis on our hands.’
‘Surely not,’ Alex said, exasperated. ‘How hard can it be to play Santa? A bit of swagger, a ho-ho-ho or two—anyone can do it.’
‘Fine!’ said Corinne. ‘You do it!’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘What a wonderful idea!’ Mrs Bradon cut across him. ‘You’re about the same height so the costume will fit you. You have got it?’ This was to Corinne.
‘Yes, it’s in the car. And you’re right, the size is fine.’
‘I’m sure you don’t need me,’ Alex said defensively. ‘This is a hospital. There must be a dozen men around—’
‘There are a hundred,’ said Mrs Bradon firmly. ‘But they are doctors, nurses, ward orderlies. Which one of them do you suggest should be taken off his duties to save you from having to do your duty?’
‘It’s hardly my—’
‘You deprived us of our Santa Claus,’ said Mrs Bradon implacably. ‘It’s your job to take his place!’
‘Look, ladies—’
Alex met Corinne’s eyes, seeking her support. But she was looking at him angrily.
‘After all,’ she echoed him, ‘how hard can it be? A bit of swagger and a ho-ho-ho or two.’
‘All right, all right,’ he snapped.
‘Splendid!’ Mrs Bradon hooted triumphantly. ‘You’d better get to work right away. Corinne will show you what to do. Hurry up!’
She bustled away.
‘You’re finding this very funny, aren’t you?’ Alex growled.
‘It has its moments. When was the last time someone spoke to you like that without you flattening them in return?’
‘I can’t remember,’ he admitted.
‘I’ll get the costume and you can get to work.’
‘Corinne, wait.’ He detained her with a hand on her arm. ‘Must I really do this? Surely—’
‘Aha! Backing out!’ She began to cluck like a hen.
‘I am not chicken,’ he said furiously.
‘Sez who?’ she jeered. ‘You’re just afraid you’re not up to it. That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit that there is something you can’t do better than the next man.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘No, you meant that it’s beneath you.’
‘I just think that there has to be another way.’
‘Of course there is. All you have to do is find a replacement who can do this in exactly ten minutes’ time.’
He ground his teeth.
‘All right. Get the costume and let’s get this over with.’
‘I’d rather you came out to the car with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight.’
‘Dammit, Corinne!’ Alex said furiously. ‘Why must you overreact to everything? I’ve said I’ll do it, and I’ll do it. After all, how hard can it be?’
She fetched the costume and took him into a small kitchen where Jimmy had planned to change. As Alex dressed she explained his duties.
‘You have to go around both the children’s wards with your sack, giving out presents.’
‘How will I know who to give what?’
‘Leave that to me. I’ll be there. I’ll tell you who everyone is and hand you the right present. After that you go and sit by the big tree in the hall and you’ll get some children who are in here visiting people. Then I’ll have to leave you for a few minutes to collect Bobby and Mitzi.’
‘Did you tell them I called? That I was coming a day early?’
‘No, I thought I’d let it come as a nice surprise when you turned up.’
‘You mean you thought I’d let you down?’ he asked wryly.
‘Well, if I did I was wrong,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe I’ve done you an injustice. When I heard your voice I thought you were going to cry off again. But you didn’t, and that’s wonderful. It’ll be the best Christmas ever.’
Remembering how close he’d come to cancelling, he had the grace to feel awkward and was glad that fiddling with his beard gave him an excuse not to look at her.
‘Here,’ she said, laughing. ‘Let me fix that.’
‘There’s an awful lot of stuff to put on,’ Alex said. ‘I thought it would just be a white thing with hooks over the ears.’
‘Well, there are hooks, but there’s also glue so that it fits your mouth and stays in place. Jimmy believes in doing things properly. He got this from a theatrical costumier, and he chose the best.’
‘Jimmy?’
‘Jimmy is spending Christmas with us—or he was before he was knocked down by some maniac driver.’
‘I did not knock him down,’ Alex said through gritted teeth. ‘He fell.’
‘Whatever. He chose the costume, and it’s a good one.’
