The Millionaire's Christmas Wish. Lucy Gordon

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      ‘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.

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