Alex had to admit that it was the best. The beard was soft and silky, gleaming white, with a huge moustache that flowed down into the beard itself. When it was fixed in place it covered his mouth almost completely.
But there was something else.
‘A wig?’ he protested.
‘Of course. How can you be convincing with a white beard and brown hair?’
‘Won’t my hair be covered by a hood?’
‘Even with a hood they’d notice. Children notice everything these days. They see wonderful special effects on films and television, and when they get close up to reality they expect it to be just as convincing.’
He grumbled some more, but when the wig was on he had to admit that it looked impressive. Long, thick and flowing, it streamed down over his shoulders, mingling with the beard, which was also long and flowing.
He looked nothing like himself, and that was some consolation, he reflected. At least nobody would be able to identify him.
He was beginning to get into the part now, driven by the instinct that governed his life—to be the best at whatever he undertook.
If you weren’t the best there was no point in doing it. Right?
In some respects he had the physique, being over six foot. But there was one flaw.
‘I’m too thin,’ he objected. ‘This suit was made for someone a lot bigger.’
‘There’s some padding,’ Corinne said, diving back into the bag.
With the padding in place he had a satisfactory paunch.
‘Will I do?’ he demanded.
‘Your cheeks need to be rosier.’
‘Get off! What are you doing?’
‘Just a little red to make you convincing.’
‘I won’t even ask what you’ve just put on my face.’ He groaned. ‘I don’t want to know.’
‘You look great. Completely convincing. Now, let’s have a ho-ho-ho!’
‘Ho-ho-ho!’ he intoned.
‘No, you need to be more full and rounded. Try it again, and make it boom this time.’
‘Ho-ho-ho!’
To her surprise, he made a good job of it.
‘Well done,’ she said. ‘That was really convincing.’
‘You thought I couldn’t be?’
‘Jimmy never manages it that way. He tries but it comes out sounding reedy.’
‘What about my eyebrows?’ Alex asked. ‘Are they white enough?’
He was right. His dark brown eyebrows now looked odd against the gleaming white hair and whiskers.
‘There aren’t any false eyebrows,’ she said, inspecting the bag. ‘You’ll have to go as you are.’
‘No way. We’ll do this properly. This is a kitchen, right? Won’t there be some flour?’
‘The kitchen’s just for making tea,’ Corinne objected, opening cupboard doors.
But, against all odds, she found a small bag of flour with some left inside.
‘Fancy you thinking of that,’ she said, rubbing it into his eyebrows until the natural colour faded.
‘When I was a kid I wanted to be an actor,’ he said.
‘You never told me that before.’
‘I was never trapped under half a ton of gum and whiskers before.’
She stood back and regarded him.
‘You look great,’ she said. ‘Here’s your sack of toys, all labelled. Are you ready?’
‘Let’s go!’

CHAPTER TWO
ELEPHANT WARD had been designed and decorated for children. Streams of cheerful-looking cartoon elephants walked around the walls and played games with their trunks.
Alex stood in the doorway and boomed, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ to an accompaniment of shrieks from the rows of beds. When it quietened, Corinne murmured, ‘First bed on the right, Tommy Arkright, broken pelvis. Fascinated by ghosts.’
Whoever had planned this had done it well, Alex realised as soon as he began talking to Tommy. The name, the ailment and the interest were all accurate, and when Tommy unwrapped his gift, which turned out to be a book of ghost stories, it was a triumphant moment.
It was the same with the next child, and the next. From being self-conscious, Alex began to relax, and even to enjoy himself. In part this was due to the knowledge that he was unrecognisable. Not that people here would have known him anyway, but the total anonymity still made him feel easier.
He was in a good temper when he came to the end of the ward and turned in the doorway for a final wave and a cry of, ‘Goodbye, everyone.’
‘Goodbye, Santa!’ came the answering roar.
‘I’ll say this for that Bradon woman,’ he growled as they headed down the corridor towards Butterfly Ward. ‘She prepared the ground properly.’

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